Older Hairy Men Novels & Stories

I didn't want it to be easy for them to be able to locate me. “Why’re you hiding? Show yourselves so I can see you and see the man who has always wanted me dead.” Suddenly, a fire came in somewhere and I stood in the room with four other men, clad in white apparels. From the look of things, I could already tell who was the leader.. He was an elderly man with a round belly and white beards. His eyes were dark and would have scared me if I didn't know better. These men fed in the powers of Special wolves like me and that was the only reason why they were this powerful.

he hurls at me. My stomach churns. I don’t know how he figured it out, but he’s right. The rumors are true. He could totally ruin my reputation if I don’t do what he wants. I’m about to give in when suddenly, a slightly older guy in sleek, beachy loungewear comes swaggering up to us. My eyes are drawn to him instantly. He has the dark, tousled hair of a soap opera heartthrob and the bone structure to match it, visible even with his designer shades on. He’s tall, with broad, strong shoulders and an assured smile on his handsome face. He’s walking right up to us. I feel a rush of relief looking at him. Somehow, I understand that I’m safe now. The older man steps right up and slides his arm aro

I turned just in time to see some men heading in that direction. They were huge. Their shoulders were broad, wider than any door frame I had ever seen. Their arms were like thick tree trunks, full of muscles that flexed with every step. They stood much taller than any man here, towering over everyone like giants. Their chests were broad, their waists slim, and their legs strong like pillars. And their faces… I had never seen men so handsome in my life. Strong jawlines, sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you. Their hair was dark and perfectly kept, and they moved with the grace of trained warriors. Everything about them screamed power and control.

Nivia’s “Luna Nivia, perhaps you could share how the Iron River pack handles this dilemma.” Old fucker numbero uno asked. What did I name him again? Baldie? They’re all pretty bald. Or balding at least. Not that bald men can’t be handsome. Grandpa Os continues to attract attention from women, and he's already almost seventy. That is one handsome dude, as my dad would say. Focus, Nivia. “I apologize,” I said with a smile. “I hardly slept last night; could you repeat the question?”

I don't even know what he said. “Ha? Can you repeat that again?” The old guy gave me a weird look then realized something. “Ibig…ay I mean… uhm, you, Aria?” He gestured his index finger to me. Ahh, now I get it. “Yes, I am Aria, and you are?” “Uh, Ansel, just Ansel, haha.” He laughed. Weird. “I'm your papa… you know? papa butler, hehe,” he confusely stated.

He appeared tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that looked impossibly pristine considering he had supposedly emerged from a place buried beneath Stonehaven. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and despite the darkness surrounding him, I could make out the deep lines etched into his face. He looked to be in his late sixties. Perhaps older. Yet there was nothing frail about him. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had spent his life being obeyed. Marcus didn't lower his pistol. "Identify yourself." The man looked at him calmly. "I don't answer to armed strangers." Marcus's jaw tightened.

OLIVIA. "Please come in," Carl asked the two men who had just arrived at the apartment. I had already seen them the night before, especially the jet-black-haired mastodon who had been accompanying us during dinner. Although the guy in the vehicle that had followed us there, I'd not been able to see him well until now, being a man with hair level with his skull, well shaved in military style, dark brown the color of his bristles, quite corpulent, almost like his counterpart, seconding in the same way the face of few friends that he had.

Though wrapped thickly in blankets, glimpses of their uniforms peeked out at the edges. The two men were also bundled up, though their clothing seemed ordinary—nothing revealed whether they were medical staff. The five women were all attractive, though heavily clothed, so their figures were hidden. The men were different: one was slim, but the other was astonishingly fat, almost spherical. His round face, at most in his twenties, gave off a naive, harmless impression. Clearly, he hadn't paid much attention to his physique. "Uh… how did you end up here?" the slim man asked. He was around thirty, with a scar running from his left eye to his mouth—a mark that screamed trouble.

He must be in his late forties or early fifties because he has gray hair, and his entire presence seems to demand your attention. "Boys!" he shouts. "You are scaring the new customer. Stop." He demands. And you know what? They all stop. It’s almost like autopilot. The men drag one brother to the table closest to the backdoor. He has a hoodie covering his face, and I can’t see his features. "Don’t mind them, missy. They are just boys having a minor argument," he claims. But nothing seems small about that argument. The guy that was at the bottom of the floor has his face facing down the table, and his hoodie is still covering his face. He is breathing heavy. Strands of sandy brown hair slip ou

He added as he seriously stared at us with his coal eyes. “Man, you’re so cheeky,” the browned-haired woman from before replied as she crossed her hands and legs. Another man just beside Black-haired, repulsively spat, “Two versus five? You serious?” He sneered, “Well, that’s better than one versus five though.” This guy is wearing a black hood, failing me to take a glimpse of his exteriors. He’s also wearing some leather hunting boots, concluding that he’s indeed a primitive hunter. Another guy standing beside Black-haired possessed the biggest build among the four and is also the quietest one. An ax in his hand and a horned armor on his head. His skin was leathered, sun-bitten.