Author's Notes: Decades ago, I wrote this story under another nom de plume. Recently came across my original text with old photographs of my first love, and decided to refresh and update it for your reading pleasure. As always, all characters are eighteen or older. Please enjoy.
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I recently attended my tenth-year high school reunion. It was good to see some of my old classmates and catch up on old times. However, it was not until I saw some photographs of our former teachers that the memories of my youth surged through me. Of all the pictures, there was only one that stood out - Mrs. K., my first love.
I remembered that high school was a turbulent time. I was in my senior year of high school when my dad who was in the military was assigned to a short stint in Hawaii to work on a special project. While my mother was elated to hang out in Hawaii, I was really pissed. I deeply resented being uprooted and forced to leave all of my friends for the last half of my senior year. However, since I had no one with whom I could stay for my last high school semester, I had no choice but to go with my parents.
It really sucked that I celebrated my eighteenth birthday by being thrust into a totally new environment, devoid of any friends. This was further compounded by me having an especially hard time being one of the few white kids around. At six-foot, white-skinned, blue-eyes, and blond hair I stuck out like a sore thumb among my new school's predominantly Oriental student body and faculty. Although I knew Hawaii was the fiftieth state, I felt like a foreigner in a foreign land and simply didn't want to have anything to do with my new high school community. That is until I attended Mrs. K.'s sixth-period math class.
"Hello, you must be John," fell gracefully from her lovely lips as Mrs. K. greeted me on that first day. "Welcome to Hawaii and to my class. I look forward to getting to know you better since like you, I'm new to this school and this is my first semester. Let's see if we can help each in making the most of what is left of this school year."
Mrs. K. was clearly the prettiest, most charming woman you could ever imagine. With raven medium-length bobbed hair framing her delicate Asian face, she had brown doe-like eyes, a cute button nose, and fragile but inviting lips. When combined with her graceful but sensuous figure, her impish smile, and subtle wit, Mrs. K. was a school boy's wet dream. Needless to say, I was madly infatuated with her at first sight and started to look forward to my short stay in Hawaii.
One day Mrs. K. was helping a student next to me with a problem that also stumped me. As I stood next to my seated classmate, Mrs. K. leaned over to make a point causing her blouse to fall forward and open. Given that my teacher was a slender five-foot-three, I had an unexpected and unobstructed view of the loveliest sight you could ever imagine. Cradled in the gauzy cups of her bra that had fallen away were two gentle snow-white mounds, each was capped with a soft purple, mouth-watering nipple. In silent awe, I memorized every inch of her unforgettable breasts, vividly recalling them as repeatedly I beat my meat that night dreaming about Mrs. K.
I began spending all of my free time hanging around Mrs. K. and my classmates teasingly labeled me Mrs. K.'s "pet." But I didn't care for by hanging around (and towering over) her, I was amply rewarded with numerous tantalizing glimpses of Mrs. K.'s modest but delicious tits and her other physical delight as our relationship seemed to become more than the typical teacher-student one.
Mrs. K. must have suspected that I was deeply infatuated with her and that I had gotten into the habit of peeking down her blouse. Instead of scolding me, she would just gently place her hand at her neckline to subtly denying me any stimulating tit-glimpses. Yet, as I continued to worm my way into her affection and trust, Mrs. K. became more casual and relaxed around me, unintentionally treating me to sightings of her perky tits, tight buns, and shapely legs. Given my fantasies about Mrs. K., it was a wonder I didn't reduce my pecker to a stub by the end of the senior year.
Before I knew it, the school year was ending, and my father was finishing up his project and had received his reassignment orders which were to take place a week after my high school graduation. Soon after my graduation, I stopped by Mrs. K.'s classroom at the ending of the last day of school to say good-bye and found her sitting alone and thoroughly depressed. When I told her of my family's departure, her weak smile faded as tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh, wow, when rains for me, it really pours," Mrs. K. sniffled. "You know John, even though you were my student, I've always thought of you as more. Maybe it's because we were both newcomers in this school - you know, this was my first time teaching as a long-term substitute and you were a transfer student - neither of us had any friends. But you were always there for me even though the other kids teased you relentlessly by calling you 'my pet.' I thought it was sweet and to me, you were always special. Maybe that's why I felt comfortable with you, and will really miss having you around. Now 'everyone' is leaving me..."
And with that, my normally calm Japanese-American teacher burst into tears. I knew that something else was happening to her because of the way she was crying. "Hey, Mrs. K. don't cry, please," I mumbled as I sought to comfort her. "I know you enough to know that there's something besides me leaving that's bothering you. What's wrong, Mrs. K.?"
Pulling herself together and dabbing the tears from her lovely almond-shaped eyes, Mrs. K. whispered, "I sorry for crying and being so emotional. It's just that my world is topsy-turvy at this time. I had hoped to be hired in a tenure-track position next year but just found out that I might not due to funding shortages. Then you who made teaching a pleasure are leaving. And finally, my husband told me this past weekend that our three-year marriage was a mistake and he had filed for divorce."
"What? Your husband is a fucking idiot," blurted out surprised mouth before I knew it. "Why would he give you up? God, you're so beautiful and...so perfect."
"Why thank you, John. But, Jim, my husband, has wanted kids all his life. When we married, I thought that I wouldn't have any problems conceiving; however, after years of trying, I couldn't. So, when I turned twenty-five, I underwent a series of fertility tests and was stunned to find out that I have a bacterial infection of my reproductive system that made me infertile. I was devastated because I didn't even know I was infected. The doctors said that having no symptoms sometimes happened; however, while they could treat the infection, they couldn't do anything about the scarring damage that had occurred.
