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There were times in my life when I thought I was asexual. Sex was never that important to me: my studies and then my career came first. I knew I was never going to be a devoted wife and mother. I never had time for boys, for men. Being a virgin in my late twenties never really bothered me as much as it bothered others. I hated those conversations with friends and colleagues when they would share their stories of their, often disappointing, first times.
Now though, when friends talk about how they lost it on the back seat of a car or their parents’ bed, I casually say, “Ouai, I lost my virginity in orbit… in space… on board the International Space Station”. Then, watching the opened-mouthed disbelief, I add, “It’s not easy having sex in microgravity — it took two astronauts to deflower me — but you should see how beautiful it is when a guy ejaculates over you in a weightless environment”.
My first time, when it came, did not disappoint. I’m glad I waited for it. Let me tell you my story.
I was born and raised near Caen, in Normandy. I am an only child, ever the tomboy, with tightly cropped brown hair. I love swimming and running, especially competing against and beating the boys. My parents are both teachers, and they gave me a disciplined education. That’s how I ended up at the ‘X’ — the famous École polytechnique in Paris — on their rigorous engineering course.
Most of my fellow polytechniciens hated their initial, mandatory military service, required by tradition at the ‘X’. I, however, loved the discipline of the time I spent with the Armée de l’air, the French Air Force. When back at the ‘X’, I was unusual in that I took every opportunity to attend parades and don my grand uniform with its brass buttons, little sword and bicorne hat. My parents had so many pictures of me posing proudly like some extra from a Napoleonic reconstruction.
I never thought of myself as pretty or attractive, and I didn’t want to be seen that way. I loved my body, thought of it as a marvellous machine, which I honed and tuned to athletic perfection, but I knew I always looked handsome in a uniform.
I completed my studies in Toulouse at SUPAERO specialising in aeronautical and space engineering, writing my doctoral thesis on airframe microfractures. After graduation, I leapt at the chance to continue my military commission as an aeronautical engineer in the air force.
My spare time was completely taken up with running marathons, swimming, and logging flight hours on a little Epsilon training plane. That’s besides my work as an air-force captain and engineering instructor for the Air Force Training Command. I suppose that I was the obvious candidate when the generals wanted an officer to send to the European Astronaut Centre in Cologne, and so I became only the third woman ever to join the European Astronaut Corps.
I knew my parents were proud of me; they asked me to visit their respective schools to inspire girls to study engineering and technology. Whether in my air-force officer’s service uniform, with its three gold captain’s stripes, or in my blue astronaut’s flight suit, with the Tricolore proudly displayed on my shoulder, I knew I made a positive impact on those girls’ lives.
My first space mission was a Soyuz ride to the International Space Station as dual-role science officer and flight engineer. I was sent to run batch experiments on stress fractures in microgravity. There were only three of us on the expedition: our commander Cosmonaut Nikolai Kryukov, NASA Astronaut Zachary Myers, and I. Things had got terribly messed up, one cosmonaut had returned to Earth from the ISS with sickness before I arrived. Then the launch of the next Soyuz, with its additional crew, kept being cancelled, for a mix of political and financial reasons. A normal complement of six crew members was reduced to three, and things did not seem likely to change soon.
I got on well with Kolya and Zach. Kolya — short for Nikolai — was in command, but laughed everything up into a joke or a game. He was ten years older than I, a former fighter pilot, a lieutenant colonel, and an experienced cosmonaut. His hair was the colour of straw, his eyes pale blue. Zach was just a year older than I, the image of Superman with black wavy hair and shimmering blue eyes. He was intense and serious. He had a doctorate in mathematics, and was a civilian NASA astronaut and flight engineer. They were, like me, both extremely fit — we had to be — but not hulking giants, as the Soyuz TMA-M has serious size restrictions.
We spoke English together, laughing at our misunderstandings of each other. As with most Americans, Zach’s pronunciation of French was atrocious, and it took me almost half an hour to teach him how to pronounce my name without it sounding weird. Kolya watched and laughed. When Zach got it right, Kolya embraced both us in a great hug, kissing my right cheek and Zach’s left, knocking our weightless cluster of friendly bodies off all the walls of the eryaman escort Zvezda Module, at the aft end of the ISS.
Zach didn’t have to work too hard to remember the pronunciation of my name: instead, he quickly assigned me the English call sign ‘Mouse’. I admit that it made sense: I am small, with the slim physique of a long-distance runner and closely cropped brown hair. So, I became ‘Mouse’, and the name stuck. Kolya’s call sign was ‘Bad Santa’, because his proper name was Nikolai, and he was known for his vulgar talk. Zach was ‘Sugar’, from how ‘Zachary’ sounds in Russian, like sakhar. We didn’t use their call signs quite so much, but I was always ‘Mouse’ to them and to everyone at the Mission Control Centres. Even the Russians switched from calling me ‘Station 3’ to ‘Mouse’. I had always enjoyed the esprit de corps at the ‘X’ and in the air force, being one of the boys. Yet here, marooned with these two loveable idiots, it was like family. Certainly not like living with my parents (who set an alarm to watch for my star flying over Caen for a few minutes every day), but something truly liberating.
They gave me some personal space to myself way back aft in the living compartment of the Zvezda Module. My home’s name means ‘star’ in Russian. It had the third best view of Earth from the Station (after the Cupola and the Destiny Module), and it was close to the toilet. I can’t tell you how important that second factor is on board the ISS. Kolya moved up forward to the Harmony Module to bunk with Zach. TsUP-M (Moscow Mission Control Centre) was not happy at his turning over of the living compartment of Zvezda to me, but he had told them to “Fuck off!” and let him be a gentleman. Zvezda was the most beautiful place I have ever lived, despite the limitations of it being in a minimalist microgravity environment. Various cosmonauts had left little mementoes around the living compartment. I’m not religious, but I loved the postcard of an old Russian icon of the Virgin and Child — Kolya called it Vladimirskaya — that had been left stuck over the bunk. The benevolent smiles had a calming effect on me. I too was a virgin, and I felt myself still to be a child in many ways.
Even with all the training I had received, weightlessness, orbiting the Earth once every hour and a half, and sixteen sunrises and sunsets a day took a lot of getting used to. Eating out of plastic packets, and washing with water jets and hygiene wipes was not at all glamorous. Then there was the disorientation when you float into a module and slowly realise that the floor is really the ceiling. I never had too much time to ponder as our schedule was packed. We carried out the tasks normally assigned to a crew of six: ESA checked in for results from my experiments, while Kolya would casually ask me to take on increasingly difficult duties as his second flight engineer.
Perhaps it’s because they accepted me as one of the boys that they didn’t filter their conversations. Kolya and I were in the working compartment of Zvezda talking about aligning the solar panels so as to reduce orbital drag. We contacted TsUP-M to discuss our plans, and awaited their response. Our conversation meandered.
“Mouse, if you ever need recommendations for best prostitutes in Moscow, you ask me, OK?” Kolya steered our talk into new, unpromising territory.
“You remember that I’m a woman, don’t you?”, I shot back.
“Ah, well, the good ladies are all bisexual now”, he replied wistfully.
“Is Bad Santa giving you all the lurid details of his sex life again?” Zach commented as he floated in through the transfer compartment.
“And you, Zach, you know the prostitutes of Kansas?” I goaded him cheekily, showing him I was one of the boys, and not letting myself be outdone by Kolya’s bawdiness.
“You know full well that I’m from Chicago, Mouse. And, no, I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Go on, my Sugar, tell her your very sad tale about how your penis is turning into raisin”, laughed Kolya.
Zach’s face reddened and he looked away.
“If you don’t tell her, I will!” Kolya toyed with him.
“OK, you bastard. So, my fiancée left me right before I came over to Baikonur for the launch. That’s all there is to tell. Are you satisfied?” Zach replied hurriedly.
“There”, I snapped back, “The ridiculous way you say fiancée: it sounds so funny when you try to speak French. Why not say the English word?” I teased him. I had learnt never to relent when it came to teasing comrades.
“That is the English word!” he shot back. Then he tried to shift the burden onto me. “So, Mouse, is there anyone back home for you to share a candle-lit camembert and vin rouge with?”
“Certainly not, I have no time for frivolous relationships”, I returned in a matter-of-fact way.
“Not an old boyfriend you hook up with when you’re back in Paris then?” Zach continued the questioning.
“But no, I am not someone who has boyfriends.” I was starting to get uncomfortable.
“Heh. esat escort So it’s girls you like?” proffered Kolya rather bawdily.
“I am not a lesbian, Kol”, I shot back strongly.
“But there must have been someone: a crush, a first kiss… a someone”, Zach searched and needled.
This always happened: no matter how hard I played the game of banter, I had to take more than my fair share.
“Come on, Zach. Look at me: I’m an engineer. I don’t do the fluffy stuff, I don’t do sex”, I said, hoping it would stop the conversation.
Kolya jumped back in, exclaiming, “No sex! There must have been some lucky bastard who stole the virginity of our Engineer Mouse”.
I was wrong, my attempt to close down the conversation took it instead to the place I dreaded. I gritted my teeth and told them, “Evidently not, I am a virgin, OK?” but I knew that was never enough.
“What? You never make fuck?” was Kolya’s delightful take on the situation.
“Are you some, like, kind of nun, like Joan of Arc? I thought you Frenchies were always at it!” was Zach’s attempt at demonstrating cultural understanding.
“I think it is not important, OK? I do not want to be someone’s wife or a mother with a baby. Merde! I am an astronaut: is that not enough?” I angrily explained my position, my deeply held life choices.
“Each to their own — I suppose it makes sense”, said Zach, who clearly couldn’t make sense of it.
“You really never make fuck?” was Kolya’s still uncomprehending expression. “What about with kissing?” he asked.
“No, I cannot say that I truly kissed a boy”, I replied.
With that, Kolya launched himself across the compartment to deliver a playful kiss on my lips. His kiss was more brotherly than sexual, except the microgravity meant that his movement flattened me into the wall of the compartment with him on top of me. All three of us suddenly felt rather uncomfortable about the situation.
The communications relay beeped. A Russian accent broke the air, “Moskva to Station. Mouse, you have permission to carry out realignment of solar panels”.
I broke away and pushed towards the relay. “Moskva, this is Station. We are ready to realign the panels”, I confirmed.
“I’ll need to hand over some computer functions from Harmony, Mouse”, declared Zach.
With that, he and Kolya pulled themselves into the transfer compartment that connected to the Zarya Module and floated forward through the length of the Station.
That was by no means the end of it. The next morning we took a break together in the Harmony Module.
Zach returned to our earlier conversation. He obviously couldn’t get his head around the fact that I was a virgin. “Mouse, have you never thought what it might be like to have a relationship; do you never think that it might be fulfilling, that you’re missing out on something?”
My heart sank as I realised that we were back to talking about my non-existent sex life.
“Hmm”, Kolya ruminated, “You don’t feel something in your little pussy that makes you want to”, he searched for words, “to fill it?”
I felt embarrassed by the physicality of his description of me. “I think that I have learned to block those emotions”, I offered.
“This is not good. We — our Sugar, I, of course, and even you, little Mouse — we are animals; we need to fuck. If we don’t fuck, we die”, Kolya said as if this were a proven medical fact.
“I think what he means is that there’s a deep human instinct for sexual intimacy”, added Zach.
That evening, I prepared for sleep, all by myself in the Zvezda Module. I moved into the area between the living and working compartments, to the large observation window set into the floor. I watched the Earth speeding past below me as I orbited it at around 27,500 km/h, yet all was serene. I delved one hand into my shorts and stroked ma petite chatte. Holding onto the frame of the window with one hand, I floated, lying suspended in space, masturbating over the Earth like a goddess. I had a private, quiet, rare orgasm there — I ‘rejoiced’, as we say in French. The Mother of God continued to smile benignly upon me, but I hoped that my parents were not looking for my star at that moment. It was so beautiful, but I knew I was missing something. I closed the cover on the window, and I slept well.
The next morning, I knew I had to raise my feelings with my friends. “Guys, I think that I must lose my virginity”, I put it out there.
Zach coughed, almost choking at my directness.
“You see, I am always pragmatic, not romantic. I need no candles and dinner, but I feel that you guys are right, that something is missing from my life”, I told them.
“Bravo! It is never too late to begin”, said Kolya.
“I masturbated last night, looking at the Earth”, I told them without shame.
“Too much information, Mouse!” cried Zach in his American squeamishness.
“You and I are in same club, etimesgut escort Mouse. I masturbated twice this week”, added Kolya, “Ejaculation can be problem here; very messy, unless you prepare for it”. He looked away almost wistfully, “But I catch my little submarines in bag, and put them on board Progress to burn in atmosphere and fall in ocean. Way to go!” He pumped the air in a mock sport’s cheer.
We were all used to Kolya’s vulgarities by now.
“Messieurs”, I began solemnly, “I have a proposition for you”, I told them with renewed confidence.
They looked at me intently.
“I have decided that I want to lose my virginity in space, looking at the Earth through the window.”
It took a surprisingly long time for them to realise that there were only two men who could possibly help me out.
“You want to do it here?” said Zach, “What will Houston and Moskva say?”
“They need not know everything”, I responded, certain that some privacy could be retained.
“So… you want one of us to… fuck you?” said Kolya with surprising caution mixed in with his usual tone.
“But yes, of course”, I replied, somewhat confused by how slow they were to respond.
There was silence between us. Zach was clearly uncomfortable, Kolya slowly beginning to relish the thought.
“At the observation window in Zvezda?” Kolya continued.
I nodded, thinking of the place where I enjoyed caressing myself to orgasm last night.
Zach interjected, “Wouldn’t the Millennium Falcon be better?”
The ‘Millennium Falcon’ was his name for the Cupola Module, a seven-window observation dome with the biggest windows in space. It did indeed look like the cockpit from the Star Wars films. Diving into the Cupola was like hanging underneath the Station, exposed to space, and open to the blue curves of the Earth.
“My dear Mouse, you are my good friend and colleague. It would be honour for me to help… well… educate you, but are you sure?” said Kolya eventually.
“What do you think, Zach?” I asked.
“I think you’re nuts, Mouse”, he replied.
“Of course, I understand completely if you do not want to have sex with me…” I thought that his former fiancée must be far more attractive.
“No, that’s not it. I think you’re great. As Kolya says, it would be an honour. It’s just a bit… well, you know… weird, that’s all”, answered Zach.
“Wonderful! But, Mouse, you have not told us who you want to help you”, declared Kolya.
“I don’t mind. You’re both my friends”, I told him.
“So, shall we toss a coin for it, or is that… a little insulting for you?” Kolya responded.
Zach pointed out, “You can’t toss a coin fairly in space”.
“Are both of you happy to do it?” I asked hesitatingly.
Kolya nodded a little too eagerly, “Of course. Of course”.
“Zach?” I asked.
Zach struggled to find words, saying, “Well… if this is something you want… it sounds like a beautiful idea: to lose it in space. Well — fuck it — yeah!”
“So, we draw lots to see who does it?” I suggested.
“Wait, a minute!” declared Kolya, “We must plan this properly. You cannot do this like bureaucracy”.
“What is it that you mean?” I shot back at him.
“Well, when I want to give… err… pleasure to woman, I make minet to her first”, said Kolya, “You deserve that”.
I understood the French word minette, but Kolya clarified.
“I mean cunnilingus.”
“Eating pussy”, added Zach, not wanting to get left out, and getting braver.
I squirmed inside my clothes, a sensation only possible in microgravity. I could feel myself becoming aroused at these men discussing having oral sex with me, and I knew I wanted it badly. I blurted out, “Yes, I want that”.
Zach continued, “Would it be rude to suggest that we share, I mean, one of us eats you out, and then the other one pops your cherry?”
I thought about it. I couldn’t imagine doing this without both of them: we felt inseparable. “I want you both to be with me”, I said, “We cast lots to see who gets the two jobs? I want to do it tonight in the Cupola, after we finish our daily duties”.
They nodded, somewhat solemnly.
Then Zach passed me a small velcro loop that we use to fasten objects to surfaces or ourselves. “Put this behind your back and hide it in one of your hands. Then ask one of us to pick, to see who is the lucky one.”
I put my hands behind my back and toyed with loop, passing it back and forth between my hands.
“Wait!” interrupted Kolya, “If I choose right, do I get to make minet or to make fuck?”
“Who chooses the right hand chooses which role they will play”, I told him. I was the referee of my own virginity. I continued moving the loop between my unseen hands: was I being gauche, or was I doing the right thing? Both were true; it didn’t matter. The loop slipped into my left hand and stopped there. I drew my clenched fists out and offered them to Zach. “Choose”, I told him.
Zach scanned my eyes to check that this was for real. Then he looked to Kolya, who nodded back at him. He inhaled sharply, and tapped my right hand, which I opened to reveal nothing.
I held my left hand out to Kolya, and slowly opened it, letting the loop float out of my palm.
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