Clara 35

Hey everyone! CheeseSandwich222 here, back from hiatus, with a brand-new story of growth and love as two college kids find their soulmates and lose their virginities.

As with all my stories, this one is made up of a mix of truth and fiction. Although, compared to my past two, this one contains the most truth. See if you can tell which is which, and fall in love with these lovers as they explore each other for the first time... I hope you enjoy!

---

The first thing I remember seeing was her smile. A perfect pink upturn with two divots under its corners, stretching upwards towards her warm brown eyes. I followed the line of her lips to the crease in between her eyebrows, charcoal on warm snow. Her giggle made my hands tremor. Suddenly, she turned towards me, and I found those warm brown eyes looking directly at me. I flushed.

"Um- Hi! W-what can I get you?" I kicked myself. Her friends snickered.

"Just a London Fog, please." She gave a reproachful look to her friends. It gave me a sudden rush of energy.

"What's the name on that order?" Mercifully, my voice had become steady. I grabbed a Sharpie and poised it on the plastic cup. She flashed me that smile again and the tip skidded on the cup. Her friends snickered again.

"Clara." I could swear she winked at me as she tapped her card. "Thank you!" Her elegant brown-black hair swept behind her, leaving just the slightest trace of perfume cutting through the fog of the coffee grounds. I inhaled it and almost died.

I rushed to make the order. Normally, I'd hand the finished drink over to one of my coworkers, but I wanted to deliver this one. "Nate, be a mensch and man the counter, will you?" Nate groaned. "Stop flirting, Nick. They're not going to sleep with you." I shot him a dirty look. "You really think that's the only thing on my mind?"

He looked over at Clara, and so did I. From a distance, she looked luminous; she was giving off a light that seemed far brighter than the lamps around her. Nate turned to me, narrowed his eyes, and feinted towards my crotch. I yelped and jumped backwards, painfully aware of my erection. He laughed, not unkindly. "Right."

I flushed an even deeper shade of red and hurried to the counter. "Clara!" I called out. God, even her name was beautiful. She turned and smiled, walking over. I was entranced by the way her hips swayed. The heady scent of eucalyptus and tea tree returned. As I handed the drink to her, I felt our fingers brush. There was a spark, and almost instinctively, she retracted her hand. I met her eyes again; they were now wide.

"Get back here, Clara!" her friends called. But we kept looking at each other--I saw that her breath had quickened. Her delicate fingers fumbled around in her purse, and she pulled out lipstick. She then leaned over the counter and grabbed my wrist. She didn't make eye contact as she scribbled her number on my forearm. When she looked back up at me, there was something new in her eyes--a dangerous spark. My had heart started beating painfully fast.

Then, as quickly as she had come, she left the coffee shop, joining the milieu of students traipsing from class to class outdoors. Nate, behind me, was doubled over laughing. I aimed a kick at him but couldn't hide my smile.

...

After work, I hurried home to look her up in my college's database. There she was--her face shining despite the graininess of the photo. It was unmistakable.

Clara Cheng

, I thought to myself,

where do I find you?

I hastily typed the number in my phone and sent her a text. Almost instantly, my phone buzzed, and my heart leapt again. We texted back and forth for an hour, just getting to know each other.

Clara Cheng, 20, from Boston, majoring in Chemistry (I thought of making a terrible joke and somehow resisted), played the electric guitar (that was a plot twist), and wanted to work in medicine research in the future.

Nick Sarr, 20, from Denver, majoring in Math (I was going to need that side gig early), played the violin (I'm more of a stereotype), and wanted to develop cryptographic algorithms in the future.

The conversation was never boring. I realized that I had never so enjoyed the simple pleasure of getting to know someone. First dates used to bore me terribly; second dates were filled with catch-up from my tendency to not pay attention to banal life details the first time around. But I found myself craving every detail with Clara.

Her childhood stuffed animal was named Nat after her dad's favorite artist. Her favorite meal was falafel with pita. Her favorite artist was Beabadoobee, and she covered her songs on YouTube. (This was followed by a feverish Google search on my part where I watched her delicate fingers strumming the strings and her voice, beautiful and satin-like, warmed the deepest reaches of my soul. I imagined those fingers wrapped around something else and felt a jerk in my lower stomach).

We talked for so long; my Galois Theory lecture had been going for five minutes when I suddenly realized what time it was. I ran out of the door, thumbs still furiously sending her my thoughts on ligands informed by a single Wikipedia page. I almost caused five accidents on the way to class, haphazardly crossing roads and fielding several angry stares.

"are you texting me from class ;)" I asked her.

"i'm on the wayy" she texted me back.

As I strode into the hall, I sensed a rush of air and briefly the scent of eucalyptus before I ended up in a tangle on the ground. Groaning, I stood up, rubbing my elbow, and turned to see Clara on the floor at my feet.

"Oh- my God. I'm so, so sorry--guess I was--"

"Distracted?" she asked, with a wry smile.

I gave her a hand and pulled her up. She looked startled at how easy it was for me to lift her off the ground. I had the pleasure of seeing her blush. I did my best to hide how excited I had gotten. Now that we were so close, I took in her outfit. She was wearing a skirt; her legs, smooth and creamlike, were toned, and I couldn't help but dream about what was between them. Her top was cropped, revealing the smooth curve of her stomach. I had to fight not to stare at her chest, with small and shapely breasts pushing up against the fabric.

"Well, you're a worthy distraction."

Really, Nick?

I thought.

That's the best you could come up with?

But to my amazement, she laughed, her giggle clear and warm as sunlight. Emboldened by this, the next words came tumbling out of me. "Can I take you on a date?" Her eyes met mine, and I saw that dangerous spark again, but within it I saw the depths of a blush.

...

The next few weeks flew by as we went on date after date. We started out surprisingly shy. After our dates, we'd go on long walks, and she'd reach her fingers out to me, but we didn't hold hands--we relished the electricity in our fingertips.

She was so easy to converse with, and we talked about everything from politics to musicals. I spent most of my time with her laughing. I loved how quick she was to smile and how easy it was to make her giggle. I loved how her face would light up when she saw me and how my heart would beat faster when I saw her name on my phone. I loved--I loved

her

, but how could I say it?

We'd go on hikes together, and at the top of the cliffs, she'd rest her head on my shoulder. In those moments, when her face was illuminated by the setting sun, I'd count every freckle that spread across her nose and cheeks. I loved how the light made it seem as though her eyes were alive.

We'd sing together, our voices melding with her guitar. She taught me all the songs that she knew and laughed when I attempted to belt lyrics outside my range. I wanted to spend every single moment of my time with her.

I kept dreaming about everything under her clothes, and every time she would leave, I would find my underwear slightly damp from precum and my heart racing. Her body was a dream, with an ass that swayed with its own momentum that I could see even when she walked towards me. I wanted to slide my hands under her bra and play with her nipples, making her gasp with my fingertips. I wanted to slide my hand between her legs to feel her wetness, taste her arousal and make her squirm. I wanted to fuck her, to make her scream my name, to feel her shudder on my dick as--

But I respected her boundaries. She'd been hurt by her ex, and I didn't want to rush her or make her feel worse. So, we talked, laughed, danced, sang, fell for each other. I thought about her as I went to sleep and leapt to my phone to text her back when I woke up. Her scent invaded my every day, the image of her lips tormented me every night. I'd touch myself thinking of her delicate fingers around my shaft and wet tongue licking me from top to bottom. When I'd finally come, I'd imagine her expression when she swallowed, and I'd almost come a second time.

...

Eight dates later, we were walking next to the campus cemetery when she steered me towards my dorm. I looked at her. "Clara, are you sure?" She smiled. Our fingers brushed once, then--suddenly--intertwined. I felt a surge going through my spine. "Is that an answer enough for you?" I couldn't sprint up my stone stairs fast enough and pushed into my room, Clara right behind me.

We sat on my bed and looked at each other. I pulled her to me, cupping her behind her neck. Her skin felt deliciously smooth. I stroked her hair with my fingers. It was so easy to get lost in that gaze, in those arms, in those lips... Our faces drifted closer and closer to each other, and the moment that our lips met, it felt as though we had shed any inhibition that may have existed between us. Her skin dissolved into mine as our tongues melded.

We turned to lie next to each other, tongues exploring each other's mouths, fingers roving up each other's bodies. I paused every time I moved an inch over her smooth skin, waiting for her approval; with every nod, I grew bolder, and I slid my hands under her shirt to her back. God, her skin was so smooth, her body slender and fit. I moved my hands to cup her ass and felt her gasp as I squeezed it.

"Slow, Nick." She drew out the syllable and returned to kissing me. I slid my hands up and down her torso, playing with her bra strap, dreaming of snapping it off. She slipped her legs over mine and pushed her mound down on my knee. I could feel her wetness through her shorts and her panties. I moved my knee up tentatively and was rewarded by a gasp.

I slid her shirt over her head as she unbuttoned mine. It felt as though we'd known each other's bodies for an eternity. The slope of her stomach was beautifully toned, and I explored every inch of it happily. She moved her hand down to my bulge and grinned. I planted kisses down her neck, behind her ear, relishing her little whimpers and building gasps. I traced a line of kisses down her collarbone and paused over her bra. I kissed over the bra twice. I continued kissing my way down to her stomach, and she squirmed, tying my blankets into nots.

I looked up to see that she was panting. Her hair was a mess and her face was flushed. We both laughed. I scooted myself up next to her in my bed and put my arms around her. "You're quite the diva," I said. She turned around and scooted her ass into my dick. I felt myself pulsing and prayed that I wouldn't come. She grabbed my wrists and held them around her. She moved my hands to her breasts, placing them over her bra. I gave them a squeeze. They felt heavenly, and I felt my erection growing even more. I prayed she couldn't feel me. As if in response, she began grinding on my crotch.

"Do you like them?" she whispered.

"They're perfect," I replied.

She looked to me and her face was shining. "My ex hated my body. He always wanted me to change it. He'd always tell me to get an augmentation, a liposuction, anything to become

hotter

for him." She spat out that word like venom. "You're not like that, right?"

I looked at her and smiled. "Clara, you're the most beautiful girl that I've ever seen. I don't think you can change perfection." She laughed again. I held her for a while. Then, suddenly-- "Nick, I love you." My heart raced again. I kissed her neck where it met her ear and felt her snuggle deeper into me. "I love you too, Clara." We stayed like that for a while.

...

We'd made out lots of times after that night but never progressed further than that. She loved to tease me by trailing her panties over my bulge. The smell of her wetness drove me crazier than the smell of her perfume, and I'd dream of her naked body pressed against mine every time afterwards.

Her friends thought that the way we met was deeply funny and enjoyed telling the story over and over again. My stint at the coffee shop came to a close and Nate joked that I'd only taken the job to get with women; now that I had, I was quitting. I gave him a punch.

The question of sex had often come up between us, but both of us were too shy to say anything. I'd catch her eyes flicking down towards my crotch after we'd cuddled. I'd watch her ass shamelessly as she stood up and tied her hair into a messy bun, her body a treat, and I'd pull her waist over as I covered her slim stomach with kisses. "Stop, it tickles!" she'd exclaim. Naturally, this only made me do it more.

Clara's 21

st

was coming up, and I wanted to make it special. I'd gotten her a signed record from Beabadoobee that I picked up at a concert we'd been to together by feigning a bathroom trip at the end. I'd made reservations at her favorite Mediterranean fusion bar and made sure that they had falafel on the menu. I'd bought a giant bouquet and was obsessively arranging it so that the flowers were arranged in the shape of her favorite Impressionist paintings.

She was deeply nervous on the day of her birthday as I came into her room singing. She looked at me and blushed. I handed her my present, and she was overcome with emotion; she collapsed into my arms with happy tears on her face. I lifted her off her bed and kissed her deeply.

"How's that for a present?" I looked into her eyes and was shocked to see the dangerous spark dancing in them once again. She smiled wickedly and moved her lips to my ears.

"And how's this for a party favor?" She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand under her panties, sliding my fingers over her clit and into her wetness.

It happened so suddenly; I didn't have a time to react but saw her breathing slow and felt her blush. I slid my finger back and forth once, tentatively. Her pussy was slick and felt deeply warm. Her breath quickened, and she tightened her fingers around my wrist.

"You'll get

that

after dinner," she winked at me.

Now, it was my turn to blush. My heart was racing, and I could see my erection pressing against my khakis. "You're edging me for that long?" I fake pouted. At this, she laughed. "Good things come to those who wait." She smiled at me--that smile I'd fallen in love with--and skipped out of the room. "Come on!"

The rest of the day was torture for me as I kept thinking about what was to come after dinner. She loved the flowers, and the Beabadoobee vinyl played in her apartment for hours. She spent the afternoon with her friends as they barhopped around the city, enjoying her newfound freedom. When it came time for our date, I double-checked that my hair was curling as it should and walked to her dorm.

She emerged looking more beautiful and radiant than I'd ever seen her before. She was wearing a dress with a deep cut down the neck and a slit that showed off her smooth, dreamy legs. She twirled, and the fabric of her dress lifted upwards, revealing the bottom of her ass. I felt my arms trembling again, as they had so long ago, but when I reached out my hand and smiled at her, they were steady and sure. I pulled her to me and kissed her.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

The date was perfect, and we shared a glass of wine; I took sips when the waiter wasn't looking. But despite the food, I could only think of one thing. I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster and my face was hot to the touch; whether that was the wine or the anticipation, I didn't know.

Finally, the dinner was over, and we walked back to my dorm, chatting as we always did. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, I dipped her and carried her up the two flights of stairs in my arms. She looked at me with such warmth and love that I almost fell down twice. She giggled both times.

Clara and her giggles

, I thought;

they're going to kill me one day

. Perhaps today. We began kissing as we reached into the door, both kicking our shoes off as we fell backwards into my bed.

She straddled me and I moved my hands towards her ass; this time, she did not stop me, but moaned with pleasure as I kneaded her ass in my hands. I gave it a slap and heard her moans turn to shrieks of pleasure. My quiet, beautiful Clara--who knew she could make such noises?

Our tongues continued to explore each other's mouths. She toyed at my buttons, making her way down slowly, while she kissed my neck and the top of my chest, trailing her lips along my jawline. Her perfume filled my nose and my mind. I couldn't stop fantasizing about what I was about to do to her, to her body, to the inevitable joy in between her legs--

Before I knew it, my shirt was off, and her dress was on my floor. I paused to take her in. My eyes trailed from her face, graced with her wicked smile, and followed her long, dark hair over her shapely shoulders down to her red lace bra. I traced the line of her stomach through her abs and to her widening hips. I kept thinking about her ass. As though she was reading my mind, she turned her ass towards me, biting her lips. It was round, pillowy, and perfect.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I growled and pulled her towards me, my fingers reaching behind her back, finally snapping her bra straps open. I threw her bra on the floor. Her breasts were pert and tipped with dark brown nipples, perfectly shaped and slowly rising. I brushed my fingers over one of them and watched them stiffen. She quivered under my fingers.

"You feel so good."

I moved my hands to her ass and squeezed again, relishing her gasp. In one motion, I opened my mouth and swirled my tongue around her nipples. I felt the sharp intake of her breath and traced the curve of her ass until I got to her panties. I lifted them gently, playing with her nipples, and felt the start of her wetness. I grinned.

With my tongue, I continued to tease her nipples, hearing her squeals get gradually louder. With my hands, I began to slide upwards from her ass towards her mound, my fingertips sliding in between her lips, over and under her labia, flicking back and forth and around her clit but refusing her the immediate pleasure of stimulation.

"Fuck, Nick, fuck fuck fuck--" her voice trailed off into incoherence as I slid one finger inside her, then two. She grinded against me, pushing herself down on my fingers. I curved them upwards and started sliding them inside and outside her faster and faster. I felt her wetness drip down onto my palm as I fingered her. I moved my thumb to her clit, brushing back and forth. She jumped as though she'd been shocked and bit my neck. I rolled backwards onto the bed, a moan escaping my lips.

"Clara, I want you so fucking badly."

I kept fingering her, my thumb going to work on her clit, and I could feel her orgasm building in the tension of her lower core. She slid a hand down my body and slid my erection outside my boxers. Between moans, she stroked my shaft once, then again, then again, thumb gliding on the precum. Her eyes widened like saucers as I emerged from my boxers fully. "God, you're so big." She bit her lip.