Chapter 4: Sylvie and Mirabelle

Although losing my virginity had been kind of a non-event and subsequent encounters with boys in my age bracket were no patch on the pleasures I experienced with Charlotte, I remained curious about the opposite sex. Charlotte was not much help in this respect. She would just repeat her statements about the 'penetration conspiration' and how useless men were in satisfying a woman's sexual needs.

While I accepted that she was a lesbian, I wanted her to accept that I was interested in finding out more about heterosexual sex. We had many discussions about this and it put a certain strain on our relationship. It pained me that we were drifting apart, because the afternoons I spent in her bed - or in her 'love chair' or on the living room floor - had been the best moments in my life so far. And I wanted them to continue.

I started looking for other girls who had experience with the opposite sex and who were willing to talk about those experiences. This was how I made friends with Sylvie and Mirabelle. These two girls were constantly together. Their names were always mentioned in one breath, as if they were one unit: Sylvie and Mirabelle, Mirabelle and Sylvie. But this wasn't because they were sisters; they were just very close friends and happened to live next door to each other. Whenever they arrived somewhere, they arrived together, and, more often than not, they would also leave together, frequently with a couple of boys in tow.

In spite of their closeness nobody ever suggested that they were lesbians or that they had a relationship going between them. They were too obviously interested in boys. As far as their appearance was concerned, they were on opposite ends of the scale. Sylvie was blond and best described as 'petit'. She was like the miniature version of a fully developed woman. But she didn't lack any pretenders. Boys were attracted to her easy smile, her straw-coloured hair, constantly bobbing on her pretty head, her small, firm breasts and the fact she never wore a bra, her narrow hips and her warm and welcoming personality.

Mirabelle, on the other hand, had dark hair and could best be described as voluptuous. Her shapely body seemed to be always straining to be released from the flower-patterned dresses she wore. She would joke, "I was produced from an old-fashioned mould, a mixture of Gina Lollobrigida and Sophia Loren." Although she was constantly talking about having to control her diet to keep her body from growing out of control, there were many boys who were quite fond of her curves, queuing up to dance with her and hoping to be the lucky one who got to walk her home.

The two girls' parents had similar views on their daughters' sexual exploits. They thought it was quite natural that girls - or young ladies, as they preferred to call them - wanted to find out what it was all about, experiment with different partners and eventually settle down into a steady relationship. They also knew that young people in Villiers did not have many places to go to for their intimacy, so they did not mind their daughters bringing some of their boyfriends home and spending hours behind closed doors with them. The lucky ones even got to spend the night. However, the parents never stopped reminding their daughters to take precautions.

"An unwanted pregnancy can upset all your plans for the future," Mirabelle's father used to say, "And a few minutes of uncontrolled passion aren't worth paying that price."

Once, when I was visiting Mirabelle, he told me, "You see, I'm not old enough yet to have forgotten what it's like to be young. In fact, looking at you, I wish I were young again."

I blushed and his wife said quickly, "You'd better watch what you say to Jacqueline, or her father will challenge you to a duel for making an indecent proposal to his daughter." She had obviously heard about my father's antiquated views.

Of course, when I approached Sylvie and Mirabelle I didn't say, "I want to find out about your experiences with boys." I asked them how they were preparing for the final exams and suggested that we might study together sometimes. They were a little surprised that I seemed to be looking for help with my studies - I was one of the best pupils of my year - but they thought they could only benefit and agreed to my suggestion. We would meet occasionally, taking turns in being the host, and review the subjects that were likely to come up in the exams. As I had expected, our conversations strayed frequently from the school topics and the two girls told me about their latest conquests and adventures. But, to my frustration, they didn't go into any details. They might say, 'we spent the night together, ' or, 'I slept with X, ' or maybe, 'we made love in the back of his father's car, ' but they never talked about how they had felt during the act.

Did they reach a climax? Were they satisfied with their partners' performance? I felt I didn't know them well enough yet to ask these question and hoped that one day they might feel comfortable enough with me to talk about these aspects.

One of the subjects which they got very excited about was the opening of 'Le Club'. Given the limited entertainment options in Villiers, it was to be expected that the opening of a new venue - in this case a disco with live music on weekends - would be the talk of the town. 'Le Club' had been created inside the shell of a disused warehouse, near the western edge of town, some way away from the nearest residential building. This had the advantage that the owners didn't need to worry about complaints from neighbours about the noise, but it made the place a little difficult to get to.

Sylvie and Mirabelle were regular visitors right from the opening day on and often talked about their adventures at 'Le Club' and afterwards, with boys they had met there.

The unique feature of the new disco was the black light. The owner had first installed it at the entrance as part of the access control. Instead of handing out tickets, which could be passed to other people, patrons had one of their hands stamped with an invisible ink. The mark was only visible under the arch of black light fitted in the hallway which lead to the main venue. Anyone who couldn't show a stamped hand was refused entry. (Later, the regular guests, particularly some girls, found that stamping a hand was boring and asked to have the mark placed on other parts of their body: arms, shoulders, their cleavage, or high up on their thighs.)

While they were testing the installation, the staff at 'Le Club' noticed that the black light had another interesting effect: It made any white garment shine like a fluorescent light, and it could even achieve this effect with white underwear if the clothes a person wore on top were made of light synthetic fibres. They thought it would make the place even more interesting if they installed the black light over the dance floor as well.

Originally this was programmed to switch itself on and off at random, but later it remained on as long as someone was on the dance floor. The black light made any white shirt or blouse shine like a beacon in the semi-darkness of the disco, but the effect was most dramatic with girls' underwear. The size and shape of any white undergarment was clearly revealed. In the beginning some girls objected to being exposed like this, but all they needed to do was to choose a darker colour. Exactly the opposite happened. Many girls who had been wearing other colours switched to white; they made a point of dressing specifically for the black light effect. They didn't see anything indecent or immoral in this, after all nobody would think twice when they wore a skimpy bikini - sometimes without the top - around the swimming pool. Compared to this the disco-girls were fully dressed.

Of course, this comparison misses the point. There was an obvious sexual undercurrent in the air and the 'glowing underwear show' drew in the boys like flies. Sylvie felt she was at a disadvantage because she never wore a bra, so the only thing that shone were her panties. One evening she persuaded one of the guys at the entrance to give her some of the ink which was used to stamp those who had paid the entrance fee. With this she went to the bathroom and wrote a big L on her right breast, a big O on her left breast and the letters V and E on her lower abdomen, just above her panties. Those last two letters were written so that they looked like an arrow pointing down - to her pussy. That night she was the big star at 'Le Club'. She was swamped by boys who wanted to dance with her and - what else? - make love to her.

But even without such special effects, 'Le Club' was the place where a girl could be sure to find a partner for the night - if she wanted one, of course - and Sylvie and Mirabelle returned frequently to this source.

One Saturday morning. I arrived at the agreed time at Sylvie's place for another session of exam preparations, when I saw her, dressed in a nighty, hugging and kissing a young man, who then left with a big smile on his face. When Sylvie let me into her room there was no sign of Mirabelle yet, so I thought I might use the opportunity to ask Sylvie on her own about her sex life.

I started by asking her who the boy was I had seen her kiss just then.

She said, "Oh, that was Daniel. My parents have gone away for the weekend so I felt more comfortable letting him stay overnight."

I asked her if she had enjoyed his company and she replied, "It was great. We fucked three times last night and once again this morning."

"Is that all you do - fuck?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you by using such direct language."

I assured her that I wasn't offended by her choice of words. I wasn't a prude, as many people thought. I was just very careful to hide my sex life from my father, which meant that most other people also believed I didn't have one. However, my encounters with men usually happened under quite uncomfortable circumstances, behind the bushes, in the back row of the cinema, on the backseat of a car, etc. and I was just curious to know what people did, apart from having intercourse, when they had the luxury of making love in their own home.

"Of course, we kiss a lot, we hug, we cuddle, he fondles my breasts, we talk - and we fuck. But what exactly did you have in mind with your question?"

"I was just wondering if you had any oral sex," I said as casually as possible.

"Oral sex?" Sylvie looked at me. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, oral sex. You know, fellatio, cunnilingus, sixty-nine."

Sylvie's eyes widened even more. Then she smiled and said, a little condescendingly, "Ah, you've probably read about those in a book somewhere. I don't think it actually happens in real life. I've never done any of these things and I don't know anyone who has."

"You know me."

"Yes I know you, but what's that got to do with oral sex?"

"Well, you just said you don't know anyone who's ever done these things and I answered 'you know me'. I've practiced oral sex."

Sylvie's mouth stood wide open, unable to pronounce a word.

"You? Sainte Jacqueline?" she finally gasped.

I was surprised to hear her use the nickname I had given myself. But I also felt annoyed that she still thought I didn't know anything about sex.

"I have sucked cock, admittedly only once so far; I enjoy eating pussy and I absolutely love it when someone else licks mine."

I never expected that Sylvie would be this shocked by my revelation. I had always considered her an open-minded person in questions of sex.

"You mean you've actually put a penis into your mouth?" she stammered in disbelief.

Well, if this game was about asking astonished questions, I could join in.

"You mean, you let this guy fuck you four times and never ever touched his cock with your lips?" I countered. "You mean, you've never experienced a screaming orgasm from someone exploring your pussy with his or her tongue?"

Sylvie changed the subject slightly. "Screaming orgasm - that's another thing that only happens in erotic fiction."

Now I was getting somewhere. I had been looking for someone who could confirm that it was possible to have a satisfying sex life with a man and so far I was under the impression that Sylvie was such a person. But her comment about screaming orgasms being an invention of fiction writers made me think otherwise. But this wasn't a game of one-upmanship, we weren't playing 'my sex life is better than yours', so I decided to drop the subject.

After a few minutes of silence, Sylvie asked, "You honestly think something like a 'screaming orgasm' is possible?"

"I've had so many, I've lost count," I said. I castigated myself immediately for boasting with my sexual prowess - hadn't I just decided not to play that game? I added, "But so far never with a man."

That remark intrigued her.

"But you think it's possible between two women?"

"I know it is."

I had a look around me. I was sitting on a chair near the desk in her bedroom. Sylvie sat on her bed, still unmade from her nightly exploits, wearing a nighty and probably nothing else.

"Would you like to try it?" I asked.

She didn't seem to be shocked by my suggestion, just a little confused. She had realized that her picture of the world needed a significant adjustment, but she probably wasn't ready to say yes. I decided to take the initiative. I unzipped my dress and stepped out of it as it slipped to the floor. This left me naked except for my panties. I remembered Charlotte's comments about my knickers being a turn-off and took them off straight away. When I walked towards Sylvie she just stared at me, as if she had been hypnotised.

I said, "Listen, I don't want you to do anything against your will. If you feel unsure about it, say it now and I'll leave."

"No, no," she said, coming out of her trance-like state, "I was just thinking how beautiful you are. I had never thought of you as a sexual being. But yes, I do want to carry on. I do want to experience a screaming orgasm."

I lifted Sylvie up from the bed and hugged her. She was quite a bit shorter than me, I could feel her chin against my breast. I could sense that she was still a little tense about this, her heartbeat sounded like a sledgehammer. I held the embrace for some time. I wanted her to relax, to start to enjoy the contact with another woman's body. Then I took her face between my hands and kissed her, first very gently, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks; getting more assertive when I reached her mouth. When I kissed her lips she opened them for me to allow my tongue to explore the inside of her mouth. I could feel her tightening her embrace, a sign that she was starting to warm to the idea.

I lifted Sylvie's nighty and pulled it over her head. She helped me by raising her arms. She was wearing a pair of panties which matched the pattern of the nighty. 'No problem, ' I thought to myself, 'we'll take care of that later.'

We embraced again, pressing our naked breasts against each other. This time my lips visited her neck and shoulders and my tongue darted behind her earlobes. My hands ran down her back and caressed her bottom. I could feel her excitement mount and made her lie down on the bed. Lying next to her, I explored Sylvie's body with my eyes and hands. I decided to leave her panties on a little longer, hoping that she would remove them herself, kind of offering me her pussy as a sign that she really wanted this.

Her small, firm breasts were really beautiful, the hardened nipples sensitive to the lightest touch. They would be a feast for my mouth in a little while, but I was in no hurry. I passed my hands over her abdomen, her hips, her bottom and her slender legs. She didn't stay completely passive but her attempts to return my caresses remained quite timid.

I made Sylvie lie on her back and kissed her, starting with a long kiss on her mouth and moving down gradually. When I approached her breasts she was already moaning in anticipation. Her breasts were really tantalizing. Opening my mouth wide, I could take almost the entire breast into my mouth and then slowly slide my lips along this mound of flesh to eventually close them firmly around her nipple. She arched her back to meet my mouth and when my tongue started to tease her sensitive nipple, there was no holding back. She pressed my head against her chest and begged for more - which I gladly delivered.

After making her experience two wonderful orgasms (I don't know if they were intense enough to qualify as 'screaming') just from stimulating her nipples with my mouth, I continued my journey downward. Sylvie was only too keen to get the impeding textile out of the way. She lifted her bottom from the bed and pushed her panties down. Then, with a few quick leg movements, she kicked them off and sent them flying across the room.

Her pubic hair was the colour of a sun-drenched cornfield. Looking at her pussy made me think of a painting by van Gogh. But there were different pleasures at hand - or should I say at mouth? I continued where I had left off and soon reached her pussy - and it didn't take a soothsayer to predict that it would be quite wet and hot by now. And how wonderful it tasted!

I kissed and licked; Sylvie bucked like a bronco. Her clitoris was as sensitive as her nipples, the slightest touch made her moan. I tried to keep things cool but she was in a hurry; she wanted another orgasm and she wanted it now!

I firmed my lips on her pussy and flicked my tongue along her clitoris a few times. That did it. Her entire body convulsed, it seemed to want to lift off the bed and her scream filled the air - it made me wonder if the neighbours could hear it - then she relaxed back on the bed.

I wasn't satisfied yet. I wanted Sylvie to have another climax, one where she could enjoy the gradual build-up of her excitement, where I could keep her on the brink of ecstasy for as long as I wanted, until I finally decided to push her over the edge.

That's exactly what I did. I let my tongue play; sliding along her pussy lips, licking the juices from her pussy and caressing her clitoris. I let her arousal rise slowly, taking great care that she didn't get too hot too soon. It didn't take long and she was squirming on the bed, begging me to make her come.

I managed to ignore her pleas for a while but she was just too hot to resist. I plunged my tongue inside her as deep as I could; her body shuddered and she came. Again, the level of noise she produced in the process was quite astonishing. I took her in my arms and covered her face with tiny little kisses until she had recovered her composure.

"God, that was wonderful. I never thought something like this was possible," Sylie finally said.

I stroked her straw-blonde hair and resisted the temptation to say, 'I told you so'.

"You're a wicked girl, Jacqueline. A few hundred years ago people like you were burnt on the stake for being witches."

I didn't feel like delving into that scenario. My pussy was on fire and didn't need the extra heat from a witch-burning pyre. It always got hot and steamy when I treated another woman to a meltdown orgasm. I almost think I might be able to come out of sympathy with my victim. I wanted relief, any relief. I lay back on the bed and asked, spreading my legs invitingly, "Would you like to practice some witchcraft too?"

Sylvie looked at me, seemingly surprised that I could suggest such a thing. She bent forward tentatively, looking at my sex. Then she turned around and said, "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do it."

My parents taught me that it's undignified to beg and this is one of the few maxims where I fully agree with them. I got up from the bed and put on my clothes. Then I made my excuses. "Seeing that we won't study today, I might as well get a few things done."