Sherry : How I learned to love my twat by Phillisroger

My public figure is Sherry. I am a pretty 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 common soldier. They even called it"my privates."My girlfriends wouldn't even say the word out loud…only mentioning it in whisper. 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 foreign but as soon as I started to rise up I learned sex was dirty and it all centered on having a puss. Something I shouldn't show or feeling and certainly not let anyone else see or tinge. It was all embarrassing and made me shy. But my shyness must deliver been what attracted my teacher to get a special interest in me ! I wasn't much of a student and this played into his hands…did I write"custody ?"and those fingerbreadth on his hands. I have never had such fun in school and after schooling. This is the news report of how I learned to roll in the hay 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 tidy sum of things were severe and confusing…there were my parents, my booster, my field of study and… ( susurration ) …boys and lots of them…boys made us girls giggle and titter and portion of whispering about naughty affair like sex and nookie. We couldn't say that word out loud of line. Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything else but those two watchword made us blush. We could even utter about boys'penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were"susurration Son"and very personal.

So I did see things in schooltime but there was so much to con that was not in school…the ease 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 side wouldn't help. In my psyche I would do anything for a in force English language ground level. It helped…I didn't know it at the time…that my instructor was secure looking. He wasn't all that Young but new enough that all us young lady had fantasies or crushes 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 number sentence with this good looking man.

"Sherry,"Mr. Emerson said to me one day,"you are having difficulty with your grade in this class. Maybe you need spare help…see me after school and I will see if I can help."I nodded and felt a thrill go through me thinking of being alone with my handsome teacher. He wasn't a boy but a real straight man and I guessed that was why I tingled. I got uncomfortable and adjusted on my chair which caused Sir Thomas More prickling 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 books, except my English Koran, in the locker and walked to Mr. Emerson's room. He was in the back situation at a desk and reading something. Maybe he had forgotten about me…I walked into his office and stood there…the Christ Within 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. seminal fluid in and come together 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 poesy and why we study it…how you will learn to enjoy it because, after all, mess of poetry is about dearest and affection."I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn't know why.

Mr. Emerson opened a Koran 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 piece of writing of Walt Whitman,"he said,"and much of his poetry is about dear and feelings…read this part."I leaned over to look at the quarrel and his arm went around my waist. It was tender and I wiggled very slightly and began to interpret the verse form about men and cleaning lady and"flavor 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 helping hand feels nice on my backrest Mr. Emerson."and he rubbed up and down my spine.

My legs were getting weak and I moved into him."Are you okay ?"he asked and I could only nod and desire he wouldn't stay rubbing me."I need a good grade,"I finally murmured. Mr. Emerson said :"I know"and now his hand was on my bare leg, more detrition. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good course and more. His script was so exciting and subdued on me."You have soft hide,"he whispered and I opened more.

His helping hand traveled past my knee, rubbing above my knee…I took time lag of the position 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 threshold, Sherry,"he said and I did."Come here you beautiful girl. I think there is an ‘ A'in your future."I nodded and returned to his incline, stage apart. Now both his work force were under my clothes. I took a trench 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. Emerson, that feels courteous, really… [ gasp ] [ bend ] really…Oh God !"his fingers were interior my skimpy scanty and feeling my snatch. I took a deep breath and closed my centre."You're wet,"he said. I opened my oculus and smiled."Please Mr. Emerson…"“ Yes ?"“ Don't"I felt his fingers stop…"Don't stop…please don't stop !"and his fingerbreadth went to work on me again. We started talking, playing."Your torso is soft,"he said."The softest persona is your cunt,"there was that word."It's a dirty parole, Mr. Emerson."He chuckled."Yes, maybe, but you have a wonderful bitch. I like to feel your cunt."Tell me what you want me to do."jot me more."“ What do you want me to touch ?"he asked playfully. His fingers making me dizzy…"Come 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 Good Book out loud, Sherry."I hesitated but my knees suddenly went sapless and I blurted it out :"cunt"“ Whose slit ? William Tell me."I had a piddling spasm and looked in his smiling eyes…"My pussy, Mr. Emerson."“ You're a good girl,"he said and played with my cunt lips.

I lifted my dress and straddled his stage, his delicious fingers now stroking a rhythm and my body, at the waist, moving to his touch. My pussy was sending somewhere special. It was so quiet in the elbow room and I heard a clocking ticking away…my body also ticking in a beat with chance event, stroke…I put out my hands on his chest of drawers, my eyes closed and spasmed on his fingers, catching my breath, writhing on his fingers…letting out my breathing time in gasps."You're a expert student, you have a hot cunt."he said as my arms went around his neck opening, kissing his neck and he was petting my Down. I got brave and said :"I have a hot cunt."I was so raw, my puss an electric charge to his touch. Sending chill through all of me. I was so chagrined and felt so fond and whole…bubbling over…now his intact hand holding my wet bitch.

Finally I was calm and rest my head on his chest. My breathing slowed to convention and he was rubbing my backrest again, feeling my butt and kissing my neck. I was lying against him and thinking what a wonderful thing was my cunt. I shivered again. For the first time I was proud of my cunt. It was the first of my many moral with Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson .