Sherry : How I learned to love my puss by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a moderately girl and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my puss. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"thing to give and very private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the Christian Bible 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 dress and panties. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was cheating and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't display or touch and certainly not let anyone else see or refer. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to take a exceptional stake in me ! I wasn't much of a bookman and this played into his hands…did I write"hands ?"and those fingers on his deal. I have never had such fun in schooling and after schooling. This is the story of how I learned to know my cunt.

Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson was our English teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a clip when lots of matter were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my studies and… ( whisper ) …boys and spate of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and deal of whispers about juicy things like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that word of honor out loud of form. Another such word of honor was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us redden. We could even lecture about boys'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did learn things in schoolhouse but there was so much to learn 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 gruelling for me…I was desperate for a good grade so I could graduate and a bad level in English wouldn't assist. In my mind I would do anything for a goodness English grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn't all that young but young enough that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him and at dejeuner we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in real time with this ripe looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your tier in this class. Maybe you need extra help…see me after shoal and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a frisson go through me cerebration of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a actual dependable 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, course of instruction for the day were over. I went to my storage locker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English Holy Writ, in the storage locker and walked to Mr. Emerson's elbow room. He was in the back billet at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his bureau and stood there…the lighting was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the outline of my body through my frock. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and close down the door. I closed the room access and walked to his lilliputian 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 read to revel it because, after all, lots of poetry is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Word of God on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the ledger."This is the writing of Walt Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his verse is about passion and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to take care at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and fair sex and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my back."What do you recall,"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 spinal column.

My legs were getting fallible and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn't block rubbing me."I need a proficient class,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his deal 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 effective grade and more. His helping hand was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft pelt,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the sides of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the doorway closed,"lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."Come here you beautiful female child. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his English, leg apart. Now both his hands were under my dress. I took a inscrutable 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 veracious. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ gasp ] [ bend ] really…Oh God !"his finger were inside my skimpy panties and feeling my cunt. I took a deep breathing space and closed my middle."You're wet,"he said. I opened my eyes and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his digit stop…"Don't stop…please don't arrest !"and his fingers went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your soundbox is voiced,"he said."The sonant part is your cunt,"there was that word."It's a dirty Holy Writ, 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."signature me more."“ What do you want me to reach ?"he asked playfully. His digit making me dizzy…"seed on,"he said,"what do you want me to palpate ?"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 unaccented and I blurted it out :"bitch"“ Whose bitch ? William Tell me."I had a small spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My puss, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a unspoiled girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my frock and straddled his legs, his delicious fingers now stroking a round and my body, at the waist, moving to his signature. My cunt was sending somewhere special. It was so repose in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a speech rhythm with chance event, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my hint, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breather in gasps."You're a dear student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my weapons system went around his neck opening, kissing his neck and he was petting my down. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so sensible, my slit an electric cathexis to his touch. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his intact mitt holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was calm and repose my head on his chest. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the get-go metre I was proud of my cunt. It was the get-go of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .