He Likes Me Ch. 01

This is a tale of secrets; of a woman torn between love, hate, revenge and powerful lust. It is a tale of madness, rage, manipulation and seduction. The questions of who is the seducer and who is the seduced, and who is right and who is wrong, are left ambiguously unanswered. This is my first story ever, so I welcome any feedback. There is not any non-consent in this chapter, it's mostly character building, but there is some sex. I promise there is going to be some pretty intense non-consent later on in the story - it will totally be worth the wait.

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As a woman of twenty-eight who had been married for over five years, Marie was no stranger to desire or resisting temptation, but the ferocity of her instant reaction to this man stunned her temporarily. Looking back upon that moment, she realized every decision she made after that had probably only been a rationalization; she had been hooked since that very first smile.

"I like you," he said with a grin and a hearty laugh, unabashedly showing his pearly white teeth, which were striking against his ebony skin.

The teeth in question were quite straight; one of his front teeth had a small chip. Deep brown eyes framed by gorgeously thick lashes twinkled at her. Marie's heart skipped a beat. Somewhere in the Aether, Cupid put away his bow and laughed.

His words had been a response to her deadpan joke in the college cafeteria just moments earlier. There was a group discussion going on about whether monogamous relationships were truly possible. The debate was getting fierce, with people on both sides of the argument.

Marie was only half-listening; she didn't think these kids knew enough about life and love yet to effectively argue about the subject. She had very strong opinions about the matter, but she wasn't about to share them with near-strangers.So she decided to try to end the debate with a bit of levity.

"The problem is, everyone likes a little strange now and again," Marie had said dryly.

Everyone cracked up, but for Marie there was an unspoken communication between her and the man she'd named "Mr. Pretty-Eyes" in her mind.

"He likes me," she thought.

Mere seconds had passed since his declaration, but time had dilated for Marie while she struggled with her burgeoning lust. There was no mistaking the interest in Mr. Pretty-Eyes look either.

"This is probably going to be trouble, ah, such sweet trouble," Marie thought.

She decided it would be best to smile back but not to reply directly. The conversation had already shifted topics. She said her goodbyes to the group and left for her next class. However, her mind was on anything but literature.She had decided to take advantage of the free schooling offered to her after her discharge from the Navy, but it seemed she would be getting a bit of extracurricular activity going on too.

"I don't even know the man's name, plus I am MARRIED!" she thought.

She felt a moment of guilt, which cooled her ardor somewhat. Her marriage was troubled as it was by her husband Eric's multiple infidelities over the years. He had promised to change, but in her heart she didn't really believe he would; she loved him anyway. Marie had never been an overly jealous woman. She blamed herself partly; she could be cold and harsh sometimes. Also, she felt like her looks were fading and her husband no longer found her attractive. She tried to stay in shape, but genetics and a healthy appetite worked against her.

Later that evening after her shower, Marie looked at her body in the mirror, trying not to feel disheartened. Her workout routine kept her "not-fat," but she was by no means slim. At 5'3, her measurements were 47-34-43. She wore a size 16 and was definitely in the plus-sized category. Each of her breasts must have weighed several pounds and she felt like her ass, though toned from exercise, was ever-widening. Her breasts and hips both had faint, pale stretch marks. Her stomach had a slight roundness to it that no amount of crunches or Pilates seemed to affect. Only when she flexed really hard could she see her abdominal muscles. She was sturdy and brown like mahogany.

Still, she was sure that other men must find her attractive, judging by the attention she received in public.

As she looked at her reflection, an even featured, dark-skinned face stared back. Thick, professionally groomed eyebrows arched over large heavy-lidded eyes framed by lashes so curled, she hardly ever needed to bother with mascara. Her nose was long and straight, a relic of her Native American heritage, as were her high cheekbones. A small, but full, bow-shaped mouth made her face less harsh than it otherwise would have been. Her curly hair brushed her shoulders; when she straightened her hair, it flowed down her back in a thick mane.

Intellectually, she knew she was far from ugly, but at times she felt like no one would ever really love her because she was not thin and white like the girls her husband looked at in pornographic movies.

"Like the girls with whom he cheated on you," a bitter voice in her mind whispered.

There were nights when Marie cried herself to sleep, but she never let her husband see her cry because she saw it as a weakness. Whenever she would confront her husband about his cheating and threaten to divorce him he would cry and beg her to stay. He would woo her,buy her gifts, and be on his very best, most gentlemanly behavior.

For a while, until the next time.

As she stood in the bathroom loosely wrapped in her towel, Marie thought about the Last Time.

The Last Time had ended with her locking herself in the bathroom for hours, crying, screaming and puking. Her heart was shattered into a million pieces; nothing would ever make her whole again. Marie had previously opened up to him about how his cheating made her feel and he had promised to never hurt her again like that. Eric said that she was so closed off, that he didn't even really think she cared about his infrequent flings with other women. After their so-called heart-to-heart, Marie had fully forgiven him and meant it.

But not even three weeks later, she glanced at his phone and saw a message from another woman. Marie then hacked his Facebook and e-mail account and found many incriminating messages. She knew from the content that nothing had happened yet, but the intent was as bad as actually cheating in her eyes. She had truly forgiven her husband for everything in the past, but she had warned Eric if she ever caught him sneaking around again, she would never forgive him.

"I am a fool," she thought, furious with herself.

Of course Eric would never stop cheating on her. She was a fucking doormat, a punching bag, a sniveling weakling. Her self-loathing was so powerful it sent shivers through her body. Her emotional pain was so intense it was manifesting itself physically. Her stomach churned, and she dry-heaved into the toilet. Her body ached and her heart pounded. Then she was struck by the utter hilarity of her situation and she started laughing.

Marie could not take anymore.

Marie seriously thought about going into the kitchen and getting her favorite sharp knife, slitting that motherfucker's throat, and then killing herself. However, she decided that would bring her no satisfaction.

"No one will ever make me feel like this again," she thought bitterly.

Marie laughed harder, and then she abruptly stopped. She washed her face in the sink and fully composed herself. All of her rage, shame and pain had vanished. Somewhere, in the recesses, of her mind she heard a woman wailing, but it was a psychic noise, easily ignored. Something inside her had twisted. She was ruined, but she swore that she would not be alone in her hell.

Marie came out of the bathroom and went into the living room where her husband was sitting on the couch, looking sheepish.

"One day you're going to feel like I feel," Marie said in a monotone voice. She felt hollow inside, strangely light. "I will never fucking forgive you for this."

"I'm sorry babe," Eric said, "I don't know what is wrong with me, why I do the things I do."

A tear leaked from his grey eye, and Marie resisted the urge to gouge it out.

"I am going to destroy you!"she thought.

Marie knew she could leave. Her mother had told she could come live with her while Marie finished school. They had no children together, any time she brought up having them he shut her down. Really she should have left a long time ago and she knew it. But now, leaving or staying didn't really matter. Why give someone else an opportunity to hurt her?

"And why give this fucking shit a chance to be happy when he broke me, not just my heart, but my spirit?"she thought venomously.

Marie didn't even want to leave; it was an untenable situation. She loved him more than ever, for love and hate are really the same thing; an irrational fixation with little or no basis in reality.

Marie ended her reminiscing and dried herself off. She got out her self-made concoction of scented oil and rubbed herself generously. As she massaged her skin, she began to feel electrified, aroused. She did not truly believe in destiny, but she experienced a strange premonition.

"He likes me," she thought again.

Her oil-slicked hand roved down to her pussy; her labia and clit were already engorged. Soon her hand was slick with her juices. Marie rarely masturbated; the sex she had with her husband was perfunctory but adequate most of the time. She thought about Pretty-Eyes, how his sexy, big lips would feel down there servicing her. Her hand moved faster, and soon she had to use her other hand to brace herself against the bathroom counter.

She could feel her climax coming; it was just beyond her reach. Her hand became a blur between her legs and her pussy clenched around nothing as she came harder than she had in months.

Spent, Marie wiped herself off and put on her silk nightgown.She finished her nightly routine, then headed for bed.

Once she was under the covers,she felt the stirrings of arousal in her pussy again when she lay beside her husband. Masturbation was a paltry substitute for actual dick to her, even if she despised the person it was attached to.

Eric wasn't asleep; he had obviously been waiting for her, judging by the tent in the covers. He rolled over and pressed his hard dick against the crack of her ass.

'Hmm, you smell good," Eric said, sniffing her neck.

He rolled her onto her back and lifted her nightgown above her breasts. Each nipple stood up like a juicy blackberry. Eric sucked and bit her nipples until she was moaning and her thighs were slick with her fluids. He kissed her stomach and then moved lower; his tongue darted out to lash at her clit. He sucked it so hard it was painful.

Marie had always thought he sucked at giving head (pun intended), but bad head is better than no head. He didn't take instruction very well either. Marie told him what she liked; he just wouldn't or couldn't do it. He always complained about his bad back but refused to do any exercise to alleviate it. In short, he was probably the worst lay she'd ever had.

Eric's fingers joined his tongue between Marie's legs, questing for her G-spot, which he could never seem to find. The stimulation was becoming irritating to Marie; she hoped she would be able to orgasm soon. She tried to relax and get in her zone to no avail. Then, she pictured those soft brown eyes and those sensuous lips curved in an inviting grin. Her pussy tightened around Eric's fingers and she felt her climax crash over, sending a wave of pleasure that ended at the crown of her head.

Eric increased to speed of his licking, wringing cries from Marie. She could feel her pussy throbbing in sync with her pulse. Her husband slowed his tongue down, removing his fingers. Every little lick he gave her clit made her spasm, like a mini-orgasm.

He kissed the inside of her thigh and moved up her body, positioning his cock to her entrance. He grabbed her legs, placing them on his shoulders, and then, in one thrust, he entered her sopping wet pussy. Marie groaned when his eight-inch dick hit her cervix. Many women didn't like the pain of a man bottoming out in their pussies, but Marie liked it rough. Her husband was usually too timid for her tastes, but tonight he seemed to have picked up on her mood and was going to give her the dick just how she liked.

Eric pushed her legs back until her knees were in her chest and began to pound her furiously. Marie had always been quite flexible, so the contortion was easy for her. Her husband leaned back, fucking her with slow, hard strokes.

She let the pleasure wash over her as her mind strayed to thoughts of what it would feel like fucking Mr. Pretty-Eyes. Would he be better than her husband, or worse? She hadn't had sex with anyone but her husband since they had married, so her memories of men were fuzzy.

"Liar," Marie thought.

Well, there had been time after they had first got married. One of her old flames, Gordon, had called her up. She had already suspected that her husband was seeing other women on the side, but she hadn't said anything because she was afraid that Eric would leave her. She hated to fail, and in her mind, a divorce was like getting a failing grade in life. So, she invited her old flame to her house, and fucked him on the same bed that she and her husband slept in every night. Afterward, she had felt like such utter shit, she never even tried to step out again.

Marie knew that becoming a cheater too wouldn't lead to anything but more heartache, but secretly she felt slightly vindicated. As long as Eric didn't find out about it, she could play the victimized long-suffering wife, all the while smugly knowing she'd given away what he thought was solely his.

Her husband's thrusts became more frantic. Lost in her reverie, Marie had nearly forgotten she was still being fucked. She didn't think she was going to come again; her mind had dissociated from her body during most of the sex. Still, she started making the appropriate noises and gestures to signify to her husband that he could 'wrap that shit up'.

Eric groaned as he came inside her. He insisted that she be on birth control so he didn't have to use rubbers; Marie found cream pies slightly distasteful and didn't like the way it made her pussy smell afterwards. She didn't make a fuss about it, though, because she figured it would give her husband excuses to cheat on her more.

Eric stayed inside of her for a few more moments, giving a couple of languorous pumps, then pulled out his now-limp cock. Semen and her own juices poured from her pussy. He handed her a towel to wipe herself off with; thankfully he'd given it to her in time to avoid a wet spot in the sheets. She went to the bathroom to clean herself more thoroughly.

When she returned to bed, sliding under the now-cool sheets, her husband pulled her close and said in a breathy, sleepy voice, "I love you."

Mad, sick laughter reverberated in her mind.

She was so lonely and needy for comfort that she would even accept it from a man who had hurt her so badly. What else did she have? She snuggled closer, grateful for the human contact.

"Whatever," she thought.

"I love you, too," replied Marie.

With her back towards Eric, he could not see the evil smile that graced Marie's face. The wheels were turning in her damaged mind; a seed had been planted.

He likes me...