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"Outcall Service Available" — I Think I Might Have Fallen in Love with My Former Tutor (Concluding in the Next Episode)

2025-01-02 13:47:18
Since that night when I found my teacher's account on a dating app, my world felt torn apart. The gentle teacher I had a crush on actually had a side I couldn't understand.

In the days after, his smile, his voice, and those glaring words kept flashing through my mind: “available for outcall services.” I craved the truth, but I was also afraid the answer would be unbearable. Even so, I still went to the weekend appointment.

That day he was gentle as always, acting like nothing had happened and asking about my studies and life. We ate at a restaurant; his smile was familiar enough that I almost thought I was overthinking it. But the doubt inside me pricked like a needle, and I couldn’t stay silent.

“Teacher,” I asked in a low voice, breaking the calm between us, “besides teaching English, do you do any other work?”

His smile froze; a flash of panic passed through his eyes. He was silent for a moment, then asked quietly, “Did you find out something?”

“On the dating app… your account,” I said, looking him in the eyes, my heart both nervous and uneasy.

He sighed and said softly, “Yes, that’s my account. But it’s not what you think.”

He explained that his income as a teacher wasn’t enough to cover living expenses, so he worked as a massage therapist in his spare time to help people relax. He said it was a legitimate job and that he hadn’t crossed any lines, but his tone betrayed shame and helplessness.

“And us?” I bit my lip and asked, “You invited me to dinner, and those intimate moments between us—what were they?”

He looked at me with pain and tenderness in his eyes: “With you I can be completely relaxed. I like you, but I know this shouldn’t happen… our ages and perspectives are different; it wouldn’t work.”

His words were like a gentle knife, cutting through my reason and my feelings. I knew he was telling the truth, but my heart still ached.

After the meal, he insisted on seeing me home. When I got on his motorcycle, he murmured, “Hold me tight, be careful.” I wrapped my arms around his waist; my fingertips touched his warm body and my heartbeat immediately lost its rhythm. He must have felt the heat at my lower body — hot~~~ hard~~~ (it felt like that ‘Eleven Aunt’ scene) — I wanted so badly to feel his prickliness against me.

All the way home my chest pressed against his back, feeling his warmth and breath; my mind was in turmoil. That closeness made me both obsessed and hurt, like being pulled into a deep abyss.

At my doorstep he stopped the bike, turned to me and said softly, “If this bothers you, I can withdraw from your life.”

I stared at him, feeling torn, words stuck in my throat. Finally, my restrained emotions collapsed; I stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

It was a short but deep kiss. I could feel him stiffen for an instant, but he didn’t push me away. His stubble lightly prickled my skin; his scent — that distinct fragrance of his mixed with a faint sweat — made me sink into it. My hand instinctively climbed onto his shoulder, feeling its strength and warmth.

He finally pushed me away gently, his eyes complex and pained: “We can’t do this.” His voice was almost inaudible.

I bit my lip, my eyes burning, holding back tears; in the end I could only hug him tightly. His body heat surrounded me and I didn’t want to let go. He said nothing more, just patted my back lightly as if saying goodbye.

After that day I began to distance myself from him. I deleted his contact information and closed the links between us. Although I still thought of him sometimes, I knew this relationship would never have a future.

A few months later I heard he quit teaching and became a full-time masseur, even opening his own studio. I don’t know if that was truly his choice, but I hoped he could find his own peace.

That kiss that night became the only and last intimacy between us. This relationship, full of regret and deep feeling, felt like a dream that couldn’t end. I will keep it treasured in my heart as one of the most unforgettable memories of my youth.
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Is this considered a first love? Or did it open a door to a deep closet? Did everyone’s crushes start like this?
From everyone’s memories, is first love always beautiful?

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