You don't have to have any erotic interest to enjoy seeing a nice penis, and there's always some curiosity: did they inherit your brother or brother-in-law's size?
My brother has three sons: Ethan (born June 1982), Frank (born October 1983), and Joel (born April 1986), plus a stepson. I've gotten sausage sightings of all of them (after they grew up, of course). First up: Ethan.
Manville, Illinois, June 2000
I am in grad school in New York, but visiting my parents in Indianapolis for a week before flying out to South Africa for a conference. I offer to drive to Rock Island, to visit my brother, but Kenny says that he and his sons will be at a "father-son retreat" that weekend.
Held at Manville, the Nazarene camp in eastern Illinois.
Having spent innumerable summers fighting the flies, mosquitoes, heat, deplorable food, and nonstop screeching sermons at Manville, I scoff. "If you want to torture your kids, why don't you just tie them to an ant hill?"
"It's not like when we were little," Ken says. "They have tennis courts, hiking trails, and a gym now, and we stay in a 'family cabin' with its own bathroom and kitchen."
"No more walking down that terrible snake-strewn path to the toilets, huh? But it still sounds awful."
"Why don't you come out on Friday, and see for yourself? The cabin sleeps six, so there will be plenty of room for you."
I am definitely curious -- I haven't been to Manville since high school, over 20 years ago. Besides, spending the night with Kenny and his sons will be fun, like the sleepovers we used to have as kids. So on Friday I drive my rental car the three hours out from Indianapolis.
The full post, with nude photos and the description of the sausage sighting, is on Tales of West Hollywood.