All characters are over 18. All sex is consentual, minimal reluctance. All names are fictional. Please post a comment to help with future stories. Thank you so much.
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Black was such a flattering colour and my peachy bum looked so cute in these tight, black slacks. A funeral demanded a certain level of gravitas but my uniform for today was from my own, snug-fitting wardrobe.
I had arranged to help out a mate who ran a catering company that had been booked for a funeral. He had been let down at the last minute by two workers who had come over all queer. Well so they told him but I had inside info that gossiped about overenthusiastic gay sex and a quick trip to A and E to uncouple a Prince Albert and a tongue piercing. Sexy or what? Certain to be a cock blocker.
Ok whatever.
All I really knew was that I was filling in for two missing guys.
At twenty five and unattached, Paul had been lucky to catch me free on a Friday afternoon. We had settled on a price and I agreed the routine and he promised we'd be finished by eight, leaving plenty of time to get changed and out to the local gay bar for the evening. I had my eye on a cute server and if I played my cards right. Mm Mm. Could be my lucky day, Or night??
I was a bit of a slut and liked nothing better than a big butch daddy who could take control in the bedroom ( if we got that far ) and out of it.
So here I was, black slacks and fitted shirt, dark green waistcoat and bow tie. All five foot ten of me, pouring glasses of bubbly ( not the cheap stuff but certainly not the best ) and circulating and proffering to mourners as they returned from what seemed to have been an emotional event at the crematorium.
I hated funerals. Not a lot of chance to hook up.
They were worse than weddings for drunks but usually were more short lived.
As the mourners arrived back from the crematorium, usually in small groups and couples, I stood straight with one hand behind my back and offered my siver tray as directed.
Most just took a glass without comment but one tall guy said, "Thank the fuck man. I really need one of these."
He downed it in one then reached across and grabbed another.
"Lovely," he said as he sipped this one more discreetly. "And don't go too far baby. I'm gonna need more of these."
He winked and smiled at me. Dark brown eyes, red and blurred with tears, close shaved hair and a nicely trimmed goatee looked me up and down. And he smelled great too.
Oh yes, did I forget to mention? He was black. Very, very black. And tall and toned and just my type. I tried to remain professional but licked my lips in anticipation.
As he moved into the room I followed with my eyes and took in his broad shoulders and narrow hips. Then he looked back at me and winked before joining a group of three other men, all equally tall and attractive.
As I melted and struggled to keep my balance Paul slid up beside me with a full tray of fresh glasses that he swapped for my half empty one and whispered to me,
"Hi Ben. Do whatever you can to keep that guy happy. That's Andre and it's his partner's funeral that we're catering for. Poor bugger was hit by a speedboat on holiday in the Canaries. Rumour has it he was balls deep in some gay tourist at the time and didn't notice what was coming. The boyfriend not Andre. Anyway do whatever you can for him. He really needs a distraction after all he's been through."
Then he walked off to check on the canapes and finger food that I knew should have been out now.
I moved through the growing crowd, offering drinks as I went, until I reached the group that included Andre, and held up the full glasses with a smile. The four men in the group had a facial resemblance that suggested close family, probably brothers. Andre was the tallest and fittest and as I approached he shifted out of his jacket and I enjoyed his muscles in his fitted white shirt. I reached over and took his jacket in one hand.
" Would you let me take care of this for you sir?"
He looked at me with those melting dark brown eyes and smiled.
"Andre please, and I'm sure I can trust you to do a good job for me." He gave me a discrete wink and turned back to his family. I quickly moved to the cloakroom and found a hanger for Andre's jacket. It smelled of his cologne or aftershave or whatever. Mmm much sexier than I had expected and I realised my cock was stiff and I ran my fingers over it, enjoying the sensation.
Now don't get me wrong, a funeral is a funeral but I was never one to turn down an opportunity to make out if I could. We would see what happened later.
I returned to the wake to find lots of laughter and smiles as the champers got to work relaxing everyone. Paul sidled up and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Seems to be going well. No complaints? " and he gave me a questioning look.
"No mate, it's all cool as far as I can tell, and Andre seems ok."
We both looked across at the group of brothers who were now slapping each other on the back as they chuckled and regaled each other with some stories, probably about the dead guy. Well that's what funerals were for, right? Letting off steam and reminiscing.
As we looked at the group Andre looked our way and smiled. He also grabbed his crotch and tugged.
Well I was certainly up for some of that and ran my hand over my still stiff cock.
Paul looked at me and whispered, "Go get him tiger," and slapped me on the bum. At this Andre raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. Well, I needed to collect some glasses so I wandered over.
"Hello again, "said Andre. "How you doing?"
He leaned into me and placed his empty glass on my tray. As he did so he held on to my shoulder to steady himself and I realised he was a bit tiddly.
He was so close to me I could smell his scent and I leaned in closer and steadied his hand with mine. He looked at me with a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eye.
