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LOVING WIVES

February Sucks Marcs Story

February Sucks Marcs Story

by dbphreadb
19 min read
3.04 (9600 views)
adultfiction

This wasn't written with George's permission. I don't give a hoot about his permission, as I feel the story needs to be written.

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My name is Marc Lavalliere, and I'm currently sitting in court listening to the sluts that want to call themselves loving wives drone on about how I seduced them. Everyone is looking at me like I'm the bad guy, but, I have an ace up my sleeve that will be revealed tomorrow.

My council, Arthur Chenowith, is a smart man. He's letting them build a narrative about me, constructing a tale of how I am some manipulative prick who goes out of his way to seduce married women. They are half right. I'm a manipulative prick. The part they are wrong about is me going out of my way for married women.

You see, I don't just seduce married women, I seduce all women. It's rather easy, especially when you're a headliner for the local sports ball team. Yes, even I am rather sarcastic about my life. I'm 6'4" and 250 pounds of raw, unadulterated power and viciousness for the local football team. Pigskin football, as to not confuse you Euros out there. I quite enjoy soccer on my offtime, but its not got enough contact in it for my tastes.

You see, I have alot of aggression. I use my job to channel and release it. Yes, I said it. My job. Everyone thinks they would want it, but I just wish that being a computer nerd paid as much. Unfortunately, it doesn't. However, I'm getting tired of the gig, as it isn't always what its cracked up to be.

Up before the sun so that I can work out and eat whatever the latest scientific diet says I should for breakfast. Then, its off for a meeting with someone, go do some practice for 8 hours a day where I help destroy my body, and after that? Well, I have to give photo ops and everything else.

I have to waste my time letting whatever bimbo is fucking the station manager gush over how great I am, and inevitably compare me to that flash in a pan Willie Beamen. Yes, that Willie Beamen. Mister all star quarterback. Inevitably, said bimbo is missing her panties and her pussy is slick with her juices, because she's ready to fuck.

"No further questions, your honor."

That's the Attorney for the Plaintiff's side. I don't even remember his name, because I don't give a fuck. He's just as bad as an ambulance chaser, seeing pain and suffering as a way to make a buck. I mean, I get it to some degree. My job is to make the opposing team hurt. However, that's only about where 1/20th of my money comes from. The rest is endorsement deals and special appearances.

The bailiff is looking over at me write this on the legal pad, and more than once has found a reason to shoulder surf me. Generally, it happens after I pull the page and crumple it up. I hand him the balled up results, so that he can discard it or keep it, whichever he wants to do. Most likely, it's going to wind up on E-Bay, selling for a couple thousand dollars. Funny thing is, I don't care, and am glad to help the guy make his next house payment. Most likely, his wife is going to take it from him in the divorce, unfortunately.

You may have noticed my general apathy regarding women. If you have and questioned it? You're a cuck. Plain and simple. It's worse if you get off on being a cuck. You see, I have a reason to have such views, and they make more sense to me and the rest of the world, than getting off on watching your old lady get fucked by some other guy.

You also might be asking why I am not paying attention to what the lawyers are asking, what their witnesses are saying. Simply put, that's not my job, nor my aim here. It might help me build a better defense, but at the end of the day, I have no fucks to give about that. Stories of my stupidity and maliciousness have been greatly exaggerated thus far.

Yes, I'm aware of them. The stories plastering forums, social media, and every other convenient online outlet they can find. Only a small percentage are true. The rest are wholly fabricated revenge fantasies. To start with, I've never taken steroids, and my cock is a bit above average sized. What makes these women think I have a god level cock is the fact that I'm rich and famous. I know some guys with a micropenis that women cum for, simply because of the size of their wallet or status.

Next in line? Yes, I was assaulted. Once in a dance club by the ringleader of the class action lawsuit, and once in an alleyway by one of the other men that signed on using the ringleader's name. It hurt like a motherfucker at the time, but with extensive medical care, I've recovered. I just play it up for the cameras. That's my life, playing it up for the cameras, so I may as well continue.

========================================================================

"Could you state your name for the record?" Arthur Chenowith asked.

"Marc Anthony Lavalliere." I responded.

"Thank you, Mr. LaValliere. Could you tell us what happened on February 29th, two years ago?"

I nodded and cleared my throat before smiling, my interview baritone rumbling deeply as I spoke.

"I went down to Morrison's, and picked up Linda Smith."

The silence in the courtroom was deafening, however my attorney pressed on.

"Tell me, Mister LaValliere, do you know Linda Smith beyond what occurred that evening?"

I nodded again and chuckled, looking to the red faced woman sitting in the gallery.

"Yes. We went to high school together."

That drew even more gasps, and a couple of curses from some of the the men sitting in the audience. They most likely just realized that their wives knew me as well.

My answers had caught my lawyer off guard. He was looking at me as if I had grown another head. He didn't know this about us, but he had never asked. However, he was a smart cookie, and he recovered fairly quickly.

"Can you enlighten the court as to the full story, Mister LaValliere?"

I again nodded, something I had been taught to do by my media consultant. It is meant to allow the person to understand you heard them. Alot of actors don't do it in interviews. That's because alot of those are pre-scripted. They already know the questions. But if you look at candid interviews, alot of the curated people in our society react just like us.

Now, I wasn't coached. As a matter of fact, my lawyer has no idea what I am about to say at this point. What he does know, is that I may have just blown the roof off of everything. I can tell that by the gleam in his eye, and the way he is smiling like the cat about to get the canary.

"Yes, sir." I turned toward the jury just a little bit, and looked toward them, even though I was forced to keep my face turned toward the microphone.

"I met Linda Morrison before she was Linda Morrison. As a matter of fact, she had dumped me for Jim Morrison. She said his future was more assured. However, that was in college. So, I'll go back to high school." My lawyer didn't interrupt, nor did the plaintiff's council.

"Growing up, I didn't have the best upbringing. My mother had to work because of my dad not being there. He had died while fighting over in The Sandbox. Anyway, she didn't want me to be a soldier, so she forced me to focus on my school work. Reading Books. She worked her ass off to buy me my first computer so that I could learn to program. It was a shitty computer, but it had what it took to learn."

There were a couple of chuckles, and the judge banged his gavel.

"Mister LaValliere. Language."

I nodded, and sighed.

"I apologize, Your Honor."

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I then looked back to the jury before continuing.

"Anyway, I wasn't the most athletic, as you can imagine. As a matter of fact, I was a butterball. I met Linda Morrison -- then Linda Jamison, in high school. I met her through Dee Summers." I pointed them both out in the gallery, and they actually blushed.

"Dee Summers was a promiscuous girl. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I imagine it has something to do with her Daddy Issues. Me and her grew up next door to each other, and she helped me lose my virginity."

"The Jury will disregard the last statement referring to... daddy issues." The judge said. He then looked at me. "Mister LaValliere. If you are going to make speculative statements -- no matter how true they might be -- Mister Chenowith is going to have to direct your testimony." The judge then gestured to my lawyer, who nodded his head.

"Mister LaValliere. You say you met Linda Jamison through Dee Summers. Can you tell the court the circumstances?"

I nodded again, and continued speaking.

"Well, Dee Summers was friends with Linda Jamison. Linda was having problems in her computer class, and Dee knew I was a whiz with computers. So, she introduced me and Linda, so that I could potentially tutor her."

"And Mister LaValliere. What came from that introduction?" Arthur was on the ball.

"Well, it was freshman year, and Linda and I shared some of the same classes. So, I tutored her as a favor to Dee. Well, when the tutoring was over, I asked her out, and she laughed in my face." I grumbled, pressing on before my attorney could interrupt. "I mean, I know that me tutoring her doesn't entitle me to anything else, but I thought we had connected."

My attorney nodded, and paused a moment, most likely thinking of the next question he would pose that made it seem like he knew what I was going to say.

"Can you tell the court what happened then?"

"Well, Linda Smith laughed in my face as I said. Her words were 'Why would I date a butterball like you that isn't going to amount to more than a bean pusher?'. I was put down and angry. But, I knew she was right. So I started going to the school weight room after classes, and running with the track and football team. In Sophomore year, I hit my growth spurt. That combined with the exercise put me in pretty good shape."

Arthur nodded, and looked at the Jury, most of whom were more than a bit confused. However, a couple of them were nodding and smiling. Those were the ones that had been ugly ducklings like myself. Arthur then looked back at me.

"What happened with your new physical appearance, Mister LaValliere?" he asked.

"Well, I mean. Coach recruited me for football. I was solid core, and large. He ran me harder than anyone else, but he did it to teach me the game. He made it a part of me."

"And what were the results of this, Marc?" Arthur asked, sliding in the humanizing aspect of calling me by my name.

"Well, after a good amount of training, I was a beast. I was used as a lynchpin for offense and defense, depending on who we were playing. My position was never the same from one game to the next, and I knew it wasn't all because of me. But, I gained popularity, and alot of my teammates and friends said I was the reason we were winning games, so I became popular."

There was a bit of a hubbub in the crowd, and then Arthur asked the question when it died down.

"So, what happened next, Marc?"

"Well, Linda eventually came up and asked me out, but I told her no. Me and Dee were secretly going steady. She was publicly dating a gay student who needed a cover, and I accepted that. Linda didn't know that, but was extremely upset that I had turned her down. So much so, that she started a smear campaign against me that never took off."

"What do you mean Marc?"

"Well, she tried to paint me as a creep. However, once people got to know me, they realized she was lying."

"But you said that Jim had taken her away from you in college. How did that come about?"

I sighed, and looked at the jury.

"Eventually, Linda came to me and apologized when she started facing repercussions for her lies. Dee was working against her on her whisper campaign, and who I am as a person spoke for itself. I was willing to help anyone if they asked. Anyway, she asked me if we could date, and that she had -- in her words -- 'been a stupid bitch' to reject me simply based on the fact that I was a 'fat nerd' the year before."

The jury actually looked at Linda at this point, along with Jim. I knew and remembered him, though I doubt the same could be said from his viewpoint.

"And you agreed to it?" Arthur asked.

"Yes sir. I agreed. I mean, it's not every day that a cute girl asks a guy -- even a jock -- out in high school. So I went along with it. I was actually quite a bit happy with the whole situation. Dee wasn't, but she understood. Me and her slowed down at this point to almost a crawl, as Linda was her friend, and she didn't want to risk that for sex with me. But me and Dee had always been an off and on item."

"Bullshit!" I heard Jim say from the gallery. However, both Dee and Linda were looking everywhere but me. The Judge banged the gavel and warned the court. "Anymore outbursts from the gallery, and those who interrupt will be led from the courtroom."

"Please continue, Marc." Arthur said.

"Well, I mean, we dated. For almost 5 years. That includes the time in The Sandbox." I fully faced the jury. "That's the Arab states for those of you that don't know." I then turned my body back toward Arthur.

"I knew that my mom didn't have the money for college, and I really wanted to go. So, I signed up for 4 years with the army. This was during the War on Terror, so I dictated my contract, pretty much. 4 years, and I would get my college ride paid for." More than a few people nodded.

"My mom was upset, but I survived it with no damage. It only made me harder. I saw some things, but was able to deal with them by rationalizing it as 'just doing my job'. Anyway, I'm not stupid. So I told Linda that while I was away, she could date and screw who she wanted, so long as she didn't make me look like a cuck."

"Marc. Tell the court what you mean by that." Arthur almost asked.

"Well, I mean. Ok. So, she had to be discrete, and she couldn't do things like gangbangs or whatever. I mean, I thought she was the one. So, I wanted to be able to marry her eventually without people laughing at me. But I know that a young person, once they discover sex, is going to be all in for it and feel they need it."

"Did she agree?"

"Yes, she did. As far as I know, she followed the rules. However, it was only a couple of months after I got back that she told me that we needed to talk."

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Arthur furrowed his brow at this.

"Can you tell the court what that involved, Marc?"

"Yes." I nodded again, and looked at the jury. The two men seemed a bit unsettled, as they knew what that meant. Good.

"Well, I had just enrolled in college, and was even going to classes. I get home from school, and she was waiting for me in the parking lot of my apartment building. Once we get into my place, she tells me she's been seeing this guy Jim for a long time, and that she likes him. Not only because he was a good guy, but he was also driven for his future wife and family. She liked that."

Arthur clucked his tongue before speaking.

"What was your reaction?"

"Well, I was obviously upset. I'd just given 5 years of my life to Linda, and she just... ditched me. Over a dude that was 'going places' as she put it. I mean, she knew I was going to go places too. It just was going to take longer. Anyway, we had it out, and she said I would never amount to anything more than a bean counter."

"Did you amount to more, Marc?"

"That's irrelevant!" I slammed my fist on the banister in front of me, causing everyone to jump. Before the judge could work his gavel, I held my hand up. "Sorry judge. Just remembering it sort of makes me angry." I looked back at the Jury.

"Yes. I amounted to more. I walked on to the college football team, and got a place. I continued to study -- even graduated with honors -- but I needed a place to take out my anger. My anger at the situation fueled me apparently. While I wasn't scouted by the NFL, I was scouted by the AFFA." Some people looked confused, so I looked at Arthur for a lifeline, which he happily provided.

"Tell us what the AFFA is, Marc."

"The AFFA is a football league. There are dozens of them, ranging from amateur to pro. The NFL is the largest Professional League in the US. But, they have the actual rules and spirit of football so far behind, that they aren't considered to be actual pros. That's where the AFFA comes in."

"What do you mean, Marc?"

"Well. Ok. Some of our rules are more strict. We wear less padding. We don't allow performance enhancing drugs. As a matter of fact, our game is more hardcore than the NFL could ever be, and our fanbase loves it. So much so that our sponsors spend alot of money to try and get product placement or endorsements.

"The NFL is the pro wrestling of football. Our league is considered to be Greco-Roman in comparison."

There was a bit of hubbub from the men in the audience, and even the two in the jury box, but the judge banged his gavel. "Quiet, please."

"Tell us what that has to do with anything, Marc." Arthur asked.

"Well, just like Jamie Beamen, I became a star. It just so happened that there was nothing going on that day with the NFL, and the sports networks showed a game of the AFFA. Alot of people saw it, and actually wrote in to tell the networks that they wanted to see more. I was in that game, and I was angry, as I had just seen the announcement that Linda and Jim had just gotten married in the local section of the newspaper."

"Do you read the newspaper often, Marc?"

"Yeah. Televised news is made for ratings so that they can get advertisements. Newspapers actually report the news. It has to do with money, which from my experience, alot of things do. Including this lawsuit."

"Objection your honor!" The attorney for the class action stood up, theatrically angry in his objection.

"Sustained. Mister LaValliere, please keep your suppositions to yourself." The judge said as he eyed me.

"Sorry, Your Honor." I said in my most recalcitrant voice.

"So, I imagine that once the popularity of the AFFA and yourself grew, you gained more chances at earning money, Marc?" Arthur was one it.

"Yes. I was identified quickly as an MVP. I began getting endorsement contracts. The NFL even scouted me. I let them think they were going to get me, and then turned them down on national tv. They were upset, but couldn't do anything. I started investing my money from the deals everywhere I could."

"So what happened then, Marc?"

"Well, I kept playing, and kept getting money. I'd bang -- have sex with -- a random girl every night just about. Occasionally, me and Dee would hook up, even though at that point she was married."

"Why did you and Miss Summers continue your relationship, Marc?" Arthur asked. The look on his face said he was actually curious.

"Well, she said she liked me, and that her and her husband were in an open marriage. I understand she is now divorced, but I feel it has more to do with the fact that her extra-marital affair has come to light more than anything else."

Again, the plaintiff's lawyer stood up.

"Objection, Your Honor! Supposition!"

"Sustained." The judge looked at me, and after a moment, sighed. "Mister LaValliere. I remind you to keep your suppositions to yourself."

I merely nodded, this time not apologizing. Arthur continued.

"So, Marc. Bring us to the night at Morrison's."

"Well, Dee called me up, and said that she was going to arrange Linda for me. Dee was a bit of a cuckquean, and liked to set her friends up with me."

"What friends are those, Marc?"

I pointed to several of the women in the gallery. "Rhonda, Tina, Beth, Stephanie. They've all, according to them, been in dire straits in their marriages. All of them are divorced. The only one who wasn't divorced before our entanglement was Beth, but she was on the way there with paperwork filed."

The gallery got loud at this, as I had just discredited 8 people in the class action.

"Exhibits A-D, Your Honor. Entered into evidence. Records of Date that divorce petitions were filed." Arthur returned to the table, and picked up a small stack of paperwork. He held them out, and the bailiff took them.

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