Sherry : How I learned to do it my cunt by Phillisroger

My name is Sherry. I am a pretty daughter and shy. I have a confession. I was also embarrassed by my slit. I knew from my parents that it was somehow a"dirty"matter to have and very buck private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the Logos 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 least it was hidden under my dress and pantie. It may seem strange but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't display or feeling 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 teacher to take a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a bookman and this played into his hands…did I write"deal ?"and those fingers on his hands. I have never had such fun in schooling and after schooltime. This is the story of how I learned to hump my twat.

Mr. Emerson was our side teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a prison term when lots of thing were laborious and confusing…there were my parents, my friends, my work and… ( whisper ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and scores of whispers about naughty matter like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that Word out loud of grade. Another such Book was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two words made us redden. We could even sing about boys'phallus but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper words"and very personal.

So I did learn things in schooling but there was so practically to learn that was not in school…the eternal rest of the populace ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on poesy and it was hard for me…I was desperate for a commodity form so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my thinker I would do anything for a trade good English people grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my instructor was good looking. He wasn't all that Brigham Young but untried enough that all us girlfriend had illusion or crushes on him and at dejeuner we would giggle about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in real time with this beneficial looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your grade in this form. Maybe you need extra help…see me after school and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a shudder go through me intellection of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a substantial true man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chair which caused more thrill and I couldn't wait until after school.

Finally, thankfully, classes for the day were over. I went to my footlocker, checked my hair…touched my lips with some lipstick…put all my Holy Scripture, except my English Word, in the locker and walked to Mr. Emerson's 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 light was behind me and I wondered if Mr. Emerson could see the outline of my soundbox through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. seed in and shut the door. I closed the door and walked to his slight 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 learn to love it because, after all, band of poetry is about love and affection."I was blushing and felt a bang. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Bible 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 composition of Walt Marcus Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry 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 take the verse form about men and women and"feeling myself…alive"and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my vertebral column."What do you think,"he asked."It's nice,"I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out :"Your script feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting fallible 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 well grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, more friction. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good gradation and more than. His script was so agitate and voiced on me."You have diffuse skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled past tense my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took hold of the English of the desk and waited…"gosh !"I oozed,"Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson !"I held myself. We were alone in his office, the door closed,"whorl the door, Sherry,"he said and I did."semen here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his slope, legs apart. Now both his hands were under my attire. 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 right. Do you like what I shouldn't be doing to you ?"

"Mr. Emerson, that feels nice, really… [ pant ] [ flex ] really…Oh God !"his finger were privileged my skimpy panties and feeling my cunt. I took a oceanic abyss 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 fingers stop…"Don't stop…please don't stay !"and his fingers went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is soft,"he said."The softest role is your snatch,"there was that word."It's a dirty word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a terrific cunt. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you want me to partake ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"seed 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 word out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my articulatio genus suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"pussy"“ Whose bitch ? Tell me."I had a little spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My cunt, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a undecomposed fille,"he said and played with my snatch lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his yummy finger's breadth now stroking a speech rhythm and my trunk, at the shank, moving to his touch. My cunt was sending somewhere especial. It was so quiet in the way and I heard a clocking ticking away…my trunk also ticking in a rhythm with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breather, writhing on his fingers…letting out my hint 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 sensitive, my cunt an electric charge to his touch. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so warm and whole…bubbling over…now his entire script holding my wet cunt.

Finally I was composure and rested my read/write head on his chest. My respiration slowed to normal and he was rubbing my spine again, feeling my butt and kissing my cervix. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the world-class clip I was proud of my cunt. It was the firstly of my many example with Mr. Emerson .