The Maître D’
Arjun and I arrived in Edinburgh after our overnight flight, settled into the hotel, and explored the city in the fog of jetlag.
Knowing we’d be tired, we had found a pub near the hotel known for its traditional Scottish fare and made a reservation before we left for the trip.
Inside, there was a guy playing Scottish pub songs in the bar area, which was crowded. Working our way to the back, around the bar, to the partially separated dining room, a sexy twunk maître d’ greeted us with a delightful Scottish accent.
He was medium height, thick with some muscle definition, a strong jaw and eyebrows with close set eyes, strawberry blond hair kept buzzed with a stubbly beard. He wore a pair of fitted black shorts and a fitted white t-shirt that hinted at his reddish-brown nipples.
It was hot in the pub, and the maître d’ lifted the edge of his t-shirt, fanning himself, to get air moving underneath, giving us a glimpse of his underwear strap - a red sport brief – and his shallow cum gutters.
I told him about our reservation, and he pointed to the table next to us, jammed in near the bar area and stairs down to the toilet and kitchen. Not ideal.
“Do you have anything else,” I asked. “I would hope our reserved table was in a better location.”
He fanned himself again, showing more of his flat, hard, smooth abdomen. Checking his tablet for tables, he shook his head and apologized. The unusually warm weather had everyone out on the town. He looked up, catching me drinking in the view of his underwear strap and abs.
He quirked a smile. “Sorry, everything else is booked just now. You’re welcome to grab a drink at the bar and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Anything we can do,” I ask, pointedly looking back down at his body, still getting fanned.
He lifted the shirt a bit further, any more and it would have been appropriate in the pub.
“That all depends on what’s on offer,” he says.
I leaned in, whispering close to his ear. “Well, we’d be happy to suck your cock...” I get a view of his muscled mounds in the fitted shorts as I was talking and went for the gusto adding, “…and eat your hot ass.”
His eyebrows dance. Looking at the tablet again, “I’m sure I can get you a good table in 20 minutes. But for the time being, just follow me. I know just how to burn through that wait time.” He winked, patted my bicep, and waved for us to follow him down the stairs. At the bottom of the staircase, we followed him on through a labyrinthine corridor to a secluded staff break room. He ushered us in and closed the door behind us.
“We should be private here for a quick break,” he said, wasting no time in stripping his t-shirt off. He was smooth except for trimmed strawberry blond hair in his pits. His nipples are large, his pecs defined and bulky, his abs like little rolling hills.
Arjun and I traced our hands over his torso, feeling his smooth skin and toned muscles.
He moaned and pulled Arjun in for a kiss.
I leaned over, sucking on one of our Scottish maître d’s nipples and dropped my hand to his shorts, feeling his dick hardening inside.
He moaned and dropped his shorts to the floor, stepping out of them, his package shifting in my grip. His cock was soon at full mast, bulging in the sport brief, cupped by my palm.
“Hot cock,” I breathed, licking his nipple and moving around to his backside, one hand rubbing his underwear clad cock while the other slipped the hems of his briefs into his butt crack.
His ass was just as smooth as the rest of him, and just as meaty muscled with hints of definition.
I licked his cheeks and slapped them around, watching the plump flesh giggle. Pulling on the brief digging into his crack, the friction rubbing along his crack and hole, he moaned louder.
Arjun was passionately kissing him and playing with both of his nipples, pinching, flicking, gently twisting them in his fingers. I pulled the seat of his briefs down, tucked them under his shelf of an ass, and dove into his crack. Tongue probing and lashing about, his ample cheeks hugging my face, his crack just as smooth as the cheeks.
“OH fuck,” he moaned into Arjun’s mouth and thrust in tongue into my husband.
I licked, sucked, nibbled, and rubbed my stubbly facial hair all over his hole and crack.
His moans continued to pour out, and his dick started to drip precum. I spun him around, whipped his 5inch uncut reddish dick out of the pouch and swallowed it whole. While most of his body was hairless, he had a shock of ginger pubes that surrounded my nose and brushed my face.
“FUCK,” he yelled, his entire body contracting. His hands latched onto my head, holding me still, his dick fully in my mouth. I could feel his blood pulsing in his rigid rod, tapping the roof of my mouth with each heartbeat.
Slowly, his moaning calmed and his tensed body relaxed, so I began to suck him in earnest. Backing fully off his dick and sucking it back in, swirling my tongue over the foreskin and probing inside, swirling it over his glans, suctioning onto his foreskin and sliding it over his glans, precum was pouring out, and he was moaning intensely.
Arjun pulled off our maître d’s tongue and occupied the space I’d vacated at his rear and resumed eating his ass.
“OOOH fuck yeah mates,” he cried out, body trembling in tiny waves of pleasure.
Arjun and I paused our attentions and stripped our shorts and underwear off, kicking them aside like the maître d’ had. He grinned, watching us, drinking in the view of our erect cocks, both inches longer than his, and making special note of my gingery bush.
“You’ve got some ginger in you too,” he said.
“Not as much as you,” I replied, running a hand through his thick bush.
“Take some more then mate,” he retorted, wagging his dick in my face.
I sucked him back in and Arjun spread his cheeks once more, his dick entering my mouth as my husband’s tongue enter his anus.
“AAAA YEAH MATES,” he moaned, hand back on my head while his other tweaked his own nipples.
With our dicks out, Arjun and I were jacking them furiously, leaking and moaning right along with the man we were servicing.
One of the maître d’s hands stayed on my head, rubbing my hair and pulling me into his dick while the other left his nipples to clamp onto Arjun’s head, pulling his face hard into his ass.
“Oooooh fuck, oooohhhh fuck, fuck lads,” he moaned. “Fuck. Fuck…”
We both increased our service on his cock and ass, and his moans became raspy, drawn-out whimpers.
“Ooooooohhhhhhhh fffuuuuuck…. Ffffffuuuuuuck… I’m going fffuuuckin’ blow…”
His hips gyrated, thrusting into my sucking. His abs tensed and his hand gripped my head firmly, holding me into his crotch. He squatted a bit, spreading his cheeks open and swung his butt backward in Arjun’s face.
“FFFFUUUCcckckkkkkk… YYeeeeaaaahhhhhh,” he yelled as cum flooded my mouth. His dick was like steel, pressing hard into the roof of my mouth, sliding the length of it as he continued to thrust.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck,” he kept moaning as jets of his load kept spraying my mouth and getting swallowed down my throat.
Arjun slapped our maître d’s ass loudly and my husband moaned even louder into the guy’s ass as he shot his load, mine following right behind, jets of our cum crisscrossing the floor between the maître d’s spread legs.
His moaning calmed down as ours followed suit not long after. I worked the last of his cum from his dick and released him, licking his shaft and cleaning his foreskin; Arjun giving his crack one last lick.
“OOhhhh shit lads,” he moaned, pulling us into a three-way kiss. “You certainly delivered. Now let’s get you to that better table.”
He cleaned up our pool of cum, dressed, brought us back upstairs, and showed us to a newly open table in a much better location.
“I’ll be back to take your order in a moment, but I know you’ve had an appetizer already,” he said with a wink.
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