Aiko, #1 (Submission) - Sex Stories

Aiko, #1 (Submission)

My name is Aiko. My parents moved from Japan to the States when I was four. I don't remember anything about my old home. My only connection is that I can still speak the language.

At school, most people are nice to me even though I am very shy. My mother always said that I had to learn to get out of my shell, or the other students would pick on me. But I never did learn, and they're nice to me, anyway. My friend Julia says it's because I'm pretty, but I'm not sure that's true. Boys don't seem that interested in me. I've only been asked out once.

Not that I'd want it to be different. I've never been interested in a boy from my class. If I were, things would probably have played out very differently.

It's dawned on me for a while that I'm unusual. Other girls often talk about boys. Including Julia. And I guess some of them look cute. But I don't think that's enough. I've asked Julia to describe what it feels like to be interested in someone, and I'm sure I've never felt anything like that.

Not for anyone my age, anyway.

I first noticed it while watching movies. It wasn't too crazy, but it sure was more than I felt for the boys in my class. No one too old, though. I don't like old people. But I do like people in their thirties. And it's not the pretty ones that other girls sometimes talk about. I don't want someone pretty. I want someone strong. Someone commanding. Someone rough. There's nothing less exciting to me than a slow and romantic date, or whatever normal ...

... girls dream of.

It would have been okay if that had all stayed a fantasy. I wouldn't have asked for more. I'm not that greedy. And until the start of last year, that's all it was. Until we got Mr. Thorne.

I don't remember the early lessons clearly, but I know his hands were the first thing I noticed. His rough, strong hands. Once, I wrote my homework on a loose sheet of paper instead of my notebook, and when I handed it to him, I held the sheet so that his hands would have to touch mine as he grabbed it. When I got home that day, that was the first time I masturbated thinking about him. Thinking about those hands grabbing me, pushing me down on the bed, holding me there so firmly that I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. I had never done it before because I knew it was weird, but since that day, I don't care anymore. I know it's not gonna happen, so I'm gonna fantasize about it while I still can.

Oh, and he is our math teacher.

I've made it through a year without anyone realizing what's going on. I never figured out if the other girls really can't control themselves or if they show their emotions on purpose, but for me, it's easy to hide what I'm thinking. No one can know what goes on in your head if you don't tell them.

I remember thinking that I'd probably lose interest in Mr. Throne over time. I haven't. If anything, it's gotten worse. I keep thinking about him. His face, his hands. And his voice. God, I love his voice. It's so masculine and strong, and I ...