Sherry : How I learned to love my cunt by Phillisroger

My epithet is Sherry. I am a pretty girlfriend 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 twat ! At least it was hidden under my dress and pantie. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to farm up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't show or tactual sensation and certainly not let anyone else see or concern. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must have been what attracted my teacher to select a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a educatee and this played into his hands…did I write"manpower ?"and those fingers on his script. I have never had such fun in school and after shoal. This is the write up of how I learned to love my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our English people teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a sentence when lots of things were hard and confusing…there were my parents, my booster, my studies and… ( whispering ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about blue matter like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Son out loud of grade. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us flush. We could even speak about boys'penises but when it came to fucking and pussy those were"whisper Christian Bible"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school but there was so much to learn that was not in school…the respite of the existence ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was backbreaking for me…I was desperate for a salutary score so I could graduate and a bad grade in English language wouldn't help. In my mind I would do anything for a right English language gradation. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was undecomposed looking. He wasn't all that youthful but young enough that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him and at luncheon we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in tangible fourth dimension with this commodity looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your grade 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 thrill go through me thinking of being alone with my handsome instructor. 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 electric chair which caused more tingles and I couldn't wait 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 Koran, except my English book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the gage role at a desk and version something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his part and stood there…the luminousness was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the lineation of my body through my attire. 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 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 watch to delight 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 book."This is the piece of writing of Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his verse is about love and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my shank. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and women and"notion myself…alive"and Mr. 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 feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting watery 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 skillful grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. 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 skilful level and more. His hand was so exciting and soft on me."You have soft tegument,"he whispered and I opened more.

His script traveled by 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 door closed,"Lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."seed 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 mitt were under my dress. I took a deep breathing place 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 right. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels skillful, really… [ gasp ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were inwardly my lean panties and feeling my pussy. I took a recondite breath and closed my eyes."You're wet,"he said. I opened my heart 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 body is soft,"he said."The softest part is your cunt,"there was that password."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a tremendous snatch. I like to palpate your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."spot me more."“ What do you want me to stir ?"he asked playfully. His finger's breadth making me dizzy…"semen on,"he said,"what do you require me to feel ?"I whispered :"My cunt."“ I didn't hear you,"he whispered"and kept feeling…OH GOD was he feeling."Say the Christian Bible out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my genu suddenly went weakly 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 practiced girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his scrumptious fingerbreadth now stroking a beat and my body, at the waist, moving to his contact. My cunt was sending somewhere special. It was so tranquillity in the elbow room and I heard a clocking tick away…my consistence also ticking in a beat with apoplexy, stroke…I put out my mitt on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his finger's breadth, catching my hint, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breathing space in gasp."You're a good student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my subdivision 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 automobile care to his ghost. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his entire helping hand holding my wet bitch.

Finally I was calm down and rested my heading on his chest. My ventilation slowed to formula and he was rubbing my book binding again, feeling my ass and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a marvellous thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first clock time I was proud of my cunt. It was the first base of my many lessons with Mr. Emerson .