Thursday, May 25, 2017

Nephew Sausage Sighting #1: The Father-Son Retreat

We typically get our first sausage sightings from relatives, uncles, brothers or cousins, and they remain a reliable source through our lives, especially when the new generation of nephews and second cousins (your cousins' kids) starts to mature.

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 long, low tabernacle is still there, and the dining hall/ snack bar where we bought hot dogs on innumerable nights after altar call, and the rows of damp, airy cabins.  But Ken is right about the new gym, the tennis courts, and the hiking trails that lead through the tall grass of the prairie.

Manville is occupied entirely by cute dads and their teenage sons.  Since there are no women around, they don't have to follow the rules prohibiting short pants or going shirtless.

The beefcake almost makes it worth the trip.

Kenny introduces me as his "brother from New York," which causes some eyebrow-raises: New York is one of the wicked cities God plans to destroy during the upcoming Tribulation.  Labeled a "sinner" in need of salvation, I get a lot of witnessing and shy attempts to start soul-winning conversations.

A very muscular high school boy named Kyle approaches me at the gym with the oldest line in the book: "If you were to die tonight, and God asked why He should let you into His heaven, what would you say?"

I have to laugh: I used the same line in Kankakee 25 years ago!

I talk him into going hiking with me and Kenny.  Nothing erotic happens, but Kenny says "You can pick them up anywhere, can't you?"

The family cabin is cramped -- two stacks of bunk beds, a small couch, a table and four chairs, a kitchen area, and a bathroom with a toilet and shower -- but it beats those drafty cabins with the shower room half a mile away.

It has electricity, but no tv, and no heat or air conditioning -- and it's hot and sticky in the central Illinois summer.

But Kenny comes up with an interesting solution: we all go naked!

At first I balk, just stripping down to my underwear, but Joel says "Come on, Uncle Boomer, don't be a weenie," so I strip down too.

"Not bad," Joel says.  "Could be bigger."

Kenny glares at him. "Don't tease your uncle."

Cooking naked seems like a bad idea, but it's just hot dogs, canned baked beans, and potato chips.  Then we do the dishes, play a game of Bible Monopoly, pray while holding hands, and go to bed.

Ethan, Kenny's oldest son, will have psychiatric problems and an aggravated assault in a few years, but he's just turned 18, and he's still a Johnny Nazarene, looking forward to his freshman year at Olivet.  He's a slow, soft, big-boned kid with a little belly, some hair on his chest, and long thick arms.

He sits with his legs spread, so you can get a good sausage sighting: a short, thick penis with a prominent head, like his father's.










Frank and Joel are naked too, of course, but they are 16 and 14 years old, so I don't count them as sausage sightings.  I'll have to wait until they're fully matured.

See also: My Nephew Tries to Turn a Boy Gay; 20 Cousins, Uncles, and Nephews on My Sausage Sighting List.

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