Chapter 7
Ted lay on his bed, trying to study. Why the university required all freshmen to take a course in ancient Chinese art and literature was beyond him. Even at the best of times, concentrating on such boring drivel was nearly impossible. Since Ted had been with Trace, his mind had been severely torn. Ming vases just couldn’t offer the same appeal as Trace’s faultlessly proportioned male body, well-shaped full firm ass, and picture-perfect p***s. Beyond that, Ted was still struggling with the possibility that his attraction to Trace was a conclusive indication of his s****l orientation.
The door opened and Charlie walked in. “Mail call,” he announced and tossed a letter in Ted’s direction.
Ted tensed. He rarely had mail. His mother wrote on occasion but he had the idea his stepfat
