Sherry : How I learned to love my cunt by Phillisroger

My name 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"thing to make and very private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word out loud…only mentioning it in whisper. 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 panty. It may appear strange but as soon as I started to turn up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't show or touch and certainly not let anyone else see or touch. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must give been what attracted my instructor to take a peculiar interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"hand ?"and those fingers on his men. I have never had such fun in school and after school. This is the story of how I learned to love my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our English teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was special hard. It was a meter when lots of things were punishing and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my survey and… ( whisper ) …boys and batch of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about risque things like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that word out loud of course. Another such watchword was slit. We could say most anything else but those two words made us flush. We could even blab out about male child'penis but when it came to fucking and bitch those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school but there was so much to memorize that was not in school…the quietus of the populace ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was knockout for me…I was dire for a secure grade so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my mind I would do anything for a effective English course. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was honorable looking. He wasn't all that young but youthful enough that all us young lady had fantasies or compaction on him and at luncheon we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in literal meter with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your gradation 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 thrill go through me thinking of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a real lawful 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 delay until after school.

Finally, thankfully, class for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my back talk with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English Word of God, in the storage locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the endorse office at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his office staff and stood there…the light source was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson could see the outline of my dead body through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. semen in and close the door. I closed the threshold and walked to his short 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 delight it because, after all, lots of verse is about honey and affection."I was blushing and felt a boot. I didn't know why.

Mr. 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 poesy is about love life and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the word and his arm went around my waist. It was quick and I wiggled very slightly and began to study the verse form about men and women and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson was rubbing my back."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your hand feel nice on my backbone Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my sticker.

My pegleg were getting rickety and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and go for he wouldn't stop rubbing me."I need a good course,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his handwriting 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 course and Thomas More. His hired hand was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past times my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took clutches of the slope of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the doorway closed,"Lock the doorway, 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 side, legs apart. Now both his hand were under my dress. I took a deep breathing space 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 mighty. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels dainty, really… [ pant ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his fingerbreadth were inside my skimpy panties and feeling my cunt. I took a late breathing spell 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 occlusion !"and his fingers went to put to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your dead body is soft,"he said."The easygoing part is your pussy,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful twat. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you want me to advert ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"come on,"he said,"what do you want me to finger ?"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 weak and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose cunt ? Tell me."I had a little cramp and looked in his smiling eyes…"My pussy, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his branch, his delicious fingerbreadth now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the shank, moving to his touch. My snatch was sending somewhere peculiar. It was so tranquilize in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my organic structure also ticking in a beat with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my oculus closed and spasmed on his finger's breadth, catching my intimation, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in pant."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 sensitive, my cunt an galvanizing mission to his contact. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his full hand holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was calm and rested my psyche on his chest. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my butt and kissing my cervix. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful matter was my puss. I shivered again. For the first base time I was proud of my bitch. It was the first of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .