Chapter 5

Zach

In the week since

I’ve been at Moira’s house, she’s not left me alone

once.

Until now.

And I’m taking

advantage it.

The first thing I

did was strip naked, relishing in the feel of the cool air against my

skin. I haven’t been walking around naked as much as I

originally thought I would, and not because of some concern about

offending Moira. That does not concern me whatsoever.

No, I’ve

simply been wearing clothes more often than not because I’m

getting used to them. Moira has indeed dragged me around to various

places every day, immersing me in her culture. That, of course,

requires clothing and the more that I wear them, the more they don’t

seem quite the burden.

She’s taken me

to so many places that my head spins with the sensory overload at

times. She took me to downtown Chicago, and I hate the place. Filled

with steel, concrete, and too many people to comprehend. It’s

noisy… not like the beautiful noise of the creature-filled

jungle, but of honking cars and talking people. It scrapes at my ears

until they feel like they bleed at times.

Other places weren’t

so bad. We went out to see a movie in the theater, and she took me

over to Northwestern where she works and explained what people learn

at a university. We went out to eat at restaurants, and I actually

gave in and used the utensils, only because after observing her eat

with them, I had to admit it was easier and cleaner on the hands. She

took me to the local library in Evanston and showed me how to look up

and check out books. It’s within walking distance to her house,

and she’s even encouraged me to venture there on my own any

time I want to. I will… one day, but during our first visit, I

left with ten books and haven’t read through them all yet.

And yes… one

of the books she suggested was entitled How To Teach Your Child

About Sex . I flipped through it but gave up after the first three

pages. Ridiculous really, if she thinks she can get away with pawning

that type of book off on me as a means of fulfilling her obligation

to teach me.

What she has been

willing to teach me, though, has been enlightening to the extent that

she won’t refuse to answer a legitimate question from me. Every

day, I try to come up with something new to ask her, just so I can

see the way her breathing gets disrupted and her face goes red.

“ Moria…

what do you call it when my seed erupts from the end of my penis?”

Although she

blushed and practically choked on the bowl of cereal she was eating,

she cleared her throat and said, “That’s called an

orgasm.”

“ And that’s

the technical term?”

“ Yes,

although some people say it’s called ‘coming’ or

‘climaxing’.”

“ Climaxing

I understand. But coming?”

“ Yes,

coming,” she said with another deep blush.

“ Do women

orgasm? Is that what you did that night in the jungle when you

touched yourself?”

“ Yes, Zach.

Women can orgasm too.”

“ But you

don’t have a penis. What were you touching to make yourself

orgasm?”

“ Women have

what’s called a clitoris… or some call it a clit. I

imagine it feels the same way as it feels when you touch your penis.”

“ Where is

this clit located?”

“ Okay,

Zach… that’s enough sex talk for the day,” Moira

grumbled and stood from her chair.

I smiled inside

because I knew I was getting to her.

Moira doesn’t

have to be teaching me about sex for me to be thinking about it. It’s

all I seem to think about when I’m around her. While in my

world, sex is when a man dominates a woman, and it’s a matter

of just mounting her from behind with a quick thrust. I find myself

insanely curious if there are other ways of coupling.

I think, more than I

care to admit, about kissing Moira. That movie she showed me…

when those two people were kissing, has me wondering what it would be

like to feel her tongue against mine.

And speaking of

tongues, I have to think that if my tongue can go in her mouth, it

can go other places as well. Her breasts, which I haven’t seen

but would like to, for instance. Or that secret thing she called a

“clit”? Clearly, fingers against it work just fine, but I

wonder if a man can put his tongue there. I wonder what she would

taste like and then I wonder… what her tongue would feel like

against my penis.

Are these things

even possible? I’ll have to add it to my list of questions for

her.

Moira has a doctor’s

appointment today, and then she said she was meeting a friend for

lunch. I told her that I would like to go out to lunch with her

because I was finding pleasure in trying new and interesting foods at

these places she called restaurants.

“ Not today,

Zach,” she said. “I’m actually going on a date.”

“ A date?”

I asked in confusion. “What does that mean?”

She actually

blushed, and that was my first indication that this had something to

do with sex, because Moira always blushed when we talked about sex

and never at any other time.

“ It’s

when two people who like each other go out somewhere for the pleasure

of enjoying each other’s company.”

“ To have

sex you mean?” I asked, not liking the thought of her having

sex with another man.

“ Not

always,” she said curtly. “Sometimes, it’s just to

talk.”

“ Are you

going to have sex on this ‘date’ today?” My anger

started boiling, and I had no clue why. Most days, I still barely

tolerated Moira because I was sexually frustrated around her, and I

was still very angry over her role in pulling me from my home.

“ Not that

it’s any of your business, but no… I’m not having

sex. We’re just going out to eat a meal together.”

“ But

sometimes your dates lead to sex?”

Moira sighed but

answered me. “Sometimes. It depends on how deep the connection

is.”

I started to ask her

another question but she cut me off, insisting that she didn’t

want to be late for her doctor’s appointment. She had asked if

I would be okay here alone, and I assured her I was fine. She turned

on her laptop for me and brought up the program that she had taught

me called Firefox. A few days ago, Moira took the time to show me how

to search for information on the Internet. She introduced me to

Wikipedia, and told me that while you couldn’t always trust the

summary of information it provided, it was a good place to start when

seeking out something to learn about.

While I can’t

type on the keyboard the way Moira does, whose fingers seem to fly

with the speed of a jaguar that’s chasing its prey, I manage to

work it just fine. I’ve learned about many things since being

given access to this amazing marvel called the Internet. I’ve

learned about President Obama, the war in Iraq, Michael Jackson

meeting an untimely death, Miley Cyrus twerking, and the collapse of

the World Trade Center. I’ve researched American history,

paying specific attention to the plights of indigenous Indians in

this country, and I even researched information on the Amazon

rainforest. I was greatly saddened to see how much had been

deforested… sickened actually. I knew the world was

encroaching in upon us, but never realized it was being done so

rapidly and with such terrible effects. Yes, the Internet was a

never-ending supply of knowledge all waiting at my fingertips.

I expect I have

about three hours before Moira returns, so the first thing I do is

look through her bedroom. It’s the one place I haven’t

been in other than a brief look when she was showing me her house on

the day of my arrival. I pick up various bottles of lotions and

liquids on her dresser, sniffing them each in turn. Opening her

drawers, I rifle through her clothing, paying particular attention to

her underwear, which is made of tiny scraps of lace and silk that

feel nice to the touch. I open her nightstand drawers and find an odd

thing in there that is shaped like a man’s penis with another

little protrusion that sticks out from the front. There’s a

button on it and when I flip it on, the things starts buzzing hard in

my hands.

Weird.

I don’t find

anything else of interest, but I take the pink, penis-looking thing

with me into the kitchen and lay it on the table. I want to ask Moira

about it later.

Finally, I sit my

naked form down on one of the kitchen chairs and pull her laptop to

the edge, so I can begin learning about the modern world again today.

My fingers poised, I

hesitate for just a second before I type the word “sex”

in Wikipedia. A long, boring article that talks about plants, fungi,

and other animals having sex appears. I scan it briefly, and then try

the most recent word I learned, “orgasm” into the search

field.

Much better.

I learn more about

the woman’s clitoris, and there’s even a diagram for me

that shows me exactly where it’s located. I learn about the

G-spot and that there’s a difference between penetrative and

non-penetrative sex. I learn that what I do to myself to cause an

orgasm is called masturbation… a word that I find rolls off my

tongue nicely, although I find out it’s also called jerking

off, jacking off, flogging the log, polishing the bannister, and

spanking the monkey, the last of which makes me laugh at the image.

Within that same

article, there’s even a blue link, which Moira had taught me

will pull up another article, and it’s entitled “sex

toys”. It pulls up pictures of some items that looked very

similar to what I pulled out of Moira’s nightstand a bit ago.

Interesting.

But then the article

runs dry, so I decide to branch out. In addition to teaching me about

Wikipedia, Moira also showed me the power of Google. Pulling that up,

I type in the word “sex” again to see what information it

holds, and I’m rewarded with more information than I can

process.

I’m introduced

to the Kama Sutra, and I immediately realize that there are

dozens of ways a man and a woman can come together. While the idea of

pinning Moira down by the back of her neck still reigns supreme in my

fantasies, I can now envision doing other things to her. I study the

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