Obsessed teacher kidnaps 18-year-old guy.
I didn't love him, though. I just saw him as a sex toy. Something with a hole for me to fuck.
I glanced down at my bag and remembered something. Last night I printed off the pictures of Matthew that were on his site. Naked pictures of one of my students that I printed off were tucked neatly inside one of the pockets of my bag so that I could look at them on my breaks. And I had looked at them. And I had loved it, appreciating the fact that I had pictures of him and that I could see that blonde hair, those brown eyes, that smile any time I wished. And yes, I did love him. In a tremendously different way than I loved my wife or had loved anyone. I wanted Matthew to want me back. I wanted him to be part of me and me to be part of him. Not just to be a part of his life but something more. As if I could jump into him and be him. Yes, I wanted to have sex with him too. The idea of penetrating his ass thrilled me more than anything. But in addition to the physical pleasure of it, I anticipated the connection, the unification of two bodies, his and mine. I wanted that with Matthew and no one else.
And I loved him.
* * *
The next day at school was much the same as the day before. When Matthew came in I stared at him and my pulse quickened. I had to exercise great self control to restrain my hand from caressing his ass or touching his hair. I wanted to touch him with every bit of myself. I wanted to lean down and kiss him on the lips when I walked by him in the classroom (which I did often now). Then class ended and he left. And I waited for the day to hurry up and be done so I could go back to my place beneath the tree and watch him. And when the time came, I went outside and watched him practice. This time I sat down and took out my pictures of him, comparing the images I held in my hands to the one out on the field. He was like an angel. My angel.
A week passed like this. It was unbearable and wonderful at the same time. My relationship with Virginia was taking a strain that she eventually confronted me about. I blamed my lack of sexual interest in her on all the sex we were having. I told her I was just tired and needed to take a rest. Meanwhile I had started to take a camera with me to school. When I went to the field to watch the practice, I would zoom in on Matthew and take pictures. Within two weeks I had well over 200 pictures. Most of them were of him bending over or of him lifting his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. And I'd take these home and jack off over them. And of course the video never got old. I burned it to a disc so that if anything should ever happen to the site, I'd at least have my own copy. This also allowed me to watch the video in the teacher's lounge during breaks when no one was around. Of course I couldn't jack off, but there was a computer in the room where I could see him again.
It had nearly been a full month since I first discovered Matthew's site. Despite that I was getting tired of seeing the same images of him over and over again, I still maintained a healthy lust for the boy. Matthew continued to be my secret idol. My rapacious lust for him burned me, scalded my insides without relent. I needed him. I needed to do something more than just watch him from afar.
On friday night, I tore open a condom that I had bought and masturbated.