It contains sex, certainly, but it's mainly intended to be entertaining and erotic.

It was all my Aunt Mary's doing really. She was in Edinburgh for a week, and my sister and I were spending an afternoon taking her around the city centre shops. Mary was in her mid 70's and struggled a bit if she had to walk too much, so by the middle of the afternoon she was flagging and decided that she would treat us all to afternoon tea. However, she was quite clear that the delights of the shopping mall food court and other similar establishments in the city centre were not for her. She wanted a 'proper' tearoom with cake-stands, a real teapot, waitresses and, above all, something which she called 'silver service'. Fortunately we were in the older part of the city by this point so I suggested that we go down to

'Bonnie Prince Charlie's Tearoom', which wasn't too far away down the Royal Mile. To be honest, I had never been in the place and wasn't at all sure what sort of service they provided; 'red', 'blue', 'green', 'silver' - it was all the same to me really. I had passed it often enough, though, and it had always seemed to me to be one of those rather old-fashioned places with circular tables and things like cake-stands and teapots. Hopefully, this 'silver service' would be very much the order of the day in such an establishment.

We got to the door of the tearoom and it seemed to meet with Aunt Mary's approval. On entering she positively beamed as she took in the d?r. It was a mixture of Jacobean and Victorian with a hint of Edwardian thrown in for good measure! The place was about half full and Mary's smile became even more radiant as she noted that every occupied table had a cake-stand firmly rooted in the centre. There were also teapots, sugar-bowls and milk-jugs, all of which appeared to be silver. We found an unoccupied table near the window and sat down. Mary, apparently slightly disappointed that she wasn't going to have the chance to create a scene over the lack of cake-stands, muttered something about 'hoping that they had proper waitresses and that it wasn't one of these awful self-service places'.

She didn't have to wait long to find out. We had hardly had time to settle into our chairs when our 'waitress' came gliding up to our table to take our order. He was in his early twenties, tall and slim with blue eyes, short fair hair and a beautiful, slightly solemn expression! He was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt with a tartan bow tie. The shirt was one of those mostly nylon jobs that clearly showed his well-developed upper body muscles through it. If this was an essential feature of Silver Service then I knew I was really going to enjoy it!

We ordered afternoon tea for three and the waiter busied himself setting the table. Afternoon tea at Bonnie Prince Charlie's turned out to be quite a spread, which meant that our waiter had to make several trips to our table. On his third trip he brought the all-important, loaded cake-stand and it was while he was reaching over to place it on the table that I managed to catch his eye. I smiled and he smiled back. The slightly sad expression gave way to a beautiful, warm grin, which spread across his entire face. It only stayed there for a few moments but I had seen enough to know that I desperately wanted to find out what might make this young man smile some more. I spent some time debating inwardly as to what would be the best way to go about it!

While we enjoyed our tea, our waiter was kept busy serving the other customers. The place was getting busier by the minute. Every time he appeared I couldn't resist sneaking a glance at him. I noticed that when I did so he always appeared to be glancing in my direction at the same time. Probably just wishful thinking on my part, I thought.

'What was that, dear?' I heard Aunt Mary say. Oops! I must have been getting carried away with the situation and thinking out loud. 'What's "just wishful thinking"?' she persisted.

'Oh, nothing really ... just something that was in my mind.' Neither my sister nor my Auntie Mary knew anything about my sexual preference and I certainly wasn't about to enlighten them.

It had been a long day walking round the city shops and we were all tired, especially Mary, so we lingered over tea, enjoying the break from our shopping exertions. This suited me fine since it gave me all the more opportunity to observe this particularly attractive waiter in action.Having consumed the contents of the teapot - was it really silver? - and decided that we would all benefit from more tea it was left to me to summon the waiter to our table once again to order another pot.

'Certainly, Sir'

Was it my imagination or was his voice just a touch camp? He brought another pot of tea and then moved on to a nearby table to deal with a request from the occupants there. It was at this point that I excused myself, stood up and went over to the table to which the waiter was attending. I stood and waited for him to finish and then, when he turned round, I asked him where the 'gents' was.

'Just down those stairs, sir.' He pointed to a staircase at the side of the room. I had already seen both the staircase and the sign saying 'gentlemen' on the wall at the top of it but I wanted to ensure that our waiter was aware that I was headed in that direction..

'Ah, yes, thank you.'

I made my way over to the staircase and started down. I glanced across the room and noted with some satisfaction that he was watching me. Of course he might simply have been making sure that I had understood his directions and was heading in the right direction. Somehow I thought that was unlikely.

I reached the foot of the stairs and found the door of the gents. I went in. Thankfully, the room was deserted. I stood beside the hand dryer and waited. After a few minutes I heard someone coming down the stairs. For about the fourth time I shoved my totally dry hands under the warm air dryer and activated the automatic mechanism. The door opened, I held my breath - and the waiter came in.

Now, I am dreadfully shy in these situations. I have been known to spend hours and hours in a busy gay bar, surrounded by dozens of attractive young men, and not say a word to any of them. I depend very much on someone else starting the conversation. On this occasion the waiter remained silent and I desperately searched round in my head for a suitable opening gambit. Nothing useful came to mind. 'What a nice toilet you have here', didn't seem quite right. Neither did, 'Which urinal would you recommend out of these five?' The old standby, 'Do you come here often?' didn't seem suitable for this particular location, either. At last I managed to blurt out something like, 'Nice tea room, never been in it before'

'Thank you, sir. We try to please though it's difficult to please everybody.'

He was certainly pleasing me at that moment just by being in my presence. I was right; his voice definitely had 'camp' overtones. I noted that he was making no effort to use any of the urinals or to go into any of the cubicles. If he had come for a 'comfort break' it wasn't apparent. I was struck by his use of the word 'we'. He was surely far too young to be the proprietor. I asked him about that. He told me that the business had been started by his grandmother and was now run by his mother, so it was very much a family concern. The conversation might well have dried up after that but he kept it going with an observation that took me completely by surprise.

'You said this is your first time here, sir, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before.' He screwed up his face in concentration for a moment. 'Might it have been in the New Town Bar, sir?' The New Town is one of Edinburgh's more discreet gay bars and the one that I was most likely to frequent on the occasions that I ventured onto the local gay scene. I acknowledged that I was sometimes to be found in the New Town.

'That must be it then', he said, adding, 'I'll be in there tonight when I finish here ... I wonder ... are you likely to be there tonight?' I hadn't been planning on going anywhere later on but I immediately revised my schedule.

'I could well be there tonight. What time do you expect to get there?'

'Well, I finish here around 6.00 so by the time I get home, shower, change and fed myself it'll be about eight O'clock.

'That's fine', I said. 'Eight's perfect - not too early, not too late. I'll see you there then'.

'I'm looking forward to it, already.' It suddenly registered that he had stopped addressing me as 'sir'.

With that he turned and headed through the door. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs as he returned to attend to his customers Such is the manner in which liaisons are made in the gay world. No unnecessary small talk to drag out the proceedings and increase the risk of discovery. Just a mutual interest established and an arrangement quickly made.

I waited a discreet few moments and then ascended the stairs and returned to our table. When I rejoined the other two the cake stand was empty! Aunt Mary was waxing lyrical about Bonnie Prince Charlie's tea room Apparently the cake stands were perfect, they did indeed provide 'silver service' and she could hardly find adequate words to describe the waiter. I could have offered to lend her some of my words to describe him but I doubted that my 76-year-old aunt would want to use expressions like 'gorgeous hunk' or 'highly shaggable' so I just kept my mouth shut and left her struggling to find her own words.

It was just coming up to eight O'clock when I descended the outside stairs to the door of the New Town Bar. Although it was on two floors the New Town's main bar was actually in what would have been the basement of the Georgian townhouse, which towered over it. The other floor was below that in what would have been the cellar. This lower floor housed the toilets and a large function space. On the main floor the bar was in the centre, facing the door, with seating accommodation on two sides and there was a passage running behind the bar, which connected both sides of the room. The passage had wall-mounted shelves and was dimly lit, which made it a popular area for people to stand.

I liked the layout of the bar but it did mean that if you were looking for someone in particular you had to walk right round the place to see if they were there. I did that but could see no sign of the waiter from the tearoom. I emerged from the passage and took up a position on a barstool from where I could see the door. I asked for a vodka and coke and drank it slowly while I waited for my date to turn up. I worried that he might not appear but then reminded myself that it had been his idea in the first place to meet here tonight. Twenty past eight came and went and there was still no sign of him. I started to work out a contingency plan in case he didn't show. I decided that if he hadn't appeared by 8.45 I would just go home.

About 8.30 the door opened and in he came. He glanced round the place, saw me sitting by the bar, came over and sat on the empty barstool beside me.

'Oh my goodness ... I'm really late. I'm so sorry, but the tearoom was really busy ... well, you saw how busy it was ... I didn't get finished 'til nearly seven. I'm so sorry. To emphasise just how sorry he was, and by way of atonement for his late arrival, he stroked my denim-clad thigh with his

hand, his thumb gently brushing against my packet in the process.

Without being asked, one of the bar staff put a drink in front of him, a voddie and coke like mine. He was obviously a well-known regular. I assured him that his late arrival didn't matter at all and, indeed, the truth was that any annoyance I had been harbouring about his non-appearance had evaporated as soon as I had seen him framed in the doorway.

We got talking properly then. Our meeting in the Bonnie Prince Charlie's toilet had been so short that we hadn't even exchanged names. I told him I was Mike and he introduced himself as Angus. I could almost have guessed that; it kind of went with the d?r in his mother's tearoom. I asked him if he lived with his mother but he said he had his own place in the Royal Mile, not too far from the tearoom.

'It's just a small flat but it's fine for me ... you'll like it when we get there.'

Clearly he had the rest of our evening all planned out. I made no comment.

'I thought,' he continued, 'we could just have a couple of drinks here and then go back to my place ... unless you have other plans of course' I had no other plans, certainly none that would get in the way of being taken back to this attractive, young man's abode. 'The thing is that, because I had to work late, I didn't have time to take a shower before I came out, so I'd really like to go back home and have one. I never feel comfortable if I don't get a shower, or a bath, after work. Tonight I think I'm in the mood for a bath.' He added, 'I've got a nice big bath ... it takes two comfortably.'

I wasn't sure if this was an invitation or just a simple statement about the facilities in his place of residence so I let it go and, having assured him that I would love to see his flat, I turned towards the bar and ordered two more vodka and cokes. I had come to the conclusion that Angus, who had earlier told me he was twenty-two, was actually 'twenty-two going on fourteen' so I wasn't sure what to make of his insistence that he show me his flat or his mention of a bath large enough for two.

It wasn't long before I was summoning a cab with my mobile. Twenty minutes later we were back in the Royal Mile, just a few hundred yards from the tearoom. Angus led me into a close, through a stair door and up two flights of stairs to his flat.

Angus's flat was indeed small, inasmuch as it had only one bedroom, but the rooms were all quite large really. He started by giving me a grand tour of the place. It turned out that he had only moved in four days ago and it was his first time living away from the parental home, which went a long way to explaining his almost child-like enthusiasm for it. It was certainly very pleasant and I was intrigued to see the bathroom. The bath was indeed large enough to accommodate two people 'though I reckoned it would have to be 'two good friends' as they say. Still that shouldn't be a problem since in the gay world friendships are usually quickly made. Almost all of the gay relationships that I have come across have been established on the basis of 'sex first and get to know each other later'. If Angus needed a volunteer to help him test the bath's ability to accommodate two people then I was more than willing to make the supreme sacrifice and be that volunteer!

Angus offered coffee and busied himself in the kitchen for a few minutes before eventually returning to the living room with a tray with two mugs, a pot of coffee, a sugar bowl, a jug of milk, two teaspoons and two napkins. I was about to make a light-hearted remark about the unusually high standard of his hospitality but then I reminded myself that I was dealing with a silver service waiter here, so I said nothing. He poured the coffee, handed mine to me and then came round my chair to offer me the sugar and milk. After attending to my needs he sorted out a mug of coffee for himself and then excused himself, saying that he would just start running the bath because 'it takes a little while to fill'. A few moments later I heard the sound of running water, which continued after Angus had returned to drink his coffee.

He finished his coffee quite quickly and excused himself again to go and check the bath. He was away for several minutes and when he did eventually re-appear he was wearing only a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs - the ones with the white waistband. The size of the bulge in the front of them made me fervently hope that I really was going to be allowed to test his theory about the bath's ability to take two.

'The bath's nearly ready,' he said, 'but I need to know if you'd like some foam in it?' This was the first direct indication that I was indeed expected to share with him. His directness took me by surprise but I managed to keep my cool - not easy when a guy that you've recently got the 'hots' for has just walked into your presence, dressed only in a pair of revealing black briefs, and is apparently inviting you to share his bath.

'Errmm ... yes ... some foam would be nice.'

'It's not terribly exotic, I'm afraid. It's just baby-bath stuff.'

'That'll do fine. That's what I use at home.'

'Oh good! I'll just go and organise it then. Leave your clothes on the empty chair in the bedroom and just come through to the bathroom when you've got undressed. If you're shy about being naked you'll find a bathrobe behind the bedroom door. Feel free to wear it.' I assured him that I didn't expect to be shy about being naked. He grinned and disappeared. I stood up and headed for the bedroom. As I passed

the partially open bathroom door I could see him pouring baby-bath lotion into the bath and stirring it with his hand to create lots of foam. He still had his CK's on. Once in the bedroom I stripped down to my Jockey briefs and left my clothes on the unused bedroom chair. Angus's clothes already occupied the other chair. I ignored the bathrobe and, since I knew that Angus was still wearing his briefs, I retained my underwear and headed for the bathroom.

'Oh good,' he said as I entered, 'I was just going to come and look for you. Since you're the visitor you can have the end without the taps. It's ready now, so why don't we just take our knickers off and get in?'

As he spoke he slid his CK's down and stepped out of them, revealing an attractive, uncut cock. It dangled over one of the nicest pairs of balls I had ever seen and was surrounded by beautiful, fair, pubic hair. It wasn't dangling for long. He hardly had time to kick his briefs aside before his cock rose up off his balls. In just moments it was standing out proudly in front of him. He was facing towards me so I couldn't see his bum but from what I had seen of him in his CK's it was a nicely rounded one of the 'sticky-ot' variety.

'After you,' said Angus

I didn't waste any time getting naked and into the bath. As soon as I was settled Angus got in at the other end and sat down with his legs spread wide so that his feet were positioned either side of my hips. That left me with no option but to put my legs straight out in front of me so that the soles of my feet rested against his cock. He smiled one of his gorgeous smiles and I could feel his cock jerking slightly beneath my foot as it tried to get even harder. There wasn't much conversation now. It's remarkably difficult to know what to say to a total stranger when you suddenly find that you're both stark naked and sharing a bath.

The foam floating on the surface of the water acted as a shield, preserving both my own and Angus's modesty. He produced a bar of soap and, leaning forward, he started to wash me all over. The soap quickly killed off the fragile foam so that soon we could see each other below the surface. Angus stood up for a moment and then knelt down, facing me, so that he could reach round my back. Between his legs his erection stuck out proudly. I stood up so that he could soap my bum nicely without the water getting in the way. He didn't restrict himself to washing my bum. His warm soapy hand caressed my cock and balls as he gave them his full attention. Excited by the feel of his hand as he fondled it, my already erect cock reached out even more eagerly towards my young companion.

He handed me the soap and, without saying a word, made it obvious that I was now to wash him. He was still kneeling, so I knelt as well. We were both still facing each other. I washed his chest and his stomach and then he stood up so that I could wash his cock, his balls and his bum just as he had done to me. I still hadn't seen his bare bum but as I washed it my hand told me that, between his beautifully rounded buttocks, Angus had a really inviting, deep valley. My soapy, slippery finger couldn't resist exploring that valley. My fingertip, as it travelled from one end of his butt-crack to the other, ran right across his arse-hole. My exploration was rewarded with another gorgeous smile. Finally, once all the washing was done, he knelt down again, leaned forward and kissed me. As he did so his hand reached forward and played with my stiff cock. I was only too happy to return the favour.

'Let's get dry and go to bed,' he said. 'You will stay the night, won't you?'

'Well, if you're asking ...'

' I'm asking.'

'Then I'll stay.'

'Great! In the morning I'll give you breakfast in bed ... full silver service, of course!.'

That sounded good, but I was hoping that long before breakfast time came round this young man would be serving up a whole range of other delights for me. We got out of the bath, towelled each other dry, then, still naked, and with our erections pointing the way, we ran through to the bedroom.

We slid into Angus's bed and as we snuggled close together, with our hard-ons pressing into each other, I decided that my Aunt Mary had been right all along - clearly 'silver service' is the way to go!

This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:

https://forum.tontonvelo.com/viewtopic.php?t=53731

https://forum.tomshardware.fr/threads/cpu-chauffe.979806/

https://forum.tomosforum.nl/viewtopic.php?t=32705

https://www.tombraiderforums.com/showthread.php?p=8418347#post8418347

https://www.toeff-forum.ch/thread/16602-hallo/