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 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 nudges my elbow with her finger, posing a question with certainty. I slump down as if an arrow has snapped me in half. "……Yeah, I like it." "I like that you're honest, sensei." Honestly, I wonder if there's anyone who wouldn't find Togawa-san in a uniform charming. Truly, she's so cute… 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 with a mischievous laugh. 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 sensei." She's not wrong. "But sensei, isn't it tough at school? So many girls in skirts..." "Togawa-san." That's not something I can let slide, so I pinch her cheek and apply a bit of pressure. Togawa-san's mouth and eyes form a perfect, small circle. "Do you think I'm a woman who wants to do such things with other girls too?" I shouldn't even be doing this with her! "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." The awareness of our age difference blends embarrassment into my otherwise fervent love. Having a girl ten years younger become a guiding light in my life might sound wonderful under the banner of 'love,' but in reality, it seems more like a late-twenties with ripe 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, warmth rising like steam as her cheeks take on a rosy hue. It was clear that she had found peace and her heart relaxed. Togawa-san wraps her arms around my waist and face, drawing me close. Our faces inch towards each other as her younger fingers guide us into a kiss. The guilt of being on a student's bed makes my skin feel taut. I almost cry out at the softness of Togawa-san's lips. As I touch her freshness, a stream of unwholesome nutrients flows to my brain. The moist 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. Each encounter remains as exhilarating as the last, abandoning all pretense as primitive affection intensifies. We exchanged love and pleasure through our tongues and lips, while sweat and desire glistened on our skin. In the lingering thrill of the kiss, Togawa-san 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 as if an entryway to a sweet, bottomless abyss. "Go ahead, undress me as 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 serious. Pure, without any guile. It wasn't a matter of virtue, just a simple consequence of a non-functioning heart. Without desires, one is left unaffected. It was this high school girl, now sharing breaths with me, who unearthed that dormant emotion. She, Togawa Rin, is my crease—the fold in my life. Having discovered it, I am compelled to follow the line, folding until I am fully closed. I suspect it must be the same for Togawa-san. Together, we neatly fold into each other's lives, stitching ourselves together into the narrow space just shy of being completely shut. It's a wish we mutually hold. The person I once was—earnest, straightforward, well-behaved—existed solely 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. Unaware, 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, I was kissing my student, proclaiming love, drawing happiness from her embrace. When I'm with Togawa-san, I'm filled to the brim, yet when we part, loneliness rushes in. Even in a spacious room, I constantly feel an oppressive illusion, forcing myself to refocus my gaze so that reality doesn't crush me. I zone out, attempting to deflect everything. It seems to be my method of coping. Both my husband and I appear unchanged from the usual. Or so it seems. On the inside, I am 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 unleash hell? 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 him, 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 shiver down my spine. "Summer vacation is coming up soon," 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. I oversee the amateur radio club, consisting of just three members. Although called a radio club, we mainly 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 brittle tranquility that makes my heart feel parched. Yet, I suspect I'll make excuses throughout the summer break to find ways to meet Togawa-san. "……………………………………" I'm consumed by thoughts of Togawa-san, utterly infatuated. A husband, living with a wife whose mind is consumed by thoughts of another woman. He has done nothing wrong. There's no fault in my husband. No dissatisfaction prompted this. I merely fell deeply in love with the girl I met. That was all. The fault lies entirely with me, with no blame on my husband. Nevertheless, I quietly swallow my wrongdoing, using his goodness as a stepping stone.