The hate-fuck is as American as apple pie and racial bigotry. It is the backbone of non-platonic male-female relationships that have ended poorly at the behest of the female. I, personally, would never involve myself in such a classless, vindictive act...Again.
I forget her name actually, but I seem to recall that she shared it with a southwestern city--a coincidence that should not be lost on those who can appreciate the irony of the fact that she was nearly as big as one.
I lived with this girl in the co-ops at Berkeley and she fucking hated me. According to her friends in the house, I drew her ire more often and more thoroughly than anyone they'd ever seen. To this day I'm not sure what I did to earn her love (probably because I was drunk that entire year), but what I do know is that she led the charge to have me kicked out of the house after the whole "bonfire incident."
She sang a different tune, however, on days we would have a party or she would get drunk. On those days, this heinous she-beast became more amorous toward me than a puppy to a porkchop. Moreover, she would develop the keenest DrunkRexdar of any girl I've known. She'd get drunk, she'd track me down. Other side of the house? She'd come from behind and grind her hips into me. In my room? Knock, Knock. There are champion bloodhounds with a lower success rate at finding foxes than she had at finding me.
By the time our annual Valentines party rolled around my senior year, I had had enough. Earlier that week we had gone toe to toe about some stupid house issue at our council meeting. Now, only 4 or 5 days later, she's rubbing her pasty, sweaty exposed belly flesh against my arm and trying to freak me on the dance floor. The music blaring, I made the universal gesture for 'going to the bar to get a drink' and beat a hasty retreat to my room.
Not five minutes later, there's a knock at my door. It's her, in all of her sweaty, chubby, drunken glory. I opened the door and she stumble-lunged toward me. This time I let it happen. We hooked up. I did absolutely nothing to please her that did not first please me. No talk, no searching for the sweetspot, nothing. I abandoned her clit like a baby in a dumpster and just absolutely drilled her. It seemed like she loved it, but then she was a drunken, lecherous hypocritical slut so there's really no telling.
We finished up after an hour or so and I passed out. When I'm drunk I'm a pretty bad snorer so I wasn't surprised when I awoke to her rustling around sometime later that night. At first I thought she was just collecting herself and preparing to leave. Then I heard something completely unexpected...she was crying. It started out as a muffled whimper but progressed to uncontrollable sobbing as she groped in the darkness for her underwear. I contemplated turning the light on and talking her down, but it was late and I was tired.
So I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Posted by nils at 8:51 PM