Homeschool

Dinner was a somewhat solemn affair, aside from the grotesque slurping and chewing sounds coming from Chazz's side of the table. We had just finished up and I was rinsing off the plates when Coach, with his coat tucked under his arm, announced that he was going out for a while.

Chazz gave a half wave from the couch, eyes glued to American Gladiator, while I wished Coach a good night. The door had barely snicked shut when Chazz's head popped up from behind the couch, and he motioned for me to come over.

"What?" I asked, dishtowel in hand.

"Lessons," he said, "are you ready for another one?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" I wasn't sure if there was going to be any more after the last one, but I obviously still had a lot to learn, and I wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to learn from someone with so much … experience.

He patted the couch, and I sat beside him, expectantly.

"Today, my friend, we will review the finer details of kissing, but I think it's time to venture into heavy petting. Have you touched Katie's fun bags yet?"

"What?"

"Sweater cows. Hammers. Tits. Gazangas." He held his hands out in front of his chest in a mime of massive breasts.

"Oh, uh… yeah, sure I have."

"How?"

"With my hands, how the hell do you think?"

"No," said Chazz, wiggling his fingers, "show me."

"Oh, well, like this." I held my hands up in a palms out, fingers up position, as if I were stopping traffic.

"Oh, bad move. Very amateur."

"Really?" I asked, horrified.

"Oh yes, you want to cup, not flatten." Chazz placed his hands on my shirt and slid them down my chest until they rested on top of my boobs. Or, at least, where my boobs would be, if I had any. His hands twisted from my described 'stop' position, to a softer, thumbs up, fingers turned out position. "See? Much more comfortable, right?"

I nodded, as he twisted his hands between the two positions, letting me appreciate the difference. "You want to let gravity do the work for you. Feel the weight of them. Plus," he whispered conspiratorially, "when you hold your hands like this, it leaves your thumbs free to play."

He brushed his thumbs across my nipples, and even through the polyester blend of my shirt, it made me shiver.

"Oooh!" he mock squealed, "is it cold in here or what?"

"Shut up!" I said, pushing his hands away.

"You shut up."

"Make me."

"Maybe I will."

"You and what army?"

Chazz's features screwed up while his meager brain searched for a comeback. This was too easy, really. "Dumbledore's Army," he finally managed.

"That's not a real army," I snorted.

"Yes it is."

"No, it's from a stupid movie about wizards."

"That wasn't a stupid movie."

"Well sure, if you call plot holes and weak characterization not stupid, then yes, you're completely right."

"Told ya!" he smiled smugly, while I ground my teeth to powder. God! He could be so frustrating sometimes.

We both sat, arms crossed and sullen for a few moments until Chazz broke the stand off.

"Okay," he said brightly, nullifying our stupid argument, "try it on me." He gestured to his chest and smiled.

I hesitated, unsure, until he grabbed my hands and pressed them to his torso. He puffed himself out, to simulate boobs, and I laughed and told him to cut it out.

"Quit goofing around, I really want to learn this."

I moved my hands across the contours of his chest, feeling the warm flesh and hard muscle beneath. I turned them to copy the position that he had shown me.

"That's right," he said, practically in my ear, and I jumped, startled by his deep baritone, "now do the thumb thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah, give it a try."

I timidly rubbed the pads of my thumbs across where I hoped his nipples were. He caught my gaze and smiled.

"Do it again."

I gave a quick nod and complied. This time, as my thumbs brushed over him, I felt a hardening beneath my touch. I looked up at Chazz, surprised. He smiled knowingly.

"Cool huh?"

"Yeah. Will they do that every time?"

"Sure, if you do it right."

"And am I?"

"Oh yeah, Daddy like!"

I rubbed them again, and he took a deep breath then let out a satisfied sigh. "You know, Jimmy," he said, eyes getting glassy, "nipples are the windows to the soul."

"That's eyes, Chazz."

"Au contraire, it's definitely the nips."

I shrugged, "Whatever."

"You don't believe me? I'll prove it. Take off your shirt."

"No!" I said, grabbing my collar protectively.

"Fine, we'll work up to that. Let's see if you can cop a feel and suck face at the same time."

He pushed me back on the couch and slid up so that we were face to face, his weight braced on his arms. My stomach did a flip-flop, and I grabbed the sofa cushions reflexively.

I tried to remind myself that Chazz was just doing me a favor. He wasn't Katie. We weren't dating, or in love or anything. It was just one guy, doing another guy a favor.

Chazz drew my upper lip into his mouth and nibbled and sucked on it. My stomach flipped again, except, it wasn't exactly my stomach, if you know what I mean. Chazz moved down to my bottom lip to give it the same treatment and I opened my mouth in a gasp.

"You okay?"

"Nnuugh" I replied, my tongue too busy finding his to articulate.

A favor, my mind repeated. He's just doing me a favor. With his mouth. Oh God! His mouth! That disgusting, curse bellowing, sewage spewing pie-hole was working its way down my neck, licking and sucking the skin and tendons until it came to rest in the hollow at the base of my throat.

You might not know this, but the surface of the human tongue harbors millions of bacteria, fungi, and dead skin cells. Technically speaking, dogs' mouths are cleaner than ours. Hell, a dog's FEET would probably be cleaner than Chazz's mouth! And what did I do when confronted with this bacterial cistern?

I moaned! Well, squeaked, actually, because I was trying NOT to moan, but there I was anyhow, arching up towards that mouth, my hands fisted in the cushions, making these ridiculous squeaking sounds.

Chazz moved his hand to the front of my shirt, and without changing the pace of our kiss, he expertly flicked his thumb and the top button of my shirt popped open.

Then the next one.

"Cool!"

"I know."

Two more buttons.

Then three.

I held my breath as he pulled my shirt open to expose my chest. Oh please, oh please, oh please don't laugh. Chazz was so furry, he bordered on Sasquatch. I knew my bare skin would never measure up. He surveyed my naked torso for what seemed like forever, then looked up at me, a big dopey smile plastered across his face.

"My little porcelain doll."

"Shut up."

"Why? That's a compliment."

"Yeah, if you're a chick."

"Trust me, Jimmy, I've been with lots of chicks, and you are definitely not one."

"Thanks, Chazz."

"Of course, you're prettier than most of them."

"Shut up!"

"Okay, I've got a better use for my mouth anyway." Chazz licked a thin line down my breastbone, then veered off to tongue a wet trail around one nipple. "Are you ready to eat chrome?"

"Huh?"

"Windows to the soul, Jimbo. When you realize I'm right, you'll have to eat chrome."

"It's CROW, Chazz."

He stopped licking and looked up at me. "That's stupid. Who in their right mind would eat a crow?"

"Yeah, and normal, well adjusted people eat chrome every GAAAHH!"

Chazz scraped his stubbly chin across my nipple, then sealed his lips over it and sucked.

And sucked.

And sucked some more.

Ohjesuscrumbcrapshitpissgodheckassshazzbot!

I had no idea that a person's nipples and their groin were so connected, but I swear to god, when he sucked on me like that, I felt it 'down there', too. Like, A LOT!

If I had been squeaking earlier, then I full out roared when he did that. It was wonderful, and fantastic and all encompassing, and OhGod! Way too intense! Ow!

"Okay! Okay! Uncle! Please stop!"

Chazz relented and took his mouth off me with an audible 'pop'.

"Windows to the soul?" he asked.

"Windows," I conceded, breathlessly.

"Chrome?"

"Oh yeah, I'll eat a whole Harley if you want." I sunk, boneless, into the couch.

"Great," he said, getting up and off of me, "Now I'm gonna go wank."

"What?"

"Wank. Wack off. Spank the monkey. Wax the dolphin. Rough up the suspect. Make knuckle babies."

"Oh my God, enough! I did NOT need to know that."

"Oh please, as if you never choke the chicken."

"I don't."

"Right. Everyone masturbates, and those who say they don't are lying, or … paralyzed, or … dead."

"You're sick."

"Or they had their arms amputated."

"I'll say it again. You're sick."

Chazz shrugged. "Hey, if you can't make love to yourself, how are you supposed to do it to someone else?" He made a face and pressed the heel of his hand to his (bulging) crotch. "Oh shit, I'd better hurry up, or I'll be too late."

He jogged off to the bathroom while the wisdom of his words swam through my head. He was right.

I didn't know how to love myself.