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Old 05-Jul-16, 22:38
lterp lterp is offline
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Default New story: "Trigger Warning"

Just wrote a story - hope you like it.

***

Me and Samantha, we like a good night out. We don't drink every day, but when we do, sometimes we get carried away. When we started dating, it was usually some mix of bars and drinking at home. Even when we went hiking or listened to some live music, someone had a roadie.

Sam was a super-cute girl, 5'1" and, I found out later, 125 pounds, though she looked a lot smaller than that, due to muscle density. I outweighed her by 50 pounds, but based on what she told me, she was perhaps as strong as me, benching 135 for reps, using 35s for shoulder and arm sets. She absolutely refused to believe she was "strong," in part because she worked out at home, so she never saw women straining while using far lighter weights than that. I told her to be careful when benching and she said she never lifted anything unless she could do 15 reps.

It was both frustrating and exciting. I desperately wanted to arm-wrestle her, wrestle with her, have a weight lifting contest with her, do anything involving a test of strength, but she never played along. She'd exert no effort so I'd win immediately, or she'd demur, and she wouldn't lift weights in front of me. Yet she'd mention it from time to time, and she knew her strength was a turn-on for me. We'd only been dating exclusively for a couple months, so I couldn't be too forward asking for more, and everything else, including sex, was going just fine. In fact, it was only during sex when I'd get to feel a muscle flex, depending on the position. Her muscles, especially her lats, were always so firm - like steel-rods firm - I could barely contain myself.

Anyway, we were enjoying a warm Saturday night at Moontower, an outdoor place with cheap drinks and picnic tables. We went there a lot, since it was close to her apartment. We were in good moods, chatting away, smoking, having a lot of fun, and beer turned into whiskey, which turned into shots, and we both blacked out.

The next morning, we were both awake by 10 and feeling super-horny, and she climbed on top of me, riding me fast and hard. It was over in a few minutes, and we went back to our miserable hangovers. We got out of bed, saw that while we were both blind-drunk, we'd apparently had sex twice, finding two used condoms in the bathroom that didn't make it into the trash. My crew-neck undershirt from the night before had been torn open, right down the middle, also left in the bathroom. I checked my phone. We'd taken a car home and the Uber driver gave me a one-star review, so we must have been loud. It was apparently a crazy night. As I walked back to the living room, I stubbed my foot on Sam's adjustable hand-weights - both had been set to 40 pounds - left out on the floor.

"What happened last night?" I asked.

She laughed. "I don't remember at all. At least we didn't drive."

"I mean, look." I showed her the shirt. "You were apparently pretty worked up."

"Did I hurt you?"

"What do you mean?" She pointed - I had bruises on my stomach, neck, cheek and arms, and she'd bitten me several times on my chest, which she did sometimes. "Guess I made you mad," I said, and she laughed.

I leaned over to pick up the weights. "Not sure why these are out," I said, and realized as I stood up that my arms were both a bit sore. Did we get drunk and lift weights?

"Oh, sorry. I did upper body yesterday. I didn't need the bench, and I forgot to put them away."

"You're using 40s now?"

"Sometimes." She smiled. Again, the way she would tease me without actually letting me watch was frustrating, yet exciting.

Anyway, we cleaned up the house, then had a quickie in the shower, where she mounted me, my back to the tile, my hands on her lats. As before, they were the hardest muscle I've ever felt, and I wished she'd work out with me, just once. I imagined her outlifting me; I pulled out and came all over her stomach. (I should note that four times in 12 hours was unusual for us. Something was in the air.)

We ate brunch, sobered up and sat in her back yard awhile, just chatting. At 5, we both got a text from Marcie, her best friend, that read, "Is this you guys?!?!?!?" with an Instagram link. It was a short video, geotagged to Moontower. The caption read "Guy gets OWNED by girlfriend" with a bunch of laughing smiley faces. It was blurry, but it was definitely us. First, by the clothes, and second by Sam's voice shouting, "Is that all you got?" as she pinned my wrist to the table in well under the 15 seconds of video Instagram allowed. The camera owner laughed at the end. Sam said something else, but I couldn't make it out.

I looked at Sam, immediately hard again, yet the blood drained from my face. I was humiliated and excited at a level I'd never been. She was still looking at her phone, and I got a notification that she commented, tagging both of us in the video. It said "I win! Hahahahaha @bt89409 you weakling."

She set down her phone and said, with a mock sigh, "OK, fine," and went back into the house. I followed, and she sat at her small kitchen table and I sat across from her. We gripped each other's hands and she said, "You can start whenever. But remember, I worked out yesterday."

Her whole arm seemed to double in thickness. She never had "pop-up" biceps, but there was a ton of muscle on that arm, especially her shoulder. I strained as I pressed against her, and she was clearly straining, too. But after maybe 10 seconds, she managed to twist my hand and wrist towards her, then 10 seconds later she had overpowered me.

"My god, Sam."

"OK, I never wanted to do that because I thought -- maybe this is weird. Wait, let's do lefty. Then I'll tell you."

Left handed was even less of a challenge for her, to the point where she asked if I was trying. I definitely gave less resistance, since I was so erect.

"I know you wanted to do that, I just didn't know if I was stronger than you or not. And then I was like, what if I'm not stronger and you're disappointed? Or what if I am stronger and I'm not into it? So when I saw the video, I got a lady-boner, thinking about how you're the guy, but I'm physically better than you. Like, I'm a ton stronger. I was trying, but not that hard."

"That must have been what happened last night."

"Yeah - I don't remember it at all. But if I was turned on last night like I am -- oh fuck it, let's --" we stood up and she tackled me, knocking me on the carpet and straddling me, rubbing against me, once again. As I entered her again, she said, "And with everyone watching, too. Everyone at Moontower knows how awesome I am. And how weak you are."

Monday night, I found a way to download that Instagram video, and watched it over and over like it was the Zapruder film. I kept trying to figure out what Sam said at the end of the clip I'd watch her beat me, taunt me, then say something else, but it was hard to hear under the laughter of person who made the video.

I slowed it down to half-speed and quarter speed. I downloaded a free sound-editing app to try to partially mute the mid-tones of laughter, but I couldn't find the right level that didn't also mute Sam during my first few attempts. Besides, nearly every time I watched it, I had to resist the urge to start touching myself. It was my fantasy come true, and I didn't even remember it.

We weren't planning to see each other Tuesday, so I decided to devote as many hours after work as I could to figuring out what she said. I tried every interval, every mix, isolating the segment where she said something to me. When I found the right mix, I heard it. It was barely clear, but once I figured it out, I couldn't not hear her threat.

"I'm going to take you home and rape you."

It was 11 PM, and I texted Sam to see if she was up. I was so overwhelmed, I was sweating again. Did she rape me? It would have been with my consent, of course, but was that where my bruises came from?

She texted back: "Been so f-ing horny all day. Come over."

I packed clothes for work in the morning along with my computer and drove over at about 300 miles per hour. She was in tiny shorts and a tank-top, with no bra; she usually slept naked in the summer. She immediately kissed me and began to rub against my cock, and I somehow managed the strength to ask her to wait. "I need to show you something."

I turned on my computer and opened up the downloaded video. "Yeah, you want to watch this again? I'll watch this again." She laughed, and rubbed my arm. "Pussy."

I laughed a little nervously and turned up the volume pretty loud. "Hear that?"

"'Is that all you got?' Yeah."

"No, at the very end, when the guy is laughing, you say something to me that's hard to hear." I played the segment a couple more times.

"Oh yeah. I can't make it out, though. Man, we were wasted."

"I know. I've been messing with the audio all night and I just figured it out. Here. I slowed it down a bit, too." She listened, but couldn't quite catch it. "You might need headphones."

She grabbed her phone's headset and plugged it in and dragged the audio back several times in a row. "I'm going to take... I'm going to take you home and... What's that word? I'm --" She looked at me, and I saw a new intensity in her eyes as she took out her earbuds. "I'm going to take you home and rape you," she said, not as a question. A statement.

She jumped on top of me and put her hand over my mouth as we tumbled onto the floor. I twisted my head a little to try to breathe and she loudly whispered, "Shut up." With her other hand she grabbed my arm and slammed it to the floor. Her grip was so intense. I bucked a little with my legs, but she pressed against me, entwined them and pinned me. "I'm going to let you take off your clothes. But don't say a word," she said.

I was legitimately afraid of her, but, of course, fully erect. I pulled off my underwear and stood naked before her. Just after I put on a condom, she shoved me towards the couch. "Ow!" I said.

"No talking," she whispered, and punched me lightly on the cheek. "I'm going to rape you." And she rode me harder than she ever had before, at least that I remembered. "I can do whatever I want, you pussy," she breathed. I reached to grab her hips and she punched me in the stomach and bit me on the chest. "No. I'm...raping...you." She said it over and over again as she fucked me harder and harder. I came, but stayed hard enough for her to come as well, and she fell on top of me.

"You can talk," she said, laughing.

"Did you know?"

"Know what? That I wanted to rape you? God, just saying it again, I'm getting a little wet. No. When I saw the video I liked being stronger, but I didn't know I wanted...that."
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  #2  
Old 06-Jul-16, 02:57
Sirius Sirius is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

Amazing!
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Old 08-Jul-16, 17:34
supernova supernova is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

Best story i have read in a long time! Wow!
Sequel! Sequel! Sequel!
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  #4  
Old 09-Jul-16, 05:51
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dragoness' wrestling fan dragoness' wrestling fan is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

I agree this is a really good story!
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  #5  
Old 10-Jul-16, 12:48
Wannawrestle Wannawrestle is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

Awesome! I think this needs to have some follow-up stories.
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  #6  
Old 18-Jul-16, 17:31
lterp lterp is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

Thanks everyone!

I have a related story I'm working on and should get it in decent enough shape to post in the next day or two.

It doesn't look like I can edit my post, but I added a paragraph right near the beginning to give it a little more plot, and to better connect it to the upcoming "prequel". It's underlined below.

So the opening is:


Me and Samantha, we like a good night out. We don't drink every day, but when we do, sometimes we get carried away. When we started dating, it was usually some mix of bars and drinking at home. Even when we went hiking or listened to some live music, someone had a roadie.

We met at work, where she was an assistant, and once I got out of my marriage, we started dating a couple years later. She was new to Denton, but she had lived a bunch of different places and had a lot of different jobs for someone who was still in her 20s. She only had an associate's degree, so her job opportunities were limited, but she'd been an art teacher, a UPS sorter, a truck dispatcher and a Sonic cashier, spending all day on roller skates. She told me she had an abusive ex, and had changed her name once or twice, and that she liked me because I wasn't "scary."

Anyway, Sam was a super-cute girl, 5'1" and, I found out later, 125 pounds, though she looked a lot smaller than that, due to muscle density. (She said she was an awesome sorter at UPS.) I outweighed her by 50 pounds, but based on what she told me, she was perhaps as strong as me, benching 135 for reps, using 35s for shoulder and arm sets. She absolutely refused to believe she was truly "strong," in part because she worked out at home, so she never saw women straining while using far lighter weights than that. I told her to be careful when benching and she said she never lifted anything unless she could do 15 reps.

[rest is basically the same]
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Old 21-Jul-16, 18:02
lterp lterp is offline
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Default Re: New story: "Trigger Warning"

OK, here's a prequel I've been working on. Hope you like this one, too.

***

"Billy B.'s First Session"

Why am I here? My parents are freaked out that I've never had a girlfriend. I know it seems like a stupid reason, and I'm humoring them. They're super-conservative, so I bet they're terrified that I'm gay, but I'm not. Anyway, they set up the appointment, since I'm starting college next month.

This is all confidential, right?

OK, I'll tell you, I have a normal libido, maybe even a strong one for a 19 year old. I masturbate at least twice a day, sometimes more. I used to do it five, six times a day, but I've never told anyone the whole story before.

I'm from a small town in West Texas, where all the towns are small. I had a 40 minute bus ride to school every day in the consolidated Independent School District, and even with people from 8 towns, my class only had 20 kids in it.

Back in fifth grade, my homeroom teacher was Miss Bryant. She was really young. I later learned she was only 21 - it was hard to find teachers, so her associate's degree was enough to get her a job teaching art to elementary school kids. She had a different accent than everyone else because she was from Virginia. She was maybe the only person I knew back then who wasn't from Texas.

I never took art - it was more for younger kids. I just had her for homeroom.

She was really pretty, but I was only 10, so I didn't really notice she was pretty. She was short, maybe five feet, and some of the kids in the class were already as tall as she was.

Anyway, our school had had a carnival a couple days before, and lots of kids had won goldfish. Since a lot of the parents didn't really want to have goldfish in their houses, Miss Bryant thought it would be fun to set up an aquarium in her class. She had an empty one at home and brought in all the rocks and other stuff. She put it on the floor so everyone could help pour in rainbow colored rocks, then she added the water, we took turns dropping in our fish, watched them eat, all that fun stuff.

When the period was almost over, she asked, "Who are the strongest kids in class?" I immediately raised my hand, because I knew I was the strongest boy, at least. Me and my friends would armwrestle all the time, and I always won. My birthday was two days after the cutoff, so I was the oldest - I didn't grow up to be a bruiser, as you can see. There was also a girl named Kelly who was taller and bigger than everyone else, and she was stronger than me, for sure.

Me and Kelly squatted down to try to lift the aquarium. I was able to lift it a little, and Kelly a bit more, but it was really heavy, and Miss Bryant told us to set it back down. "I guess it's heavier than I thought," she said. "I'll get the janitor to put it on the table." We finished up announcements and the bell rang.

I was halfway to my next class when I realized I forgot my favorite pen in my desk. It was blue and white with four different colored inks. I rushed back and as I opened the door, I saw Miss Bryant lifting the aquarium all by herself. She set it on the table, turned around and saw me. "Wow, Miss Bryant! You're really strong!"

"Oh William, it's just because I'm an adult. But don't tell anyone, OK?" She smiled, but she was blushing. "I didn't want everyone to make a big deal out of it after you guys had so much trouble."

I promised I wouldn't tell, and she said, "You can keep a secret, can't you?" and pinched my cheek.

That memory stuck with me a while, but you know, I was 10, and while Miss Bryant always seemed to like me, her "secret" never came up again. After I graduated 5th grade, I didn't see her for awhile.

That's because the school was in two buildings - K through 5 in one, then 6th through 12th in the other. By 7th grade, I was really starting to notice girls. I started masturbating about this girl or that, and one day, Miss Bryant popped into my head as I came. I didn't remember exactly what she looked like, but I thought of her pretty blue eyes and blond hair, which she kept in a pony-tail for class. She was curvy, not like the stick figures in middle grades. Even back then I had crushes on older girls who were more developed, like in 11th and 12th grades. I took classes with older kids because I was a math whiz, so I was already in geometry and trigonometry by then.

I remembered how strong Miss Bryant was, but figured it wasn't that weird that she was stronger than a couple of 5th graders. Still, one day when my mom took me shopping at the mall - which was like 2 hours away, so we stayed all day to get everything - I stopped by the pet store, remembering the aquarium. I estimated that the aquarium she brought in was either 20 or 25 gallons, so I did a little math in my head. At just over 8 pounds per gallon, that was 160 pounds. And the aquarium itself weighed 15 or 20 pounds, and the rocks probably added a little, even as they displaced the water. So if it was the smaller one, it would have weighed about 180 pounds, which she just picked up and set on the table. I remembered she wasn't huffing or straining. She just picked it right up.

One other time, I snuck into the gym at school and tried one of the machines. We weren't supposed to use them till we were 15. But I found out I couldn't budge 180 pounds on the machine with my whole body, not even an inch. I felt embarrassed but turned on at the same time. By then I was at least a few inches taller than her.

Anyway, the memory faded a little bit over the next year since I didn't get to see her anymore.

The summer before 9th grade, my parents took me and my little brother Aaron to a big water park in South Texas. A lot of the other families were going, too, so two of our neighbors carpooled with us.

My parents let me and Aaron wait in line to go down the biggest water-slide the place had. The line was taking forever, and as we snaked back and forth, I realized Miss Bryant was about 10 people ahead, with her son. I later learned she had her son when she was 16, so he was 8 or 9 then, the same age as Aaron, but Aaron had never mentioned him.

Miss Bryant was wearing a two-piece bikini, and I suddenly remembered the aquarium as I saw the way her back muscles pressed against the spaghetti straps of her top. I saw her profile, and her whole body looked super-strong. She didn't have like big bodybuilder muscles, but usually you see straps like that indenting fat, even on the 13-year-old girls in my class. She didn't see me, and when the line doubled back on itself, and I got a good look at her legs. They were so thick and strong-looking, and being within a few feet of her in that bikini, I got an erection. I was wearing big board shorts, but I realized it was really obvious, and I tried to think about something else.

Aaron started to laugh and started to say, way too loud, "William's got a boner! William's got a boner! Billy boner Billy boner Billy boner," and I tried to hush him up. Miss Bryant heard Aaron's voice and saw us.

"William and Aaron Thomas! What a coincidence!" she said. "You've gotten so tall, William!" I had gone through a growth spurt and was about 5'7" by then.

"Hi Miss Bryant," I said, trying to be cool, but I knew I was still totally erect, and I knew it was obvious.

She asked if I was here with my parents, but I saw her glance at my shorts. As I looked away, I saw a lot of people looking at my shorts. I was like, thirteen-year-olds get boners all the time, what were they staring at?

"Yes," Aaron answered. "They're waiting for us on the other side." I was too embarrassed to speak.

"Well, have fun you two!" And I swear she smiled at me a little longer than I would have expected.

The line rounded the final curve and I saw Miss Bryant and her kid reach the slide. A few minutes later, Aaron and I went down, but we didn't see her on the other side.

The whole rest of the summer, Aaron would call me "Billy boner," but only when my parents weren't around. I punched him a couple times, but it didn't stop him. I kept thinking about everyone staring, and I went on to my dad's computer. I searched Alta Vista for "average penis size" and figured out average was 5.5 inches long and 4.5 inches in circumference, though some studies were longer or shorter. I snuck my mom's tape measure from her sewing kit and went to the bathroom and thought about Miss Bryant until I was hard - which took like two seconds - and found out I was 9 inches long and 7 inches around. If you pretend a penis is a perfect cylinder, that meant I was nearly three times bigger than average. That was crazy! No wonder people were staring.

From then on, every time I masturbated, I thought about Miss Bryant. And I would masturbate at least three times a day, sometimes as many as six. My mom yelled at me for using too much hot water because I would jerk off and immediately get hard again, sometimes needing to do it three times in 30 minutes so I wouldn't be hard all the time. I stopped even paying attention to other girls, and all I wanted was to see Miss Bryant again. I would think about her in a bikini, or how easily she lifted the filled aquarium. Or she'd lift the aquarium while wearing the bikini. Or she'd pick up the back of a car, or bench press me, or let me touch her strong, hard muscles. She was a superhero to me and I was obsessed.

School started in August, but I never got to see her. I assumed she was still at the school, but with Aaron in 6th grade and me in 9th, I couldn't know for sure. The K-5 building was on the same campus, but it was way too far to just sneak over there. I wanted to try to come to school early or stay late, but it was too far for my parents to drive unless there was a really good reason.

One finally came when our math team had a meet in October. The bus wasn't actually leaving early, but when I had my dad sign the permission slip, I quickly put it in my bag, then told him we were leaving at 7:30, instead of 8:30. He sighed, but agreed to take me early, but that it would have to be more like 7 because otherwise he'd be late to work.

Three agonizing weeks later, my dad dropped me off, and there were only a couple of cars in the lot, but I told him everyone else wasn't coming till 7:30, and I'd just study a bit. He wished me luck, and as soon as he was out of sight, I walked over to the K-5 building. I sat at a picnic table as teachers arrived, and right around 7:15, I saw Miss Bryant get out of her little gray car. She wore black pants and a thin white blouse, since it was still warm in Texas. I felt myself get hard, but I purposefully wore two pairs of my tightest underwear to keep it under control.

The school was still pretty empty, so I went to Miss Bryant's room, walked in and I wanted to say "Hi", but I didn't want to startle her, but I startled her anyway. "William! You shouldn't sneak around like that."

"Sorry."

"I was going to ask why you're here, but I think I know why you're here."

She told me I was smart and funny, and that I'd make jokes in class that showed I was smarter than the other kids, and that she'd have to turn around so the other kids wouldn't see her laugh. "I've always liked you, William, even when you were a little kid."

She stepped around me and closed the classroom door and asked, "Are you thinking about the water park?"

Tight underwear or not, my penis immediately grew. It was uncomfortable, straining against my shorts and my slacks. This time, Miss Bryant didn't have to pretend not to look. "William," she said, "I don't mean to give you a big ego, but that is..." She trailed off and I blushed.

"I'm thinking about something else," I managed to blurt out. "I'm thinking about when I was in your homeroom class and when I saw you lift the aquarium."

She looked at me with wide eyes. "Oh yeah! I had forgotten about that. I asked you to keep a secret - did you keep my secret, William?"

"Yes. But now that I'm older, I know how heavy that was. You're so strong, Miss Bryant."

"OK, we don't have much time. Can you keep another secret? One you'll never tell anybody?" I nodded. She locked the door, then led me to the crafts closet. She closed the door and turned on the light. She motioned for me to unzip my pants, and my penis sprang out of my shorts like a Jack-in-the-box, fully erect. She unbuttoned her blouse and carefully folded it and set it on a table. Her chest muscles were so tight against the straps of her bra, I couldn't think about anything else. "You can touch me anywhere above the waist," she whispered. I clumsily felt her shoulders, and she tensed them, then did likewise with her chest, and her pecs were the hardest muscle I had ever felt. "I wish I could..." she whispered. I touched her arm and she flexed a shockingly hard biceps, then suddenly she shoved me against the wall.

"Ow!" I cried out.

"Shut up," she whispered. She kissed me on the mouth, reached down and touched my penis, then shoved me against the wall again. I struggled to get free. "God you're so weak," she said, still with her hand on my shaft. "I could kill you with my bare hands, you pussy." She put one hand on my neck and I started to cry. She pointed my penis to one side and I climaxed, missing her clothes.

She quickly put her blouse and whispered, "I'm sorry William. I don't know why I--" then trailed off. She ushered me out of the room. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, William. I'll see you again. I'm sorry" It was irrational, but I didn't want to leave, even though I was a afraid of the look in her eyes when she put her hand on my neck. I wanted to be near her forever. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed me on the cheek and called me "Billy boner."

For the next several days, I couldn't concentrate on anything but Miss Bryant. I knew that what she did was wrong and probably illegal, but I was certain I was in love. I was too young to drive, and I had no good way to get to see her again, so one study hall a week later, I simply ditched class and took a circuitous route to the K-5 building. I didn't know if Miss Bryant would have a class, or be on a break, but I had to try. Class was in session for another 30 minutes, so I quietly found my way to her room and peeked through the window. She was at the front of the class and she was sleeveless. Her muscles jumped and bulged as she moved her hands when she talked. I let my gaze linger on her a moment and she saw me in the window. She looked right in my eyes and stuck her tongue out at me, then reached up to adjust her ponytail, her biceps flexing hard, and I actually came right there in my pants. It was like getting punched in the gut. I rushed out of the room.

That week, tragedy struck. Her son fell hard off the playground and cracked the back of his skull. I only heard about it the next day, since it was in the K-5 yard. Henry was in a coma for nearly a month, I heard, before they detected no more brain activity and let him go. Miss Bryant obviously didn't come to school that whole time, and she was probably too traumatized to ever come back, and I never saw her again.

I'm 19 years old now, which means Miss Bryant is 29 or 30. I've tried everything to find her - Google, Facebook, sites that companies use for background checks. But even though it's not that common a name, it seems like she vanished. I worried that her grief overcame her, but I never found a record of death, either. So I'm always hoping to see her again, somehow. And I can't imagine even kissing another woman.

We never really talked since I was 13 - I was simply obsessed with her, the way she was with me, her hands on me. Why did she want me when I was so pathetic? But she wanted me, right?

Maybe we wouldn't get along, maybe she's forgotten about me entirely. But it's so weird that she's nowhere to be found. But I can't even think about other girls. Being close to her, knowing how strong she was, I've never been able to ask anyone out and mean it.

Thanks. It feels good to tell someone all of this. I just wish I could see her again, just for a minute, you know?
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