Sherry : How I learned to love my slit by Phillisroger

My figure is Sherry. I am a pretty miss 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 bear and very private. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word out loud…only mentioning it in susurration. So I was very shy about it all what with walking around knowing that I had a snatch ! At least it was hidden under my dress and panties. It may seem unknown but as soon as I started to grow up I learned sex was contaminating and it all centered on having a cunt. Something I shouldn't display or tactual sensation and certainly not let anyone else see or touch. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must own been what attracted my teacher to take a particular interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"hands ?"and those fingers on his hired man. I have never had such fun in shoal and after school. This is the story of how I learned to bed my cunt.

Mr. Emerson was our English teacher and we were studying poetry…studying anything was hard for me, but poetry ? That was extra hard. It was a time when lots of things were heavily and confusing…there were my parents, my champion, my studies and… ( rustling ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and lots of whispers about spicy things like sex and fucking. We couldn't say that word out loud of course. Another such Scripture was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two Book made us redden. We could even babble about boys'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"whisper actor's line"and very personal.

So I did learn things in school but there was so much to determine that was not in school…the rest of the world ( and boys ! ). But, as I wrote, we were just then working on verse and it was hard for me…I was dire for a good ground level so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn't help. In my judgment I would do anything for a good English grade. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my instructor was good looking. He wasn't all that offspring but offspring enough that all us girls had fantasy or crushes on him and at tiffin we would titter about what might happen…if…well, you know, if our fantasies were ever played out in literal clock time with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having trouble with your grade in this class. Maybe you need extra help…see me after school day and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a chill go through me thought 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 chairwoman which caused more chill and I couldn't hold 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 Writ, except my English book, in the locker and walked to Mr. Emerson's room. He was in the back bureau 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 body through my dress. Finally, he looked up…saw me…smiled, said :"Oh yes Sherry…I almost forgot. Come in and close the door. I closed the doorway and walked to his lilliputian desk. We were alone and I wondered about it all."Let's talk,"he said,"about poetry and why we study it…how you will learn to savour it because, after all, heaps of poetry is about making love and affection."I was blushing and felt a tingle. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Holy Writ 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 Marcus Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the watchword and his arm went around my waist. It was lovesome and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and women and"look 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 hand feels nice on my vertebral column Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My stage were getting weak and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn't plosive rubbing me."I need a good grad,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his paw 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 grade and Thomas More. His paw was so arouse and subdued on me."You have flabby skin,"he whispered and I opened more.

His hand traveled yesteryear my knee joint, rubbing above my knee…I took clasp of the slope 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 doorway, 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, pegleg apart. Now both his men were under my dress. I took a deep breath 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 digit were inside my lean panty and feeling my puss. I took a deep breather and closed my optic."You're wet,"he said. I opened my eyes and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his finger stop…"Don't stop…please don't layover !"and his fingers went to work on on me again. We started talking, playing."Your body is piano,"he said."The softest theatrical role is your cunt,"there was that word."It's a dirty Word, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful bitch. I like to find your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."Touch me more."“ What do you want me to have-to doe with ?"he asked playfully. His fingerbreadth making me dizzy…"seminal fluid on,"he said,"what do you want me to feel ?"I whispered :"My cunt."“ I didn't hear you,"he whispered"and kept feeling…OH GOD was he feeling."Say the watchword out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my human knee suddenly went weak and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose cunt ? William Tell me."I had a lilliputian muscle spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My bitch, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a trade good daughter,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his legs, his delicious finger now stroking a rhythm and my soundbox, at the waist, moving to his touch. My pussy was sending somewhere special. It was so quiet in the room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my dead body also ticking in a round with stroke, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest, my middle closed and spasmed on his finger, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breath in gasps."You're a good educatee, you have a hot cunt."he said as my arms went around his neck, kissing his neck opening and he was petting my down. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so sensitive, my slit an electric automobile charge to his touch sensation. Sending thrills through all of me. I was so embarrassed and felt so ardent and whole…bubbling over…now his entire hand holding my wet pussy.

Finally I was cool it and rested my straits on his breast. My external respiration slowed to normal and he was rubbing my rear again, feeling my bum and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful matter was my puss. I shivered again. For the first fourth dimension I was proud of my slit. It was the starting time of my many object lesson with Mr. Emerson .