Semua Bab Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts: Bab 301 - Bab 310

Cole arrived at Riverside Park at 5:45 AM, just like he did every morning. The grass was still wet with dew, and the air was cool and heavy with the smell of damp earth. The park was empty except for the birds and the occasional jogger passing on the far path. This was Cole's favorite time of day. Quiet, peaceful, and his.He set up his training cones on the flat stretch of grass near the oak trees and checked his watch. His first client was due at six. A new one. A guy named Adrian with a four-month-old golden retriever puppy named Biscuit. The intake form had said the dog was high energy and the owner had no experience. Cole heard that same description five times a week. Most of the time, the problem wasn't the dog. It was the owner.At exactly six o'clock, Cole heard the sound of frantic panting and a man's frustrated voice coming from the direction of the parking lot. He looked up and saw a young man struggling across the grass with a squirming, leaping ball of golden fur on the e

Victor sat in his taxi parked on the corner of Fifth and Main, watching the wipers struggle against the sheets of water running down the windshield. It was 2:17 AM on a Wednesday. The city was dead except for the rain and the occasional pair of headlights cutting through the downpour.Victor was thirty-eight. He was a big man, six foot two and solid, with thick arms, a broad chest, and a heavy gut that pushed against his worn leather jacket. He had dark hair going gray at the temples, a thick stubbled jaw, and tired brown eyes. He had been driving a cab for twelve years, and the late-night shift was all he knew anymore. It was quiet. It was lonely. But after his divorce six months ago, loneliness was exactly what he needed.His phone buzzed. A pickup at The Rusty Nail, a bar on the east side. Victor sighed and put the cab in gear, the tires splashing through the puddles already forming on the asphalt.The Rusty Nail was a dive, a cramped little place with neon signs in the windows and

Milo stroked Victor's cock with a slow, twisting rhythm that made the older man's vision blur. Victor's large hands gripped Milo's bare hips, his thick fingers digging into the firm flesh, holding on for dear life. The cab was hot and steamy, the windows completely fogged up, the rain still hammering on the roof."Wait," Victor said, his voice strained. "I want to touch you too."Milo smiled and shifted, reaching down to unbutton his own jeans. He lifted his hips and shoved the tight black denim down his thighs along with his underwear, kicking them off and sending them into the back seat. He was completely naked now, straddling Victor's lap in the front seat of the cab. His cock was long and slim, hard and flushed, the head slick with precum. A trimmed patch of dark blond hair sat at the base.Victor looked at him, his brown eyes wide and burning. He reached out and wrapped his large, calloused hand around Milo's shaft. The younger man gasped, his hips jerking forward. Victor stroked

Thomas arrived at the farmers market at five forty-five in the morning, just as the sky was turning from black to grey. His truck bed was loaded with wooden crates of mason jars filled with golden honey, along with beeswax candles, lip balm, and bars of soap. He set up his booth in the usual spot near the east entrance, unfolding the folding table and arranging the products with a precision that came from years of routine.Thomas was forty-two. He was a big man, six foot one, with a broad chest, thick arms, and large, calloused hands that were always slightly sticky no matter how many times he washed them. He had dark brown hair going silver at the temples, a thick beard that he kept trimmed short, and calm, steady blue eyes. He wore his usual work clothes: a faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, worn brown cargo pants, and scuffed boots. His forearms were tanned and strong, covered in a dusting of dark hair and a few old scars from bee stings and barbed wire.He

Finn pulled off the beekeeping suit entirely, kicking it aside on the grass. He stood in the dappled shade of the oak tree wearing nothing but his damp white t-shirt and his cutoff denim shorts. His legs were lean and tattooed, colorful ink spiraling down from his thighs to his calves. His skin was flushed and glistening with sweat.Thomas looked at him and felt his chest tighten. The young man was beautiful in the sunlight. The tattoos were vibrant against his tanned skin, and the way his t-shirt clung to his lean torso left very little to the imagination. Thomas could see the outline of his nipples, hard from the sudden coolness of the shade, and the subtle ridges of his abdominal muscles beneath the thin fabric."You're staring," Finn said, that lopsided grin spreading across his face.Thomas looked away, his face heating up for reasons that had nothing to do with the sun. "I was checking for bees on you. They land on sweat.""Is that what you were checking?" Finn stepped closer, h