Sherry : How I learned to enjoy my bitch by Phillisroger

My epithet is Sherry. I am a moderately girl and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my cunt. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"thing to have and very secret. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word out loud…only mentioning it in voicelessness. So I was very shy about it all what with walking around knowing that I had a slit ! At least it was hidden under my dress and panties. It may look strange but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a puss. Something I shouldn't show or jot and certainly not let anyone else see or touch. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must sustain been what attracted my teacher to ask a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"work force ?"and those finger on his work force. I have never had such fun in school day and after schooltime. This is the story of how I learned to jazz my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our English teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was superfluous hard. It was a time when lots of affair were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my studies and… ( whisper ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about naughty things like sex and roll in the hay. We couldn't say that word out loud of class. Another such word of honor was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two actor's line made us redden. We could even talk about boy'phallus but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did learn thing in school but there was so much to con that was not in school…the rest of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was hard for me…I was heroic for a soundly grad so I could graduate and a bad degree in English wouldn't avail. In my nous I would do anything for a skilful side gradation. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was near looking. He wasn't all that young but young enough that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him and at tiffin we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our phantasy were ever played out in veridical clock time with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your grade in this stratum. Maybe you need extra help…see me after school and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a thrill go through me cerebration of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a real number avowedly man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chair which caused more than tingles and I couldn't wait until after school.

Finally, thankfully, course for the day were over. I went to my cabinet, checked my hair…touched my sass with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Emerson's way. He was in the endorse office at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his office and stood there…the light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the lineation of my trunk through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and shut down the door. I closed the threshold and walked to his little desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's talk,"he said,"about poesy and why we study it…how you will teach to enjoy it because, after all, bunch of verse is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a shudder. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Holy Writ on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the Word of God."This is the writing of Walt Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poesy is about dear and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the Word and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to interpret the verse form about men and women and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my binding."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your helping hand feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting debile and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and go for he wouldn't occlusion rubbing me."I need a serious grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, more rubbing. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good class and more than. His hand was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft tegument,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past my articulatio genus, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the slope of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the door closed,"lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."cum here you beautiful young lady. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his side, branch apart. Now both his men were under my garb. I took a deep breath and looked down at him and smiled."You shouldn't be doing that, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson,"I said. He looked up at me, smiling, saying :"You're flop. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ gasp ] [ twist ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were inside my lean panties and feeling my bitch. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes."You're wet,"he said. I opened my middle and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his finger's breadth stop…"Don't stop…please don't stop !"and his fingers went to crop on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is easygoing,"he said."The cushy persona is your puss,"there was that discussion."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful cunt. I like to feel your cunt."William Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you need me to touch ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"ejaculate on,"he said,"what do you require me to feel ?"I whispered :"My cunt."“ I didn't hear you,"he whispered"and kept feeling…OH GOD was he feeling."Say the word out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my knees suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose cunt ? Tell me."I had a fiddling spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My pussy, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a in force young woman,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his branch, his delicious fingerbreadth now stroking a rhythm and my consistence, at the shank, moving to his touch. My twat was sending somewhere special. It was so quiet in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a rhythm with fortuity, stroke…I put out my hands on his breast, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in pant."You're a near student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my arms went around his neck, kissing his neck opening and he was petting my pile. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so sensitive, my pussy an electric charge to his touching. Sending thrill through all of me. I was so humiliated and felt so quick and whole…bubbling over…now his stallion hand holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was cool off and rest my head on his thorax. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my spinal column again, feeling my can and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful matter was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first time I was proud of my cunt. It was the initiative of my many moral with Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson .