I graduated from high school in St. Martin at the age of 18. I should explain that to graduate you need to pass a series of tests for a baccalaureate, or bac. Since the tests are given at the end of the school year, it's all or nothing. There is a lot of pressure on students to cram and pass the tests.

In any case, I passed easily with high grades. For this reason I was granted a bourse, a scholarship, to study English and French literature at the Sorbonne in Paris. Since I would be living away from home for the first time, my father arranged for me to live with a Parisian family, the Faures, in their apartment near the Trocadero.

Monsieur Faure was a haut fonctionnaire, a bureaucrat, in the Ministry of Education. He knew my parents through his work. Madame Faure worked in a travel agency on the Boulevard de l'Opera. Both the elder Faures welcomed me into their family, but were otherwise reserved and formal. They were both in their middle forties, and except for meals I did not see much of them.

They had two children. The older, daughter Florence, was twenty-three and had her own apartment on the rive gauche near St. Germain de Pres. It was for this reason that there was a bedroom available chez Faure. Their son Benoit, nineteen, was still living at home. So we were four in the apartment, and Florence usually came for Sunday lunch. The apartment was a typical upper-middle class one, on the fourth floor of a nineteenth century building. It consisted of three small bedrooms, a salon or living room, kitchen, and bathroom. Like most French dwellings, the toilet or WC was in a separate room from the shower. All of the rooms had high ceilings, and the windows looked out over the Trocadero and the Tour Eiffel beyond. I had Florence’s bedroom, which was furnished with a dark walnut dresser and bed. I was very pleased to have landed in such a place.

I applied myself to my studies and had little to do with the other students in my classes. Most of them were much older than I, so I was content to ride the metro to school in the morning and back to the apartment in the afternoon.

My first month in Paris, September 1988, Florence appointed herself my guide. She is the same height as I, 170cm or five feet seven. She was slim and elegant with dark brown eyes and black hair, and I felt like an ugly duckling to her swan. We went anywhere and everywhere, acting like tourists. Florence was Parisian to the core and she said that she enjoyed sharing Paris with me. She showed me where to find clothes and how to dress stylishly but cheaply. In St. Martin I always wore the Catholic school uniform of white blouse and tartan skirt so my wardrobe was sorely lacking. We shopped at the big department stores Galerie Lafayette and Printemps, but we bought more cheaply at Monoprix and Samaritaine. We had the same build so I modeled my clothing purchases around what she liked and wore. I began to think of Florence as an older, wiser sister.

I saw Benoit every day at home. He was a tall, lanky, handsome boy whose world revolved around sports. Even though he was a year older than I, he was still in high school. He was not a good student and his parents despaired of his being able to pass the bac. Yet he had a good memory because he could tell you details of every football match Paris St. Germain had played for the past five years. He was also a fan of American basketball and wore Chicago Bulls sweatshirts almost all the time. Michael Jordan was his god! As part of my rent, I tutored him in English several hours per week.

It was not hard to tell that Benoit liked me even though he was shy. I immediately felt an attraction to him, but I was as shy as he. At breakfast on weekdays I would come into the kitchen in my sleepwear, which consisted of a tee shirt and nylon shorts. While we were drinking our coffee and eating bread or croissants, he peeked at the outline of my breasts and the way my shorts wedged between my thighs. My all-over tan hadn’t faded yet, so I can boast that I looked pretty good in that skimpy outfit.

For my part, I thought he was gorgeous. Since we all shared a single bathroom, I had plenty of occasions to see him going to and from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a nicely muscled hairless chest and flat stomach with well developed abdominals. A little trail of curly black hair led downward from his navel and disappeared under the towel. I hadn't seen his cock, but I imagined it lying concealed waiting to be revealed at some appropriate time.

After a couple of months, Benoit got up his courage and asked me go out with him on a Saturday night. He proposed that we go to a discotheque and then for a late meal with some of his friends. I was happy to accept since now the barrier of reserve between us would be broken. Neither of us was a good dancer, but our awkward gyrations were lost among all the other bodies at the disco. Between dances he put his arm around my shoulder as I pressed into him. It seemed very natural and comfortable. Later we went to a student hangout, run by Algerians, where we ate couscous and drank cheap red wine.

We missed the last metro and had to walk home. I was tipsy from the amount of wine I had drunk. I leaned against Benoit as we walked along the sidewalks. His arm was around my back and under my arm, supporting me. I was aware that his hand was in contact with the side of my breast, but it felt warm and comforting in the cold night air of a Parisian autumn. Arriving at the entryway of the apartment building, I turned to face him as we fell into a tight embrace, kissing deeply. This was my first real romantic experience, and I felt my nipples stiffen as his chest pressed into mine. His hand was roaming over the seat of my jeans, while all I could think to do was clench the material of the back of his coat with both hands.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered when we broke for breath. "I wanted to tell you that since the first day you came."

"Merci." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I just closed my eyes and kissed him again.

"Let's go in, it's cold." He punched in the security code and we managed to get to the elevator. Once inside, we clinched again and kissed passionately until the door opened before the apartment entrance. Inside we tried to be quiet since the Faures were surely sleeping. He whispered into my ear, "Come into my room. Shhhh."

I was not thinking too clearly and I allowed myself to be led. With the door closed and the lights on, he quickly took off his overcoat, and then started to remove the rest of his clothing. I stood there in a stupor. When he had nothing on but briefs, I could see through the cloth that his cock was erect. He looked at me in surprise. "Aren't you going to get undressed?"

"Are you crazy? Do you think I'm a pute or something?" I left his room and ran to mine, where I fell on my bed sobbing. I felt like the foolish, inexperienced virgin that I was. I did want him, but in some undefined, romantic vision of sexual bliss. Shaking with chagrin and some regret, I fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke late and didn't come out for breakfast. I didn't want to face Benoit or his parents, so I hid until the hour came around for Sunday's family lunch when I could confide in Florence. The atmosphere was tense at lunch. Benoit sulked and glowered at me, while I sat next to Florence and made random conversation. Before the dessert course, Florence went outside to smoke a cigarette and I went with her.

"I gather your date with Benoit didn't go too well," she said, "judging by the looks he's throwing your way."

"It was fine until we got home. Then he wanted me to sleep with him. He must think I'm some easy lay or something." I started to cry.

Florence put her arm around me and let me sniffle on her shoulder. "Benoit is a boy, and all boys his age think about is fucking. It's not about you. You are a lovely girl and you did right to refuse him." She paused. "Are you still a virgin?"

I nodded.

"Then you did more than right. I bet the little asshole didn't even have a condom. Tomorrow after school come to my place. I'll help you with some female things."

We went back in to lunch. Benoit was still glaring at me and Florence. When the table was being cleared, he came over to me and whispered, "I guess you know my sister is gouine. I didn't know you were too, or I wouldn't have asked you out."

This was a shock. Gouine in French is like "dyke", but even more negative. My cheeks were burning. "I'm no lesbian! And if I had known you were such a pig, I wouldn't have accepted."

The rest of the aftrenoon passed equally dismally, and it was a relief to resume the daily school schedule the following day. I made it a point to dress before breakfast; no more titty-tease for Benoit! After class I went to Florence's apartment as agreed. She buzzed me in and I walked up three flights of stairs. She embraced me and led me inside. The apartment was very small but decorated with a sure taste. There was another woman, apparently in her early thirties, waiting for us.

"This is my friend Vivienne," Florence announced. "Please meet Sonia de Beaumanoir." The woman and I exchanged polite pecks on the cheek. Vivienne was elegantly and expensively dressed and was quite beautiful. I wondered if she too was gouine and if she were Florence's lover. We sat down on the sofa while Florence served tea.

"Well Sonia," the woman commenced. "Florence tells me you had a little problem with her brother." I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "Don't worry. Flo is very discreet, as am I. I'm her gynecologist and many of my patients are students. Normally I'd have you come to the clinic, but as a favor to Flo I agreed to talk to you here privately. Is this agreeable to you?"

I looked at Florence, then nodded.

"Most students your age are sexually active by the time they enter University. However, I am told that you have been strictly brought up and are still vierge. This is nothing to be ashamed of and in fact I congratulate you. But now you are an adult and practically on your own. You can make your own decisions but we want you to be prepared. Do you know the facts of life?"

"Of course. I'm not totally ignorant."

"Good. But here's a booklet I like to give anyway. It talks about AIDS and other problems that come with sex. I also have for you a prescription for birth control pills, and here is a sample with the first month's supply. Here's my card; come see me at the clinic when you can so that I can do a full exam." With that, Vivienne stood up, exchanged more pecks on our cheeks, and departed.

Florence turned to me. "That wasn't too hard. Did I do the right thing?"

I ran to her and put my arms around her. "Yes. Thank you. I'm so unhappy. Benoit thinks I'm a whore. How can I stay there? What can I say to your parents."

She stroked my hair. "Don't worry about Benoit. He'll get over it. My parents are smarter than you think. I'm positive that they have already had a little chat with him. You know, he even tried it with me once."

I was even more shocked. "With you? You mean he wanted to have sex with you?"

"He wanted to fuck me, yes. Don't be afraid of the word 'fuck.' I told him I had no interest and to keep his cock in his pants. That was two years ago. But underneath he is really a sweet boy, so I want you to forgive him too. That will make it easier to live together."

I decided to take a chance. "He told me you are a lesbian."

She laughed. "I bet he said I was gouine. Did you think Vivienne was my lover?" She was so perceptive. I confessed that I had. "Let's be open with each other. I am bisexual, but I prefer relations with women. Vivienne and I have been lovers on occasion, but with us it's casual and for fun. I don't have any permanent liaisons at the moment. Does that make things clear?"

I was aware that I was embracing a beautiful woman who loved other women, something I could not have believed even a week before. She felt so good and safe that I didn't feel either alarm or disgust. In fact, I felt a sort of warmth build up in me that I had never felt before. I wanted to ask her so many questions, but there was an emotional dam within me and I did nothing. "Thank you for being such a good friend," was all I could say.

I arrived back at the apartment before dinner time. Benoit was in the living room. He asked me to step outside into the elevator lobby. He blurted out, "I want to apologize for what I did. It was stupid. I was stupid." He stood there shifting awkwardly and looking at his shoes. "I really do like you though." Silence. "And I didn't mean what I said about Flo. She is great." Silence. "Are you going to say anything?" He started to sniffle, which really surprised me.

"I like you too. It was all a misunderstanding. I've already forgotten it." I kissed him quickly on the lips and ran back inside.

Things came back to normal. Benoit and I went on other dates. He was really a good-natured, sweet man. Now he did only what I permitted, and we progressed to more and more serious activities. I allowed him to feel my breasts, and then to touch my pussy, and finally to lick me. I was surprised to discover that his touch would make me instantly wet, and with some practice he could bring me to orgasm. For my part I learned all the details of his anatomy. He had a beautiful cock. It was not particularly large, but it had a bright red head and a network of purple veins running over up and down the shaft. When I had learned what pleased him, I could make him cum with either my hands or my mouth. I found the taste of semen to be pleasant, and he loved to shoot his seed into my throat or over my face or breasts.

But I still denied him the final gift of my virginity. Somehow I thought of losing it as crossing a bridge into a country from which there was no return. I wanted him, but something held me back.

I also continued to explore Paris with Florence. She was as dear to me as any sister could have been. I felt an attraction to her which was not sisterly in the least. Was I a lesbian? Given what I did with Benoit, I was sure that I was not. Could I be bisexual? How was I to know? Finally I had to ask. One afternoon at her apartment, I spoke up. "Can I ask you a very personal question?"

"You know you can." She smiled. "It seems you're practically my sister-in-law."

Blush! "What do you mean?"

"I helped with the laundry last week. Those stains on your sheets looked like semen to me. I supposed that you and Benoit had progressed to the real thing."

"We haven't!" Pause. "At least not all the way. Did your mother see?"

"Mother is as sharp as a tack. There's not much that gets by her. If she disapproved you would have known by now. Benoit is as civilized as I've ever seen him, practically a gentleman even. I think you've been a good influence on him. He's even doing better in school. If you start fucking, he may prove to be a genius. Anyway, what did you want to ask me?"

I started to have second thoughts, but it was then or never. "How did you know you liked women, that you were bisexual?"

She stared at me for a moment. "That's a strange question. Tell me why you want to know and perhaps I'll answer you honestly."

"I think I may be too," I whispered.

"Really? Why would you think that? Who is the object of your affections? Do you have a crush on someone other than Benoit?"

"Yes. I think you know who it is."

"I think I do, but you have to tell me."

"You," I said in a tiny voice.

She gathered me into her arms. It felt so comfortable. "I love you too. I love you as a sister, and also as a woman. I've known it since the first week you came."

"You never told me. Why not?"

"Unrequited love is terribly painful. If you were not disposed to love me physically, I preferred to keep you as a friend, as a sister. You see, I knew Benoit had fallen for you too. Even though he and I don't agree on everything, I would hate to hurt him like that."

That evening we became lovers. She undressed me slowly, kissing each part of me as it came into view. When she removed my bra, I felt my nipples harden on their own, and when she took them into her mouth I almost came right then. When I was finally nude, she looked at me and said, "You have such a beautiful body. I can hardly wait to love you. Now, you must undress me."

My excitement was such that I fumbled with all of the buttons and fastenings, trembling in anticipation and, yes I admit it, lust. When she was as bare as I, she asked, "Sonia, is this what you expected?"

I looked at her small round breasts with their dark brown erect nipples, at her mound covered with wispy black curls, and at her pussy lips already showing a gleam of wetness. "Yes, you are what I expected and more. You are beautiful. And I love you so much."

She led me to her bedroom, pushed me down on the bed, and said, "Now I’m going to love you. Just lie there and let me give you pleasure."

She sucked each nipple into her mouth and rolled them gently around her lips and tongue. I was on fire. She then kissed slowly down my stomach until her lips just grazed my clitoris. It was as if an electric current was passing through me. She parted my outer lips with one hand, and licked up and down the full length of my slit, teasing my hard clit with each pass. This seemed to go on for a long time, and soon I was bucking my hips against her face. At long last, she pressed a slick finger against my anus, entering me while at the same time sucking my clit into her mouth and rolling it about with her tongue. My orgasm came crashing down as I felt a flood of my juices flowing onto the face of my beloved Florence.

After recovering for a few minutes, I sat up to see her leaning on one elbow regarding me. "That was incredible," I said. "I never had such an orgasm before."

"We women know what each other like." She replied. "Do you want to find out what I like?"

"Of course I do. Should I just do what you did to me."

"Start with that. I’ll tell you as you go."

I tried my best to comply with her wishes. Her small perfect breasts were exquisite, and the dark brown nipples hard and pointed. When I brought my mouth down to her sex, I found that her pussy juices were so musty and intoxicating that each taste made mine flow as well. She has a pert little clit that stood up like a tiny cock. I loved to roll my tongue around it, then plunge into her moist tunnel.

"Put your fingers into me," she demanded. I put one, then two, and then a third into her cunt. It was hot and tight. "Now fuck me with your hand." I started to do so slowly. "Please! Now! Harder and faster!" I complied, feeling like I might hurt her. "Now when you push in, bump my clit with your thumb. Pinch my nipples with your other hand. Pinch harder!" After long minutes of this, she clamped her legs together hard against my hand and let out a long gasp, almost a scream, then went limp.

When we had satisfied all our urges, we lay together satiated. I turned lazily to her and said, "God, I love you so much. I want to move here with you."

She kissed me. "I told you that I love you too. I think I always will. But we don't make decisions like this so quickly. I want you stay where you are until you've had time to think things through. We can be together here any time you want. You will be at school here for three more years, and there will be lots of time."

"Why didn’t you put your fingers into me like that? You looked like you were in heaven."

Florence took my head in her hands and kissed me. "You are a virgin, and if I did that it would break your hymen. I could never do that without your wanting me to, without telling you first. Do you want that? Do you want Benoit to have it? Think about it."

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