Randy got home on Saturday and I got home on Sunday. From college. My first year, his second. We lived at opposite ends of the house on the second floor. Mom and dad on the first floor. I had stairs up and down. He had stairs up and down. I had a bathroom. He had a bathroom. I had a big bedroom. He had a big bedroom. We weren’t disparaging at each other, we were great friends and chattered away all the time when we were near each other. I helped him and he helped me. Mom and dad were careful about teaching us to maintain our privacy while forging solid family values.

There was a time I thought he was looking at my bedroom while I was at the gym one week so one day I left him milk and cookies. He took one big bite out of the cookie and that was all. We never mentioned it again. He got caught and took it like a man. I always respected him for that. I always wondered what he was interested in. I never found anything disturbed. I’ve never looked through his bedroom. Honest. I haven’t.

Randy helped me bring my stuff in and store everything else in the garage to take back at the end of the summer. He was slow in and out of my bedroom. He was looking around without moving his head that much. I smiled but didn’t let him see me. I was mostly finished unpacking and getting back to normal. I had a wash in and needed to put everything in the dryer. Randy came by to see if I had anything to take down. I said no but could he switch my wash to the dryer. He said sure and went on down.

After he left I quick changed and went down to see if he could wash my stuff with his. You can easily see the washer and dryer from the top of the stairs to the basement. When I looked down I froze and stepped back around the door frame. Randy was taking his clothes off and putting them in the washer. I got an eye around the edge of the door and watched. Randy always either wore thick cargo pants in the winter or thick short cargo pants down to the knees in the summer and some kind of top. Always.

He had his top off and was taking off his pants, the short kind. He emptied the pockets and threw his shorts in the washer and turned back this way. He had on a jockstrap and stripped it down his legs and off. A large part of his body fell out and flailed around like a fireman’s hose. He turned around and put the jockstrap in the washer and started getting dressed in fresh clothes. I was stunned. I had no idea. Randy was seriously hung. I could see it hanging down between his legs when his back was to me. It wasn’t thin either. Nobody ever said anything about it all this time.

My brother had a world class dick. No wonder he wore thick cargo pants all the time. I’ve seen his pants bulge a little now and then but never imagined. He obviously wore a jockstrap full time to hide it. He didn’t go in for sports all that much, probably so he wouldn’t have to shower with a lot of guys around. It would get around very quickly and I would have heard about it. He had girlfriends but they never lasted that long. He probably wouldn’t let them get that personal so they didn’t last. He protected himself. He’s probably a virgin. Poor thing. I wondered if mom knew. Read more