Sherry : How I learned to love my cunt by Phillisroger

My gens is Sherry. I am a fairly 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 private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the watchword out loud…only mentioning it in whispers. So I was very shy about it all what with walking around knowing that I had a cunt ! At least it was hidden under my dress and step-in. 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 slit. Something I shouldn't display or touch and certainly not let anyone else see or disturb. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to take a peculiar stake in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"manpower ?"and those fingers on his hands. I have never had such fun in school and after school. This is the story of how I learned to be intimate my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our side instructor and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a meter when lots of things were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my subject and… ( whisper ) …boys and mess of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and passel of whispers about naughty things like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that word out loud of course. Another such parole was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two language made us flush. We could even let the cat out of the bag about son'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did read things in school but there was so a good deal to learn that was not in school…the rest of the earth ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was concentrated for me…I was desperate for a salutary level so I could fine-tune and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my idea I would do anything for a respectable English language 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 fille had fantasies or crush on him and at dejeuner we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in tangible sentence with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your mark in this course. 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 true man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chair which caused more than tingles and I couldn't time lag until after school.

Finally, thankfully, classes for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my sassing with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English account book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the back business office at a desk and indication 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. Emerson could see the scheme of my body through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and close 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 poetry and why we study it…how you will learn to enjoy 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 Scripture 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 lyric and his arm went around my waist. It was lovesome and I wiggled very slightly and began to register the verse form about men and cleaning lady and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my spine."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your hired hand feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting imperfect and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn't occlusive rubbing me."I need a adept grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his paw was on my bare leg, Thomas More rubbing. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a unspoilt grade and more. His hand was so arouse and soft on me."You have piano skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His paw traveled past my knee joint, 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 agency, the door closed,"whorl the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."ejaculate here you beautiful girlfriend. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his side, legs apart. Now both his hands were under my dress. I took a deep 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 redress. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ pant ] [ bend ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were inside my skimpy panty and feeling my puss. I took a deep breath 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 plosive speech sound !"and his fingerbreadth went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is soft,"he said."The softest percentage is your cunt,"there was that Book."It's a dirty Word of God, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a marvelous cunt. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you need me to touch ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"Come on,"he said,"what do you require me to sense ?"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 knee joint suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"snatch"“ Whose cunt ? Tell me."I had a picayune spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My snatch, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a honest girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his toothsome fingers now stroking a rhythm and my consistency, at the shank, moving to his tinge. My bitch was sending somewhere special. It was so smooth in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a rhythm with shot, stroke…I put out my hands on his bureau, my eyes closed and spasmed on his finger, catching my breather, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in gasps."You're a unspoilt 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 tender, my puss an electric electric charge to his spot. Sending chill through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so tender and whole…bubbling over…now his entire hand holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was tranquilize and lie my head on his dresser. My breathing slowed to pattern and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my fundament and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wondrous thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first time I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of all of my many lessons with Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson .