Sherry : How I learned to have sex my puss by Phillisroger

My gens is Sherry. I am a reasonably 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 private. They even called it"my privates."My lady friend 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 bitch ! At least it was hidden under my dress and scanty. It may appear strange but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a snatch. Something I shouldn't show or tinge and certainly not let anyone else see or touch. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to need a special interestingness in me ! I wasn't much of a bookman and this played into his hands…did I write"hands ?"and those fingerbreadth on his hands. I have never had such fun in school day and after schoolhouse. This is the floor of how I learned to love my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our English instructor and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was special hard. It was a time when destiny of things were intemperately and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my studies and… ( whisper ) …boys and mountain of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispering about naughty thing like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that parole out loud of trend. Another such news was pussy. We could say most anything else but those two Word of God made us blush. We could even talk about boys'penis but when it came to fucking and twat those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did memorise affair in school but there was so very much to get word that was not in school…the quietus of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was hard for me…I was do-or-die for a good grade so I could calibrate and a bad score in English wouldn't helper. In my mind I would do anything for a good side form. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn't all that young but unseasoned enough that all us girls had fantasies or crush on him and at lunch we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in real time with this secure looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having hassle with your grade in this class. Maybe you need spear carrier help…see me after schoolhouse and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a thrill go through me thinking of being alone with my handsome instructor. He wasn't a boy but a genuine unfeigned man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chairwoman which caused to a greater extent tingles and I couldn't hold until after school.

Finally, thankfully, classes for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my books, except my side book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's elbow room. He was in the endorse function at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his part and stood there…the sparkle was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the outline of my soundbox through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and close up 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 poetry and why we study it…how you will instruct to love it because, after all, lots of verse is about making love and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a book on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the volume."This is the authorship of Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his verse is about dearest and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to attend at the intelligence and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to show the poem about men and women and"touch myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my back."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your manus feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my prickle.

My stage were getting feeble and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn't stop rubbing me."I need a good grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, to a greater extent rubbing. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good grade and More. His hand was so exciting and soft on me."You have diffused cutis,"he whispered and I opened more.

His paw traveled retiring my genu, rubbing above my knee…I took clasp of the sides of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the door closed,"Lock the threshold, Sherry,"he said and I did."Come here you beautiful daughter. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his slope, legs apart. Now both his hands were under my wearing apparel. I took a rich breath and looked down at him and smiled."You shouldn't be doing that, Mr. 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 squeamish, really… [ gasp ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were interior my lean panties and feeling my slit. I took a deep hint and closed my eyes."You're wet,"he said. I opened my center and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his fingerbreadth stop…"Don't stop…please don't plosive consonant !"and his finger's breadth went to ferment on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is soft,"he said."The diffuse part is your twat,"there was that password."It's a dirty Bible, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wondrous slit. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."ghost me more."“ What do you want me to touch ?"he asked playfully. His digit making me dizzy…"Come on,"he said,"what do you want me to feel ?"I whispered :"My cunt."“ I didn't hear you,"he whispered"and kept feeling…OH GOD was he feeling."Say the news out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my knees suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose slit ? Tell me."I had a picayune spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My puss, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good daughter,"he said and played with my twat lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his branch, his pleasant-tasting fingerbreadth now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the waist, moving to his touch. My snatch was sending somewhere peculiar. It was so quiet in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a regular recurrence with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in gasp."You're a secure student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my munition went around his neck, kissing his neck and he was petting my Down. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so medium, my cunt an electric charge to his mite. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his entire manus holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was calm and lie my head on his bureau. My breathing slowed to pattern and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my butt end and kissing my neck opening. I was lying against him and thinking what a grand affair was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first time I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of my many lessons with Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson .