0 comments/ 22492 views/ 0 favorites A Fine Line By: PenanceS It’s a fine line between pain and pleasure and only a few people know how to walk that line correctly. I look into the eyes of my lover, looking directly at him as he presses the clasp of the handcuffs closed. One click, than two, a third and its at its tightest. I’m suspended from bolts in the ceiling, the chains are long enough that my hands can be placed in front of me but I cannot move. But this is done for a reason. I neither Master nor I want a shoulder dislocation. Both of us know that these are not fun. Even for most subs and Dommes, these are to be avoided at all costs. Master double checks, asking me if my arms are ok, or if I want to be lowered slightly. “No, Master.” I say. “You remember your safe word, right?” “Yes Master.” “Very good slave.” Master turns away from me and I can see as he don’s a thick rubber glove, its like the ones used for cleaning out sinks, I start to say something. Master turns to me, a frown upon his face. “Did I say that you could speak?” I shake my head no. “Open your mouth.” I immediately do as master asks, knowing that if I refuse it would only cause me to incur more wraths. “Good girl.” He brings his hands back around, and I see that he’s also picked up a ball gag, which he dangles in front of me. I start to panic, but Master calms me. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.” He gently places the ball gag in my mouth, pressing it in over my tongue. For a moment it feels dry, but then becomes slick as my saliva coats it. My hair becomes tangled in the leather strap, and I can’t help but whimper as it is pulled tightly around my head. He then takes a blindfold and blinds me. “No talking!” Master is angry with me and I am worried what will come next. He turns back to the table and I can hear him picking something off the table. “You’ve been a very bad girl, talking when you weren’t supposed too. You even forced me to gag you, which I didn’t want to do, when all I wanted to do was to go ahead and pleasure you. You’ve made me angry!” I started to whimper, but master paid no heed. I’d been bad and now I was going to have to be punished. “You’re going to have to learn, won’t you pet.” I broke out in a sweat, it was never good to get master upset. I felt as he walked towards me anger crackling in his disposition. His breath was warm and wet as he kissed my neck, and I gasped around the gag. He went down around my nipple, tangling it with his tongue, making it hard and erect. He let off licking for a moment and I sighed in disappointment. However, my sighs turned to screams as he placed an alligator clip on it. The teeth bighting into the sensitive skin; tears welled up in my eyes. I heard as master plugged something in. The words “he wont hurt me, he wont hurt me” kept repeating inside my head. This was thrown out the window as I felt something long and pointed begin to probe my outer lips. It was thick, plastic and rough. For a second, I thought that master was being nice and giving me my favorite toy. The juices began to drip from my legs, making me wet. It wasn’t until he pressed it in further that I realized it wasn’t my favorite toy but instead my curling iron!!! I spread my legs father, grimacing as I felt the teeth of the iron hitting my inner lips. A second later I heard a click, and realized that he’d turned it on! Bare metal, and bare skin mingled and I screamed! “Landfill, landfill, landfill!” I shouted the safe word as loudly as I could but the gag made it almost impossible for me to be heard. I struggled against my bonds, trying to break them. My tears soaked the blindfold, and I gnashed my teeth against the gag. I was positive that I could smell burning flesh. Suddenly, inexplicably, I felt as the iron was pulled from me, and ice chips caressed and soothed my burned and tortured flesh. Burn balm was applied, feelings began to return. My eyes were unfettered, and blindingly returned, forcing blackened and returned into pinpoints, and I was able to see. For the first time I could see! I turned my head back and forth, trying to clear my vision. My lover was there, staring at my face, caressing my welted cheeks. “It’s done, its over.” He whispered into my ear. He gently picked me up and moved me to the bathroom, a warm bath waiting for me. Scented candles were placed all around me, and there was a shower of rose petals in the water. Mater carefully lowered me in the water, testing it before hand with an elbow. I soaked there for a while, letting the water take all of my pain away. “You did good, very good baby.” He gently washed me with a washcloth. I smiled, my trial for the time being, was over. A Fine Line Between Hate And Lust This story could fit in many categories, including reluctance and erotic couplings. I put it in Loving Wives because the comments in this section are always so much "fun." _______________________ For centuries romance authors, and others, have maintained that there is a fine line between romantic love and hate. Up until now that assumption has been based purely on the intensity of both emotions, and to explain how someone can love someone when they marry, and hate them when they divorce. Now, in July, 2013, Professor Semir Zeki of University College London has published a scientific study (published in the on-line journal PloS ONE) he led showing that there is a biological basis for a relationship between these most intense of human emotions. MRI and other studies show that they are intimately linked because some of the same brain nerve circuits are fired for what would appear to be these opposite feelings. What about sexual lust, as opposed to romantic love, though? Can someone lust after someone they hate? In both academic and real life settings this is a question that I, Greg Nelson, have confronted. _______________ I was adopted by a loving couple before I had any memory; four months old, I am told. After my adoptive father had a few affairs they were no longer loving, and my adoptive mother divorced him when I was five years old. I almost never saw him again. I still had a great father figure, however, in my mother's brother, and almost a second mother in his wife. My Aunt and Uncle always treated me well in the significant amount of time that I spent with them all the way through High School, especially when my mother had to work or had trouble coping with life. They were well off, made sure that I did not want for material things, and even paid for my part of my college education. However, it was the love that they gave me that was most important. Except by my Mom, Aunt, and Uncle, I was always underestimated throughout my early years, and oftentimes even as an adult. That was and is because of my body type. No matter what I do I will never have a six pack around my "flabby" waist. I have what almost everyone who mentions it a handsome face with penetrating ice blue eyes, and attractive (to women) silky blond hair, but my body lacks apparent torso muscle tone. Because of my body's apparent lack of torso muscle tone I got picked on in school, until the word got out that maybe I wasn't really a dough boy. While my hands were not particularly quick my upper body strength was impossible to believe given my appearance, and if I got ahold of an antagonist he was done for. This was especially true after my Uncle – who had gotten a black belt in judo when he was a teen – taught me a number of submission and choke holds that fit my strengths. My main problem growing up was not being picked on by boys at school, or not having a father at home. Rather my main problem was also, unfortunately, my Aunt's and Uncle's "blind spot." That would be their oldest daughter, Amber. My Aunt's and Uncle's son, Josh who was a year younger than I was, and their youngest daughter Brittany, who was three years younger than I was, were not only great adoptive cousins, but good friends. Amber, two years older than I am, was and is the most conceited, nasty, venomous, excuse for a human being imaginable. Although Amber treated Josh and Brittany poorly too, it was nothing like how she treated me. She called me every insulting name in "the book." For most people "the book" is just an expression of speech. In her case, she really did keep a spiral bound notebook with insulting comments and phrases she dreamt up, heard from others, or got from reading trashy novels, just about me. One of her favorite things was to tell me that my biological parents didn't want me because I was a piece of shit, that my adopted father ran away because he couldn't stand me, and that my Mother only pretended to love me because she pitied me. It wasn't until I was thirteen that my Mother finally convinced me that what Amber said was bullshit – that's when I found out about my adopted dad's affairs. Amber also loved to play dirty tricks on me, like spitting in my sandwich after my Aunt made it and before it reached the table, pouring honey or shaking itching powder on me when I slept over at my Aunt's and Uncle's house, and spreading ugly false rumors about me at school. Her favorite rumor, and one that she stuck to for years, was that I fucked little animals with my only two inch long penis. At least the guys who I had gym class with knew the latter wasn't true since I was always well hung, but many kids were all too willing to believe what Amber told them. One of Amber's favorite tricks was to very nicely ask me to do something for her when in the presence of my Aunt or Uncle. She knew how much I adored them, knew that they would never think ill of her, and knew how much it irritated me to have to go on quests for her. Amber would be sure to, with my Aunt or Uncle present, follow up if I didn't do what I had "promised." "Oh, Greg, remember when you said that you'd fix the flat tire on my bicycle? Have you done that yet, sweetie?" she would ask with a nice sing-song voice. That was typical of her devious approach. She always got away with it – I eventually just came to accept it as my station in life. While Amber was nasty to almost anyone who she didn't think she could use in some way, it seemed that she got particular enjoyment out of trying to make my life miserable, for reasons I could never understand. Nor could I understand how my Aunt and Uncle, normally such intelligent and perceptive people, could not see the evil in their oldest offspring. It must have been her beautiful innocent face and the way that she constantly sucked up to her parents, as well as her achievements in school and athletics. While she was a horrible person, she got great grades and was probably the most athletic member of our extended family. The happiest day of my life, up until that point, was when Amber went to college out of state. Even then, however, she would phone her parents asking them to ask me to perform some menial task for her. At least I didn't have to deal with her personally, however. ________________ My birthday is during the summer. The day after my 18th one my Aunt and Uncle hosted a party for me at their house, for friends and relatives. Although she was home from college for summer break Amber couldn't lower herself to attend, though apparently she got back from some sojourn with friends before it was over because seeing her that day changed my life. The downstairs bathroom being occupied, I went to a bathroom upstairs in my Aunt's and Uncle's house about nine the night of the party, which was starting to wind down. The bathroom door was cracked open so I assumed that no one was in there. It was a large bathroom with a bathtub and plenty of space behind the door. My cock was half-erect because one of my female friends at the party had recently made some provocative remarks, and I was relieving myself with my eyes closed thinking about what else I could do with my cock after the party was over. "What the fuck are you doing busting in here invading my privacy, shit for brains," rang out the "pleasant" voice of dear Amber. She was standing stark naked next to the bathtub with her hands on her hips, making no attempt whatsoever to cover up. My stream dried up, but my dick got harder. In all the years we had been "cousins" I had never seen Amber with anything more revealing than a one piece bathing suit. While I had heard from guys in High School, and from my own observations, that Amber had a "killer" body, which I never really focused on so great was my antipathy for her, I was not prepared for what I saw. There was no doubt in my mind that she had what to me was a perfect female form. She had medium sized perky boobs with big areola and nipples, a sleek though far from skinny torso, shapely hips, a shaved pussy with a clit so prominent that I could easily see it from six feet away, and what appeared to be a tiny slit defined by protruding pussy lips. Her nakedness accentuated the shapeliness of her long, even for someone with her 5feet 10 inches height, legs topped off by exquisite thighs, something I had never focused on before. And, despite her sneer her face, framed by her wet shiny auburn hair and accentuated by the glimmer of light reflecting off of her big green eyes, was, as always, gorgeous, belying the nature of the brazen bitch within. I was speechless. Apparently my cock grew in my hand, however, because I felt something tingle and when I looked down it was at full mast. "Well, at least I'm glad to see that the rumors I spread about you having a two inch dick aren't true; but that doesn't help you at all because no woman would allow someone as disgusting as you to shove that thing in them," she snarled with a revolting tone. For the first time in my life, at least that I could remember, Amber's insults not only didn't bother me, they actually excited me. Also, for one of the few times that I could remember, I snapped back at her. I shook off my dick, flushed the toilet, and very slowly and deliberately (pretending that it took more effort than it actually did), maneuvered my rigid snake back into my trousers while at the same time staring at her pussy. "You should be so lucky, bitch," I snickered with a level of contempt in my voice equal to hers. "Fucking you would be like fucking Medusa. Where it counts you're the most hideous creature on earth," I barked as I walked to and out the door. Before I closed the door, I stuck my head back in and with a derisive look on my face said "Putrid tits and pussy, but nice clit. Looks like you've been stimulating it yourself because no guy who ever knew how vile you are would!" That resulted in her swearing at me and slamming the door on my backside as I exited. I had a difficult time thinking straight the rest of the night. My cock remained hard, and I'm sure that I had a glassy look on my face. I was hallucinating about those pussy lips reaching out and grabbing my cock and shoving it up her tiny cunt. Judy, the female friend who had made the provocative comments to me, noticed my "predicament." She smiled at me devilishly while looking down at my crotch and licking her lips. In less than an hour Judy was bent over a picnic table in a deserted park halfway between my Aunt's house and hers, and I was fucking the shit out of her as she was moaning and clawing at the table. I was picturing Amber's consummate body in my mind as I mercilessly pounded Judy through three orgasms before I exploded in her and actually rendered her comatose for a good thirty seconds. As I sat next to Judy on the bench, her dress now back covering her ass but her panties shredded on the ground and my cock still upright with Judy's cum glistening on it, she said "Holy Shit, Greg. My little pussy will never be the same after that!" "Sorry," I sheepishly replied. Judy's response of "When can we do it again?" surprised me after her "never will be the same" comment. When she saw a gleam in my eye she laughed, pinched my nose and said, "Not tonight, stud, I need time to recover. How about Tuesday?" Neither Judy nor I saw a long time future for the two of us, but we enjoyed fucking each other a couple of times a week until the summer was over and we went to separate colleges. Most of the time when I was clobbering Judy's pussy, in my mind I was angrily fucking Amber. It's lucky that Judy loved it rough because otherwise the first time would have been the last. _____________ Between my sophomore and junior years in college Amber was getting married. I pitied the poor guy – that is, until I met him. His name was George. He was about my size (six feet one inch, 225 pounds), though with a six pack instead of the noticeable belly that I always carried and which provided the main reason that people underestimated me. He was also very good looking. However, he was as big an asshole as Amber was. "They deserve each other," I thought after talking to the conceited, haughty, sarcastic prick for five minutes. Leading up to the wedding, Amber raised to new heights her obnoxious trick of sending me on quests when her parents were present. I was barely able to keep my summer job it took so much time to perform her endless tasks. The only time I put my foot down was when she asked me to do things for George, and the only payback I ever got was "inadvertently" walking in on her (and sometimes her bridesmaids) when she was trying on various outfits and near naked. I was an usher at the ceremony, danced my ass off at the reception, and even nailed one of the tipsy bridesmaids in an empty conference room near the hotel ball room where the reception was held. The only drawbacks – Amber looked so fucking hot that my dick kept straining in my pants, and the bridesmaid liked it gentle so I couldn't picture fucking Amber while I was porking her. _______________ In the summer a year after sweet Amber and George got married, Josh hosted a pool party at my Aunt's and Uncle's house – with their permission – while they were out of town. My mom, Josh and Brittany and their dates, me and my date, and a variety of mutual friends of all ages, were there. Amber and George "graciously" honored us with their presence about half way through the party. Amber had obviously been drinking before the party, and socked down two martinis during it. Despite my best efforts to avoid her – plus with my mirrored sunglasses on it was easier to ogle her in her bikini at a distance – she and George cornered me. She started telling me that they needed my help to move apartments two weekends hence. Her parents weren't there, and I was still pissed at being an errand boy for her wedding, and her tone was ordering more than asking, so I exploded. "I'm not your fucking errand boy anymore, 'cus'," I snapped at her. "Listen, shit for brains, you'll help or I'll tell Mom and Dad that you're being a prick to me." "I'm through with your games, bitch. Tell them what you want," I snarled. "You can't talk to my wife that way, dough boy" George growled menacingly. "Fuck you, George, you're as big an asshole as she is," I snapped back, throwing my sunglasses to the side. George swung at me, hitting me a glancing blow on my left cheekbone. He would have had to knock me out to have a chance. I was on him like stink on shit, wrestled him to the ground and got him in a rear-naked choke hold. I squeezed harder as I was taunting him with "Losing a fight to a dough boy, you sack of shit? Not much of a man, are you?" With George cursing me and Amber pounding on my arms and shoulders trying to get me to release him, I got pissed, so I rendered him unconscious before I released him. At first Amber went to him and was fawning over him. After I mocked her with "No serious injury, Amber, just his pride. I wouldn't want to deprive you of the only asshole stupid enough to marry you," she leapt up and started swinging at my face. I grabbed her arms and held them in front of me. "Stop swinging Amber – you're going to get hurt." She spit in my face so I pulled her over to the side of the pool and threw her in. Her bikini top "inadvertently" got pulled off when that happened. Once she got out she put on quite a show as she stormed around the pool deck topless, until she finally had her lack of clothing laughingly pointed out to her and she covered up. Unfortunately "Damn her tits are nice," was the main thing running through my mind. With the help of my Mom and Brittany, George was revived and he and Amber raged out of the party. Surprisingly – maybe not – no one else left. After Amber was gone Josh, Brittany, and several friends slapped me on the back and said "Great job, Greg, it was awesome to see those assholes humiliated," or words to those effect. Even my Mom wasn't judgmental. "I wish that hadn't happened, dear," was her only comment; then she gave me a kiss on the bruise on my left cheek. My date seemed to be turned on, not off, by the festivities since before the party was over she dragged me into the pool equipment shed and had me fuck her tits. Since they were almost as nice as Amber's, and approximately the same size, I deposited a pint of cum on her chest and chin before she sucked the rest out of me. _______________ The reason that I mentioned the study of hate versus romantic love in the second paragraph of this story even though I'm writing it in the same month that the study was published is because I had advance knowledge of it. Two other scientific studies were being conducted in tandem by researchers in England and the U. S. One of the other studies was on romantic love versus lust, and the study that I volunteered for about sixteen months ago, lust versus hate. Even though the last two studies haven't reached any conclusions yet, I have been given significant feedback by the researchers (psychologists as well as doctors and MRI technicians) related to my participation. Of the twenty five or so people studied to date I, by far, have the most intense lust-hate reaction; to photos of Amber. It seems that the brain circuits I fire when viewing photos of her in a bikini or sultry dress encompass the entirety of both the hate and lust circuits in conventional male brains. I've also gotten some free, off-the-record, psychological counseling on how to deal with my situation. _______________ When they returned from out of town, my Aunt and Uncle found out about the altercations between me, Amber, and George at the pool party. Apparently they were appropriately prepped by my Mom, Josh, and Brittany, because they didn't assume that I was at fault. However, my Uncle did insist that I come to dinner with him, my Aunt, Amber and George the weekend after the incident. My Uncle stressed the importance of family working things out, sympathized with both me and the assholes, and got us all to shake hands. Amber was her normal suck-up self. Though an adult, Amber's spendthrift ways and pseudo-extravagant regime required my Aunt and Uncle to subsidize her and George's lifestyle until his trust fund from his grandparents kicked in when he turned thirty. After that dinner, when in the presence of others I tried to be nice to Amber and George; when alone I had nothing to say to George, and Amber and I continued to trade insults. ________________ My intelligence was also often underestimated because of my body type, but I wasn't stupid. I graduated engineering school in four years, and got a partial academic scholarship after my freshman year so that my Aunt and Uncle didn't need to spend as much for my education. When I got out of school I had four job offers. I was reluctant to take the best one even though it was in my home town. The reason that I was reluctant to take the best offer, from XYZ Corp., was because Amber worked there too. She was in public relations, and there was sometimes interface between public relations and engineering, especially when new products were being introduced. I loathed a repeat of school, where Amber would tell everyone who listened that I had a two inch dick that I fucked gerbils with. My Uncle talked me into using my head and taking the XYZ offer. When he told Amber of my decision, in my presence, a diabolical smile crossed her lips as she fake congratulated me. At XYZ I found out that Amber was the sex target of several account executives. Amber had a slutty reputation in High School and college, but as far as I knew she was only leading them on and had no interest in cheating on George. Her teasing was nasty, however. Then came the Christmas party, which spouses were not invited to. A Fine Line Between Hate And Lust Although not paying close attention, since I was hustling Jessica, an attractive divorced woman from Accounting who was about five years my senior, I couldn't help but see Amber get shit-faced drunk. That was unusual because she normally held her liquor very well; I had not actually seen her drunk before, only high. When the three account executives I knew were interested in her and that she unmercifully teased, were helping her out of the dining room of the hotel, I thought that it might be more than liquor that was causing her malaise. I had a classic fight in my mind between good and evil trying to decide if I would be happy that Amber would get fucked over, or despite my antipathy for her stop it. My mind was made up when Jessica apparently noticed it too and commented to me about it. By the time that I got out of the dining room the elevator door was closing on the four of them. Fortunately it stopped on the second floor – where the guys had apparently rented a room. I ran up the stairs, with Jessica – after having discarded her high heels – right behind me. I got to them before the door to their room latched closed. I pushed it open. "What the fuck is going on here?" I rhetorically asked, noticing that Amber was already sans blouse and bra and lying on a bed. "None of your fucking business, Nelson," the largest of the three said, pushing me on the chest. Bad mistake; one of the submission holds that my Uncle taught me was designed for just such a circumstance. I quickly placed both of my hands over his while it was on my chest, dropped to my knees, and bent forward, breaking his wrist. The other two jerks were rushing toward me when they suddenly stopped dead. I looked over my shoulder to see Jessica standing there with a .22 pistol in her hand, which she apparently had pulled from her purse. "Get over by the window on the other side of the room, assholes," she barked. They did as told and I dragged the moaning and screaming big guy over by them. While Jessica held her gun on them I called 911. Not surprisingly it turned out that Amber was drugged. The three jerks were arrested and fired. Jessica and I were given an award and bonus by XYZ (and Jessica got one from the NRA and she, her concealed carry permit, and pistol were featured on an NRA monthly publication cover). My Aunt, Uncle, and Mom fawned over me. My Uncle cried when he hugged me the next day before he went to pick up George and then pick up Amber from the hospital. Jessica and I took our bonus checks and went on a long weekend together. As with Judy, Jessica and I didn't see a long term relationship in our future but we did enjoy fucking each other for about five months until our lust ran its course. My recurrent problem, however, was that often when I was fucking Jessica I pictured a drugged Amber laying on a hotel room bed with her hands tied to the bedposts as I fucked her brains out. "Not healthy," I said to myself, and it became something that I talked to my off-the-record psychologist about. George actually genuinely thanked me after the attempted rape incident; he wasn't really any nicer to me starting soon thereafter, but at least he was genuine in his thanks. Amber, on the other hand, was still her old asshole self. While she smiled and thanked me in the presence of her parents, when they left the room she said "Even a piece of shit like you can do something right once in its life. Don't let it go to your head, asshole," before sauntering away. _______________ It was about six months after the Christmas Party when I heard a rumor that Amber was banging a married V.P. It didn't really surprise me that she would cheat considering how selfish and horny she was, and I didn't really give a shit because I hated her and near-hated George. A month or so after I first heard the rumor, a Conference relevant to our business was being held in a city about 800 miles away. I was recruited as the representative from XYZ engineering to attend. Imagine my surprise when about a week before the conference George asked to meet me for lunch – his treat. After some of his normal posturing, and a perfunctory talk about the local sports teams, George got a pensive look on his face; a look that I had never seen before. "Greg, please be honest with me in answering a few questions," he whispered. "I'll try," I said, a little taken aback. "You don't like Amber, do you?" After a short delay, and a look back and forth to see who might be around, I asked "George, you're not recording this are you?" "No," he stammered. "Turn all your pockets inside out, and take off your suit jacket," I said. He looked at me funny but did as requested. After an inspection I said "OK, this is not for repeat to any member of the family, but I hate the bitch. Sorry, but just thinking about her makes my skin crawl;" I left out that it also made my dick hard. "Would you tell me if she was having an affair?" "I might, if I had real proof," I said. "What's up?" "I'm sensing unhappiness on her part. She may just be hanging around because according to our pre-nup..." he continued before I interrupted. "You have a pre-nup?" I asked. "Yeah. According to the pre-nup if she cheats before my trust fund comes in she gets no part of it. It's a lot of money – my grandparents were rich and were estranged from my father and Aunt before they died so they left everything to me in a trust fund. I get access to it two years from now." "I'm not a P. I.," I said, though in an understanding tone, not a sarcastic one. "I know, but you hate Amber and you have integrity, as demonstrated by that attempted rape incident. Amber is going to the same conference that you are next week. Can you please – I beg of you – tell me if you see anything hinky? I'll do whatever you want," he said in a pleading, submissive tone, much different than his normal haughty one. I thought about it for a while. He started to say something and I just held up my hand and said "I'm thinking." Finally I decided that if she was cheating this gave me the potential revenge of introducing some misery into her life. "OK, George," I murmured. "If I get some real information – not just supposition or rumors – at the conference that she is cheating I'll tell you about it. However, you are NEVER to disclose that to anyone, and will use my information only as a start to hire a P. I. or something, and use only the evidence from him or her if you want to divorce Amber." "Thanks, man, thanks so much," he excitedly gurgled. "Wait, there's more; I'm not doing this just because I hate Amber," I rejoined. "If I find out something that ends up being worthwhile and you end up getting divorced, I want $10,000 when your trust fund comes in. We go to an attorney tomorrow, establish attorney-client privilege with him or her and both of us, and then tell her or him the deal." "You got it man, thanks!" George gushed, and then enthusiastically started eating his previously untouched lunch. The conference went all day Tuesday, all day Wednesday, and then through about 4 p. m. on Thursday. The V. P. she was rumored to be banging, Chad Simmons, was there too. I really wasn't sure whether I was going to check up on Amber or not, but the probability was enhanced since Simmons was there. Simmons was someone who had never been nice to me, or a supporter of XYZ's Engineering Department, so bringing him down would not bother me in the least. After a conference dinner Tuesday night I eavesdropped on Amber as she was – as I expected – talking to George on her cell phone from the hotel lobby, and telling him about how worn out she was from the day's activities and that she was going to bed early. After that I surreptitiously followed her and Simmons, and saw them – separately – both go into room 612, only a few doors down from my room, 619. Wednesday there was a "mixer" after dinner. Simmons got sloppy drunk. As he was leaning back in a booth, shit faced, with Amber and two other women in the booth and Amber staring daggers at him, I walked over. "Say gals," I said to the women in the booth, "It looks like I should help Mr. Simmons to his room. Do you know which one it is?" "Fish his key card out of his pocket," Amber replied in a civil tone since the other women were present. I did and handed it to her. "He's in 612," she said after looking at the key. I don't know if she thought that she was fooling someone since room numbers aren't on key cards, but I played along. "Can you help me get him upstairs?" I asked Amber. "OK," she snarled – then caught herself since two other people were around and in a pleasant voice said "That's really nice of you Cousin Greg." After we got him into his room I smiled wickedly at Amber and said "Looks he's not going to be able to fuck you tonight; how sad for you!" "Screw you, asshole, we're not fucking," she said very defensively. "Then how come you spent the night here last night?" I queried. That set her back. "Look you don't know what you're talking about." "Maybe George will believe you, not me," I chimed back with the look of a cat that just ate a canary. I turned and walked out the door. As I was opening the door to 619 I turned toward 612 and saw Amber watching me, with a stern expression on her face. I showered, put a pair of clean boxers on – my normal sleep attire – and lay on the bed watching TV. There was a knock at the door. I turned off the TV and went up to the door and asked "Who is it?" "It's Amber. We need to talk," was the reply. I opened the door and there she stood with a bathrobe and high heels on. I couldn't tell if she was wearing anything else. Amber brushed past me then stood at the foot of the bed. "Greg, let me be direct,.." she started out. "Now it's Greg, and not 'shithead' or some such insult?" I asked, smiling. "Would you prefer that I call you that?" she said with her arms folded. "Then I'd know that it was really you and not some cyborg look-alike," I shot back. "OK," she replied after a pause, "shithead, let me be direct. I need for you not to tell George about Simmons. Even though you're wrong, I think that George is suspicious and shit would hit the fan." "If you want me to listen to you, you have to be honest," I said, spelling out "honest." "Admit that you're fucking Simmons!" If looks could kill the imaginary lightning bolts from her penetrating green eyes would have leveled me. After a full thirty seconds of me returning her stare she said "Alright, I admit that Simmons and I fucked last night. Now please, don't tell George. Think of what it would do to Mom and Dad if they found out?" "Don't play on my love of your parents on this, bitch," I snapped. "I hate George almost as much as you so I probably wouldn't tell him except for the fact that it's Simmons that you're fucking. If it was almost anyone else at XYZ I wouldn't care." "What's your problem with him, prick?" she responded, crossing her arms more tightly. "He's a jerk – I guess he'd have to be to fuck you – but he also is always putting Engineering down. See if I report him to Management then he gets fired for sexual harassment, and my life in Engineering gets better. If George finds out, too, then I get back at you for the shitty way you've treated me my whole life," I said, grinning ear-to-ear. "So if I was fucking someone else at work you wouldn't tell George?" she hesitantly replied. "Most likely not." "If I agree to break it off with Simmons – telling him that someone threatened a sexual harassment complaint against him – will you not tell George?" "That's step #1," I said. After another long pause and with a glint of realization in her eye she removed her robe, displaying her supreme naked body. "You want to fuck me, don't you asshole?" she sneered. As I removed my boxers, displaying my rock hard cock, standing prouder than I could ever remember it, I was honest. "Yeah, since I saw you naked in the bathroom. My psychologist..." "Your psychologist?" she interrupted. "Yeah, my psychologist tells me that I have the most intense hate-lust reaction to you of anyone he's ever heard of, and the only way to get rid of both of them is to fuck you senseless." With that I approached her, started sucking one nipple, manhandled the other, and started rubbing her crotch with my free hand. "I hate you, you fucking bastard," she snarled as I laid her down on my bed. Her clit was already engorged when I started sucking on it, but in a few seconds it looked like a small dick. "Looks like you're the one with the two inch cock," I chuckled. She swore at me, and those were the last words spoken for the rest of the night. I had all ten fingers, my tongue, and my lips working on Amber's delectable pussy at the same time. "How could such a venomous creature have such a fragrant pussy?" flashed through my mind as I lapped up her sweet nectar and she spasmed with her first powerful orgasm. After bringing her through three powerful oral orgasms, as her body was still being wracked by the third one, I unceremoniously buried my cock in her sopping wet cunt in one stroke. She screamed since my cock was almost too big for the tiniest pussy that I'd ever seen. Surprisingly, however, it wasn't a scream of pain, but of ecstasy. I was no sooner buried than she was pulsing her pussy muscles to milk my dick, squeezing her exquisite thighs around my waist, and banging back as hard as I was banging her. If our simultaneous orgasm was an earthquake it would have been an 8+ on the Richter scale. I thought for sure that I was going to pass out and be toast until the next morning. Amber had other ideas, however, and could suck as well as she could fuck. I got essentially zero sleep that night but for the first time in my life I had more than two orgasms in an eight hour period; four, to be exact. Amber had too many to count. It was also the first time in my experience that I fucked without kissing the woman I fucked. I tried once, but she turned her head away, and I was too busy with her consummate body to worry about it. We had to show up at the first morning session of the conference. I showered first, got dressed, and then was sitting on the edge of the bed with my face in my hands as Amber sauntered out of the bathroom. "Why so glum, shithead?" she asked in her normal sarcastic tone. "The main reason is because I thought that if I fucked you once I'd get all the hate out of me and wouldn't want to fuck you again. I really, really, detest saying it; however, you are a better fuck than I thought possible in the real world, and now I have to fuck you again." "Not until after the first conference session, pervert," she snickered. "Just wondering, why am I a pervert, bitch?" I smiled. "Fucking your married cousin – I'd call that perverted." "As you so often 'delicately' pointed out when we were kids, we're not blood relatives; no 'perversion' here; I'm just fucking a great piece of ass with an obnoxious personality!" I quipped. For some reason I was suddenly motivated to kiss her. I rose, roughly pulled her to me and passionately swapped spit with her. "You think that you can kiss me just because you're my best fuck ever?" she snarled. That backhanded – though highly laudatory – comment was about the only complimentary thing she ever said to me in my life. "Fuck yeah," I replied, kissing her again. After the conference session we ate breakfast. I extended my room for Thursday night while Amber moved her clothes from her room into mine. As she was moving her clothes I called George on his cell phone – a number he had given me specifically for that purpose. "Hey, George, I've got good news and bad news," was my cliché opening. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "Give me the bad news first." "Amber will be staying over one more night because the conference is going late and she has been given some more responsibility. She and I are working on a project together today. When she calls to tell you act surprised, but I wanted you to know that it's not because of hanky-panky with the guy who I thought was the most likely suspect for her to be having an affair with!" "Awesome," he virtually giggled. "What's the good news?" "I saw her slap a guy who came on to her, and I never witnessed her screwing around with anyone else despite opportunities to do so." "Thanks, man, I'm in your debt. That means you won't be getting $10,000 though," he snickered. "Always the asshole, George," I thought to myself but didn't say. "No, but I thought about it some more and figured that reporting to you was the right thing to do, so I would have declined the money even if the news were different." "I'll figure some way to make it up to you," he chirped. After Amber called George we put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, and with the exception of when we passed out from exhaustion a few times, and our room service dinner, tried to fuck each other to death. This time it was with kissing. Our hotel fuck fest was almost three months ago. Since then Amber and I continue to insult each other daily, and continue to fuck, normally three times a week. I really would like to stop but can't for two reasons. The first reason is that she is my best fuck ever, by such a wide margin that there isn't even a second place in sight. In fact, impossibly, the sex keeps getting better! The second reason is that the scientists doing the lust-hate study are writing a paper solely about my relationship with her (anonymously, of course). They interview me by phone every week, and I've even talked Amber into giving them her thoughts on a weekly basis too. We don't tell each other what we say to the psychologist and other scientists, and they don't tell us what the other one said either. That's too bad since although it's easy to figure out why I hate her, I'd really like to know why she hates me (if she really does). I'm still trying to come to grips with my feelings. I honestly do hate the bitch, but when I'm lustfully pounding her cunt I'm on a natural Mt. Everest high! For now, I'm just following around my cock and her pussy and not agonizing about it!