29 March 2021, Amlesage
First love is a sweet hope. We idealize everything, we project, and we see ourselves going far with the person. My first hope was Fatima.
My story with her started while I was on vacation with my uncle. I have a cousin older than me, the greatest womanizer in my life, a real Dom Juan… He would do anything to bring a girl home and he would bamboozle them and make them think he was rich, which was partly true because my uncle was really well off, but he limited how much money he gave us, just what we needed and not a penny more. But, my cousin who is a liar made girls believe that we had pocket money every day and didn't know what to do with it and that he needed ideas on how to spend that money.
I'm going to betray him a bit and tell you about one of his classic deals which he said always worked. When he would bring a girl back and he had finished satisfying his desires, he would beep me to come into the room and pretend to cry telling him that I had lost the money he had gave me, and there he yelled at me, making the girl believe that he was angry and the girl often intervened to say “forgive him, he is a child...” In my head, I was like “look at that bitch,” sometimes I wanted to laugh but I was holding back, playing the game and learning at the same time. So I became an accomplice. Now that you have understood my cousin's mentality, let’s come back to Fatima.
One day, I stayed with my cousin in the living room, he was talking to me about girls and I was laughing. Suddenly he asks me if I was interested in a girl from the neighborhood and that he was going to hook me up with her to thank me for helping him. And there my thoughts went vividly to this Black ebony girl that I met every day on her way to the bakery without daring to look at her. It was Fatima, I knew her name because I had heard her girlfriend call her one day and I had remembered her ever since.
I smiled at my cousin and gave him the name, he too laughed and said there was no problem and he would hook me up with her. But, there was a problem; I had never hit on a girl and had no idea what to say to them and I was ashamed to tell my cousin. But my shame would be greater if I stood in front of her without seeing her say a word. So I explained the problem to my cousin who was stunned and laughed at me until I got on my nerves. He was still very nice by giving me some usual formulas and seeing that I couldn't do it, he told me he was going to take care of it.
So far, I have no idea what happened but two days later Fatima rang the doorbell, I opened the door and ran into her. My heart started pounding like a horse at the gallop; I lost my hearing and even my language skills, every time I think about it I find myself laughing. She was wearing a knee-length dress with a bow tie on her right shoulder. She had put her hair back and looked like a real princess; she had circle shaped earrings and wore black shoes. She was smiling so brightly. She spoke for a few seconds without me hearing what she was saying, I understood she had asked to see someone, in fact it was me, and I understood it once in the living room.
We chatted for just a few minutes, well actually, she was talking to me, and I was listening because I didn't have the right lines. But the next day she came back, a few days later too, and so on until we were really in sync, she had done all the work. I hadn't flirted with her and yet we were dating, things had happened on their own, except for my cousin's intervention.
We liked hanging out together; I learned a lot of things from her. When she came to my house, we talked, we laughed, and we sometimes freaked out. In one Friday, she came to see me. That was the day before I had rehearsed a lot about how to kiss her for the first time. Even talking to my cousin who gave me advice, the best he has ever given me.
He told me: don't ask her, just do it when you feel like it.
And I do it just like that. She was there in front of me, talking, telling me about her day and how much she had missed me, when she felt the touch of my lips on hers. Those full lips, so tender and sweet. She had a strawberry-flavored gloss on; I will remember that for a long time. So we had our first kiss...
What is important about Fatima is that she made me proud. Fatima was pure beauty, incomparable beauty, and delicacy in her walk, a sweet voice, a smile like a caress. She was gentle and at the same time wild. They looked at me when we were outside, I waddled in her company. When I was chatting with my friends about this stuff, I was talkative because I had so many things to say. Everyone wanted to be in my shoes especially since within a few weeks of starting dating her other girls became interested in me and Fatima's own friends herself.
The one that tired me the most was Sosso, one of her “friends.” A damn good woman too, I flashed more on her body, she was good. She would come by my house to see me, suggest that I come to her place. She even told me that I could have better than Fatima and sometimes even in Fatima's presence because Sosso and I spoke a common language that Fatima did not understand. When we were alone, she hugged me, tried to kiss me and this little one between us started to like me.
So little by little, things went smoothly with Fatima and Sosso and so my nature as a “multi-bachelor” was born, so it all began.
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