Letters in the Locker
I wasn’t looking for love. I was just trying to forget my past—until the letters started showing up again…
I wasn’t looking for love. I was just trying to forget my past—until the letters started showing up again…
Walking back into the halls of my old high school was like stepping into a time machine. The lockers, the classrooms, the smells—it all brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad. I had taken a temporary job teaching English here, hoping to find some peace and maybe even a fresh start after my recent heartbreak.
One day, as I was passing by the locker hallway, I noticed something poking out of my old locker. An envelope, tucked neatly into the vent. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. The letter inside was handwritten, the ink a deep blue, the handwriting familiar yet elusive.
Aarav, it started, I’ve missed you. Every day, I think about the moments we shared, the laughter, the secrets. You were my world, and I never got to tell you that.
It was signed simply, “R.”
I stood there, stunned, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t thought about my secret admirer in years. The one who had left me anonymous notes, the one I had never identified. Could it be him again? Or was someone playing a cruel joke?
Days turned into weeks, and more letters arrived. Each one more personal, more intimate, drawing me back into a past I thought I had left behind. I found myself looking forward to them, my heart fluttering with anticipation as I opened each envelope, my breath hitching as I read the words meant only for me.
As the mystery deepened, I found myself drawn to Rohan, the new sports coach. He was charming, with a shy smile that lit up his eyes, and there was something familiar about him. We struck up a friendship, full of banter and long glances, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one behind the letters.
One evening, after a long day of teaching, I found myself in Rohan’s office. We were supposed to be discussing a school event, but the tension between us was palpable. His office was small, filled with trophies and sports memorabilia, and the air was thick with unspoken words.
“Aarav,” Rohan started, his voice soft, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
I looked at him, my heart pounding. Was this it? Was he going to confess?
But before he could say another word, I leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, a question more than a statement. But Rohan responded eagerly, his hands reaching up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
The kiss deepened, our tongues exploring, our breaths mingling. I could feel the heat between us, the electric spark that had been building for weeks. Rohan’s hands roamed my back, his touch firm yet gentle, sending shivers down my spine.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged. “Aarav,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
I smiled, my heart swelling with emotion. “So have I, Rohan. So have I.”
He stood up, taking my hand, and led me to the small couch in the corner of his office. We sat down, our bodies pressing together, our mouths finding each other again in a hungry kiss. Rohan’s hands moved to my shirt, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it, exposing my bare skin. He trailed kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing gently, making me shiver with pleasure.
My hands explored his body, the muscles of his back, his chest, his hips. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I ached with need. Rohan’s mouth moved lower, his tongue dipping into my navel, making me arch off the couch with a cry. His hands worked on my belt, my pants, pushing them down my hips, freeing my cock.
Rohan knelt before me, his eyes locked on mine as he took me in his hand, stroking slowly, teasingly. I could feel my orgasm building, my body tensing, my breath coming in short gasps. “Rohan,” I panted, my voice a plea. “I’m close.”
He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, and took me into his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, his tongue swirling, his suction perfect. I cried out, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him in place as he took me deep.
My world narrowed to the sensation of Rohan’s mouth on me, the pleasure building rapidly. I could feel my orgasm approaching, my body tensing, my breath coming in short gasps. “Rohan,” I panted, my voice a plea. “I can’t hold on.”
He pulled off, a wicked smile on his face. “Not yet, you’re not,” he said, his hand still stroking my cock, keeping me on the edge.
I whimpered, my body aching with need. Rohan stood up, his body pressing against mine, his mouth capturing my own in a fierce kiss. Our tongues dueled, our bodies moving in sync, our cocks aligning, creating a delicious friction that sent shocks of pleasure through me.
Rohan’s hand reached between us, wrapping around both our cocks, stroking them together. The sensation was intense, the pleasure building rapidly. I could feel my orgasm approaching, my body tensing, my breath coming in short gasps.
“Rohan,” I panted, my voice a plea. “I can’t hold on.”
“Let go, Aarav,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “I’ve got you.”
With a cry, I came, my body convulsing, my seed spilling between us. Rohan followed soon after, his own orgasm racking his body, his cock pulsing in my hand.
We lay there, our bodies entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I looked into Rohan’s eyes, seeing a depth of emotion I hadn’t expected. He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently against my skin.
“Aarav,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’m the one who wrote the letters. I’ve been in love with you since high school. I never got the chance to tell you then, but I’m telling you now—I love you.”
I leaned into his touch, a soft smile playing on my lips. “I love you too, Rohan,” I whispered. “More than you know.”
And in that moment, I knew that my past and my present had collided in the most beautiful way. Rohan was the one who had written the letters, the one who had seen me, loved me, even when I hadn’t known it. And I was ready to embrace this love, this life, this future—all of it.
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