Marta
Can one drunken mistake change your life?
***
It was Friday evening, and our software development team had just met the deadline. The past week, I had been working hard and long hours. I was exhausted but still looking forward to this Friday night because we would go to a party.
My roommates Noa, Lucas, and I are sharing a house in Eindhoven after our college days. We all three had a job now, but we still lived together as we did as students, sharing costs and saving money.
My name is Tyler, but everyone calls me Ty.
The party was in full swing when we arrived. First, we went for a beer before we made our way around. The evening progressed with more beer, and I was in a heated discussion about Formula One when a girl was not paying attention and bumped into me, making her glass of red wine ending up on my shirt.
"Shit."
"Sorry! Let me help you."
She grabbed a towel and tried to clean my shirt, which made it only worse.
"Don't worry, let it go."
"Let me buy you a new one."
My tiredness and the alcohol were starting to take their toll. I needed to go back home to get in bed.
"That's nice of you, but you don't have to. Accidents can happen. I'm sorry, but I have to go now."
I said goodbye to the party host and went home for some much-needed sleep.
***
The following day, the doorbell rang. It was just after noon as we drank coffee and talked about yesterday's party.
Noa was grinning, "Ty, your visitor is here."
"My visitor, what do you mean?"
"Just go and open the door."
When I opened the door, I saw a girl standing, looking a bit nervous. She was slender, with raven black hair at shoulder-length, brown eyes, and a cute smile. She was wearing a nice shirt and jeans.
It took me a second to recognize her.
"You're the girl from the party!"
"Yes, I promised you a new shirt, so here I am. Noa gave me the address."
I let her inside while Noa was still grinning, "Hi Marta, you're finally going to get Ty some decent clothing?"
He poured a cup of coffee for Marta.
"Hi, Noa, we'll start with a shirt first."
"You should also check the rest of his garderobe. The guy is a walking fashion disaster."
"Noa, there is nothing wrong with my clothes."
Noa answered, "Marta, I let you be the judge and go and see for yourself. You'll find his room across the hall."
Marta was now grinning at me, "I'll have a look when I finish my coffee. Maybe you want to go first to do some tidying up?"
Panic struck me because my room was nowhere ready to be seen by a female. Quickly, I went to my room and did what I could to get it decent. While I was busy, I noticed somebody standing behind me.
She walked past me, "I was too curious to wait," and then opened my wardrobe door.
"He? That's private."
It didn't stop her going through my clothes. Then she turned around, "Can't you afford new clothes?"
"Yes, I can. What's wrong with these clothes?"
She took an old hoodie and jeans out and showed them to me, "You surely can't wear this anymore."
I looked at them. They were worn out and washed out.
"Okay. You can help me to get me new clothes."
She smiled, "You will look better."
***
That afternoon we went shopping. Marta dragged me from one store to another. I bought shirts, sweaters, jeans, shoes, socks and underwear.
We were both insecure, and we started to make some small jokes. Soon, we both had to laugh hard, and tears rolled down our cheeks. We seemed to have the same sense of humor.
Marta was holding a pack of boxershorts, "What size do you have?"
"Large."
She looked at me, "Show off, maybe I should measure it first," followed by a laugh.
She was referring to my penis size. It was the story of this afternoon. We kept laughing and having fun.
In the late afternoon, she took me to her hairdresser 'because I had to look cute for dinner.'
During dinner, she told me a bit about herself. She also lives in Eindhoven in a small apartment and works as a flight attendant for one of the airlines, Transavia, at Eindhoven Airport. She does charters across Europe, leaving in the morning to the destination and returning in the afternoon or evening.
She told me, "As a flight attendant, we rarely drink alcohol. Yesterday, my friends Bree, Gwen, Michelle, and I had dinner together. We met during our flight attendant training and have been friends since then. During dinner we had some wine and at the party some more wine. That's why I was unsteady and bumped into you."
I looked at her, "I'm glad you did. This afternoon has been fun."
After dinner, she went home to catch an early flight the next day. We agreed to have a new date.
***
We started to date and found ourselves keeping more company. We became friends fast and felt comfortable with each other. We both knew we were heading for more.
Because we were both shy, it took us a few weeks before we took the next step, making out heavily at her apartment. It was the start of our relationship.
The first time we had sex was a little awkward. I caressed Marta softly until she stopped me.
"Ty, your previous girlfriends might like this, but I want it rough. Use me like a slut. Don't be the nice guy. Do you think you can do that?"
"That's new to me, but I 'll try," and started to be rougher on her. I turned her around on her knees, pressed her head down, put a condom on, and buried my cock in her pussy from behind. Then I grabbed her hips and started to fuck her hard.
Marta was moaning, "Yes, use me like the slut I am. Make me come," while she stimulated her clit at the same time, which was hot.
When I came, I grabbed her hips once more and pushed my cock as deep in as I could. That brought her to an orgasm, "Oh, fuck, yes!"
Later, during pillow talk, she explained to me she likes to be a slut in bed, "Ty, you're a good guy, and I know you wouldn't hurt anyone in real life. I feel secure with you. But in bed, I love to be your slut, to let all of my inhibitions go.
Don't be afraid of being too rough, and do with me as you please. The more you do, the more I like it."
It took us some more sex sessions before I got the hang of it. On my insistence, we agreed on a safe word, 'Red.' After each sex session, we had pillow talk to ensure we were on the same path.
But I got into it. I let Marta choke on my cock, and when the tears sprung into her eyes, I choked her some more. I pinched her nipples, squeezed her tits, slapped her ass, and when I felt like it, also slapped her face. The first time I hit her face, I got scared. Did I go too far? She just smiled, "Oh, I've been a bad girl."
That was a breaking point for me, and from that moment on, I used and abused her any way I wanted to, and Marta loved it! The sex became even hotter and sexier over time.
Sometimes, I just grabbed her, put her trousers or skirt down, and took her. Another time I grabbed her hair and pulled her to my cock, which she gladly took in her mouth, or I let her parade naked through her apartment so I could play with her tits and nipples. Watching a football game on television while she rides my cock.
At some point, we decided to go bare without a condom. It increased our fun, and now I could smear cum on Marta's body and face or let her walk around without underwear, dripping cum.
A few times, she tried to explain to me that when I made her do these things, it wasn't her, 'fault,' and she could enjoy them more. We were both glowing, full of love.
***
We had another party coming up on Friday night. Marta would first have dinner with the girls. Then we would meet at the party.
Our software team struggled again to meet a deadline, and I was late for the party. I had to go home to shower and change, and it was nearly ten when I arrived at the party.
I walked around, grabbed a beer, and talked with various people. I saw Noa, Lucas, the girls Bree, Gwen, and Michelle at different spots. However, I didn't see Marta.
When I asked the girls if Marta had come with them to the party, they all confirmed she did. I didn't worry too much. She was probably around somewhere.
Half an hour later, I decided to find Marta. I looked everywhere, but I didn't see her. Gwen saw my concern and helped me search for Marta.
At one moment, other guests noticed we were looking for Marta when a girl said, "You're looking for the girl with the black hair? She already left with her boyfriend."
Gwen and I looked at each other. This couldn't be true, could it? Immediately, I called Marta but got her voicemail. I sent a couple of texts to call me back, and I could see Marta received the messages, but she didn't read them.
Gwen asked me to check Marta's place. Gwen would stay at the party in case Marta returned. I took my bike and went to Marta's apartment, but nobody was there. Next, I went to my room, hoping she was waiting for me, but she wasn't there either.
Slowly, it dawned on me that she might have left me for another guy. I felt beaten and sick in my stomach. Why hasn't she said anything? She could have told me if she wanted to leave our relationship. Why this rude approach? Leaving me for another guy, me left behind without a clue?
It became my single worst night ever.
At noon, I got a short message from Gwen, "Marta is safe. The bitch fucked up."
It confirmed my fear. Marta had left the party with another guy, replacing me without a doubt. I switched my phone off and stayed in bed for the rest of the weekend. I couldn't understand. Where did we go wrong?
***
