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Old 23-Jan-24, 11:00
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Heart College Romance

The biting winter wind cut through the Vanderbilt campus as I lugged my suitcase up to the third floor in Crawford House. It was the start of the spring semester, and I couldn't have been more thrilled to get back to campus.

As I pushed the door open to my third-floor dorm, Jack's side of the room greeted me with the usual chaos - textbooks scattered, a random assortment of snacks, and Jack, chilling in front of his desk. "Hey, Damien! About time you showed up," he hollered, eyes glued to his virtual golf game.

"Yeah, yeah. Miss me, Porter?" I quipped, flopping onto my bed.

"Every day, my man," he grinned, tearing his gaze from the game. "Snacks from home?"

I rolled my eyes, glancing at the pile of snacks that already occupied our limited shelf space. "You've got enough calories there to last a lifetime, Jack."

"Can never be too prepared," he shrugged.

"All good at home?" I inquired.

"Yeah, man," he answered. "So, switching up your elective this semester??"

"Absolutely," I confirmed, "Psychology was a disaster. Barely scraped through."

"I warned you, didn't I?" he smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, you did."

"But did you listen...?" He shot me a look.

"Drop it, bud."

"So, what's the verdict?"

"Creative Writing!" I announced.

"Solid choice, man. At least there's some synergy with your major."




A few days later, I sat in my first Creative Writing class. Professor Wilson, our instructor, stood at the front - a rotund man in his fifties. He had an air of intelligence about him, you could tell he was on top of his game.

As Professor Wilson began going over the syllabus and what we could expect for the semester, a tall, gorgeous woman rushed in with her bag in hand. She snagged the empty seat next to mine in a hurry.

Glancing her way, I was instantly struck by her exquisite beauty. The combination of her high cheekbones, a sharp, slender celestial nose, and a defined jawline was truly captivating. Her smooth porcelain skin added a radiant touch to her already remarkable appearance. While the professor continued with the lecture, she effortlessly gathered her chestnut locks into a ponytail, further enhancing her already remarkable appearance.

As the lecture dragged on, our eyes met, and a brief spark of recognition passed between us. I shifted my gaze, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Did she catch me checking her out? I tried to focus on the lecture, fidgeting with my pen, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her.

The class finally wrapped up, and everyone started shuffling around, grabbing their stuff. I took a deep breath, ready to introduce myself. Just as I turned to her, a tall guy strolled over from the back, grinning like he owned the place.

He extended a hand towards her, flashing a charming smile. "Hey there, I'm Jake."

As she shook his hand, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Her smile widened as she responded, "Hey, I'm Erika. Nice to meet you, Jake."

"So, Erika, how about we grab a coffee after class? I'd love the chance to get to know you better," he proposed, still as confident as before.

Watching him smoothly ask her for coffee, I couldn't help but feel frustrated with myself. Why couldn't I do ask a girl out like this guy?

"Thanks for the offer, Jake, but I've got plans after class. Rain check?" She asked.

His grin faltered for a split second, but he quickly recovered. "Sure thing, Erika. Another time, then."

"Definitely," she said with a casual air, gathering her things. "See you around."

"By the way, I am big fan. You're incredible," he said.

"Thanks, Jake," she replied, turning away slightly.

As Jake sauntered away, seemingly unbothered, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to handle these social situations so smoothly.

Erika turned her attention to me, a friendly smile replacing the brief seriousness from earlier.

"Hey, I'm Erika," she said, extending her hand.

I took it, relieved she didn't seem to mind my earlier accidental staring. "Damien. Nice to meet you." I was surprised by the unexpected strength in her handshake - It felt like she could crush walnuts.

"Nice to meet you too, Damien. You seemed engrossed in the lecture back there." she said, her voice carrying a subtle teasing tone.

"Yeah, well, you know, riveting stuff," I chuckled nervously.

"Riveting enough to keep stealing glances my way?"

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Uh, no, I mean, I wasn't..."

"Relax, Damien. I'm used to it." She giggled, brushing off my embarrassment with a wave of her hand.

In moments like these, particularly when conversing with an attractive woman, my usual reaction would be to go completely silent - especially after being caught stealing glances. However, this time felt different. A peculiar force seemed to be at play.

"Used to it, huh?" I teased with a grin.

"Yeah, well, when the picture is as gorgeous," she said, flashing a playful grin and theatrically gesturing toward her own face, as if presenting a masterpiece.

"Ah, the daily struggle of being a masterpiece," I chuckled, playing along.

"People just can't resist, Damien. It's a tough life," Erika laughed.

"Well, consider me officially dazzled."

"It's a burden I bear with grace," she said, her tone a mix of mocking seriousness and playful exaggeration.

"I can see that," I replied, matching her tone. "Must be hard getting through the day with all those appreciative glances."

Erika rolled her eyes playfully. "You have no idea, Damien. It's a constant battle."

Just then her phone buzzed, interrupting our banter.

"Oh, shoot. I've got to go," Erika said, a hint of disappointment in her eyes as she checked her phone.

"Something urgent?" I asked, curious.

"Basketball practice," she replied, flashing a quick apologetic smile. "I'm already late. Coach is going to kill me."

"Basketball practice, huh? The glamorous life of a college athlete," I remarked, feigning awe.

She chuckled, "Oh, absolutely. You know, the thrill of dribbling a ball and occasionally netting it through a hoop. It's the stuff dreams are made of."

Erika quickly gathered her things, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "See you around, Damien!" She called out as she dashed out of the classroom.



Back at Crawford House, I couldn't resist sharing the Erika encounter with my friends.

"I mean, guys, she's like the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," I exclaimed.

"Seriously?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "The most beautiful?"

"Yeah, Jim, seriously. And she actually talked to me, like a real conversation, before she had to take off."

Ella leaned in, a trace of jealousy in her gaze. "So, what's her name?"

"Her name's Erika. I'm not sure of her last name," I admitted.

"Come on, man, give us more to work with," Jack urged.

"Well, she's likely in the basketball team. Mentioned something about basketball practice," I added.

"Hold up," Ella interjected, excitement in her voice, "Reddish-brown hair, built like a tank?"

"Yeah, reddish-brown hair. Not sure about the 'tank' reference. She did give a strong handshake, but with a jacket and loose jeans, hard to tell," I elaborated. "Oh, and this dude who hit her up for a date mentioned being a fan. Not entirely clear on what that was all about, though."

"Damien, I think you're talking about Erika Valen. She's a junior, like us. She was the breakout star in the soccer team last semester. And now that basketball season is on, she is already breaking records." Ella shared, her voice brimming with awe.

"She is both, in soccer and basketball team?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh, you should read the article on our school site about her. Apart from soccer and basketball, she also represented her former high school in 100 and 200-meter sprints. Here at Vanderbilt, she's in the rowing club, taekwondo club and some other club."

"That sounds incredible," I remarked. "I mean we all have 24 hours in a day, right?"

"Well, dude. It sounds like you're in love with a sports prodigy." Jack remarked.

"You might want to hit the gym before you see her again," chuckled Jim.

"She's quite popular. I'm surprised you guys haven't heard of her," Ella remarked.

"Oh, please, don't lump me in with Damien. I've heard of Erika," Jim said, offended.

"Well, turns out I was the last to catch on," I confessed, a grin spreading across my face. "But that's ancient history now."


The following day, I found myself contemplating the best way to contact Erika. I didn't want to wait another week for the next Creative Writing class, so I pondered the best way to get in touch with Erika and see her sooner.

Strolling across campus with Jim and Jack, I couldn't shake off the anticipation building inside me.

"Dude, what's eating at you? You look like you're solving a calculus problem in your head," he remarked, his eyes squinting in amusement.

"I'm just trying to figure out how to get in touch with Erika before the next class. I mean, waiting a week feels like a lifetime," I admitted.

Jack chuckled, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "Ah, young love. So, what's the plan, dude?"

I scratched my head, musing aloud. "I don't know, guys. Maybe I should have asked for her number yesterday, but she was already late for her practice. There just wasn't any time."

Jim shook his head, "dude, you missed the golden opportunity! You should've just gone for it. Girls like guys who take the lead," he advised.

"I know, I know," I sighed. "But she was in a hurry, and I didn't want to come off as pushy."

Jack laughed. "Take it easy, mate. Just because you had that playful banter doesn't mean she's as into you as you are into her."

"Yeah, don't build castles in the air just yet," Jim added, a teasing tone in his voice.

We reached the central courtyard, where students bustled around. Ella joined us, sensing the seriousness in our conversation.

"What's the debate about?" she asked, her eyes darting between us.

"Damien's on a mission to crack the code of contacting Erika before the next Creative Writing class," Jack explained with a smirk.

Ella raised an eyebrow. "And why the urgency?"

"Because he's smitten," Jim giggled, earning a playful shove from me.

I shook my head, refocusing on the task at hand. "Guys, seriously, any ideas? I don't want to come off too strong."

Ella thought for a moment. "Well, if you're really desperate, you could always use the classic 'I think I left my notes in your bag' trick."

"Isn't that a bit too cliché?"

"Hey, clichés exist for a reason. They work. Plus, it's innocent enough not to scare her off."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You just need an excuse to talk to her. It doesn't have to be groundbreaking. Simple and casual."

"And then, when you've got her attention, just smoothly slide in the question about meeting outside of class. Coffee, perhaps?" Ella added.

"Yeah, right. Didn't I tell you guys about that Jake fellow, who tried asking her out for coffee?"

"Yeah, but you're not Jake," said Jim, punching me on the arm. "You're Damien, who took the time to talk to her before asking her out."




I strategically placed my bag on the seat next to me, arriving early for the next Creative Writing class. I hoped no one else would mistakenly claim it, creating the perfect opportunity for Erika to join me.

Erika entered the room, her eyes locking onto mine. A smile played on her lips as she approached. She settled into the seat I'd saved for her, while I moved my bag to make room.

"Well, Damien, saving me a seat? How gentlemanly of you," she teased, her tone playful.

I grinned, trying to match her playful banter. "Only the best for you, Erika. Wouldn't want you sitting next to anyone else."

"I'm honoured. Didn't know I had my own reserved spot in this class."

Professor Wilson entered, saving me from further teasing.

As the class concluded, Erika leaned back in her seat, stretching contentedly.

So, it turns out you're a bit of sports royalty, huh?" I quipped, a grin spreading across my face.

"How did you uncover my hidden athletic talents?" She asked, her beautiful blue eyes, sparling with amusement.

"One of my friends told me. Showed me this whole article about you and everything."

"You went around telling your friends about our brief encounter?" she asked, a playful smirk on her lips.

I stumbled over my words. "Uh, well, not exactly… I mean, it just came up."

Erika laughed, giving me a friendly pat on the back. It was meant to be playful, but there was a tad bit more force to it than expected.

"So, what's the verdict? Impressed?" she asked.

"More intimidated than impressed, I'd say," I confessed, grinning.

"Intimidated?" Erika leaned in, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Come on, Damien, I'm not going to tackle you in the middle of campus."

"You sure about that? With those black belts in Taekwondo and Jujitsu, you could probably take down a small army."

"Well, I promise not to unleash my deadly moves on you, at least not today." She smiled.

As we packed up our belongings, I decided to steer the conversation towards more personal terrain. "So, any exciting plans for the day, other than terrorizing freshman boys?"

"Hey," she complained in a mockingly offended tone, "I don't terrorize boys. Only those, whose names end with Ashford."

I was shocked. "I never told you my last name," I pointed out, a hint of surprise in my voice.

She grinned; a bit shy. "Seems like you weren't the only one asking around after that five-minute conversation."

"So," I began, "I was thinking, maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? You know, if you are not in a rush like last time."

Erika stopped in her tracks, a playful smirk on her lips. "Smooth, Damien. Very smooth. Are you sure you're not taking lessons from that Jake fellow?"

I shook my head, a grin forming, "No lessons from Jake, I promise," I said. "Just figured it's a good way to continue our riveting conversations."

"Tell you what," she stated, turning to lock eyes with me. As we stood face to face, her striking beauty momentarily stunned me. She almost matched my height, perhaps an inch and half shorter. Fearful of facing rejection and becoming a Jake-like figure in her life, I snapped back to reality as she spoke, "Give me your number. I'll text you when I have some free time tomorrow."

I breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging numbers with her while she gave me a call, allowing me to save her contact information as well.

The next day, as I woke up, I checked my phone to see there was a text from Erika sent at 5 in the morning.

It read - 'Suzie's in MRB III @ 1600. XOXO'



The day wrapped up perfectly. My last class concluded at three in the afternoon, and I hurried back to the dorm. After a quick shower, I threw on my usual stuff: a comfortable black long-sleeved tee, a cool sports coat, and some worn-in jeans. I reached Suzie's fifteen minutes early, glad to see very few students milling about.

Quarter past four, and still, there was no sign of Erika. Doubts started to creep in. Did I misinterpret the message? Did something come up? The courtyard was calm, almost eerily quiet.

Then, finally, I spotted Erika approaching with a guilty grin on her face. Her smile was something else, like a burst of sunshine that just swept me off my feet.

As she neared, I debated how to greet her. A hug or a handshake? The previous encounters had only involved handshakes, but was this different? Not a date, I reminded myself. As she closed the distance, I opted to follow her lead. Standing up, I greeted her with a smile. She leaned in, planting a kiss on my cheek. She smelled wonderful.

"Sorry, Damien. I know I am late. Basketball practice ran long, you know how it is."

"No wonder you're always running behind."

"I'd be offended if it weren't true," she admitted.

"How do you manage, being late everywhere?"

She looked at me, her incredible smile captivating me once again - adorable dimples gracing her cheeks, lips curling slightly.

"Yeah, well. I'm not above using my smile to apologize for tardiness," she chuckled.

"Must be nice, being this pretty," I teased.

"Really? You think I'm pretty?" she asked, a mockingly innocent tone.

"Why are you always late, though?" I inquired as we grabbed coffee from the counter. "You can't be lazy, with all your practicing, rowing, and whatnot."

"I'm the furthest thing from lazy, Ashford," she replied, gently blowing on her coffee.

"So why the tardiness? What else could it be...you enjoy sleeping in?"

"I can't remember the last time I had a full eight hours of sleep."

"Why is that?"

"Okay, Ashford, since you're so curious about my schedule, let me lay it out for you." She kicked back, tucking her feet under her, giving off this cute vibe.

"I'm up at 4:30 every morning, except on Sundays cause I'm not crazy. Get in some yoga for like 30 minutes, then hit the gym hard for two hours, five days a week. Rowing club's a thing, four times a week, about an hour and a half each time. Basketball's eating my weekdays. Throw in some Taekwondo three times a week. Weekends? Yeah, I'm cooling off with a swim. Add academic classes and assignments to the mix, and most times, I get so engrossed in what I'm doing that I forget to keep an eye on the clock.

I simply stared at her in awe. "Wow", I breathed out.

Erika took a sip of her coffee, studying my expression with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Impressed, Damien?"

I blinked, still processing the litany of activities she effortlessly listed. "Wow," I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief. "I'm seriously impressed. I can't even manage a coherent sentence before eight in the morning, let alone tackle the day like that."

"Well, you know, it's all about finding your rhythm." She grinned, a hint of pride in her eyes.

"Rhythm? My mornings have more of a chaotic dance vibe, like stumbling through a maze half-asleep."

Erika leaned back, tapping her fingers lightly on the coffee cup. "It's all about the playlist. Music is my ultimate energy booster. The right tunes can turn any day around."

I exhaled a thoughtful "Hmm, maybe I should revamp my playlist."

Erika leaned forward, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "What kind of music are you into?""

"I'm mostly into classic rock - Bowie, Floyd, Zeppelin... Black Sabbath, ACDC..."

A genuine smile spread across Erika's face. "No way! You just listed off my top five bands of all time."

"That's incredible! We must have been separated at birth or something," I said, my grin mirroring her excitement.

Erika's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Alright, Damien, Now give me top ten books you love. Go!"

As I rattled off my list of favourite books, Erika's eyes widened in delight with each title. "No way, Damien! Those are some of my absolute favourites too! Especially 'House on the Borderlands.' I thought I was the only one who appreciated the cosmic horror vibes in that one."

I couldn't help but smile, the realization sinking in that our tastes aligned in both music and literature. "You're a Lovecraft fan too?"

"Absolutely! The way Lovecraft weaves existential dread into his stories is just mesmerizing. 'House on the Borderlands' had this eerie, otherworldly atmosphere that kept me hooked throughout."

We delved into a passionate discussion about the cosmic horror genre, dissecting our favourite elements from various works.

"Damien, I have to say, I wasn't expecting to meet someone with such impeccable taste in both literature and music."

"Well, Erika, I guess we're both anomalies in this vast sea of college students."

She reached across the table, lightly touching my hand. "Anomalies with a shared appreciation for the extraordinary. It's like our wavelengths are perfectly aligned."

Mid-conversation, three girls, unmistakably cheerleaders, strolled past. They gave Erika a friendly wave and the next thing I knew, they decided to join us.

"Hey Erika, who's this charming guy you're hanging out with?" one of them, Tonya, asked with a grin.

Erika introduced me, and the girls settled into the available seats. The girls eyed me with curiosity, their gazes making me feel somewhat scrutinized. I found the experience rather intimidating, to be honest.

"So, Erika, how do you know Damien here?" Tonya leaned in.

"Just a class connection," Erika replied casually.

The girls exchanged glances, and I could sense a hint of surprise. Tonya, especially, seemed taken aback, perhaps surprised by Erika's choice of company.

"Class buddies, huh? I didn't know you roll with the regular underclassmen too," Tonya teased, casually placing her hand on my thigh.

I shifted uncomfortably, not used to this level of forwardness. Erika shot Tonya a look, a silent warning maybe, but Tonya seemed undeterred.

"You're cute, Damien. Haven't seen you around much. You new here?" Tonya's voice dripped with flirtation.

"Nah, been here since the start of freshman year," I replied, trying to keep things light.

"Well, I'm glad we finally crossed paths. Maybe you should join us for a cheerleading practice sometime," Tonya suggested, her hand lingering on my thigh.

"I'll pass on the cheerleading practice, but thanks for the invite," I chuckled nervously.

Leaning in closer, Tonya's whispered words in my ear carried a flirtatious undertone. 'You sure about that? I think you'd look great in a cheerleading uniform.

Erika rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed. "Tonya, ease up a bit. Damien's not here for cheerleading try-outs."

"Sorry, Erika. Just having a bit of fun. You know me."

Erika sighed, trying to redirect the conversation. "So, Tonya, how's the cheerleading squad doing this semester?"

Tonya, still keeping her hand on my thigh, shifted her attention. "Oh, you know, same old, same old. Working hard, cheering on the teams. But back to Damien-"

"Actually," Erika interrupted, standing up, "Damien and I were in the middle of something before you guys joined. Mind if we catch up later?"

Tonya pouted playfully. "Aw, come on, Erika. Don't be a party pooper. We just got here."

Erika shot me an apologetic look, and I followed her lead, standing up. "Yeah, sorry, guys. We'll catch you around, maybe."

As we walked away, Erika whispered, "Sorry about that. Tonya can be a bit much sometimes."

I laughed, relieved to be away from the unexpected and somewhat uncomfortable attention. "No worries. It's a whole new level of social interaction for me."

"Welcome to the world of college drama. It never gets dull." Erika smiled, her irritation from earlier fading.

"So, they looked like the upperclassmen, huh?" I inquired.

"Yeah, they're juniors - practically royalty around here," Erika replied, her tone carrying a hint of tension.

"How did you become close with them?' I probed, sensing there might be more to the story.

Erika sighed, her expression revealing a mix of hesitation and guilt. "Well, the thing is, I know them through my boyfriend, Michael. He's the junior quarterback on the football team."

"You have a boyfriend?" I asked, genuinely surprised. I didn't know why I was so shocked, though. I mean, Erika was stunningly beautiful, athletic - basically the whole package. She could have her pick of guys anytime.

"Yeah," she admitted, "we've been together for a while now. I thought you knew."

I shook my head, feeling a bit awkward. "No, I had no idea. You never mentioned him."

Erika glanced down, fidgeting with her hair. "I guess it never came up. Michael and I aren't exactly the 'shout it from the rooftops' type."

"Fair enough," I replied, trying to conceal any hint of disappointment. "So, you're close with those cheerleaders because of Michael?"

"Yeah, mostly. I mean, being in both the soccer and basketball teams, I naturally got to know them through that too."

"Got it," I said, trying to sound casual. "Must be a bit complicated, though, having your boyfriend's friends trying to recruit me into cheerleading."

Erika chuckled nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that. Tonya can be a bit... forward. She doesn't always think about boundaries."

"It's alright. Just caught me off guard," I admitted.

Erika looked apologetic. "I should have mentioned Michael earlier. I hope it didn't make things weird."

"Nah, it's fine. Just unexpected. We're good," I reassured her.

Erika sighed, relieved. "Thanks for understanding, Damien. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"Why would they be awkward?" I asked coldly.

Erika turned, her face reflecting anguish. Her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, perhaps surprise at my cold tone. The worry in her captivating eyes and the subtle tremor of her pink lips only accentuated her remarkable beauty.

She took a moment before responding, her voice cautious.

"I just thought... sometimes, people can get weird when they find out someone, they know has a boyfriend or girlfriend. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything," she explained, her words measured.

I took a deep breath, trying to ease the sharpness in my tone. "Erika, it's not a big deal. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, we're just getting to know each other, right?"

"Damien," she said, her fingers wrapping around mine. Her gaze held mine with an intensity that demanded attention. "Can we hit the reset button? Whether there's a boyfriend in the picture or not, it shouldn't cast a shadow on us. You mentioned we're in the process of getting to know each other, right?" Her eyes, a captivating shade of blue, bore into mine, revealing a mix of vulnerability and determination.

A pause hung in the air, and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the subtle details - the way her chestnut locks framed her perfectly symmetric face, the sincerity in her gaze, and the undeniable strength in her grip. "I like you... I mean, I genuinely enjoy the time we spend together. So, let's just continue this journey of discovery, without the unnecessary complications. What do you say?"

In that moment, as Erika's fingers wrapped around mine, it felt like time stood still and a warmth spread through me. I found myself nodding, grateful to be in the presence of this extraordinary, exquisitely beautiful, and supremely athletic woman.




A few weeks later, I attended one of Erika's basketball games, eager to see her in action. We hadn't been able to hang out much since our coffee date. She'd been crazy busy, and even in class, things felt a bit off. We still sat together and chatted, but it just didn't feel as easy and natural as before.

As the teams made their entrance onto the court, the roar of the 2,000-plus spectators echoed through the Memorial Gym. Erika commanded attention as she stepped onto the basketball court, a truly remarkable sight. Her chestnut hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, accentuating the striking features of her face. Clad in a jersey over a full-sleeved tee, her powerful physique was evident, though I couldn't help but wish I could catch a glimpse of her bare arms.

Yet, it was her legs that stole the show - not overly defined or veiny like a bodybuilder’s, but they were very big and powerfully sculpted. Her thighs seemed almost colossal, dwarfing those of her teammates.

Her calves, on the other hand, were nothing short of extraordinary - immense and pulsating with strength. Even from a distance, their prominence was impossible to overlook. With each move, especially when she rose on her tiptoes for a shot, they flexed and swelled, exuding an unbridled power that set her apart from the rest. She wasn't the tallest player on the court (I estimated her height at slightly over 5'8"), but she stood out, radiating sheer strength that distinguished her from everyone else.

Erika totally owned the court, pulling off impressive three-pointers, precise assists, and quick steals. Her muscular legs, especially those powerful thighs and calves, helped her make some crazy jumps and speedy sprints. Her speed and sharp reflexes left opponents struggling.

When the game ended, we had a clear win, thanks to Erika's standout performance. It was pretty obvious that Erika ruled the court that day.

As our eyes met from across the court, I could see a spark of happiness in Erika's expression when she spotted me there. After a round of high fives and hugs with her teammates, she made her way to the side of the court, and I eagerly walked down the bleachers to meet her.

When we finally came together, she held my hand, her entire jersey damp with sweat from the intense game. Yet, despite the perspiration clinging to every inch of her, she looked incredibly sexy.

"Hey there, Damien!" she said, wiping some sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Fancy seeing you here. How'd you like the game?"

"Erika, seriously, you were like a whirlwind out there. I've never seen anyone tear up the court like that. You totally owned it!"

She laughed, a mix of modesty and pride in her eyes. "Oh, come on, Damien. I was just doing my thing. But I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Enjoyed? I was practically cheering like a maniac! You're on a whole other level," I exclaimed.

She squeezed my hand playfully. "Well, I do aim for 'whole other level' status. It's my thing."

As Erika and I were talking, a formidable figure approached us. He was a towering presence, extremely tall and muscular - the kind of guy who effortlessly commanded attention. Erika's grip on my hand loosened, and I turned to see her expression change as she let go.

"Hey, babe," He greeted Erika with a grin, his voice deep and powerful. He leaned in, kissing her softly, leaving no doubt about their connection.

"Michael, this is Damien. We are in Creative Writing together," she said, a faint flush on her cheeks from the kiss.

He glanced at me and extended a hand, his large frame making me feel noticeably smaller. "Nice to meet you."

I shook his massive hand that felt like granite, as if I were shaking hands with a mountain. "Yeah, nice to meet you, Michael."

"So, you're the Damien, Tonya was talking about," he said, somewhat superciliously.

Erika, sensing the slight tension, jumped in, "Damien was just congratulating me on the game. He thinks I'm some basketball prodigy or something."

Michael nodded, his eyes briefly meeting mine before he redirected his attention to Erika. "That's cool. Good to have supportive friends." His tone was civil, but there was an underlying subtle condescension, and I couldn't help but feel a bit tense.

Just as the awkwardness seemed to intensify, Michael broke the silence with a forced smile. "Well, babe, I've got football practice now. Gotta head out."

He pulled her in for a tight embrace attempting to plant a lingering kiss on her lips, but Erika, uncomfortable with the public display of affection, leaned away, keeping him at bay with her hands on his chest.

"Michael, not here, okay? People are watching," she whispered, her voice a blend of embarrassment and urgency.

He chuckled, playing it off as a light moment. "Come on, babe, just a quick one. No big deal."

Erika, now more insistent, gently but firmly pushed him away. "Not now, Michael. I'll see you later, okay?"

He played it off with a casual laugh, trying to mask the awkwardness. "Alright, alright. I'll save the romantic stuff for later. I gotta go crush some drills, babe."

As Michael walked away, there was an uncomfortable silence. Erika, her smile fading, looked at me with a mix of apology and frustration. "Sorry about that, Damien. He gets a bit carried away sometimes."

I nodded, trying to downplay the awkwardness. "No worries. Relationships, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed, watching Michael fade into the distance. Then, she turned towards me, a beautiful smile gracing her face. "But hey, I could use a pick-me-up. How about we grab a coffee?" she suggested, running a hand through her damp hair.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Coffee's always a good idea."

"Great! I need to hit the showers real quick. Mind waiting for me outside? I'll be there in 15 minutes," she suggested.

"Sure. I'll see you outside," I replied.

As I waited, I sought out a secluded corner to quickly light up a cigarette. It was during my second one that I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Do you smoke?" she inquired, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"Occasionally," I responded.

"Michael smokes too; it drives me insane," she remarked.

"Insane, really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, smoking is such a turn-off for me," she replied.

I chuckled. "Noted. I'll make sure to keep my occasional indulgence low-key."

We placed our orders at the counter, and as we waited for our drinks, Erika's playful demeanour took a slightly different turn. "You know, Damien, you should take better care of yourself. I... I care about you, and I don't want anything bad happening."

I couldn't help but grin at the unexpected sincerity in her words. "Well, well, Erika, I didn't know you cared. Maybe I should smoke less just for you."

She lightly punched my arm. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I just don't want to deal with a wheezing, coughing Damien."

"I'll concede to that." I agreed, feeling a warmth that went beyond the topic of smoking.


We discovered a nice corner in the quiet, indoor courtyard nearby, where the warm atmosphere surrounded us as we enjoyed our coffee.

Seated across from each other, we relaxed into these comfortable wingback chairs. Erika casually extended her legs, and my eyes were drawn to them irresistibly. As she stretched, her legs firmed up, pressing against the fabric of her stretchy jeans. Those calves of hers were something else – I'd never seen such impressive ones before. They weren't just well-defined; their sheer size was remarkable.

She caught me gazing at them and flashed a smile. "You're not put off by these tree trunks, are you?"

Caught in the spell of her legs, I realized I'd been staring for a bit too long. I grinned shyly, "No, not at all... it's just, I never pictured you as this strong... I mean, I don't even know what I'm saying," I finished, a bit lamely.

She smiled, sipping her coffee contentedly, without uttering a word.

Curious, I asked, "I've noticed that every time we meet, whether in class or elsewhere, you're always dressed in loose-fitting clothes. Considering your evident athleticism and dedication to your workouts, wouldn't you like to show off your body a bit?"

She looked away, seemingly thinking about the question. "Well, I do wear outfits that show off a bit more," she replied, her eyes meeting mine with a hint of mischief. It's just..." she paused, hesitating to disclose the reason.

"Well, go on..." I urged.

She offered a shy smile and finally confessed, "Alright. The first time we met in class, I happened to be running late for laundry. Those oversized jeans and the large jacket were my only options. And then we met," she said, her cheeks tinted with a blush, "and I guess I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure if you were one of those guys who find muscular girls off-putting."

Internally, my thoughts were in a whirlwind. On one hand, I couldn't believe she thought I might find her physique off-putting. In reality, I was completely in love with her strength and athleticism. Muscular girls were not a turn-off for me; quite the opposite, actually. But I hesitated to say it outright, afraid she might think I was just saying what she wanted to hear or, worse, that I was some sort of muscle fetishist.

As I grappled with these thoughts, a slight nervousness crept into my voice, "Erika, I think you're incredible just the way you are. Your dedication to fitness and the strength you possess, it's attractive, not off-putting. Honestly, I find it quite appealing."

I tried to keep it casual, like it was just a passing comment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Erika's eyes softened, and a genuine smile played on her lips. "Really?" she said, a mix of surprise and relief in her tone. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. I mean, I've had guys in the past who were intimidated or put off by my physique."

"Well, I'm not one of them. I appreciate strength and dedication, and it's clear you have both."

"So," she asked, her tone playful, "you're saying that you wouldn't be embarrassed if your girlfriend was stronger than you?"

Internally, I felt a mix of excitement and confusion. Did her question hold a deeper meaning? Was she trying to gauge my feelings? Admitting that I would love for my girlfriend to be stronger than me could be too revealing. I decided to play it cool and keep the tone light.

Instead of replying directly, I teased her, "Are you asking me out?"

She maintained her smile and continued, "I already have a boyfriend. Didn't you just meet him?"

I couldn't resist asking, "So why did you ask then?"

"Because I know a lot of girls who are stronger than you," she responded, her tone light and playful.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning offense, "I doubt that."

"Of course, I do. I mean, for instance, I know that I am definitely stronger than you," she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

"I strongly disagree with that," I countered.

"Come on, just compare our legs. My calves are practically the size of your thighs, and my thighs might as well be the size of your waist," she teased.

"Ah, a classic case of hyperbole. Those creative writing classes are truly working wonders on you," I remarked.

"Damien, you know as well as I do that I'm not just stronger than you, but significantly so."

"You know what, I'll admit that your legs are bigger than mine. But there's no way I'm weaker than you. I'm pretty confident that my upper body strength is superior to yours."

"Ha," she chuckled, standing up and removing her jacket. My eyes widened as I realized she was sporting a tank top under the jacket.

The tank top clung to her figure, revealing every curve and contour. It accentuated her well-defined shoulders and showed off her lovely, perky breasts. The fabric traced down, highlighting her trim, sculpted midsection.

"So, what do you say, Damien?" She asked, raising her hands horizontally till they reached shoulder height, drawing her wrists towards her body and gracefully flexing her biceps. The sinewy fibres beneath her flawless, porcelain skin tightened, creating a pronounced definition along the upper arm. The elliptical peak of her biceps was powerfully complemented by the taut triceps underneath. The skin, smooth and firm, stretched slightly over the well-defined muscles, emphasizing their sculpted form. "Still think you're stronger than me?"

I sat there, utterly captivated, as Erika flexed her muscles right in front of me. I couldn't believe my luck – the sexiest girl I'd ever seen, showing off her biceps without me even having to ask. As I found myself lost in admiration, I quickly shook off the trance, bringing myself back to reality.

"That's impressive," I finally stammered, attempting to play it cool.

She lowered her arms, grinning wildly. "Scared, Damien? Do my big, bulging biceps scare you?" she asked, a playful laughter escaping her lips.

I chuckled nervously, trying to match her playful tone. "Scared? Nah, just surprised. I didn't expect a casual coffee outing to turn into a bicep showdown."

Erika laughed; her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Life's full of surprises, Damien. And hey, you never answered my question. Still think you're stronger than me?"

"Well, you've got impressive arms, I'll give you that. But strength is more than just biceps."

Erika's eyes gleamed with determination as she spoke. "Okay, Damien, that's enough talk. Let's settle this debate once and for all. You had your chance to admit that I am stronger than you. But since you didn't, now I'll simply have to show you."

I nervously chuckled, not sure what she had in mind. "What do you mean? You're not planning to beat me up, are you?"

She laughed, "Don't be scared, Damien. We're talking about an arm-wrestling competition, not a wrestling match. Unless you want it to be more intense, that is."

"I think, we should start with the arm-wrestling first," I suggested, though my mind amusingly wandered into wrestling territory.

"Come on, ditch that jacket. It's warm enough already. No room for excuses when I'm about to crush you."

Off went my jacket, revealing a half-sleeved tee underneath. In that moment, I couldn't help but be painfully aware of my lack of muscle definition especially compared to Erika.

We positioned ourselves in front of the round table. Our hands locked, and I was once again shocked by the strength in Erika's grip. I had never met a girl like her before.

"Oh, Damien, your wrists are so tiny!" she teased.

"No, they're not," I retorted.

Without missing a beat, she grabbed my wrist with her free hand, encircling it. The tips of her thumb and middle finger just about met. Then, she wrapped her hand around her own wrist; there was like half an inch distance between the tips. A playful giggle escaped her.

As our hands locked again, she playfully added, "I think my forearms might also be bigger than yours."

"Can we pause on the body comparisons and get this started?" I pleaded, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Hey, it's not body-shaming if I appreciate your pretty, little, dainty wrists," she quipped with a grin.

She did the countdown – one, two, three – and in the blink of an eye, it was all over. I poured in with everything I had, but she effortlessly met my resistance, driving my arm down to the table.

I sat there, completely flabbergasted, as she teasingly blew an imaginary kiss my way.

"I wasn't ready," I complained, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"Not ready?" she grinned. "Well, how about a rematch, then? And I'll tell you what; this time I will only pour in when you say so, okay?"

"Okay," I said, fully aware of how emasculating this was getting.

We locked hands once again, my dignity hanging in the balance. I counted us down and swiftly rotated my wrist, initiating the pull with my shoulders.

Erika effortlessly countered my attempts, appearing relaxed with her biceps subtly flexed. Each passing second felt like a blow to my male ego. Unable to budge her arm, in desperation, I introduced my other hand into the mix.

As I started pulling her arm down, she exclaimed, giggling, "Hey, you cheater!"

Lowering her head, she began applying pressure. Here I was, a boy, cheating in arm wrestling against a girl, using both my arms against her solitary one.

With a determined focus, I continued to exert pressure, trying to pull Erika's arm down, but to my chagrin, she remained resolute in the arm-wrestling match. The struggle became palpable, a silent contest of strength and will.

As I strained, I couldn't help but notice the subtle yet undeniable power emanating from Erika's arm. Her biceps, well-defined and sculpted, began to visibly bulge under the pressure.

Erika's forearm flared with power as she resisted my efforts. The sinewy definition of her muscles became more pronounced and her skin, smooth and radiant, seemed to tighten around the flexing muscles.

A soft grunt escaped her lips, underscoring the effort she exerted to maintain her position. Her bicep, fully exposed, flexed prodigiously, with every fibre of the muscle engaged in the struggle.

As the intensity of our struggle increased, I noticed a subtle change in her skin. A few greenish-blue veins began to snake their way across the surface, as blood rushed through her veins. They snaked across the surface of her porcelain skin, highlighting her struggle.

Erika, with just one arm against both of mine, showed a level of power that left me in awe.

In that moment, as we locked eyes during our intense struggle, I couldn't help but appreciate the beauty in her strength.

To my complete dismay, she was gradually gaining the upper hand. I felt completely out of sorts as I strained with the force of both my arms.

Finally, I pulled away, admitting defeat, "You win... I give up," I said, wiping my sweat with the short sleeves of my shirt.

She flashed a triumphant smile, as if she had just won an Olympic Gold.

"I always knew I was stronger than you," she giggled, "but, Damien... this has to sting, baby. I almost beat both your arms with just one of mine," she teased.

We just sat there for a while, catching our breath.

Last edited by sd110013s; 24-Jan-24 at 05:55. Reason: typo
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  #2  
Old 23-Jan-24, 13:01
jalmohnson jalmohnson is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

Excellent work! There was no wrestling but you described her presence and set the tension scenes so perfectly!
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Old 24-Jan-24, 05:58
Robocop1 Robocop1 is offline
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this was great. THis will be good
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Old 26-Jan-24, 10:42
sd110013s sd110013s is offline
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I sat there on the ground, utterly defeated, my shoulders slouched, and my spirits crushed. Erika's victory in the arm-wrestling match left me feeling vulnerable, exposed, and questioning my worth. My mind was a whirlwind of self-doubt, wondering why she would ever consider being with someone like me.

"I didn't expect that," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.

Erika, who had been playfully teasing just moments ago, sensed the shift in my mood.

"Damien, are you okay?" she asked, her tone soft. "You're not upset over this, are you?"

I couldn't meet her gaze, wrapped up in my own insecurities to respond.

"Hey," she said, unfolding her legs, springing forward to bridge the distance between us. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to voice my inner turmoil.

Finally, the words spilled out, "You're practically twice as strong as me. And, honestly, I don't know where I stand now... with you."

"Damien," she said, "it was just a silly arm-wrestling match. And what do you mean by asking where you stand with me?"

"Like, why would you even want to be with someone so much weaker than you?" I asked, still unable to meet her eyes.

"Are you crazy?" she chuckled, gently cradling my face in her hands, coaxing me to meet her gaze. "I enjoy being with you for who you are, not for the strength of your arms. You're amazing just the way you are. I don't care about the arm-wrestling," she said, her smile widening, "and it doesn't change the way I feel about you."


Her powerful hands, cupping my face, sent a warm tingle through me, and her words washed over me like a soothing balm. I looked into her eyes, the warmth in her gaze melting away my insecurities.

"You're overthinking it, Damien," she said with a soft chuckle, her thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. "Strength isn't just about muscles; it's about so much more. And you, my friend, have strengths that go far beyond any arm-wrestling match."

She leaned in, her forehead touching mine, creating an intimate bubble where it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. "I care about you for who you are, not some arbitrary measure of strength. Got it?"

"Yeah," I replied, a small smile breaking through my self-doubt.

"That's my guy," she whispered, her breath warm against my lips.

We stayed like that for a moment, suspended in our little world, her hands cradling my face.

"Hey, let's shake off the tension," she suggested, pulling away gently. "How about we just hug it out? No strength measurements, just us."

As she opened her powerful arms, I hesitated for a split second before melting into her embrace. It was our first hug, and I felt a surge of warmth, a strange mix of excitement and comfort.

She hugged me warmly, her arms wrapping around me with a reassuring tightness. The softness of her hair brushed against my cheek as I nestled my head against her shoulder. It was an enveloping warmth, a haven in which I felt secure.

"You know, Damien," she murmured, "sometimes a hug can say more than words."

"Yeah," I whispered, my voice muffled against her shoulder. The scent of her shampoo filled my senses, a delicate fragrance that lingered in the air.

Kneeling there on the carpet, we were locked in an embrace and I couldn't believe how unbelievably lucky I was, to have found her. Erika's back felt firm under my hands, the contours of her muscles subtly noticeable.

As her breasts pressed against my chest, I couldn't help but notice the arousal building within me. Her warmth, her scent, the softness of her skin, the sinews of her body — it all combined to create a heady mix. I blushed, embarrassed by the sudden realization that my erection was now firmly pressing against her.

Erika, however, seemed unfazed. She continued the hug, giving no indication that my arousal had affected the moment.

Eventually, we disengaged gently, and I sat back on the carpet, still a bit flushed. Erika, with a knowing smile, met my eyes, her gaze filled with understanding.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, a shy grin playing on my lips.

"Good. Now, no more self-doubt or self-pity, okay?" she said, poking my nose playfully. "If I catch even a whiff of that, we'll be wrestling next and trust me, baby, it'll be way more embarrassing for you this time."

"Got it," I chuckled. Little did she know, my mind was already conjuring up vivid images of how effortlessly and powerfully she'd beat me in wrestling, lifting me in those strong arms of hers. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but hey, who said a little embarrassment wasn't worth the thrill?




The creative class was alive with energy, and you could feel the warmth of impending spring in the air. Erika was fashionably late, and of course, I was the designated seat saver. She breezed in, five minutes into the class, giving Professor Wilson a guilty smile, and he just waved her in like always. Erika strolled over, her chestnut curls expertly twisted into these tight braids, and settled into the seat beside me.

The braids framed her pretty face perfectly, and they flowed down her shoulders, giving her this cool, sexy vibe. But what really caught my eye were her trendy cargos that accentuated her long legs and a dark tank top that bared her athletic arms.

I could hardly concentrate on what Wilson was talking about. Every little movement, and there they were – her arms tightening, biceps flexing in the most alluring way. It was distracting, to say the least.

She noticed my gaze fixed on her arms. A wide, teasing grin spread across her face as she bumped into me playfully, pressing her toned arms against mine. "Like what you see?"

I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be engrossed in Professor Wilson's lecture, my cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment. Wilson continued to drone on, oblivious to the playful exchange happening in the midst of the creative class.

Leaning in, her lips brushed against my ear, a soft warmth that sent shivers down my spine. "You're not so subtle, you know," she whispered, the teasing tone making my heart race faster.

Despite my attempt to ignore her, a shy smile played on my lips. She, however, showed no sign of letting up.

She chuckled, teasingly suggesting, "Maybe it's time for you to hit the gym. Work on those arms of yours. Who knows, you might end up admiring your own muscles instead of living vicariously through mine."

"Perhaps I should get a personal trainer. Any recommendations?" I shot back, a mix of irritation and amusement in my tone

She leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I might know someone. But fair warning, she'd probably prefer using you as her living barbell rather than helping you with any training," she teased.

"I wouldn't mind that," I replied, a gleeful smile spreading across my face as I visualized myself cradled in her arms while she effortlessly curls me.

"You're a pervie perverson, Damien," she retorted, her tone playful.

"Pervie perverson? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" I replied. "I'm just an innocent man trying to focus on Wilson's riveting lecture."

"Innocent, huh? Your wandering eyes say otherwise, Damien."

I put on an exaggerated expression of shock. "Wandering eyes? I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm the epitome of concentration."

As we packed up our things after the lecture, she made it a point to slightly tighten her braids. I looked from the corner of my eye, as her arms flexed, strong peaks protruding, contrasting against her skin, with the defined triceps forming a sturdy background. It was a struggle to look away as she took her time, a cute smile playing on her lips, all the while her peaks appearing then subsiding, then appearing again, each movement captivating my attention. I was intensely aroused, and just at that moment, she caught me observing. Her lips curled into a playful smile, and she mouthed the words, 'caught you.'

I looked away, grinning sheepishly.

I couldn't shake off the teasing playfulness that had become a constant between us. It was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, the way Erika effortlessly danced on the edge of flirtation. As we stepped out of the classroom into the bright, sunlit corridor, she linked her arm with mine.

"So, did you survive the class without being too distracted by my overpowering presence?" she quipped, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"I barely made it through," I replied, trying to match her tone, "Your 'overpowering presence' is a formidable opponent, you know."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the corridor. "Well, get used to it, Damien. It's not going away anytime soon."

We strolled towards the campus courtyard. I found myself appreciating the casual ease with which Erika carried herself. She was a blend of strength and femininity, a combination that intrigued and attracted me in ways I couldn't resist.

I noticed Erika had been discreetly avoiding the constant buzzing on her phone. As we settled on a bench, the persistent vibrations seemed to intensify. Unable to contain my curiosity, I finally asked, "Who have you been ignoring for the last ten minutes?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes with a hint of annoyance. "Just someone who doesn't understand the concept of personal space."

We had barely settled into the conversation when a familiar figure emerged in the distance. Michael, Erika's hulking boyfriend, approached us with a determined stride, a visible frown etched on his face.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and texts, Erika?" Michael asked in his deep voice, his large frame casting a shadow over the bench.

"Just chatting with Damien," she replied casually, a hint of irritation in her expression.

Michael squinted at me. "Damien, who?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Erika shot me a quick glance, and then turned her attention back to Michael. "Him," she pointed at me, her tone indicating her disbelief. "Seriously, Mike? You forgot you met Damien at my last basketball game?" She was not buying into his apparent lapse of memory.

"Oh, right," he said, attempting to play it cool.

"Hey Mike," I greeted him, as he glanced over at me.

"Hey, Damien," Michael responded, forcing a smile. "You should swing by this house party on Saturday. Erika and I will be there."

I shot a surprised look at Erika, and she appeared just as taken aback. After a brief pause, I agreed, "Sure."

Michael nodded, "Great. I'll shoot you the address. Can I get your number?"

Erika jumped in, "I can text him the address, Mike."

"You do that," he said to Erika. "Well, this was great," he addressed both of us with a smile.

"And why were you calling me so incessantly?" Erika asked, her tone cool, but her eyes narrowing as if she already knew the answer but was determined to have Michael spell it out.

"Just checking in to make sure you're okay, babe," Michael responded. "Seeing you with Damien convinces me that you're in good hands."

With a brief nod and a half-smile, he turned and walked away, his large figure disappearing into the campus crowd.

As he moved farther away, Erika and I exchanged a glance.

"So, what kind of party is this?" I asked.

Erika sighed, "It's hosted by one of Mike's teammates from the football team. House party, casual vibes."

A subtle frown crossed my face as I processed this information. The idea of attending a party with Michael made me a tad apprehensive.

"Are you planning on going?" she asked, catching the uncertainty in my expression.

I hesitated for a moment before responding, "I'm not sure. I mean, Mike kind of scares the daylights out of me."

Erika sensed my hesitation and gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Damien. Mike's not a threat to you when I am around."

I chuckled nervously, "So, I guess, I'll be trailing behind you like a lost puppy."

"Not a lost puppy, more like a well-protected sidekick." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "And who knows, you might find his party surprisingly fun. A chance to let loose, meet new people, maybe even show off some dance moves."

"Dance moves? You're overestimating my coordination skills."

Erika laughed, "Come on, it'll be a blast. Besides, it's not every day you get to see me in party mode. I'll be sleeveless with shorts, just to keep you on your toes." She winked playfully, well aware of the effect her words had on me.

My cheeks flushed, "You're enjoying this."

"Absolutely," she admitted, grinning. "But seriously, it's just a casual party. You'll be fine, and I'll make sure Mike doesn't scare you off."

Last edited by sd110013s; 26-Jan-24 at 10:43. Reason: TYpo
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Old 26-Jan-24, 18:02
jughead jughead is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

Really excellent. Well written, well plotted and well paced. Can't wait to read more.
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Old 27-Jan-24, 12:30
sd110013s sd110013s is offline
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I arrived at the address Erika had texted, and it was quite a spacious venue. The music wasn't blasting, probably to avoid drawing attention from the police.

The party was lively, filled with a mix of jocks and what seemed like the popular crowd. I recognized some faces from campus, people I'd seen but never really engaged with. Despite scanning the room, I couldn't find Erika — she was likely with Michael.

The place was alive with laughter, music, and people either dancing or chilling on the massive couches. As I scanned the room, I saw Tonya rushing over towards me.

"Daaaamien!" she exclaimed, wrapping me in a surprisingly strong hug. The scent of alcohol lingered, as her lips, soft and tempting, met mine in a playful kiss. I tried to gently pry her away, my hands instinctively gripping her well-defined arms. The warmth and solidity of her muscles beneath my touch sent a shiver down my spine.

"Tonya, hold on," I stammered. The noise of the music and the swarm of people made communication challenging, but she was resolute. Her lips persisted, leaving me both excited and uneasy.

As I struggled to break free, we stumbled onto an unoccupied couch nearby, landing awkwardly. Tonya ended up on top, and as I tried to break free, somewhat half-heartedly, she continued kissing me, her body pressed against mine. The sensation of her lips, the definition in her bare arms, and the soft roundness of her breasts against my chest heightened my excitement. Tonya's kisses were both playful and sensuous, leaving no room for my lingering thoughts of Erika. Her fingers ran through my hair, and the taste of her lips lingered on mine. I responded eagerly, allowing the spontaneity of the situation to take over.

"Damien," she whispered between kisses, her breath warm against my ear, "I've been waiting for a chance to get to know you better."

Caught in the whirlwind of the moment, I managed to mumble, "Tonya, I didn't know you were... interested."

She leaned back, her eyes locked onto mine with a mischievous glint. "Oh, honey, there's a lot you don't know about me." With that, she dipped back in for another kiss, her lips exploring every inch of mine.

Amidst the party madness, the couch under us seemed to be getting smaller. People around us were laughing and having a blast, completely oblivious to our spontaneous make-out session.

During the kiss, Tonya's hands wandered, exploring my back and sending shivers through me. I couldn't help but respond, putting my hands on her waist, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

As Tonya and I continued our make-out session on the couch, we suddenly became aware of someone nearby. When we looked up, we saw Erika standing there, gazing down at us

Erika looked nothing short of sensational; her choice of clothes highlighted the sculpted definition of her muscles, leaving little to the imagination. The cropped tank top exposed her strong shoulders and defined arms. The top cut off just above her navel, offering a glimpse of her faintly defined six-pack abs. Those snug shorts she was sporting didn't just accentuate her slender waist; they laid bare the magnificence of her big thighs and the sheer power in her huge, sculpted calves.

Erika's eyes revealed a story beyond the physical display. There was a profound, silent hurt in her gaze, going beyond just the muscles and appearances.

Tonya, seemingly unaffected, playfully teased, "Erika, sweetie, just borrowing Damien for a bit. Hope that's cool with you."

Erika, without uttering a word, gave me a look that conveyed everything. There was disappointment, pain, and a hint of defiance in that glance.

As she turned away and walked off, I noticed Michael in the distance over her shoulder, smirking at me.




I pulled away, slightly out of breath, and looked at Tonya. "What's going on here?" I asked, trying to make sense of the chaotic situation.

She smirked, her mischievous eyes meeting mine. "Just having a little fun, Damien. Why so serious?"

"No, seriously. What's the deal? Did Michael put you up to this?"

Tonya chuckled, running her fingers through her tousled hair. "Well, yeah, he might have suggested it. But truth be told, I've been curious about you for a while."

I raised an eyebrow, scepticism written all over my face. "Curious about me? Or just doing Michael a favour?"

"Okay, maybe a bit of both," she admitted. "But hey, it's a party, let's not overanalyse things. Dance with me, and we'll figure it out later."

Before I could protest or inquire further, Tonya grabbed my hand and led me to the makeshift dance floor.

As we danced, her toned arms wrapped around me, and I couldn't help but feel the definition beneath her skin. "So, Damien," she said, her voice close to my ear, "ever been with a girl like me before?"

I hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. "I... uh, can't say that I have."

"Well, get ready for a night you won't forget." She pulled me in closer, her lips brushing against my earlobe as she whispered, "why do you even care about Michael's plans?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. It just feels weird, you know? Like I'm part of some twisted game."

Tonya pulled back, looking into my eyes. "Let's forget the game and just enjoy the night."




I dialled Erika's number the next day, anticipation and worry knotting in my stomach. The call went straight to voicemail. Trying not to let panic set in, I sent her a text, "Hey, tried calling. Everything okay?" No response.

Then, a ping on my phone drew my attention – a message from Tonya. I opened it to find a selfie of us from the party, both of us smiling for the camera. The text read, 'We should meet up again, soon.'

Anxious, I decided to confide in my roommate Jack. He was sprawled out on his bed, scrolling through his phone. "Jack, something weird happened last night," I began.

He turned around, intrigued. "Spill it, man."

"So, I made out with Tonya," I admitted.

Jack's eyes widened. "Nice one, bro! Tonya, the sexy cheerleader? You're stepping up your game."

"Yeah, but here's the thing," I said, a tinge of guilt creeping in. "I might have messed things up with Erika."

Jack shrugged, looking at me with an easy grin. "Erika, man? She's like a goddess, but hey, she's taken. It's a dead end. But Tonya? She's a junior, a cheerleader – talk about hitting the jackpot. You're lucky, my friend. Go with the flow and enjoy the ride."

I threw my pillow at him, frustrated by his nonchalant response. "You're no help at all," I grumbled.

"Hey, I'm just giving you a reality check, man. Don't shoot the messenger."

I sighed. "This is serious, Jack. I really care about Erika, and I messed things up."

Jack sat up; a bit more serious now. "Okay, spill. What happened?"

I explained the whole situation with Tonya, Michael's involvement, and how I feared I might have hurt Erika in the process.

Jack leaned back, processing the information. After a moment, he said, "Look, it's a messy situation, but you need to talk to Erika. Explain what happened, be honest about your feelings. If she's as great as you say, she'll understand."

As I slumped back on my bed, Jack threw the pillow back at me, saying, "And next time, aim better."



A couple of days later, Jack, who had developed an interest in shedding some extra calories through BJJ lessons on campus, pleaded with me to accompany him. He had already joined the club but felt intimidated after attending just one session. With Erika still maintaining radio silence, and the next creative writing class a week away, agreeing seemed like a decent way to spend the evening. So, finally, I caved in.

In the evening, we headed over to the Rec Center where the practices were held. As we entered, we saw some students engaged in practice sessions, while a few others were having practice matches.

Jack, eyeing the scene nervously, muttered, "Man, this is more intense than I thought."

I chuckled, trying to ease his nerves. "It's just practice, Jack. We'll be fine."

As we surveyed the area, my eyes widened when I spotted Erika in the midst of a session, paired up with a big, muscular guy. Their match had just begun, and Erika was sporting a sports bra and tight shorts, looking spectacularly gorgeous.

Jack nudged me, his eyes widening. "Is that Erika? She's... wow."

"Yeah," I replied, a mix of admiration and surprise in my voice. "Let's watch and learn, I guess."

We found a spot to observe, and Jack muttered, "Look at her go!"

Right from the start, it was evident that Erika was in a league of her own.

As they circled each other, Erika's movements were swift and precise, displaying a level of agility that took me by surprise. Her muscles, well-defined and toned, flexed with every step. The sports bra revealed her sculpted arms, the sinews of her biceps and triceps evident with each powerful motion.

The muscular guy lunged forward, attempting to grapple with Erika, but she effortlessly sidestepped, a smirk playing on her lips. "Too slow," she quipped, her voice a playful taunt.

In a blink, Erika seized control, executing a flawless takedown. The forceful yet controlled manner in which she maneuvered him to the mat showed not just her strength but also her technical expertise. Her thighs, clad in tight shorts, flexed as she maintained a firm grip, keeping the bigger opponent under her control.

As they grappled, Erika smoothly transitioned into a submission hold, her muscular arms applying just the right pressure. The guy tapped out, conceding defeat.

Erika released the hold, standing up with a grin. Her physique glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and today, her stomach muscles were more noticeable than they were at the party. You could see the lines of her six-pack, those well-defined muscles in her midsection, showing through.

"You're getting better, but I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve," Erika teased, extending a hand to help the guy up.

The onlookers, including Jack and me, were left in awe of Erika's prowess.

Erika's eyes locked onto mine, and her grin disappeared. I could sense the anger radiating from her as she made her way toward us. Jack, who was aware of the entire situation, looked between us uncertainly, clearly wondering what was about to happen.

As Erika approached, I felt a twinge of intimidation.

"Hey, Erika, this is Jack, my roommate," I said, attempting to lighten the tension.

She offered a polite smile to Jack. "Nice to meet you, Jack."

Jack, taking advantage of the moment, said, "Hey, Erika, Damien here wanted to see if he could take you on in a fight."

My jaw dropped, and I shot an angry glance at Jack. Erika's expression shifted, and to my surprise, she seemed intrigued by the idea. "Really?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, that could be interesting."

I stammered, trying to backpedal. "Jack, I never said that. I don't want to fight Erika."

But Erika was already on board. She thought it was a great idea. "Come on, Damien. Let's see what you've got."

Erika looked at me as we stood across the mat, the tension thick in the air. The anger in her eyes sent a shiver down my spine, but there was also an undeniable allure in the way her sculpted muscles flexed beneath her tight sports bra. The dim light of the training room accentuated the defined lines of her six-pack, and her biceps looked like they were carved from marble.

"Ready to see if you can handle this, Damien?" she taunted, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

I gulped, my nerves getting the better of me. "Let's just take it easy, okay?"

Erika smirked. "Easy it is, then."

The match began, and from the first moment, it was evident I was out of my league. We circled each other, and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way her muscles rippled with every controlled movement. Her agility was on another level.

She lunged at me, and before I could react, I found myself on the ground, her powerful thighs wrapped around me in a tight hold. The pressure was intense, and I gasped for breath.

"You're not even trying, Damien," she chided, her voice filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

I struggled, trying to pry her legs apart, but it was like attempting to move solid steel. She laughed, tightening the hold even more.

"You know, Tonya might be more your speed," she teased, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Just when I thought she going to crush me in her big legs, she let go, allowing me to scramble back to my feet.

She seized my arm in a quick motion, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. With a deft twist, she had me on the mat, the cold surface against my back. I winced, both from the impact and the realization of her strength.

Erika continued her display of dominance, putting me in various locks and holds. Each time, I found myself more mesmerized by her musculature. Her defined biceps flexed as she controlled my movements, the sinews in her forearms visibly tightening.

In a swift move, she effortlessly lifted me, but with a careful control that prevented me from crashing onto the ground. My heart raced, partly from the physical exertion, but mostly from the proximity to her powerful frame.

As she effortlessly maneuvered me, I couldn't deny the overwhelming strength she possessed. It wasn't just physical; it was a demonstration of power that left me breathless.

Erika put me in a headlock, her smooth arms bulging as I futilely tried to pry them off. The scent of her exertion filled the air, and despite the discomfort, a strange mix of excitement and arousal stirred within me.

She released the headlock and, with a swift motion, had me pinned to the ground. I wrapped my legs around her waist, trying to squeeze, but it seemed to have no effect on her, except that my hard-on was lodged against her toned abdomen.

"You're quite... hard to resist," I admitted, my voice strained as I squeezed hard. She grabbed my legs and almost effortlessly pried them apart.

"Well, seems like your body agrees," she remarked, glancing down at the unmistakable evidence of my arousal. "Getting beaten up turns you on, Damien? You're a real piece of work."

I blushed, struggling to maintain composure. "It's not like that," I mumbled squirming beneath her, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity. "Erika, please. Can we talk about this?"

She sighed, rolling off me and allowing me to catch my breath. "Fine, let's talk."

"What... now? In front of everyone?" I asked bewildered, lying on the mat, a mix of exhaustion and fascination coursing through me.

Erika stood over me, a hesitant smile playing on her lips. "Tomorrow then, and just for the record, getting an erection during a BJJ match? That's a new one, Damien."

She extended a hand to help me up, "Maybe next time, you'll put up a better fight."

As I stood there catching my breath, Jack, thoroughly entertained, remarked, "Well, that was quite a show."

Erika turned to Jack with a smile. "Thanks for the suggestion, Jack. It was indeed entertaining."

Jack, clearly pleased with himself, replied, "Anytime, Erika. Anytime."

As we left the Rec Center, I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment, exhaustion, and a strange admiration for Erika's strength, both physical and emotional. The unresolved tension lingered, and I wondered how this unexpected match would impact our already complicated dynamics.
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  #7  
Old 27-Jan-24, 14:27
Grimm Grimm is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

This is a really good slow burner
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  #8  
Old 28-Jan-24, 05:21
Robocop1 Robocop1 is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

This is so well written. Like, even beyond the male vs female aspect, which is fantastic, its an actual narrative. Even things like jack and damiens conversations
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Old 30-Jan-24, 11:49
ajran ajran is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

He has nothing to reproach himself for, he is single and she has a boyfriend.
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Old 01-Feb-24, 21:16
Seeking a dom Seeking a dom is offline
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Default Re: College Romance

This ios a good story- well-written with a great main female character. I hope this story continues- and I hope that the female lead displays a more rapacious persona towards the male main character.
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arm wrestling, beautiful girl, biceps, college girl, domination, love, romance, strong female, wrestling

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