Sherry : How I learned to make out my snatch by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a passably girl and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my slit. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"thing to have and very private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the Book out loud…only mentioning it in whispers. 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 frock and pantie. 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 twat. Something I shouldn't show or pinch 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 take a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"paw ?"and those fingers on his hands. I have never had such fun in schoolhouse and after schooltime. This is the storey of how I learned to love my cunt.

Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson was our English people teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was surplus hard. It was a sentence when lots of matter were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my Friend, my sketch and… ( whisper ) …boys and set of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of rustling about racy matter like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Word out loud of grade. Another such countersign was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us crimson. We could even talk about boy'penis but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper news"and very personal.

So I did learn things in schooling but there was so often to memorize 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 desperate for a good tier so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't assistance. In my intellect I would do anything for a good English grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my instructor was good looking. He wasn't all that young but Young enough that all us girls had fantasies or calf love on him and at lunch we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in very fourth dimension with this in effect looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your level in this class. Maybe you need spare help…see me after schooltime and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a tingle go through me mentation of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a real on-key man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my professorship which caused more tingle 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 backtalk with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the dorsum function at a desk and version something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his agency and stood there…the light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the lineation of my body through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. ejaculate in and close down the room access. I closed the door and walked to his minuscule 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 learn to enjoy it because, after all, lots of poesy is about 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 Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warmly and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and adult female and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson was rubbing my back."What do you believe,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your hand tone nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My ramification were getting weak 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 honorable ground level,"I finally murmured. Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson said :"I know"and now his hired hand was on my bare leg, more friction. 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 script was so exciting and flabby on me."You have soft skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took custody of the sides of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his business office, the doorway closed,"Lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."Come here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his position, legs apart. Now both his work force were under my attire. 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 right. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ gasp ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his finger's breadth were within my skimpy step-in and feeling my pussy. I took a abstruse breath and closed my oculus."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 soundbox is soft,"he said."The gentle character is your cunt,"there was that word of honor."It's a dirty Word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a terrific cunt. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."touch modality me more."“ What do you want me to match ?"he asked playfully. His finger making me dizzy…"seminal fluid on,"he said,"what do you want me to experience ?"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 genu suddenly went sapless and I blurted it out :"puss"“ Whose pussy ? Tell me."I had a picayune spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My slit, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good girl,"he said and played with my puss lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his peg, his delicious fingers now stroking a rhythm and my trunk, at the waistline, moving to his touch. My cunt was sending somewhere peculiar. It was so pipe down in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a rhythm with cam stroke, stroke…I put out my work force on his bureau, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breathing place in pant."You're a commodity scholarly person, you have a hot cunt."he said as my blazonry 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 sensitive, my cunt an electrical charge to his feeling. Sending chill through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so lovesome and whole…bubbling over…now his intact bridge player holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was calm and reside my caput on his breast. My breathing slowed to formula and he was rubbing my cover again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a howling affair was my pussy. I shivered again. For the first off time I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .