| Regressed Regret; Yuuki, a high school teacher, gives into his desire for one of his students. | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 23 2018, 12:14 PM (2 Views) | |
| basketkitty | Mar 23 2018, 12:14 PM Post #1 |
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I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I screwed up a lot of chances, broke several hearts including my own, and fucked over my life on a daily basis. This case was probably the worst one of them all, however. I was twenty-eight at the time. An English teacher for a nearby highschool. I enjoyed my job, since I'd always had a passion for the English language, though whether this was from nature or nurture I don't quite know. My mother was an English teacher, as well, though on a college level, so in some way I suppose it could have been both. I initially didn't plan on becoming a teacher. I wanted to be a journalist, or even a news anchor. Someone who got to talk to interesting people and explore the world... Of course, being Japanese, I needed to learn English, which wasn't hard for me. I took classes in college for it, but... I don't know. I must have changed my mind somewhere along the line. Maybe I was pressured into it. Or maybe it was a whim that I went along with. I've always been impulsive...and it's been my downfall more than a few times. Either way, I ended up as an English teacher at a highschool, where I worked for a couple years. Despite my past desires, I was fairly happy with the position, and while I didn't get to travel much, I did get to meet and speak with a lot of interesting people. One boy in particular had always caught my attention, in fact. He was a quiet boy, but more so than the other kids in the classroom. Japanese classes are quiet by nature, and a lot of students space out for most of the class, but he...he had a certain way about it. Like his own brand of daydreams. Just watching him made you want to sleep, like a soft lullaby constantly playing. I remember I would sometimes get mad at him for it, though. I don't mind if students doze off in class, so long as they did well and were behaved, but him...he barely ever tried. But I found it hard to be mad at him for it. He was just too...likeable. Sadly, my 'interest' ended up becoming more than I wanted it to be once he reached his third-year. He'd gotten himself a haircut over the break, getting rid of the long-haired look he had previously. He had also gotten even more into dancing and theater, and his physique was beginning to shape up as a result. And in the end...I was left with less 'Cute but lazy student', and more 'Cute, sexy, hard-working student who just isn't very interested in English'. It's hard to justify my feelings and actions...but as a man who had been single for almost five years at that point...I wanted nothing more than to make my 'interest' become 'interested' in what I was teaching him. One afternoon, while everyone was leaving, I asked him to see me afterschool, to discuss his poor grades and see if there was any helping him. I remember doing this solely for the purpose of the school, but I also remember fantasizing about how easy it would be to act on my feelings. After all, you hear about it in the news all the time. Teachers convincing students to blow them for a better grade, or sometimes even straight up fucking the students for the same purpose. I didn't want to be roped in the same classification as those people. Those perverts who leer at underage girls, wanting to get their old, wrinkly man hands on their students' virgin bodies... I wasn't like that. My student was eighteen, since his birthday was just after the cutoff date. I wasn't a pedophile. ...I wasn't like them. He came in like promised, sleepy-looking as usual. I smiled and had him pull up a chair in front of my desk. I clacked papers together and shuffled folders and files, trying my hardest to gain enough time to get my thoughts in order. I adjusted my glasses, folded my hands, shifted in my seat...I hate to admit it, but I felt like I was on a first date. And all the while, he sat there, looking around the room he'd studied more than my blackboard. And then I finally remembered what I was going to say. "Akinori-kun... I'm sure you know what I brought you in here for, right?" He looked down at my desk. "Your grades are getting worse it seems...and it's dragging the rest of the class down, I'm afraid. Even if everyone were to get a hundred percent on their upcoming exams, if you only get fifty percent, then the whole class' grade will only be about ninty-eight." "...Ninety-eight is still an A," he murmured, his voice soft. "...It still shows how one person's grades affect the others'. ...Listen," I sighed, sitting up straighter. "How about we make a deal? You come visit me after school and I'll help you study. It'll be easier for you to understand if you have someone helping you directly, right?" He nodded. I smiled. "Alright then! That's what we'll do. Do you have time today? We could start right now." It was dangerous. I knew full well that it was. But I trusted myself to keep separate my two heads from each other. I could be professional and maintain a decent relationship with my student, and he could get the help and assistance he needed. Plus, we'd get to know one another, hopefully, and maybe then my fascination would be satisfied. ...At least, that's the way I had wanted it to be. ...But instead of satisfied, it ended up being piqued. It was our third study session together. We stayed in the classroom together, sitting beside each other as I tried to get him to read sentences outloud for me, correcting him and making him write the right answers down when he got it wrong. It fairly standard procedure, but I...I was getting impatient. I was having trouble focusing because of our proximity at times, and the sound of his voice, and the pheromones of his sweat (it was a very warm day and I remember the air conditioning always had trouble on hot days)...and another bout of my impulsive nature reared its ugly head. "Hey...you're having trouble concentrating, right? It's really too hot today." "Nn...it is..." "You'll have an easier time if we go somewhere more comfortable, right? A coffeeshop would be too noisy...how about we go to my place?" "Your place?" he asked, looking to me finally. I chuckled, praying to God that the teen couldn't hear my chest. "Well, we could go to yours, but I wouldn't want to intrude, aha. But yeah, it's not like we're going to do anything except study. I'll drop you off at home afterward if you'd like." It was bad. It was terrible. But in those minutes that we spent packing up our things and heading out together, I felt more alive than I had in a long, long time. In the car, I was impressed with the little bit of self-control I had, keeping myself from grabbing his jaw and kissing those lips I'd admired for months now. It probably helped that we talked along the way, discussing our various hobbies. He talked about the play he'd recently joined, and his desire to just spend a whole month out on sea, fishing... I asked him about his art, and when we were stopped, he showed me a couple he'd drawn. They were gorgeous sketches, rough but detailed, showing a variety of emotions and creativity you wouldn't have expected to from someone like him. ...In retrospect, I wish we'd stayed quiet the whole ride. When we got to my apartment, I had to take a moment to clean off the kitchen table form my rushed breakfast that morning, apologizing profusely for the messy state of it all. He just complimented the nice smell, noting the scent of incense and tangerine peels everywhere. I laughed, thanked him, and offered him a drink. We sat on the couch together, using the coffee table to hold our books and papers. I had lit some more incense to keep myself relaxed, and he commented about the odd placement of furniture and items around my apartment, and I had to admit I was quite into Feng Shui. We ended up talking more than we studied, which was fine by both of us. Though when we did finally get to why I had invited him over in the first place...I feel like it lasted for too long, but also not long enough. I don't remember who it was that started it. I wouldn't be surprised if it was myself, but over the course of our reading, we ended up sitting closer and closer, until our thighs were touching, my arm behind his back, my chest against his shoulder... I didn't have my glasses on, and I had to lean in pretty close to read over his shoulder when he spoke up. "Teacher...do you want to sleep with me...?" I remember freezing for far too long before finally jerking myself away, though I knew my body language was a dead giveaway by then. "What? No, of course not! I just don't have my glasses right now, I didn't mean to get so close, sorry." "Oh...it's okay. I just heard that...you have a big dick, and...people say that...you keep looking at me in class, so...I was hoping..." He sighed and turned the page in his book. "I-...it's...not that big..." I didn't know what to say. I do remember one day having to stand in front of the class while in such a state. You often hear about kids bemoaning having to do a presentation like that, but just imagine how the poor teachers in the same position feel. So I supposed I wasn't surprised that he'd heard that story...and I suppose I hadn't exactly been very subtle with my glances towards him... But he sounded genuinely disappointed. And somehow...the thought of making him happy took more priority over my job. I don't really remember how it happened anymore. I might have said something, or I might have been silent, but either way, the barrier between my heads finally crumbled and his textbook tumbled to the floor at our feet. His lips were just as heavenly as I imagined they'd be, and his body was toned so nicely, it sent shivers down my spine when I ran my hands over him. His moans were so sweet sounding, it was a struggle to avoid cumming just from them alone, too. But above all else...was his tongue. I don't think I had ever experienced a blowjob quite like that ever in my almost thirty years of life. I don't think I could describe it, either, but it...it was simply amazing. I wanted to think that perhaps he was a virgin, that I was his first time...but the way he swallowed afterward without missing a beat proved that he was well-versed in the act. I suppose, though...that I wasn't that disappointed at the time, still too swept up in the current of what was going on to think about it. I don't think I did very much thinking at all during that time. "God...you're so good at that," I whispered, laying back on the couch. My shirt was half-off from our makeout session, and my pants were surprisingly mostly on. He was a little more clothed than I was, considering all I had done was untuck his shirt to feel his skin better...or so I had thought. Feeling a weight on my lap, I opened my eyes and looked up at him, and he smiled at me, his hands on my chest. He was still wearing his underwear, but through the fabric... "Christ..." He was hard as a rock. We ended up not having full sex that night, since the day was starting to get too late. But he was happy enough with me reaching into his underwear and kissing him until he came. He laid on me afterward, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close like lovers do...and he asked if this counted towards his grade. I laughed and told him no. ...That was a lie. I really wish I could say that that was the end of it. That we only spent one afternoon like that together, with oral sex being the only penetration happening... But that, too, is a lie. Because even though I claimed that it didn't count toward his grade, he continued to come over, sometimes even by his own request. I always felt sick afterward, after dropping him off at home, and returning to my own apartment to sleep in my bed by myself... I always hated myself more and more each time. But he was intoxicating, and I was lonely. I used to have a picture of my ex-boyfriend by my bed to keep me company...but now I can't even stand to look at his face anymore. I threw the picture away, first not wanting my student to see it...but then just simply not wanting to see it myself at all. I know what I did was dangerous. But even just one night with a student had insurmountable consequences...so in my head, what was one more? And then one more? And then one more still? We eventually gave up on studying completely, but I made him talk to me in English to make up for it during sex. He even started to stay the night sometimes, when his mother was too busy to come home for the evening. I couldn't drive him to school with me during the mornings, though, since that was too risky. Even driving him afterschool was bad, but it was slightly easier to explain than morning trips. Our homes weren't even in the same direction. I remember telling myself that I should stop while I was ahead. That after this night, and this night, no more. But when he's in my classroom, and the students are all writing down what I've put on the board, my eyes roam around the kids and our gazes lock and my heart leaps and I remember the feeling being...far, far too familiar and it makes me feel worse, but at the same time...it feels too good. And I must have clung to that feeling, because it was impossible for me to get away from our relationship by that point. I had fallen in love. And that only made my discovery even harder. Exams were coming up, and I sadly had too much work to do to have a 'study session' with him that day. It was afterschool, and I was carrying papers down to the faculty office when I passed by a classroom with distinct kissing sounds and moans coming from it. I sighed and braced myself for the confrontation, not really looking forward to having to break up horny teenagers from each others' groins. But when I opened the door and peeked in...I swear my heart stopped. And I closed the door again before they could notice me and I hurried down the hall, every part of my body burning. Of course I knew something like that would happen. It wasn't like me and him were steady. We were more like 'friends with benefits', with the term 'friends' being used very loosely. Of course it would happen. Of course he would find someone more his age. I was so old! I am so old! Not to mention how perfect he was! Yes, he wasn't very bright, and he was consistently on the bottom rung of all the test scores, but...he had creativity on his side. And the skill to prove it! He was handsome, and kind, and talented, and humble, and cute, and had everything going for him. Of course he was going to find someone. Of course. Of course. But it still hurt like a bitch. And even more so when I passed by the same room, the sound of desks creaking was added to the mix of noises. And I knew that if someone else caught them, then they would be punished worse than if I just stepped in. So I steeled myself again and knocked loudly before stepping into the room. And as I feared, there he was, balls deep in another student's ass. At the very least he looked genuinely shocked that I was there, but I feel like he just might be shocked that he was caught at all. "Hey, what are you guys doing? Come on, you both have homes, right? A classroom's not the place for this sort of thing!" I said, glaring at the two of them. Sheepishly, they disentangled themselves and started to pull their clothes back on, the younger teen's ears bright red with embarrassment. "Oh...I guess that's why you always take me home then, huh..." ...And that was it. That was the catalyst of the downward spiral. He didn't mean it in malice. I know he didn't. He couldn't have. Despite being eighteen, he couldn't have known that what we were doing was wrong. And that's when I realized that I was damn lucky that he never told anyone sooner. Chances were, he might have even just assumed everyone was doing it and that it wasn't really interesting enough to talk about. ...But my luck had run out. Because his friend, the golden-eyed Junior, wasn't going to let such a juicy tidbit go to waste. ...I ended up getting fired, of course. I got arrested, too. For months I had to deal with court cases, and trying to find a lawyer who would support me. My parents were disgusted with me that they refused to help, and in the end...I had to do jail time. I suppose my jail time could have been worse. If he had been younger, my sentence would have no doubt been much longer. As it was, I got six months in jail, with several years probation. I'm still serving that time. My teaching license was revoked, for obvious reasons. Even if it wasn't news spread quickly, so what school would hire me again? I'd like to make a joke that I finally got on the news, just like kid me had always dreamed of...but I can't even laugh about it. I don't deserve to laugh about it. it was stupid of me. I had known better. So without a job, I've taken to playing piano in bars for tips to get by. Sometimes I see people who knew me during gigs. Once I saw my ex. The look of disgust he gave me burned into my skull, but at least I'm sort of glad that he's happy he broke up with me. But mostly I'm bitter and blame him that if he'd just stayed with me then none of this mess would have had to happen. I don't say it outloud, though. His new girl might break up with him if she found out he once dated a sick pervert like me. The worst, however...is when I see my old student. He cries pretty much every time we see each other now. I don't know if he's upset that we can't be together anymore like I am...or if he's just upset that he caused me so much trouble. Sadly...I'm leaning towards the latter. He doesn't love me like I love him. Of course he doesn't. I'm just an old guy who fucked him several dozen times to boost his scores. I'm just the old English pervert who wanted to get his dick wet. I'm no one to him. It's just his conscience making him cry... And I wish he would stop. I would much rather see him forget about me than to see him cry, when I can't even go near him to wipe his tears and kiss a smile back on his lips. I would rather him forget about me so I can forget about him. Because even though he's not graduated...we can't be together. It would destroy his career. Just like it destroyed mine. And more than anything I just want him to be happy. Because even after three years...I still love him as much as I did back then. And I probably will continue to love him this much for the rest of my life... And I wish that I never, ever did. |
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6:42 PM Jul 11