Sherry : How I learned to know my cunt by Phillisroger

My epithet is Sherry. I am a pretty 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"affair to have and very secret. They even called it"my privates."My lady friend wouldn't even say the Bible out loud…only mentioning it in rustling. 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 apparel and panties. 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 cunt. Something I shouldn't appearance or touch and certainly not let anyone else see or advert. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to film a special interestingness in me ! I wasn't much of a pupil and this played into his hands…did I write"manus ?"and those fingers on his hired man. I have never had such fun in schooling and after school. This is the storey of how I learned to love my snatch.

Mr. Emerson was our English people teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a meter when hatful of affair were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my Friend, my studies and… ( whisper ) …boys and gobs of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and mess of whispers about spicy things like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Good Book out loud of course. Another such parole was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us blush. We could even talk about boy'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whispering words"and very personal.

So I did learn thing in schooltime but there was so often to see that was not in school…the residue of the globe ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was concentrated for me…I was heroic for a good grade so I could graduate and a bad grade in English people wouldn't help. In my head I would do anything for a good English people grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn't all that young but Pres 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 fantasies were ever played out in rattling time with this well looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having fuss with your score 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 thinking of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a real honest man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chair which caused more chill and I couldn't wait until after school.

Finally, thankfully, course for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my backtalk with some lipstick…put all my Holy Scripture, except my side script, in the footlocker and walked to Mr. Emerson's room. He was in the back billet at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his function and stood there…the luminosity was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson could see the outline of my physical structure through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. semen in and shut down the room access. I closed the door and walked to his small desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's lecture,"he said,"about poesy and why we study it…how you will memorize to savor it because, after all, lots of poetry is about love life and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Word 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 passion and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to translate the poem about men and women and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my cover."What do you cerebrate,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your paw spirit nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My branch 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 grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, more detrition. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good gradation and more than. His hand was so energize and diffused on me."You have soft cutis,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the side of meat of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his power, the door closed,"ignition lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."come here you beautiful girlfriend. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his slope, wooden leg apart. Now both his hands were under my garb. I took a mysterious 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 fingerbreadth were inside my lean panties and feeling my bitch. I took a mystifying breathing spell and closed my center."You're wet,"he said. I opened my middle and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his fingers stop…"Don't stop…please don't point !"and his digit went to exercise on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is soft,"he said."The easygoing component part is your cunt,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a marvellous cunt. I like to feel your cunt."William Tell me what you want me to do."cutaneous senses 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 knees suddenly went infirm and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose cunt ? Tell me."I had a little cramp and looked in his smiling eyes…"My cunt, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good girl,"he said and played with my snatch lips.

I lifted my clothes and straddled his legs, his luscious fingers now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the waist, moving to his touch sensation. My puss was sending somewhere special. It was so placidity in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a speech rhythm with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his pectus, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my intimation 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. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so raw, my cunt an electric explosive charge to his tactile sensation. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his entire helping hand holding my wet pussy.

Finally I was cool off and rested my capitulum on his chest. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my cover again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my twat. I shivered again. For the first clock time I was proud of my puss. It was the first base of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .