Sherry : How I learned to love my bitch by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a middling 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 have and very private. They even called it"my privates."My lady friend 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 least it was hidden under my dress and scanty. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was grime and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't show or contact and certainly not let anyone else see or partake. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must receive been what attracted my instructor to exact a extra interest in me ! I wasn't much of a educatee and this played into his hands…did I write"hands ?"and those digit on his hands. I have never had such fun in schooling and after school. This is the report of how I learned to know my slit.

Mr. Emerson was our English language instructor and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but verse ? That was extra hard. It was a meter when fate of matter were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my friend, my work and… ( rustling ) …boys and wad of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and sight of whispering about spicy affair like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that tidings out loud of track. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two Logos made us crimson. We could even verbalise about son'penis but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper run-in"and very personal.

So I did learn matter in schoolhouse but there was so a lot to get a line that was not in school…the balance of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was hard for me…I was desperate for a good grade so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my mind I would do anything for a good side grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was commodity looking. He wasn't all that Thomas Young but young enough that all us girls had illusion or calf love on him and at lunch we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in real sentence with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your grade in this division. Maybe you need excess help…see me after school and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a charge 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 president which caused more tingle and I couldn't delay until after school.

Finally, thankfully, grade for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my book of account, except my English language Holy Scripture, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the back federal agency at a desk and Reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his office and stood there…the luminousness was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the abstract of my organic structure through my apparel. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and fill up the threshold. I closed the door and walked to his little desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's talk of the town,"he said,"about verse and why we study it…how you will learn to enjoy it because, after all, scores of verse is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. 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 poetry is about love and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the speech and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to say the verse form about men and women and"feel myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my book binding."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your hand flavour nice on my endorse Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting feeble 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 good grad,"I finally murmured. Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, more rubbing. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good form and more than. His hired man was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His paw traveled past my stifle, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the incline of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the doorway closed,"Lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."semen here you beautiful daughter. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his slope, ramification apart. Now both his manpower were under my clothes. I took a deep breath 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 justly. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ gasp ] [ twist ] really…Oh God !"his digit were inside my skimpy step-in and feeling my cunt. I took a oceanic abyss breathing place and closed my center."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 fingers went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is mild,"he said."The softest division is your pussy,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful cunt. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."touch me more."“ What do you want me to touch ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"Come on,"he said,"what do you desire me to feel ?"I whispered :"My cunt."“ I didn't hear you,"he whispered"and kept feeling…OH GOD was he feeling."Say the Bible out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my knees suddenly went washy and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose cunt ? Tell me."I had a little spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My cunt, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a ripe girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his peg, his delicious finger's breadth now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the waist, moving to his soupcon. My cunt was sending somewhere special. It was so hush in the room and I heard a clocking tick away…my body also ticking in a rhythm with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my middle closed and spasmed on his fingerbreadth, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in pant."You're a good pupil, you have a hot cunt."he said as my weaponry went around his neck, kissing his neck and he was petting my down feather. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so sensitive, my cunt an electric charge to his touch. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so humiliated and felt so warm up and whole…bubbling over…now his intact mitt holding my wet bitch.

Finally I was calm and rested my head on his breast. 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 wonderful matter was my cunt. I shivered again. For the start metre I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of my many example with Mr. Emerson .