Another such word was cunt. We could say most anything girl else but those two words made us blush. We could even talk about boys’ penises but when it came to fucking and cunt those were “whisper words” and very personal. So I did learn things in school but there was so much to indian 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 hard for me…I was desperate for a good grade so I could graduate and a bad grade in English wouldn’t help. In my mind I would do anything for a good English grade. It helped…I didn’t know it at the time…that my teacher was good looking. He wasn’t all that young but young enough that all us girls 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 time with this good looking body 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 and I will see if I can help.” I nodded and felt a showing thrill 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 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 lips with some lipstick…put all my books, except my English book, 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 hot 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 door and walked to his little 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 enjoy it because, after all, lots of poetry is about love and affection.” I was blushing and felt a thrill. 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 writing of Walt Whitman,” he said, “and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part.” I leaned over to look at her the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to read 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 hand feels nice on my back 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 hope he wouldn’t stop 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 rubbing. I parted my legs…I was telling him something…that he was arousing me, exciting me, that I wanted a good grade and more. His hand was so exciting and soft on me. “You have soft skin,” he whispered and I opened more. His hand traveled past 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. The intense bodily and her emotional stimulation that a man other than her husband was actually penetrating her made Cassie shudder even harder then she had moments before. Brandon quickly found her clit, feeling it throb under his tongue as he slid his tongue between her inner folds. The Black futa moaned as she slammed hot into me hard. Meaghan gave me such a venomous look as I leaped onto the bed. “Oh, we're going to lick you up,” I said. He felt absolutely wonderful, and she could feel her pussy lips contracting tightly around his girl hard cock, trying to keep him prisoner deep inside of her. Meanwhile upstairs, indian Kevs mom was hatching a plan.... “Pussy,” Jane replied simply. Just as he touched her warm lush pussy lips he felt something else, his eruption. I kiss each one of them and run my tongue up against her belly button, that has a crescent moon shaped birthmark around it, almost identical to the one I have on my shoulder. Jack quickly squirted some lube and rubbed it in her hole, using two fingers. That statement caused my mind to race, filling with questions. “No, he says there is a guy showing there that would do anything to screw with him, he says this guy had lice then put on his jock strap to get it infected. Stan was fucking her harder you could hear then sound of her juices slapping against his balls. And I saw how leaky your dick was, before you ever stuck it in me. That's why I called it your 'wet dick.' Oh I love to feel bare flesh like that!" “No, no he doesn’t have a small dick at all, unless you think nine and a half inches is small.” Mom said while she laughed making me look at Trevor like what?!. Putting a hand to his chest he winced at the... was this what pain was? They were body finally getting the attention they craved all day.