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Hipster Brothel

By:K.A. Merikan

ty booze. Was he imagining things, or had Mr. B's gaze swept down his chest? He wasn't sure, because his head was already spinning slightly. He'd always been on the lightweight side, and Mr. B's booze was more potent than its taste suggested. "I could do a test ride for you."

Mr. B snorted so hard he spat out come crumbs. "That sounds so dirty. It's an experience, not a hipster brothel!"

Jo grinned and pushed at Mr. B's arm gently. "Hipster brothel? How would that work? As a pop-up at your local farmer's market?"

Mr. B wouldn't stop laughing, and he drank more of the sweet alcohol. "A pop-up brothel! I love that. I've got a tagline! 'Bring Your Own Wood'."

Jo spilled the alcohol over his hand when he shuddered with laughter. He drank the rest of it and put down the jar, rolling back into a pile of pillows. "I have something even better. Wait for it"-he narrowed his eyes and made sure all of Mr. B's attention was on him-"We will take care of your wood."

Mr. B choked on some of the smoke so hard there were tears in his eyes. "Lumbersexual carpentry lessons."

Jo relaxed into the pillows, letting his long legs fall to the sides and watching Mr. B in between. His skin burned with heat when he imagined Mr. B blowing all that fragrant smoke over his skin. "Sounds like a big earner."

"I'd wear my suspenders over bare skin." Mr. B smiled … seductively? Or was it Jo's imagination? "I'd wear thick-rimmed glasses, beard trimmed to perfection. I'd get this place to look like the perfect rustic getaway. Plaid blankets, burlap curtains."

"A bed made of reclaimed wood and covered with a vintage bearskin rug," added Jo, discretely rolling to his stomach when his cock got too interested in the vision created before him.

If only Mr. B wasn't so important in his life, Jo would have simply gone for it. But was their friendship worth the risk of having a go at something more? What if he wasn't even Mr. B's type? What if everything changed between them, and he lost his best friend?

Mr. B shifted closer on the mattress and put his pipe away, looking at Jo intently. "I'm single, I'm open-minded, why wouldn't I do it, you know? Just for a while. If we made the whole hipster brothel thing an experience, we could charge a shitload of cash. Sharing economy, right? Someone lacks sex and I have a nice body."

Jo laughed, but even the booze couldn't keep him up in the blissful silliness when Mr. B looked at him so seriously. "Oh... would you be game for that?"

Mr. B's gaze was unfocused, but he nodded. "It would be for guys only, since I'm gay. I like sex anyway. Mr. A's not gonna tell me I'm boring ever again. I can be freaking sexually adventurous. It could be fun."

Jo pushed an entire cookie into his mouth, just to make his silence plausible for those few seconds more. "I mean, I bet people would pay good money for that kind of experience," he said, looking down the chest so broad it had the buttons of the plaid shirt close to popping.

"Imagine you're a gay guy, looking for a unique experience. How much would you pay for a night with me?" As if to distract Jo from the question, Mr. B started unbuttoning his shirt.

Jo froze, his mind going in circles as his eyes hungered for the flesh to be revealed. His brain felt too big for his skull, and he could swear if his cock could get goose bumps, it would have gotten them now. "Like... a million dollars?"

"There you go. I'm bound to make bank. Look. I even have a tattoo to go with it. I don't think you've seen this one." Mr. B opened the shirt, showing off the nicely defined pecs with soft blond fuzz from the chest down. To the side, under the ribs, was a tattoo of an ax planted firmly in a stump of wood.

Without thinking, Jo touched it, sliding his index finger up the elongated handle of the ax and petting the soft, blond body hair. He wanted to just bury his face in it.

Mr. B grinned. "I'm gonna get one that says 'Timber' on the other side."

Jo swallowed and moved his fingers through the hot fuzz. His skin prickled as he traced the rosy flesh. Mr. B was deliciously tempting, like that glazed donut you always denied yourself but absolutely needed to taste. "Here?"

A slap on the wrist pulled Jo out of his fantasy world. "These are valuable goods. You have to pay to play." Mr. B laughed.

"And I don't have that million yet," Jo said, chastising himself for what he'd just done. It was dangerous territory, and the moment couldn't have been any worse.

Mr. B wiggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hand down his chest in a way Jo wanted to. "Well, when you've got a million bucks to spare, and you're up for the Lumbersexual Experience, I'm your man."

Jo smiled, but the joke wasn't really funny to him. Mr. B was completely oblivious to the move Jo had just made, as if Jo were a sexless alien who could not possibly make Mr. B's blood pump faster.

Served him right for never admitting to Mr. B that he might just, possibly-maybe, be bisexual.

Chapter 2

At some point in the night, Mr. B had had to turn his back on Jo to make sure he didn't wake up with a boner poking at his friend's ass. The last thing he wanted was to make Jo uncomfortable, and he liked sleepovers with Jo too much for that to happen. He wasn't exactly perving on a straight friend, but he was only human, so there was no reason for him to not take pleasure from glancing at Jo's body now and then when Jo changed.

But when Jo removed his underwear in front of the train car and walked through the long grass between the trees completely naked save for his boots, Mr. B did indeed perv. While not as tall as him, Jo was trim like a wild cat, his smooth skin a perfect canvas for the morning sunlight and the tattoos covering the greater part of his upper body. Diamond shapes made up graphic depictions of various animals that occupied his arms, chest, and even the broad back above the fine ass t