The Homosexual Brewing Company

Hey guys - a couple days ago I posted 'Never Trust a Genie', and I totally forgot to hit the 'charge for this post' option, so that one was a freebie.  My fault – I'm spending time with a new friend lately, and I think he literally fucked my brains out that night.

Anyway, in the interest of having two paid posts for the Patreon this month, I pulled this from my drafts folder and cleaned it up a little tonight.  Hope you enjoy!

-D

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Jason and I were both straight when this all started. I guess you can probably guess where we ended up, hanging out at a bar with a name like “The Homosexual Brewing Company”, but I promise you, we actually were straight.

A lot of people wouldn’t believe us on that. We were best buds, always hanging out together, well into our mid-thirties. I didn’t have a wife and neither did he. To be honest, it had been quite a while since either of us had a girlfriend either. I knew there were rumours about us around town, but I didn’t care. I just liked the single life, so did Jason, and that was never gonna change.

Except, of course...

It started when a new brewery opened up in our neighbourhood. I guess it was kind of a brewpub, one of those trendy little microbreweries that’s more of a bar than a tasting room. I’d been to that sort of thing before – I used to have a beer gut, and it was well earned.

We were excited when we saw them moving in the big brewing tanks. Our neighbourhood has been going kind of downhill in the last few years, and the closest decent bar was a twenty dollar cab ride away. Even when the sign went up over the door – The Homosexual Brewing Company – that didn’t deter us. It was worth checking out, having a couple of beers. Who cares if queers owned the place, it was stumbling distance home.

Though... if it was all rainbows and whatever, I wasn’t sticking around.

We walked inside and honestly, it wasn’t that different. The bathrooms were ender neutral, which means you can pee anywhere there’s a toilet, and there were a couple subtle rainbow decorations in the room, but nothing too in your face.

If it wasn’t for the sign above the door, we never would have known.

The bartender was a little on the young side. I like a bartender that’s old and grizzled, the kind of guy who will try to sell you a 40 year old scotch because he was there when they put it in the barrel. I’d guess this guy was maybe twenty-five, fresh out of school and with a bit of the swish to him. He was wearing this overly tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that made his ass look like a chick.

“Hey boys,” he said, tossing down a pair of coasters. “Before I serve you, I’ve got to check – are you two straight?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Jason said, maybe a little too loudly. “But this place is close to home. Okay if we drink here?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “If this place is just for gay guys, that’s cool – we can go somewhere else.”

“Nah,” the bartender laughed. “Everyone’s got a little gay in ‘em, I just need to give the stock warning. Our beer tends to bring out the gay in a guy. A lot of guys come in and say they’re straight, but who really knows? Maybe you’ll discover something new about your sexuality here!”

“That’s bullshit bro,” I said, laughing in his face. “I mean, no offence. Maybe those guys come here cause they’re secretly gay, but Jason and me, we’re both 100% straight. 110%.”

“Hey, I believe you,” the bartender shrugged. “It’s just... I hear that a lot, but a lot of guys end up walking out of here a little queerer than when they came in."

“Don’t worry,” Jason laughed. “We’re not gonna start pulling out our cock or dancin’ on the tables or nothing. Just a couple of straight dudes, out for a straight night of checking out our new neighbourhood bar.”

“Got it,” the bartender nodded. “Now let’s make it interesting. Let’s say you’re right – you’re completely uninterested in guys, and you two are heterosexual men out for a few drinks, and nothing’s gonna change that. If you’re telling the truth... when you leave I’m gonna ask if you want to do some gay stuff.”

“Gross,” I laughed.

“Just say no and your tab’s on me, okay? You got to drink free all night. But if you’re suddenly into the gay stuff... not only do you pay for your drinks, you gotta let me take a few pictures and use ‘em in our ads. A couple of manly men like you... you’d sure help us draw a crowd.”

“Ain’t never gonna happen,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re throwing away your money.”

I glanced at Jason.

“It’s a deal,” he nodded. “Bring on the free beer.”

The bartender shook both our hands with a smirk. Whatever, not like I was gonna catch the gay – from him or his beer.

“So what would you like first?” he asked. “We’ve got six beers right now: a blond ale, a stout, a porter, a German sour, an American pale ale, and a red lager. Or you could do a sampler – try a little of everything before you make a decision?”

Samplers are for people who don’t know their beer.

“Gimme a pint of that blond ale,” I told him.

“Yeah,” Jason said, staring up at the chalkboard. “I think I’m gonna try the stout.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender said. He pulled two glasses from under the counter and poured our beers with practiced ease. It’s a new place, but he knew exactly what to do. Sometimes bartenders get hired for their looks – this guy clearly knew how to give good head but not too much.

Shit, sorry... those are the kinds of jokes I make now.

“Hey,” Jason said quietly to me while he was drawing the beers. “What if... what if this guy is for real. Like what if his beer actually makes guys go gay.”

“That’s horseshit,” I said confidently. “We’re drinking free today. Let the fag go home later and jerk off to his fantasy.”

We stopped talking when he got close again.

“The blond ale is pretty basic,” he said, pointing at mine. “It’s light and airy, but everyone loves it. Meanwhile, the stout is thick,” he said, pointing at Jason’s. “Some guys describe it as ‘beefy’. Hope you enjoy!”

I picked up my glass and clinked it against Jason’s.

We took our first sip.

It was good beer. I took a second to let it roll around in my mouth before swallowing. The bartender was right – mine was basic, but there’s nothing wrong with basic, is there? I used to like a girl who wears high heals and a slinky black dress – that’s as basic as you can get, but it still got me hard.

“That’s pretty good,” I said, loud enough for the bartender to hear. “Not good enough to turn me queer though.”

“Yeah,” Jason chuckled. “No offence buddy, but I like pussy more than I like this.”

We laughed at our dumb joke. Of course – you don’t get drunk off your first sip, do you? That’s how the beer worked too, we basically didn’t notice it’s effects until it was too late to stop.

I was bitching about my job. I work for this accounting company and my boss is a real hard-ass. He’s always saying we take too long, we cost too much, he’s gonna replace us with a bunch of twenty-something kids on summer vacation. Good luck buddy – those kids don’t know shit about shit.

Eventually we got to the bottom of our pints.

“Whoa,” I said, taking the last sip. I felt a little bit of a head rush. Weird that it hit me that fast, I drank enough that one beer shouldn’t even have registered. “That went straight to my head,” I joked.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” Jason said, taking his last sip too. He looked uncertain for a second, but then he shook his head and seemed to be okay. “So what if it’s fag beer,” he joked. “This stuff is for real.”

“Hey,” I snapped without thinking. “You shouldn’t say that word.”

“Huh?”

“It’s like... a bad word,” I insisted. I didn’t know where any of this was coming from, but I was pretty sure I was right. I’d heard that on the news or something, it’s not cool anymore.

“Who cares?” Jason shrugged heavily. “it’s not like anyone heard me.”

“I don’t know...” I said, trying to justify myself. “It’s just like... it’s wrong to be mean. Hey... have you been working out?”

“Huh?”

“You’re just like... your chest is looking really buff in that shirt,” I pointed out.

“Hey, watch out,” Jason laughed. “That’s the kinda thing that’ll make him think we’re a couple of queers,” he said, pointing at the bartender. “That’s still okay to call ‘em, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I shrugged. “Why do you think I know?”

“C’mon,” he smirked. “That hair isn’t helping.”

“Huh?” I said. I looked past the bar and into a mirror – what the hell was going on with my hair? I never dyed it blond, did I? I mean, it was a good dye job, looked almost natural.”

“Whatever dude,” I said defensively. “It’s just like... a thing I’m trying out. Anyway, let’s get something else. It’s free beer all night!”

Jason waved the bartender over while I stared at him. I could have sworn his shoulders were wider than they used to be. But no... he always had big wide shoulders, right? I’m the tall blond one, he’s the little beefy guy, right?

“Hey boys, how’s it going?” the bartender asked.

“Good,” I said agreeably. I just sort of sat there and waited.

“Uh, yeah... good,” Jason agreed. “That beer is really great.”

“More of the same?” the bartender asked.

“Nah... I wanna try something new,” Jason said. “I’m gonna go for the... Red Lager.”

“Could I have the American Pale Ale?” I asked.

“For sure,” the bartender grinned. “Coming right up.”

“Can you believe he expects us to turn queer?” Jason laughed. “After one beer!”

“Oh my god, right?” I giggled. “It’s like... so dumb.”

“Alright,” he said, setting down the next round. “One American Pale Ale and one Red Lager. So the Red Lager is light and crisp. It’s got a little heat. The American Pale Ale caters to a more local taste – people say it’s bold and strong and uncomplicated."

“Cheers my man,” I said, picking up my pint and clinking my glass against Jason’s.

We kept talking about my work problems. The boss always says I make too many dumb mistakes and I’m always fucking stuff up. Yeah, everyone loves working with me, but the only reason I’m not fired is cause clients say I’m super easy to work with.

“You should get a job at my work,” Jason suggested. “Landscaping isn’t easy, but you get to work with your hands, get a good workout...”

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Like I’ve got the muscle for that!”

I drained the last of my beer in defiance and slammed the glass down on the bar.

“Fuck yeah bro,” I called over to the bartender. “That hits the spot! Beer made in the U. S. of A.!” As I talked, I felt my shirt getting tight on me. Cheap foreign shit, right? They always wanna outsource everything and make a quick buck – if this was American made, it wouldn’t be shrinking on me like this.

“I’m telling you bro, my boss just wants to hire cheap bullshit from overseas or something,” I complained, waiting for Jason to finish off his drink. “Like, do they even know our laws and stuff? They’ll get everything wrong. My boss has no pride in his country, that’s the fuckin’ problem!”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jason shrugged. He took the last sip of his beer and gave me a weird look. After a few seconds he sort of shook it off.

“Damn,” he said, reaching down and rubbing his jeans. “I’m fuckin’ horny today man. This booze... it’s like a lightning bolt straight to my dick, y’know? I got thunder for balls.”

“I just don’t get it,” I said. “I mean, I work hard, I try to be a good guy, I’m proud of my country... but my job is shit and I’m alone at night. What the hell kind of word are we living in, right?”

Jason reached out and rubbed my bicep sympathetically.

“Hey, any girl would be lucky to get railed by your thick cock,” he said, glancing down at my crotch.

“Thick American cock!” I corrected him. I gave my chest a little flex with pride and a shirt button popped off. Cheap foreign shit, I’m telling you.

Whatever. It made both of us laugh.

“Another beer?” Jason asked, staring at my furry pecs.

“Fuck yeah bro,” I nodded. I waved over the bartender – there was some kinda weird feeling I couldn’t put a name on. I realized Jason was checking me out... that’s cool, we’re red blooded Americans, of course we’re gonna be a little horny. But I was... I was kinda hoping that maybe we’d get drunk enough that... maybe something would happen?

But that was impossible. We were both straight. At least, I thought we were – it’s weird what you can justify. I was just tipsy – we make our beer strong here. I didn’t really want to fuck Jason. I didn’t really want to plunge my cock between his muscled up cheeks.

“What’ll it be boys?” the bartender asked.

“Hey bro,” I said, touching his forearm. “Can I get the Porter?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, staring at the bartender’s tight ass. “I’ll get the German Sour.”

We both just sort of zoned out and watched him pour the beers. Dude had a nice round butt and good taste in clothes to show it off. I bet he’s from Iowa or Wisconsin... a good old fashioned farm boy. Got that body from hard work and good morals...

“Hey, how are you guys feeling?” he asked when he set down our pints. “The beer isn’t bringing up any... new feelings, is it?”

“No way bro,” I lied. “We’re just two straight bros, out for a few beers.”

“Yeah,” Jason burped. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Too bad there’s no girls here... I’m feeling kinda frisky.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “So the Porter, it’s fruity. A real attention grabber,” he said, sliding me my beer. “And the German Sour, it’s not something you’d typically see around here, but it’s a lot of fun. Very distinctive.”

“Cheers bro,” I said, tapping my class against Jason’s.

“Alright, enough about my bullshit job,” I said. “How about you, you seeing anyone?”

“Dude, I’m so horny I’m ready to pop,” Jason said. “You think I’d be sitting here with you if – I mean, I love you ma, but I’d rather be getting fucked.”

“You mean fucking, right bro,” I laughed at his slip up.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed quickly. “Of course.”

He was kind of jittery, shifting in his seat and downing half his beer in one big gulp.

“Whoa,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Go slow bro, I don’t wanna have to carry you back to my place.”

“Maybe that’s what I want?” Jason smirked, giving me a slutty wink.

He downed the rest of his ear and started nodding his head along to the music.

“Hey barman,” Jason shouted at the bartender. “Turn that up, I wanna dance.” He grabbed my hand and tugged at me, trying to get me to leave my stool.

“Hey, hold your horses bro,” I hissed. “What are you doin’? People are gonna think...”

“Who cares what people think?” Jason interrupted. “Finish your beer, ja? I want to dance.”

Oh shit, he was really drunk. Jason peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the bar. Then he started kicking off his pants.

“Why are these fucking things so long?” he asked.

I shrugged – why would I know that? Trust me – I’m not the guy you call when you don’t know the answer on Jeopardy.

“Whatever,” he laughed. “I can dance in my shorts.”

I took one look at my friend and started laughing. He was hot – short, muscled, and moving to the beat. But he was also wearing shoes and a pair of boxer-briefs that showed off his muscular ass and midsized cock. The bartender musta thought it was funny too, cause he turned up the music and Jason only moved harder.

The bartender glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow – oh great, now it’s my job to reign Jason in. I drained my beer and felt a weird rush to my head again...

Who the hell cared what people thought? So what, Jason wants to dance? I wanna dance too – hell, I like it when they stare. I pulled open my shirt, popping off the last couple buttons, and started grinding with Jason. We must have looked dumb, grinding so hard in a nearly empty bar.

But I don’t mind looking dumb.

And we were both so horny. Soon we were practically one body, moving to the beat. Jason tilted his head and locked lips with me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelled, pushing my hands against his sweaty chest and backing away quickly. “What the hell bro? What are you doing?”

“What?” Jason said in his cute little accent. “It’s not like you’ve got a girl at home.”

“But we’re straight!” I insisted. “You and me... we’re buddies, not... buddies, y’know?”

A look of revelation passed over Jason’s face and he suddenly realized what he’d been doing. My bro grabbed for his clothes on the barstool and held them defensively over his beefy little body.

We both stared at the bartender. He was polishing a glass like this happened every day.

“Did the other shoe just drop?” the bartender asked.

“What the hell did you do to us?” Jason demanded.

“I didn’t do anything,” the bartender said with a casual shrug. “You guys ordered the beer. You guys drank it. I just gave you the warning and poured you some pints. That’s my job.”

“The beer...” I gasped, starting to understand for the first time. “The beer made me dance with Jason, didn’t it!”

“No,” the bartender laughed. “You wanted to dance with Jason. At least, this version of you did. The dumb blond you. The All-American fuckboy you. The attention seeking narcissist you.”

“Whoa, no way,” Jason said in a thick german accent. “No way I’d kiss a dude, not unless you forced me.”

“What can I say?” the bartender shrugged again. “I never forced you – I just let you become someone else. A short little stud, a horny fucker, a german club boy. You’re exactly what you ordered!”

I stood at the bar in stunned silence. Jason piled his clothes on the stool and stood there too.

“Change us back bro!” I ordered confidently.

“No can do,” the bartender said, like he was kinda sorry for us. “But I can offer you a choice.”

“A choice?” Jason asked. “You said... shit, you said you were gonna ask us to do gay shit,” he realized.

“Here’s the thing,” the bartender said. “We’ve got a few hotel rooms above the bar. If you want, you can just go home – get your tab cleared, never do anything gay. Just bottle up your urges forever...”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What’s the choice?”

“Well... or, you can get a room together, on the house. There’s some clothes and stuff up there too, so help yourself.”

“Bro, that’s not gonna happen,” I said with bravado. “Jason and me, we’re straight, okay?”

“Really?” the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow and throwing a towel over his shoulder. “Would a couple of straight guys be starting up an impromptu dance floor? Would they be making out with each other in plain sight? Would you have your arm around his shoulder, and would he have his arm wrapped around your waist?”

I realized he was right... my arm was around Jason’s shoulder. Hell, I was softly massaging the dude’s bicep. And his arm was wrapped around my tight waist, holding me close like we were a couple.

“Besides,” the bartender said dismissively. “If you’re so straight, why are you still arguing? Go home – I’m not keeping you here.”

I dropped my hand away from Jason’s shoulder, lightly touching his back. He pulled his hand from around my waist. We stood there for a second, doing our best to just stand there like to straight guys, one next to the other.

And then Jason took my hand. He squeezed it gently. I glanced over and saw a face I’d loved for years... looked forward to every beer, every ballgame...

“Gimme the hotel key,” I said, motioning for it. “It’s not like we’re in love or anything, okay? We just wanna fuck.”

“Yeah, gimme our bill,” Jason demanded. “I wanna get outta here.”

“Hey, it’s on me boys,” the bartender said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “First one is always on me, no matter how it goes. You guys want one more for the road?”

Jason glanced over at me, asking the question with his eyes.

“I really wanna fuck you,” I groaned.

“Yeah...” Jason agreed. “But you know what’d be hot? If you were just like... a little bit dumber.”

“One blond ale, coming right up,” the bartender grinned. “And for you?”

“He’ll have another stout,” I smirked.

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The hotel wasn’t exactly stylish. You know that hotel room you thought about renting so you and your prom date could fuck? The one down by the gas station? Yeah, it’s exactly that hotel. Cheap, clean, and with a queen sized bed.

We stumbled through the door and right onto the mattress. It was filled with that kind of crunchy stuffing you only find at the seediest places. And honestly... that’s exactly what we needed. I didn’t want to make love – I wanted to FUCK.

After our last beers of the night, Jason got seriously short. Like... he broke five feet, but he claims to be 5’4” and that’s totally a lie. But what he lacks in height, he makes up for in width. He’s like the kind of fucked up geometry problem I always flunked.

Oh yeah, cause I got even blonder, right? My hair is extreme – almost white blond, but it’s like... totally natural. I don’t even get my roots done or anything. I felt like a plastic doll – all shiny and buff and like... almost totally empty. I’ve got room for like one thought...

And yeah, it’s always the same thought. I just wanna fuck Jason – he’s such a sexy little bro, and whatever, he’s a foreigner, he showed real good judgement coming to America.

I threw him on the bed and went looking for lube. I guess the Homosexual Brewing Company knows what it’s doing, cause the bedside table was well stocked. Lube, condoms, a couple of sex toys. Ew... who uses hotel sex toys?

“You look so sexy,” Jason grinned up at me. The floor must have been thin because I could still hear the pounding club music from the bar below us. Just how loud had they pumped it up for Jason? Man... it was so hard to think with that beat...

Jason couldn’t help but move to the rhythm while I fucked his ass.

“You like that?” he asked, grinding his hips when I was deep in his hole.

“Hell yeah bro,” I laughed. “That feels like... really good.”

“Guess you’re not so dumb after all,” he said with a wink.

“No dude... I’m like totally stupid,” I chuckled. “I mean, it’s not like it’s a bad thing or whatever. I don’t have to be all fancy and smart to love your ass, y’know?”

“You mean that?” he asked, staring me in the eyes. “You love my ass?”

“I mean... don’t tell anyone,” I joked. “They’re gonna think I’m gay or whatever.”

I thrust my cock into him a couple more times.

“Hey Yankee,” he teased. “I got news for you.”

“What’s that bro?”

“I think you’re gay. Or whatever.” He laughed at his own joke, so i laughed too.

He blew his load first, leaving my chest hair tangled with cum. I pulled out and jerked off – he likes that – blew my load all over his sexy face.

“Bro... can you believe we were straight earlier?” I asked, laying there in the light of a single lamp. “I mean... like we were really straight dudes when we walked in. And now we fucked. And I’m into you bro, I’m like... really into you, I wanna fuck you forever. Isn’t that –“

“Hey, Yankee,” Jason said.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe shut up. You’re hot, but I just wanna lay here a while, okay?”

“Yeah, for sure,” I said, staring up at the ceiling.

If you cross your eyes, it’s kinda like watching clouds.

“Hey, you know what?” I said. “If you cross your eyes, it’s kinda like watching clouds.”

Jason sighed and turned his head to stare at me.

“Don’t make me regret that last beer,” he teased.

“Huh?”

He sent me off to take a shower. I got a little distracted in there, tugging on my thick American cock, but whatever – he knew where to find me. Eventually I just kinda relaxed and let me brain shut down... you don’t gotta be thinking every second, you know? Sometimes you can just drift.

“You gonna be in there forever?” Jason said, peeking his head around the curtain?

“Huh? You want in?”

“Yeah, and the party sounds like it’s heating up downstairs,” Jason said. He was right, the music was getting even louder. “I want to go dance.”

I swapped spots with him in the shower and towelled off. He didn’t take long at all. Efficient, right? That’s their thing?

“Hey...” I said while he was drying off. “Did that bartender guy say there are like... new clothes and stuff up here?”

“Ja,” Jason nodded. “That’s right.”

I started poking around and eventually I found ‘em in the closet. There was a bunch of stuff in there – but my eyes immediately jumped to an American flag tanktop. Show off my country and my delts, all in one day? Fuck yeah.

“Bro, check this out,” I said, flexing my pecs under the fabric. “Look how round it makes these look.”

Jason ran his hands over my pecs. Yeah, this tank would definitely do the job.

“Maybe pick a new bottom too?” he suggested.

“You’re my new bottom,” I laughed. Like I said, these are the jokes I make.

“Hmm... how about these,” Jason suggested, pulling a small pair of pink rugby shorts from the shelf. “I think these would look very good on you.”

So I squeezed into them. They were tight, but hey, that’s fashion sometimes, right? I loved the way the shorts made my cock stand out. Plus the tank was a little long, so if you didn’t look too close, it sorta looked like I wasn’t wearing anything under it. A little chill ran up my back at the thought.

“And this is what Americans like, ja?” Jason asked. He pointed up behind me, so I pulled a black ball cap off the shelf. Jason grabbed it from me and slipped it backwards over his hair.

“Yeah,” I grinned. “That’s what this American likes.”

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We walked down from the hotel and you could tell things were different. Sometime after we left, they did a whole thing – the lights were low, and someone turned a bunch of coloured lights on. They even had a strobe light going!

Someone stacked all the tables in a hallway and most of the space had been cleared up. Jason was over the moon – an actual dance floor. He was ready for it – he’d found a pair of leather pants and a leather harness in the hotel room, which made a good match with the black ball cap.

I was like... the total opposite. Where Jason was all dark and sexy, I was light and bubbly. I found a pair of white high-tops to go with my pink rugby shorts and that American flag tank. My hair was like... so blond. But we went together – like rum and coke, or orange juice and vodka.

The place had really filled up when they turned on the music. There were at least a couple dozen guys there, dancing and groping and drinking. The bartender saw us and waved – he was shirtless now, and I gotta say bro, great abs. Jason gave him this sexy grin back and then dragged me out to dance.

This time, when he kissed me, I just leaned into it.

--------------------

Of course we were fucking when I got the text. That’s like... all Jason and I do together anymore. Fuck and dance and drink at HOMO. That’s what all the regulars call it. Like... I never knew there were so many gay guys in our neighbourhood, and we’re all regulars at HOMO.

I checked my phone a couple hours later and saw the text. It was from Brad, that hunky bartender.

“What’s up?” Jason asked, watching as I read the message.

“It’s a surprise,” I grinned. “Put on clothes – we’re going for a drive.”

I ran to my closet and picked out an American flag too – the one with the eagle on it. I also got this totally cool surplus USAF bomber jacket, so I put that on too. And like... I love my country, but I’m not wearing cargo pants, okay? So I put on a pair of dick hugging jeans and my favourite neon pink high-tops to wrap up the outfit.

Jason’s so boring sometimes. He just slipped on a pair of white slacks and a simple black t-shirt. At least he put on the mirrored aviators I got him – he looks totally sexy in those.

“Okay Yankee,” he smirked. “Take me for a ride.”

I almost fucked him again right there. Lucky for me, his limit is three times a day.

We took the convertible and I drove us downtown. Jason doesn’t like driving in the city – too many speed limits, not enough turn signals. We cruised down the street until I saw the mall... okay, it was coming up on the right.

I pulled into a parking lot and grinned.

There was a giant billboard of us, holding each other close and staring at each other like we wanted to fuck. Which... in fairness...

Jason was shirtless during the photo shoot, and I wore my flag tank, and both of us were worthy of wet dreams.

“The Homosexual Brewing Company,” the billboard read. “Try Something New.”

We made out for like... an hour.