Warning: This story contains consensual but very rough hate sex.
My wife, Clara, 35F, and me, 39M both work in healthcare. We both have intellectually fascinating work and love it but truly hate the administrative nightmare that it is becoming. We try not to take it out on people, but sometimes, too many people start taking care of the chart and biopsying the wallet and not the patient.
One of my co-workers, Alyssa, is a 42 year old bureaucratic Excel jockey of the worst kind. Both a juggernaut and incompetent, she openly brags that she has gotten to her position by nepotism and her looks.
And I have to spend a significant part of every Wednesday with her. The first time Clara met her, it made her uncomfortable. She kept on about how she loves working with me and even went so far as to say that we have “good working chemistry” TO MY WIFE. Clara asked me if I thought Alyssa was attracted to me. I thought she was which is why we always met in the meeting room with the full panel windows. Alyssa is 5’3”, with a tight body almost certainly from a very good tummy tuck, obviously fake tits, expensive fake red hair, a subtly plastic face and fake lips. She’s really attractive… if you’re into that sort of thing.
Needless to say, I hate Wednesdays. Wednesdays Clara is home late and I work out, then shower. Clara knows those days I’ll sometimes watch porn and rub one out in the shower. Well she apparently had noticed that I watch… rougher content on Wednesdays. So when she asked, I told her. I never lie to my wife.
I hate Alyssa. I have never hated anyone else, but I hate Alyssa. I hate that she’s bought beauty and used it to get where she is when so many qualified women simply can’t get even one rung up the ladder in the world. I hate that she isn’t good at her job but the bureaucracy makes it easy to stay there. I hate that I have to spend a large part of my day with her. It makes me angry that she takes up so much mental real estate.
I told Clara that and the way I’ve figured out to cope and then let it go in my head so I can be 100% Clara’s husband afterward is to imagine it is mutual and consensual and let it out as sexual energy in the shower. It was hard telling my wife that I fantasized about throwing her onto that ugly budget conference table, choking her neck at the edge, and slapping her bimbo tits while hate fucking her stupid face. I fantasized I’d get caught, arrested and jailed and then I’d be free of Alyssa. If I didn’t absolutely love the other 4.5 days a week, I would have long quit my job and shat on her desk on the way out.
Clara sympathized over my issue and actually thanked me for sharing and doing what it took to be present at home as her husband. I love my wife.
So it was a complete shocker when Wednesday rolled around and when I came home in an absolutely foul mood, I found a red head was sitting at my dining table. As Clara turned to face me she looked hideous. Garish makeup, lip liner applied to make her lips look huge, super fake lashes, a tight miniskirt with some obvious shape wear on with a comically unrealistic push up bra and a pretty bad red wig.
She was an absolutely amazing caricature of Alyssa. Just… perfect, every bit.
I laughed so hard and cried. I could see what she was doing – giving me a replacement memory, one I’d be able to recall every time I had to see Alyssa again.
“No more fantasies, every time you look at that bitch, I want you to remember this.”
“Remember what?”
“Close your eyes,” I obeyed. I heard Clara shuffling, “okay, relax your eyes and let them open just a little.” As I did, a surge of anxiety and disgust welled up in me as I saw Alyssa at MY dining table, facing away from me. Clara’s voice rang out, “how do you feel seeing Alyssa at home?” “Angry.” “Good, what do you want to do?” I told her my darkest fantasies of absolutely destroying Alyssa. They were hateful. Ways I’d never imagine treating my wife. “Good, let it flow. We both know you’d never treat your wife this way,” she said, reading my mind, “but Alyssa wants it. She deserves it. Give it to her and don’t hold back. When you’re done, leave and come back in 10 minutes.”
I walked up to her and spun her chair around. She looked up at me and I reached out and grabbed her by the throat, she stood and I pushed her onto the table. I reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down and off the proceeded to tie her wrists with them. Spinning her around I laid my Alyssa dupe on her back. Her head sat at the edge of the table and I relished brandishing my cock. Her tied wrists made her upper arms push her ridiculous tits even further together. Her mouth opened as I put my cock in. I reached her under armpits and pulled her toward me, pulling her head off the table and simultaneously burying my dick in her throat.
I pinned her hands with one hand and the other lay on her neck. I could feel my anger and frustrations boiling as I throat fucked her. I pushed past her throat barrier, my balls pressed against her nose and eyes. Her throat spasmed and I let myself enjoy the fantasy of choking Alyssa with my cock. As she gagged and spit, she croaked, “yes, don’t hold back.” I slapped her face with my cock repeatedly before pushing back in and grabbing her tits like handles and squeezing tightly. Her moans in pain escaped over my shaft, and I slapped her breasts. Her legs parted exposing her tight pussy and I could see her trying to work her hands down to touch herself.
I obliged her and reached one hand down and stuffed her pussy with two fingers roughly working them in and out. The other stayed on her tit while I pounded her face. The anger crescendoed with my arousal and as I felt my orgasm finally came, I pulled out, grabbed her by the hair, turning her head to the side and held it beneath my shaft as I dumped cum all over her face.
And with that release, it was gone. Every last bit of anger, resentment, frustration, hatred lay spattered across the left side of her face, mixed with running mascara, and saliva.
The next Wednesday and the one after and every one since, I saw Alyssa as scheduled and every time, I gave thanks to my wonderful wife, Clara, for the memory.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/10tf5ag/wednesdays_suck_mf