To Becky’s
So suitcase to Becky’s trunk, burgers at MacDonald’s and a quick drive to a sizable old suburban home inherited from her mother. It’s neat, could use some attention to the exterior and landscaping. But I quickly realize a stepbrother forever denied of clothing is unlikely to be outdoors mowing the lawn, trimming the bushes and touching up the paint.
Jackie greets us at the door. I try not to gawk, my homophobia strained... the urge to visually examine countered by this notion of decorum... like when showering in a locker room, one trains the eyes not to stare at male anatomy.
But I find it impossible, stepbrother Jackie’s nudity so effeminately presented. Absent a caged c**k, perhaps some glandular development about the chest, and there would be an attraction which my homopho
