3.13 - A Story About a Married Teacher Who Becomes Obsessed With Her Female Student

Chapter Three: "In The Sea Without Borders" - Part Thirteen Togawa-san, leaning forward, addresses me in an seductive voice. It's quite unsettling. "…You know, Togawa-san. I'm aware it's not very convincing, but I don't particularly have a fondness for uniforms or… any specific preferences like that…" At least, that's what I believe, but what do I really know? And who am I even asking? "But you like me in my uniform, right?" She pokes my elbow with her finger, posing the question with certainty. I slump down as if an arrow has snapped me in half. "……Yeah, I do." "I like it when you're honest, sensei." I wonder if there's anyone who wouldn't find Togawa-san in a uniform charming. Truly, she's so cute… so cute... she's so cute that words escape me. Then again, I feel the same way when she's in casual clothes, so maybe, in the end, anything is fine as long as it's Togawa-san. "Sensei, you can lift my skirt if you'd like?" Togawa-san pinches the edge of her skirt, inviting me with a mischievous smile. For a moment, my eyes are drawn to the gap between her legs and the skirt, but despite that... "What do you take me for?" "A naughty teacher." She's not wrong. "But sensei, isn't it tough for you at school? So many girls in skirts..." "Togawa-san." That's not something I can let slide, so I pinch her cheeks and apply a bit of pressure. Togawa-san's mouth and eyes form a perfect, small circle. "Do you think I'm the kind of woman who wants to do these things with other girls too?" I shouldn't be doing this with her, either! "It's because it's you, Togawa-san. I want to lift your skirt, but only because it's your skirt, do you get that?" As I spoke, I grew increasingly frustrated. I'm unsure what exactly I'm angry about. "Don't say such rude things. I am... utterly... in love with you, Togawa-san." When I remember our age difference, my otherwise fervent love feels tinged with embarrassment. Having a girl ten years younger become a guiding light in my life might sound wonderful under the banner of 'love,' but in reality, I'm just a woman in my late-twenties that's ripe with sexual desires. As I release her cheeks, Togawa-san's face returns to its original shape. Togawa-san's face smoothens, rounding tenderly like a freshly boiled egg. "I know." She sighs softly, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue. It was clear to see that she had found peace and that her heart had relaxed. Togawa-san's hands slip around my waist and my face, drawing me close. Guided by the younger girl's fingers, our faces inch towards each other, until our lips meet. The guilt of being on a student's bed makes my skin feel taut. The softness of Togawa-san’s lips makes me want to cry out. Touching that dewy freshness sends a flood of intoxicating poison straight into my brain, one wave after another. The seductive sounds of our entwined tongues echo in my ears, sending shivers trickling down my spine repeatedly. This went on for quite a while—repeatedly, languidly, without growing tiresome—kissing Togawa-san. No matter how many times we came together, the thrill and the rush never waned, and with every bit of civility that evaporated, a raw, primal love only grew stronger. We exchanged words of love and pleasure through our tongues and lips, while sweat and desire glistened on our skin. Togawa-san, flushed from the afterglow of the kiss, falls back onto the bed, invitingly tugging at my elbow. She takes my hand, intertwining our fingers once more. "It's hot in here, isn't it?" Togawa-san's voice melts into my ear. Her lips part like an entryway to a sweet, bottomless abyss. "Go ahead, take it off however you like, sensei." At this point... At this point, it's fair to say Togawa-san has steered us here. While thinking this, my mind swirls as I slide my hand beneath Togawa-san's uniform. It's in this touch that I truly realize. Until now, only about a third of my heart had been stimulated. That's why I was so earnest. Honest, without any guile. It wasn't a matter of virtue, just a simple consequence of a non-functioning heart. Because I was dysfunctional, I had no desires. It was this high school girl, now exchanging breaths with me, who unearthed that dormant emotion. I was certain of it—Togawa Rin was the crease in my life. The fold by which my life would be shut. Having discovered it, I am compelled to follow that line, folding until I am fully closed. I'm sure it must be the same for Togawa-san. Together, we neatly fold into each other's lives, carefully, even as we are crushed, clinging to the last narrow gap before everything closes completely. And that is what we both desire. The reason I had been faithful, earnest, and well-mannered until now was simply because I hadn’t yet met Togawa Rin. * * * Although I have no fangs or claws to hurt anyone, I am now a monster. My appearance remains unchanged, but inside, I have completely transformed into a monster sitting before my husband. Perhaps conversations about monsters infiltrating everyday life begin just like this. Oblivious, my husband savors the broth of his chicken dumplings. As I watch him, I stuff my mouth with bean sprouts, interpreting the faint ringing in my ears as guilt. Just two hours ago, this was the same mouth that had kissed my student, proclaimed love, and found bliss as it sucked on her chest. When I'm with Togawa-san, I feel so fulfilled that my heart aches, yet as soon as we part, loneliness rushes in. Even in a spacious room, I constantly feel an illusion of pressure, forcing myself to refocus my gaze so that reality doesn't crush me. I zone out, attempting to ignore everything. It seems to be my method of coping. Both my husband and I were the same as usual. Or so it seems. On the inside, I was reducing my anxieties as discreetly as possible. I wonder about my husband—does he perceive my subtle mannerisms and lifestyle changes with suspicion? What if he's already detected my infidelity and is preparing to make life hell for me? Perhaps this is the paranoia that grips anyone with a dark secret. If I can conceal something, can't others do the same? As we eat dinner, I secretly observe my husband, hating myself for doing so. But I'm entirely the cause of this self-loathing; no matter how suffocating it feels, there's no going back. The sensation of touching Togawa-san lingers on my fingers holding the chopsticks. When I move them slightly, the memory returns vividly, sending a chill down my spine. "Summer vacation is almost here, huh?" my husband comments, glancing at the TV. I respond, keeping my consciousness focused above my throat. "Yes, the exams are over, and I think everyone's excited." "When I was a student, I used to think teachers got to relax during summer vacation too, but seeing you, it's clearly not the case." "Surprisingly, it's not, unfortunately." Even though there are no classes, there are still school duties, preparations to make, and the somewhat inscrutable workshops to attend... it's fairly busy. Luckily, as I'm not involved with any active clubs, I don't have much to worry about on that front. By the way, I oversee the amateur radio club, consisting of just three members. Although it's called a radio club, we only get called upon during school events for broadcasting, resembling more of a broadcasting club in that sense. Speaking of summer vacation, during that time, I won't see Togawa-san in her uniform in the classroom. There won't be any afternoons spent in the preparation room. It should be peaceful—a peace so dry it seemed my heart might crackle and crumble. Yet, I have a feeling that even during summer vacation, I'll find excuses to go find Togawa-san and meet her. "……………………………………" I'm consumed by thoughts of Togawa-san, utterly obsessed. A husband, living with a wife whose mind is consumed by thoughts of another woman. Even though he has done nothing wrong. It's not that my husband has done anything wrong. It's not that I'm dissatisfied. I merely fell deeply in love with a girl I met. That was all. The fault lies entirely with me, with no blame on my husband. Nevertheless, I silently swallow my wrongdoings, using his goodness as a stepping stone.