"We can talk, don't we?" The table tennis teacher pulled me to the piano, sat me on the piano bench, and sat down next to me.

He touched the keys with both hands: "Do you like piano music?" What do you want to hear? ”

I was still speechless, but I was suspicious: he just wanted someone to listen to him play the piano?

"I'll show you one of my favorites, Beethoven's "Moonlight Song." As he spoke, he bounced.

He didn't play very much, he always looked back at me.

But he doesn't play very well, at most amateur level.

I sat on pins and needles to bear his strange gaze, and once again plucked up my courage: "Teacher, I still have a lot of homework ......"

"Your hands are good for playing the piano," he said, ignoring me, grabbing my hand and looking at it.

He stroked each of my fingers back and forth with his thumb and forefinger, "Have you ever studied the piano?" ”

I shook my head, trying to withdraw my hand.

He gripped tighter, fingers stirring in my palms.

I was a little anxious, but I didn't even have the courage to ask him, "What do you do?"

It may sound incredible, but between "questioning the teacher" and "enduring silence", I didn't dare to choose the former, but instinctively chose the latter - although it was not the choice I wanted, but isn't that what people are?

Isn't it always the case that in order to avoid unknown conflicts, we always unconsciously sacrifice the known tranquility?

He suddenly began licking and sucking my fingers while looking at me with an uncomfortably ambiguous look.

I felt sick and pulled my hand back hard. But he held on harder.

I was a little angry, but because he was a teacher, I still didn't dare to behave disrespectfully. All my struggles turned into a soft "teacher......

He seemed to be stimulated by something, licking and sucking even more frantically. His tongue was hot and wet between my fingers, and I couldn't hide from it.

After a long time, he finally let go of my fingers, breathing heavily.

I hated his saliva-stained hands.

He began to untie his belt. No matter how dull or stupid I am, I know what he wants to do.

I got up and tried to run.

He grabbed me again, pulled me to sit on his lap, and whispered in my ear in a sweet and gentle tone, "Kang Rong, don't be afraid, I won't do anything to you." It's true. Don't you believe the teacher's words? ”

I can't argue with that. He grabbed my wet hand and groped it for his lower body.

My strength was far inferior to his, and I was passively manipulated by him, and my heart was disgusted with disgust.

His other hand reached into the hem of my blouse and moved to my chest to knead it.

I might have made a sound, and his bearded face rubbed against my neck again, gasping for breath.

"Kang Rong, your voice is so good." He said as he pinched my chest hard, "You speak, I hear your voice, and it will come out faster." ”

I shook my head desperately, biting my lip and twisting to avoid his snake-like terrifying hands.

"Forget it, I won't force you." He laughs and speaks like Satan.

It's finally over.

He took a pack of wipes out of his pocket, wiped my hands, and went to clean the piano chair.

I only thought numbly, tonight's shower was in vain.

He opened the door and gentlemanly invited me out.

"Had a nice chat tonight." And he said very sincerely, "Thank you." ”

Hehe. You are pleasant. I thought to myself.

But I didn't say it after all.

The door behind me wasn't closed, and I knew he was watching my back. I walked as fast as I could, leaving the school building.

Instead of going back to the classroom, I went to the playground.

I lay on the lawn in the middle of the playground and watched the stars and crescent moon in the sky.

The ping pong teacher really makes me sick.

I'm not like him, I enlighten myself. I was not in a position to refuse him, and I was forced to help him with his hand (crossed out) for sexual immorality.

Angel wants me to do that, right?

It's just that he respects me more, it's just that he's afraid that I'll hate him because of it, so he doesn't do that.

It's a good thing he didn't, otherwise I would have hated him.

The wind at night is getting colder and the air is thinner. I still lay dead like a fish, letting my hands and feet get cold.

I'm not like them, I say to myself repeatedly.