Brothers smell. They stink. Just like me.
Brothers can look good, but they never appeal to me in a sexual way. Even when they splash on the best of colognes, they still stink when you get close.
Brothers have erections in bathtubs together. They laugh about it. Compare sizes. Then they argue and fight--someone took someone's soap. Erections go down. Up and down, their penises, like their crooked teeth and bandaged elbows, are mere physical extensions of their stinky bodies.
I have never fantasized about my brothers. The very idea of having sex with my brothers would make me throw up.
My straight friend whom I love so much is my brother. It should be that if and when I thought of him sexually, I would feel like throwing up.
Man-to-man love may spark feelings of warmth, and even be sensual--like kids in a bathtub. But it should also foster manliness. Talk of sex with women. Connecting at the level of sexual attraction towards women, not each other.
After talking with my friend, and being affirmed again of his love for me in a most nonsexual way, I feel my sexual attraction to him dwindling down and in its place a manly-brotherly love rising up.
I feel stronger. Like an essence of maleness is taking over me.
And it stinks, that male essence.
The kind of stink that women don't have. The kind of stink that women seem not to mind--in fact, long for and lean on. The kind of stink that make men prefer to seek out the natural perfumes that permeate through the soft skin of women...
(...their breasts... their nipples... lovely to the touch... to the tongue...)
I love my
straight male friend brother.
And he stinks.
Just like me.
Just the way God meant it to be.