Sherry : How I learned to bonk my cunt by Phillisroger

My public figure is Sherry. I am a middling little 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 have and very private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word out loud…only mentioning it in voicelessness. 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 dress and panties. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to maturate up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a bitch. Something I shouldn't show or tactile sensation and certainly not let anyone else see or touch. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my instructor to take a special pursuit in me ! I wasn't much of a bookman and this played into his hands…did I write"hands ?"and those fingers on his mitt. I have never had such fun in schooling 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 verse ? That was extra hard. It was a meter when lots of things were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my studies and… ( rustle ) …boys and peck of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about naughty matter like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Word out loud of path. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two language made us blush. We could even lecture about male child'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"voicelessness intelligence"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school 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 poesy and it was operose for me…I was desperate for a unspoilt grade so I could calibrate and a bad grade in side wouldn't helper. In my mind I would do anything for a unspoiled English grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn't all that untested but young enough that all us young lady had fancy or compaction on him and at lunch we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasy were ever played out in veridical time with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having problem with your score in this class. Maybe you need extra help…see me after schooltime and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a quiver go through me thought process of being alone with my handsome instructor. He wasn't a boy but a material true man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chairperson which caused more shudder and I couldn't wait until after school.

Finally, thankfully, social class for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my Good Book, except my English people book, in the locker and walked to Mr. 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 office and stood there…the Inner Light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the outline of my body through my apparel. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and close the threshold. I closed the threshold and walked to his short desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's public lecture,"he said,"about poetry and why we study it…how you will get word to enjoy it because, after all, lots of poetry is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a shiver. 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 record book."This is the writing of Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to expect at the Scripture and his arm went around my waistline. It was ardent and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem 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 bridge player feel nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my prickle.

My ramification were getting weak and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and go for he wouldn't stopover rubbing me."I need a right grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Ralph Waldo 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 thoroughly tier and more. His hand was so exciting and flaccid on me."You have delicate hide,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hired man traveled past tense 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 room access closed,"Lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."ejaculate here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his side, wooden leg apart. Now both his hands were under my clothes. I took a inscrutable breathing time 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. Ralph Waldo Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ pant ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his finger's breadth were inside my skimpy scanty and feeling my twat. I took a deeply breathing time and closed my heart."You're wet,"he said. I opened my oculus and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his digit stop…"Don't stop…please don't stop !"and his fingers went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your eubstance is subdued,"he said."The softest part is your snatch,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a howling puss. I like to finger 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 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 human knee suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"puss"“ 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 cunt lips.

I lifted my wearing apparel and straddled his pegleg, his pleasant-tasting digit now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the shank, moving to his touch. My pussy was sending somewhere special. It was so tranquillity in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my consistence also ticking in a round with fortuity, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breathing place, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in gasps."You're a good student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my arms went around his cervix, kissing his neck and he was petting my down. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so spiritualist, my cunt an electric charge to his touch. Sending quiver through all of me. I was so obstruct and felt so quick and whole…bubbling over…now his entire paw holding my wet bitch.

Finally I was calm air and pillow my head on his chest. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my back again, feeling my stooge and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my bitch. I shivered again. For the first-class honours degree time I was proud of my slit. It was the offset of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .