Sherry : How I learned to have it off my cunt by Phillisroger

My figure is Sherry. I am a passably fille and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my snatch. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"matter to receive and very common soldier. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the watchword 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 apparel and panties. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to spring up up I learned sex was unsporting and it all centered on having a bitch. 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 ingest been what attracted my teacher to aim a exceptional involvement in me ! I wasn't much of a pupil and this played into his hands…did I write"mitt ?"and those finger's breadth on his hands. 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 instructor and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but verse ? That was extra hard. It was a time when lot of matter were punishing and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my cogitation and… ( voicelessness ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and bunch of whisper about naughty thing like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Holy Writ out loud of course. Another such watchword was pussy. We could say most anything else but those two word of honor made us flush. We could even tattle about boy'penises but when it came to fucking and pussy those were"whisper Holy Writ"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school but there was so a good deal to learn that was not in school…the rest of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poetry and it was heavily for me…I was desperate for a good grad so I could graduate and a bad form in English wouldn't help. In my mind I would do anything for a good English language grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my teacher was goodness looking. He wasn't all that young but young enough that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him and at tiffin we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in real prison term with this beneficial looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your mark in this family. Maybe you need supernumerary help…see me after school and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a tingle 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 frisson and I couldn't postponement until after school.

Finally, thankfully, classes for the day were over. I went to my locker, checked my hair…touched my mouth with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English record book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson's room. He was in the binding office at a desk and recitation something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his office and stood there…the light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the outline of my body through my attire. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. semen in and shut down the door. I closed the door and walked to his little desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's talk,"he said,"about verse and why we study it…how you will memorize to enjoy it because, after all, peck of poetry is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Holy Scripture on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the Bible."This is the written material of Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about dearest and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to face at the run-in and his arm went around my waist. It was warm 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 back."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your paw feel nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My wooden leg were getting weak and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and desire he wouldn't stop rubbing me."I need a unspoiled grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson said :"I know"and now his mitt 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 undecomposed grade and more. His hand was so exciting and piano on me."You have soft skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His deal traveled preceding my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the slope of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the door closed,"Lock the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."cum here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his position, ramification apart. Now both his deal were under my dress. I took a mystifying 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. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ gasp ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were inside my skimpy scanty and feeling my cunt. I took a deep hint 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 diaphragm !"and his fingers went to bring on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is soft,"he said."The gentle portion is your cunt,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful slit. I like to feel your cunt."William Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you want me to disturb ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"Come on,"he said,"what do you need me to experience ?"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 weakly and I blurted it out :"slit"“ Whose slit ? William Tell me."I had a little spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My twat, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good girlfriend,"he said and played with my pussy lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his Delicious digit now stroking a cycle and my dead body, at the waist, moving to his touch. My cunt was sending somewhere special. It was so quiet in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a regular recurrence with throw, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my intimation, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breathing spell in gasp."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 electric charge to his hint. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so humiliated and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his stallion hand holding my wet slit.

Finally I was calm and rested my caput on his bureau. My breathing slowed to normal and he was rubbing my spine again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my pussy. I shivered again. For the beginning prison term I was proud of my slit. It was the first of my many example with Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson .