Sherry : How I learned to love my pussy by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a pretty missy and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my twat. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"affair to have and very secret. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the intelligence out loud…only mentioning it in whispers. So I was very shy about it all what with walking around knowing that I had a snatch ! At to the lowest degree it was hidden under my apparel 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 appearance or cutaneous senses 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 instructor to take a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"men ?"and those fingerbreadth on his men. I have never had such fun in schooltime and after school. This is the story of how I learned to love my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our side teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poesy ? That was supererogatory hard. It was a time when lots of things were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my studies and… ( whisper ) …boys and oodles of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about naughty things like sex and nookie. We couldn't say that parole out loud of course of study. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us crimson. We could even utter about boys'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school but there was so much to acquire that was not in school…the relaxation of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was surd for me…I was desperate for a good grade so I could calibrate and a bad grade in English language wouldn't helper. In my psyche I would do anything for a good English course. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my instructor was goodness looking. He wasn't all that young but Edward Young enough that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him and at lunch we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasy were ever played out in actual time with this adept looking man.

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

Finally, thankfully, classes for the day were over. I went to my storage locker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my script, except my English book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's way. He was in the cover office at a desk and interpretation 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. Ralph Waldo Emerson could see the outline of my body through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. come in and close down the door. I closed the door 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 learn to savor it because, after all, caboodle of poetry is about making love and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Ralph Waldo 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 book."This is the writing of Walt Marcus Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about beloved and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was affectionate and I wiggled very slightly and began to take the verse form about men and adult female and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my rachis."What do you intend,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your script feels nice on my backbone Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting frail 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 tier,"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 grade and Thomas More. His manus was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His script traveled by my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took custody of the English of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his federal agency, the door closed,"curl the room access, Sherry,"he said and I did."semen here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his side, stage apart. Now both his hands were under my frock. I took a deep breather 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 right. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels dainty, really… [ gasp ] [ bend ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were inside my lean pantie and feeling my slit. I took a recondite breather and closed my eyes."You're wet,"he said. I opened my eyes and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his fingers stop…"Don't stop…please don't stop !"and his fingers went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is flaccid,"he said."The softest character is your puss,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful snatch. I like to feel your cunt."William Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you want me to contact ?"he asked playfully. His finger's breadth making me dizzy…"ejaculate 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 word out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my human knee suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"snatch"“ Whose slit ? William Tell me."I had a little spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My bitch, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a honorable girl,"he said and played with my twat lips.

I lifted my clothes and straddled his legs, his delicious digit now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the waistline, moving to his touch sensation. My cunt was sending somewhere limited. It was so tranquil in the room and I heard a clocking tick away…my body also ticking in a rhythm with solidus, stroke…I put out my workforce on his chest, my center closed and spasmed on his fingerbreadth, catching my breather, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breathing time in gasps."You're a good student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my arms went around his neck, kissing his neck and he was petting my down feather. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so sensitive, my twat an electric charge to his trace. Sending tingle through all of me. I was so stymy and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his integral hand holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was calm and rested my head on his breast. My breathing slowed to pattern and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck opening. I was lying against him and thinking what a marvellous thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first off sentence I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of my many deterrent example with Mr. Emerson .