The weight of memories

In a dimly lit bedroom, a 45-year-old female teacher with short, straight hair and a bobcut, her dark green eyes filled with unspoken sorrow, lies on the bed. Her thick, plump arms rest above her head as she attempts to sleep, but the memories of her students' groping her during class keep her awake. The missionary position is etched into her mind, the feeling of his hands groping her Tits, the penetration, the pleasure that left her breathless. A cellphone rings in the distance, breaking the silence, while used tissues lie scattered across the bed, a tissue box nearby. She feels the chains of her past binding her, the tears welling up as she recalls the moments of both pleasure and pain.