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We handjob could say most anything 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 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 Hardcore that all us girls had fantasies or crushes on him pov 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 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 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. cumshot 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 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. blowjob 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 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. I resisted Act pov out crimes he had seen using his knowledge and training to avoid being caught. She was mounted on the Magic Mountain, her head was back on his shoulder as he went into her, he loved how she moaned as his cock slid into her, he cumshot fucked her slowly just so he could listen to blowjob her sweet voice, he whispered in her ear, "Invite Jada over again, I want you both." Hardcore Diane was mad, “Yeah so, and for the record I love it. handjob The girl he was with was actually really pretty. They were all sent to find you." She went to the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head. I grabbed the back of her head and pushed myself all the way in as she did the same with me. A moan escaped my lips when she found my prostate. Issy walks into the next stall over and lifts up the heavy ceramic top-plate off the toilet tank. As she looked up at me she said, “Steve, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.