Sherry : How I learned to love my cunt by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a moderately fille 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 make and very buck private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word 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 to the lowest degree it was hidden under my clothes and panties. It may look unusual but as soon as I started to acquire up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a slit. Something I shouldn't show or touch sensation and certainly not let anyone else see or contact. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to take away a special pastime in me ! I wasn't much of a educatee and this played into his hands…did I write"manus ?"and those finger's breadth on his hands. I have never had such fun in shoal and after schoolhouse. This is the story of how I learned to get laid my puss.

Mr. 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 prison term when stacks of things were grueling and confusing…there were my parents, my acquaintance, my subject field and… ( whisper ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and hatful of whispers about naughty things like sex and piece of ass. We couldn't say that Christian Bible out loud of trend. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us blush. We could even talk about boy'penis 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 much to determine that was not in school…the rest of the populace ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was hard for me…I was desperate for a just mark so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my mind I would do anything for a good English grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn't all that Edward Young but young enough that all us lady friend had fantasies or crunch on him and at dejeuner we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in material time with this well looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having difficulty with your grade in this class. Maybe you need additional help…see me after shoal and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a quiver go through me thinking of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a literal admittedly 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 cabinet, checked my hair…touched my brim with some lipstick…put all my Holy Writ, except my English al-Qur'an, in the storage locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's elbow room. He was in the back office at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his bureau and stood there…the Light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the synopsis 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 room access 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 determine to savour it because, after all, lots of poetry is about beloved and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a account book on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the account book."This is the writing of Walt Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about dear and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the discussion and his arm went around my waist. It was fond and I wiggled very slightly and began to show the poem about men and women and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my rear."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your hand feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my back.

My pegleg were getting weak and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn't point rubbing me."I need a good 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 grade and more. His hired man was so excite and easy on me."You have balmy skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past my human knee, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the face of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his position, the door closed,"lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."ejaculate here you beautiful missy. 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 dress. I took a mystifying 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 aright. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ pant ] [ turn ] really…Oh God !"his fingerbreadth were inside my skimpy panty and feeling my cunt. I took a oceanic abyss breathing space 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 stop !"and his finger's breadth went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is mild,"he said."The softest part is your cunt,"there was that parole."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wondrous cunt. I like to find your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."jot me more."“ What do you want me to contact ?"he asked playfully. His fingerbreadth making me dizzy…"Come 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 Book out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my human knee suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"snatch"“ Whose cunt ? William 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 cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his delicious finger's breadth now stroking a rhythm and my eubstance, at the waistline, moving to his touch. My snatch was sending somewhere special. It was so quiet in the room and I heard a clocking tick away…my consistence also ticking in a rhythm with separatrix, stroke…I put out my hands on his dresser, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingerbreadth, catching my breathing space, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in pant."You're a good student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my blazon 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 puss an galvanizing charge to his jot. Sending charge through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his entire hired man holding my wet pussy.

Finally I was calm and rested my head on his pectus. 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 howling affair was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first clock time I was proud of my bitch. It was the commencement of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .