[MF] Hate Fucking an Ex

TL;DR A pushing 60 widower tells you about the time he hate fucked an ex who, at the time, was married with 4 children.

​

What happened here was the result of a conversation I’d had with some (male) friends over lunch one day, in 1997. One of my friends was talking about this woman he worked with, how he hated her, and how he would totally be into “hate fucking” her if given the chance. Me at the time, kind of affable but at the same time totally naive and a serial dater, asked what “hate fucking” was. My guy friends laughed at me.

​

And yet I got a full on graphic description of hate fucking that started my mind racing. “You mean, you despise someone so much that if given the chance you would totally rail them?” I asked myself. “Well, that sounds like my ex, Mia (not her real name).” I could totally picture myself nailing Mia one last time. I’d always enjoyed fucking her when we were teens, and since I really hated Mia for her petty bullshit ever since we broke up after my freshman year of college, in my head I developed this scheme to combine brute force fucking with the (probably) awkward yet multiple couplings we’d enjoyed when we were in high school. Like the Six Million Dollar Man I wanted to fuck her, but bigger and stronger and better than before, but obviously on a much smaller fuck budget.

​

Mia and I met in my junior year of high school. I’d been working with her boyfriend at the time, and he told me about all of their sexploits. Of course, I’d thought it was all bullshit. Outside of a couple of guys I knew who were having sex with their girlfriends, this guy, Jim (not his real name), was weirdly open enough that I believed him. Plus I’d met Mia while I was bagging groceries at the local supermarket, and from the jump I could tell that they had been carrying on. So I believed him. When Mia and I had started dating later that summer, it’s true that I had one agenda, and that was to lose my virginity. I’d been a horndog since middle school and for whatever reason or reasons I’d just wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck. Little did I know that she had her own plans.

​

At first she’d been all, “well, if you want to fuck me then you have to put a ring on my finger.” (She was young, for goodness sake. Who puts a ring on the finger of someone who’s that young?! What person that young wants to get married?! I had questions!)

​

Then I stopped calling her entirely, and try as she might I’d told my parents not to let her speak to me. One afternoon she dropped into work during my shift and asked me to come over. After thinking things through (this was rare at my then youthful age) I sheepishly went by the local pharmacy for a 3-pack of condoms, bought them with no questions asked, and headed over to her family’s house (at the time “safe sex or no sex” was the mantra by my peers at my local Catholic high school so I just followed suit). Just as I’d thought… nobody was there — not a soul — except for Mia. She offered me a beer but I said no. We chatted for a bit while sitting side by side on a sofa. Then she excused herself and went downstairs (they lived in a split level house). I’d thought that she was going to the bathroom. But, no. I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.

​

She called up to me and told me to meet her downstairs. Sure enough she’d changed in her parents’ master bathroom, but now she was standing there wearing a teddy (I didn’t know it was called a teddy back then) with garter straps, stockings, and heels (again, I didn’t know the terminology back then). I know that my look must’ve been one both of sheer terror and of total lust. I knew what was going to happen. I knew what I’d wanted to happen. Back then I didn’t know what women wore. In retrospect I wonder if Mia was wearing stuff that she’d stolen from her Mom’s collection.

​

Mia patted the cushioned wood frame of her parents’ waterbed and I sat down on the edge. She approached me and straddled her short legs around mine — which I’d been keeping pressed together to hide my bulging erection. She was a sight to behold. For a woman that young, at 5’2″, a mane of dark brown hair that had been shellacked with a 1980s amount of hairspray, and an absolutely huge rack, I couldn’t believe that she was that brazen. Most of the time I’d spent prior to that making out with high school girls during dances had been full of giggles and other ridiculous shit. Again, in retrospect, I look back at the moment and wonder how this young woman had learned to operate this way.

​

She pushed my shoulders and I toppled backwards. This caused the waterbed to get really angry and it sloshed to the extent that I thought it was going to explode. Her mouth was immediately on mine and she started telling me how much she couldn’t wait for me to be inside of her and how long she’d been waiting for it (yes, this is exactly what happened, and yes my first time was a LOT like in that movie “Superbad” except that this time we just ended up fucking without the puking). As she almost literally rammed her tongue down my throat her gigantic tits freed themselves of the teddy and we slapping me on the chin as she gyrated on top of me — on an already angry waterbed.

​

“Know what’s the best part of this teddy?” she purred to me after having broken another tongue lashing (that was when I learned that her “garment” was called a teddy). “No,” I nodded, maybe aware that a voice coming from a large guy like me had probably been that of a whimper.

​

“Easy access,” she said, reaching two fingers underneath the crotch of it and unsnapping it. It shot up her waist and for the first time in my life I saw a pussy up close. She started grinding her puss on my Dockers chinos and it was leaving huge wet spots. Seriously, I was naive and nerdy enough at the time that I almost offered to get her a tissue because she was leaking so much.

​

Adeptly she undid my belt and zipper and slapped my hips so that I would raise them up — before she pulled down my pants to my ankles. She was rubbing her slit on my cock and tried to put me inside but I stopped her. I shoved her off me and writhed around to find the condom box from the pocket of my pants.

​

“You’re going to wear that… thing?” she asked. “Well, if you must.”

​

Admittedly I was like McLovin’ my first time. But at the end of the afternoon the 3 pack was spent and I went home a happy slut man. Mia and I fucked at every turn. Car dates, in theaters, in my bedroom in my parents’ house, in her bed, more in her parents’ bed, in front of her girlfriends, and sometimes we’d watch our friends fuck as we all fucked in the same bed. My dad had gotten wise to all of this, and while my parents did not care for Mia at all, my dad sat me down one afternoon and talked about the merits of condoms before telling me that my mom was very upset about what had been going on and that I’d need to be a little bit more discreet so that she wouldn’t lose her mind.

​

Mia kept begging me to go raw with her, and she was totally explicit that she wanted me to put a baby in her. After my first year of college, it where I ended up going to a school where I’d been biding my time before getting a non-scholarship admission to a “stuck up” university in New England, we hit a wall. She wanted me to marry her, but I had other ambitions. When I’d visit home and would be driving around I’d see her clunker of a car sitting in the driveway of houses of guys that I’d known before I went off to college. I often wondered if she was getting some on the side. Not that I gave a shit, because I had no intentions of marrying her, but it became apparent that taking an out was the best way to go as she was at the time a person with a wandering eye (again, I was married for 20 years and there’s a difference between a mutual decision to have outside fun and philandering).

​

We broke up, and it was a bloodless coup initially. Then she started calling me at my (new) school and started bragging about the new men she’d been with. A couple of years later, shortly after my college graduation, she called one last time to brag that she’d gotten engaged and that she was pregnant. I wasn’t particularly moved by this but at the same time I made a mental note to not keep in contact with her going forward.

​

My parents called me one Sunday and told me that she had paid them a visit. That was a surprise because I didn’t know that was in the cards at all. They asked if they could give her my number and I said that, since it had been 10 years post breakup, it would probably be fine.

​

Mia, to my surprise, called me a few days later. She was chipper and most of the talk was totally normal, totally friendly. We didn’t talk about ex lovers or whatever (for a change) and then she dropped a bomb on me. While she was married and with four children — she had wanted to meet up for dinner and to catch up more. I can’t believe that I not only said that I would do it but that I recommended a great restaurant outside of Boston and said that she should dress up. She sounded really giddy when we got off the phone.

​

We ended up going to this place, well, I drove there and she pouted that I insisted she take a cab there from her hotel in Boston, and out of the gate I knew that I wanted to fuck her again. Sure, she’d put on a lot of weight since I’d known her, but now she was a BBW. Her rack was still spectacular, I’d wanted to grab on to those hips, and I was annoyed enough about all of her bullshit over the years that I was ready to deploy a solid hate fucking. Her navy blue dress that showed a ton of cleavage, her pearl necklace, her black tights or stockings or whatever, and her tall-enough-to-make-her-fall-over black stiletto heels only amped me up more.

​

During dinner she pouted (she was good at that and probably still is) that it was a shame that we’d fallen out of touch and that she regretted that she had to head home to Louisiana on Saturday afternoon. When I got the bill (and she showed zero inclination towards chipping in for a pretty expensive) and dropped my credit card on to the plate where you used to drop the credit card on top of a hand-written bill, is when it happened.

​

“So,” she said. “I need to get back to the city.”

​

“This is a great place,” I replied. “They will call a cab for you and you can be safe and sound back at your hotel in Boston… in less than 30 minutes.”

​

“Oh,” she pouted once again. “I, uhh, don’t want to take a cab if I don’t have to.”

​

“Why not?” I pawed at my wallet and started to pull out some bills to hand Mia so that she could pay for a cab back to her hotel.

​

“Stop. Just stop,” she hissed. “Why are you doing this?”

​

“What? I just want to pay for cab to help you out.”

​

“I really don’t want this.”

​

“Oh? So what do you want?”

​

She just sat there looking at me and blushing.

​

“Tell you wait,” I said. “How about tonight becomes tomorrow and I drop you off at Logan, before… what time is your flight?”

​

“But I’m…”

​

“Married. I know,” I cut her off. I dropped $30 in bills on the table and slid it across to her. Back then you could get into the city for $24 plus tip.

​

“No! No,” she softened her voice. “Well, I guess, I was kind of wanting to…”

​

“I know,” I interrupted again. “I’m curious too.” I got out of the booth and started to head towards the door of the restaurant. I could hear the rapid clicking of her heels as she scampered quickly to catch up with me.

​

We drove in silence to her hotel and (back then) you’d use a key to open the door. Her hand was shaking and she couldn’t fit the key into the lock. I grabbed the key from her and had us in the room in no time. I slammed the door behind us and was surprised that the ceiling didn’t collapse. It was a pretty shitty hotel after all.

​

When we got into the hallway of the room she came in for a hug and her mouth was poised for a kiss. I shoved her up against the wall, and since I’m a big guy she was stuck. I ran my hand up her stockinged leg and to her crotch. I could feel the heat and wetness emanating from her pussy. I pushed her panties aside and she was wet enough that my middle finger entered her immediately. She gasped loudly. I wiggled my finger around inside of her and then I pulled it out. I made like I was going in for a kiss but then I stuck my soaked middle finger into her mouth. She had never liked her own taste before but now it was forced on her.

​

I pulled her away from the wall and pulled her by her arm and plopped her on the end of the bed. I forced her legs open, my middle finger still holding her jaw open, and rammed my face into her crotch. Her sheer panties shown in the faint light of her hotel room.

​

“What are you doing?!” she protested after having shoved my finger out of her mouth.

​

“You wear these slutty panties for a dinner and you ask what I am doing?!”

​

“You think that I’m a slu-”

​

I pushed the panties aside and started tonguing her clit.

​

“You are a total slut,” I said. “And I’ve always known that.”

​

“Ohhhhh. My god. Sorry. My go-” (she was always very religious)

​

When she got wet enough to the extent that long streaks of her wetness were dripping out of her I started to play with her asshole with my middle finger. I got in two knuckles and by then she was screaming. She had never enjoyed ass play before. But now I suppose she had no other choice. I knew she was cumming as her asshole clenched around my middle finger and I couldn’t pull it out at first. I hammered her body for many hours following that. I haven’t fucked anybody like that since, and that’s saying a lot because I would like to think that my late wife and I were pretty passionate.

​

That night I fucked and fucked and fucked some more. I wore a condom. We slept through our good morning wakeup call and needed to rush to Logan Airport. The ride to Logan was mostly quiet, but she started talking once we hit the short term parking garage.

​

“Did you plan all of this?” she asked.

​

“I don’t know. Did you?”

​

She fell silent again.

​

“When we were kids, why didn’t you cum in me?” she asked. “I asked you repeatedly to…”

​

“I know,” I said. “You cheated a bunch of times. You just weren’t into me then, and look at what we just did.”

​

I thought she was going to start crying. “No, no, it wasn’t that,” she insisted. “I just…”

​

I pulled into the parking spot and put the car into park. I undid my zipper, unbuckled my belt, and pulled my pants down. I was hard again. “Now is the time,” I said. “But we’ve got to get to it.”

​

She was back wearing her Mom Outfit although she was wearing a skirt. “Really?” she asked.

​

I just pointed at my dick.

​

She edged herself over the console of my car, pushed her panties aside, and straddled me. I guided myself into her, and at first she was insanely tight, but we hit rhythm. I kept looking at the clock and ironically it caused me to last a long time. I’ve never been able to go for hours when going raw. She’d opened her blouse and I was sucking on her nipples as I fucked her raw. As she pumped up and down on me I could feel the tightness of her twat muscles.

​

I told her that I was cumming and she tried to pull off. I held her down, let a load out inside of her, and pushed her off me. Her look was one of curiosity and terror. I remembered our time in her parents’ bed with the teddy and the snaps and the condoms. I felt her confusion because I’d been that way at one time myself.

​

I started the car with my dick still hanging out and drove her to the terminal as she straightened herself up. Before 9/11 you could do that. Let me clarify. Before 9/11 you could make a flight until the very, very last minute. I’m not sure if there are post 9/11 dick out rules. There probably are. She opened the backdoor to the car, grabbed her wardrobe bag and rushed through the terminal. As I drove away from Logan Airport I wondered if she’d scoop my cum out of her in the airplane lavatory or if she’d go home to hubby with it. I was curious if she’d married a cuckold. It was always something that she seemed to gravitate towards.

​

She called me on and off over the following 18 months, but at some point I met my future wife, we got married in a couple of weeks, and Mia stopped calling. Mia found my email address about 2 years into my marriage, and bragged that she had finally met her soulmate after her divorce. This has been a pattern with her for almost a decade. That couple of days, though? Hate fucking all the way. It was my first and only time and it was spectacular.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bcia4x/mf_hate_fucking_an_ex