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I thought she was an angel, and she made me feel like the luckiest guy in the world just to be near her. I couldn't tolerate people speaking critically of my girlfriend. Lise told me I'd done the right thing in cutting the "poison" from my life, and I believed her.
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Instead of considering whether there might have been truth to this, I felt deeply hurt on Lisette's behalf and parted ways with buddies I'd had since primary school. A couple of my oldest friends once took me out for coffee just to warn me, intervention style, that Lisette was a "user" and a "pathological narcissist" - that she only kept me around because I worshipped her. As for my friends, I saw less and less of them, and instead ended up with Lise's friends most of the time. This should, perhaps, have been a red flag for me early on, but I assumed no girl would ever please my family. My family never liked her, nor did most of my friends. Everyone knows that stuff is completely unrealistic, and I had also heard that in real life, sex isn't nearly as big a deal to girls as it is to guys. I never expected it to be like it was in porn. I never complained - how could I? I was lucky just to be able to see her naked, and she even let me put my penis inside her.
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She mostly just lay back, closed her eyes, and waited for me to finish. She didn't touch me a lot, or put her mouth on me. Sex with Lisette certainly wasn't like it was in the movies or on the Internet. We didn't do it often, but it made the times we did do it all the more special. I was a virgin when we met, and had always considered myself a loser. My girlfriend let me have sex with her, and for this I felt undeservedly privileged. I suppose I became more socially acceptable thanks to her influence. I wore whatever she wanted to dress me in and cut my hair according to her recommendations. We were the sort of couple about whom people would say, "How did a schlub like him manage to score a knockout like her?" I had no idea how I managed it, but I was thankful every day she wanted me by her side. There was nothing special about me, nothing exciting, and I wasn't much to look at either. I was a fade-into-the-backdrop sort of guy.
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She was radiant and full of life, and I was unremarkable in every way possible. I suppose she never really asked me what I wanted to do, but I didn't mind. I would have liked to stay in and cuddle, maybe watch a few good movies, but she was restless, wanting to get out into the world and splurge after the drudgery of classes and paper-writing, and thought movies were antisocial. I was never a party kind of a guy, nor was I much into drinking culture, but I would have followed Lisette to the ends of the earth, and getting a bit tipsy made it easier to cut loose and be social in the way she wanted me to be. She took me to friends' parties, to pubs and clubs, anywhere loud and boisterous and alcohol-fuelled.
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We spent so much time embroiled in classes and papers and part-time jobs to pay tuition that we had to pack as much fun into our limited free time as we could manage - at least, that was Lisette the Beautiful's philosophy, and I would have agreed with nearly anything that came from her irresistible lips. It was easy to hook up then, easy to get along.
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I didn't know more than half a dozen words of French, but Lise told me once that "la belle" means "the beautiful", and for a long time I had a habit of calling her "Lisette the Beautiful". She'd moved here as a child and had just a faint whisper of a Francophone accent. When she wore something snug, I had a hard time tearing my eyes off of that cute behind.Įven her name gave me pleasant shivers. I was sure there was no butt in the world cuter than hers - round, perky, perfectly grabbable. She also had gorgeous eyes - warm hazel with little flecks of green and gold. Nice smooth lips, natural deep pink, full and soft with an impish little smirk lingering perpetually at the edges even when her expression was neutral.