Date: Tue, 8 Nov 2016 22:27:13 -0500
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 336  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 336
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The tribe's bosses were together – the gypsy construction boss Randy
... his businessman lover and Superman lookalike Bob ... and the blond
Greek-God motorcycle cop Mark.  The three muscular alpha males were powered
by roaring testosterone and overheated libidos – a mix of love, lust and
mutual admiration that could have only one outcome.  "I call the shots,"
Randy said.  "The cum-shots."


CHAPTER 336 – "ALPHA MALE BONDING"


************ In the previous chapter ***********

The twins had been given their turn in the spotlight – and they dazzled.
First, through subtle seduction and gentle caresses, Kyle and Kevin had
overwhelmed the tough black leather-master Zack and ended up double teaming
him.  "It's a rule we have," Kyle said.  "We share everything equally
... especially an ass."

Later the twins demonstrated to Randy, Bob and Mark the intense, almost
otherworldly love they share with each other.  Shirtless in black leather
pants and boots – identical leather boys, arms stretched upward, wrists
bound – they gazed at each other and made silent love with their eyes,
tongues and lips in the gritty gym/playroom, to the wildly incongruous but
haunting soundtrack of an operatic aria playing in the background.

When it was over, in the ensuing silence, a moist-eyed Bob noticed Randy
and Mark wiping their eyes.  It was a long time since Bob had seen Randy's
emotions spill over into tears.

"Sirs," Kevin smiled, "we want to thank you for a memorable afternoon.  We
had a great time."

"Hey, kids," Randy said, his voice still choked, "this time it's definitely
us thanking you.  You've been ..." he groped for the right words
... "you've given us ..."

Mark helped him out.  "... a beautiful experience, guys."

"Sir," Kyle asked Bob, "if it's OK we would now like to spend some time
alone in our room before we make a start on the evening meal."

Bob gazed at them lovingly.  "Boys, why don't you take the rest of the day
off.  With everyone else away it's only Randy, Mark and me in the house now
and it'll do us good to fix our own dinner.  OK if Randy uses one of your
aprons?" Bob grinned.  "Can't wait to see that look."

"The kitchen is all yours, sir," Kevin smiled.  "And thank you again
... for everything."  The twins left the room, leaving a reflective silence
behind them.

Eventually Bob explained why the twins had wanted the men to watch such an
intensely private act.  "I think they needed to show us the intensity of
their love for each other, how much they are part of each other.  They want
us to see how impossible it would be for them to live without each other.
In a way it was a plea for our protection ... a plea to never let anyone
separate them."

"Yeah," Randy growled, "well you can tell them they never have to worry
about that.  As long as I have breath in my body I'll never let those kids
be split up.  That's my promise to them."

Bob looked at him lovingly, put his arm round his neck and squeezed.  "And
that pretty much says it all.  It's one reason I love you, you big lug."

"Hey, guys," Mark said, lightening the mood.  "I'm still here ya know.  I
thought this was gonna be a three-way afternoon ... three-way lounging
round the pool, three-way effort in the kitchen and ... well, since Jamie's
away, I'd like to invite you to spend the night in my apartment."

"A three-way in bed, you mean," Randy chuckled.  "Well, the twins gave
three-ways a whole new meaning when they worked Zack over.  Maybe we can
take a page out of their playbook."

Bob's eyes sparkled.  "Long time since we spent a whole afternoon and night
together, just us three.  Let's see here – the pool, the kitchen, the
bed – who knows, maybe we can write a whole playbook of our own.  The
story will begin something like this: "A construction worker, a cop, and a
businessman walk into a garden one afternoon and ...  Well, we'll make the
rest up as we go along."

"OK," said Randy leaping to his feet.  "Last one in the pool gets gang
fucked."

Bob rolled his eyes at Mark and sighed, "See?  A one-track mind."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Mark laughed.  "Provided it's
the right track."

They rushed out of the basement, peeling their clothes off as they ran up
the stairs.

*******************************

News of the twins' exploits had naturally spread like wildfire on the
ever-efficient grapevine.  Up at the Grady House, Grady, Mario and their
boys Danny and Brian were spending the afternoon with Pete, Jason, Hassan
and their boys, and the gossip was all about the twins' adventures.

"Man I wish I'd seen that," Grady laughed in his usual merry way.  "Can you
imagine, those gorgeous twins double teaming Zack, then dressing up in
leather?  OK, guys, for the rest of you that's the outfit du jour – the
boys in full leather, topping their masters."  Which set the boys off
competing with one crazy idea after another as their masters smiled
indulgently.

But one of the boys was unusually silent.  Brandon found an excuse to leave
the group by picking up used dishes from the table, piling them on the tray
table of his wheelchair and wheeling himself away into the kitchen.  The
raucous crowd was so engrossed in their noisy story telling that they
barely noticed Brandon leave.

But Pete did.  The handsome Ranger had watched the expression on his boy's
face change from amusement to melancholy as his buddies swapped their
fantasy leather stories.  Brandon had not joined in and had found an excuse
to go off on his own.  Pete followed him and found him gloomily stacking
the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Brandon, look at me.  This is me – Pete.  Now tell me the truth like
you always do."

Brandon plucked up his courage, looked Pete straight in the eye and said,
"Sir, if you ever wanted to take on another boy, instead of me, I would
quite understand.  I mean a proper boy, one who could do what the other
boys were talking about ... run around, dress in leather, stand over their
masters and make them proud.  I can't do that, sir.  I can't walk, can't
even stand, so I can't give you everything they can.  I mean ..."

"Hey, hey stop right there, kid."  Pete sat down next to him and gazed into
his eyes.  "Brandon, let's get one thing straight.  You're my boy and
always will be – only you.  I love you, kiddo.  Where's all this doom
and gloom coming from?  You're usually so tough and optimistic."

"Sorry, sir, I just thought that if ..."

"Well stop thinking right now and leave that to me.  We can sort all this
out later.  When we get back home I've got something I wanna show you, and
I'll tell you the plans I've got for us – just you and me.  And then
I'll take you to bed and make love to you.  How's all that sound?"

Brandon had tears in his eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses but he
blinked them back and a smile spread slowly over his face.  "Sounds great,
sir.  Sorry I kinda lost it there.  But one thing's for sure ... I love
you, sir, and yeah ..." he held his head high "... I'm your boy alright."

"Good to hear it," Pete grinned.  "Now let's get back to the party.

And so, while Randy, Bob and Mark partied hard – a trio of horny alpha
males finding new ways to love – Pete was reassuring his insecure boy
that the power of love overcomes all doubts and fears.  It was as if the
twins' passion had permeated the other men and boys of the tribe, opening
the next, vibrant new chapter of their story.


********************* Chapter 336 *********************

Pete and Brandon were welcomed back to Grady's party and Pete continued to
soothe his boy's doubts and despondency.  He had already made plans that he
hoped would help in that, which he would explain to his boy when he took
Brandon home that evening and made love to him.

Meanwhile, down at the tribe's compound there was not a trace of reticence
or melancholy.  On the contrary, the three muscular alpha males were
powered by roaring testosterone and overheated libidos – a combination
of love, lust and mutual respect.

It had not always been like this.  In the past there had been friction
among the tormented trio, which was perhaps inevitable in three strong,
macho alpha males – the rugged gypsy construction boss Randy; his
businessman lover and Superman lookalike Bob; and the blond Greek-God
motorcycle cop Mark.  Back then the brooding tension that existed between
them had led Doctor Steve, Randy's brother and the tribe's therapist, to
dub them a "toxic triangle".

The problem had originated in Randy's intense and obsessive love for Bob.
Randy was a dominant man who feared nothing, except (irrationally) that Bob
would leave him.  Mark always privately harbored a deep love and respect
for Bob, which was reciprocated, and they had occasionally made passionate
love together.

Fertile soil for smoldering envy and resentment between Randy and Mark!

And inevitably the tense situation had erupted in a brutal fight between
the construction boss and the cop, like rival stallions battling for
supremacy.  But that climactic battle had resulted in a stunning
realization of something long buried and unacknowledged ... the love and
lust that Randy and Mark felt for each other but which had always been
smothered under their rivalry.

Paradoxically the rivalry and the love sprang from the same source – the
knowledge that they were both strong, dominant alpha males who, deep down,
respected the other man's raw masculinity and admired his muscular beauty.
It was a conflict inflamed by lust and, when they finally accepted that
truth, their rivalry was transformed into a solid, masculine friendship and
– in the spirit of the classic, time-honored plea – they made love,
not war.

No one was more delighted than Bob and from then on the toxic trio became
known to the tribe as the triumphant trio – acknowledged leaders of the
clan.

And now here they were together in the rare situation of being alone in the
normally crowded house.  The senior boys were away on a trip out of town;
most of the other men and boys were up at the Grady House; Zack and Adam
were at Zack's house indulging their leather fantasies; and the twins were
snug in their bedroom in their favorite pastime – indulging in their own
sensuous version of brotherly love.

As Bob had said, "Long time since we spent a whole afternoon and night
together, just us three."  Mark had been more graphic: "I thought this was
gonna be a three-way afternoon ... three-way lounging by the pool,
three-way effort in the kitchen and – as my boy Jamie's away – I
wanna invite you to spend the night in my apartment."

After watching the twins' extraordinary display of love for each other the
men were totally juiced up as they shed their clothes running up the stairs
from the basement.  They were naked by the time they reached the top, raced
across the garden and dived into the pool.

At first there was the usual splashing, grappling and wrestling –
resembling not so much stallions as lion cubs tussling, flexing their
muscles and honing their fighting skills.  Their past rivalries were over
but the natural aggression of hot-blooded lusty males, even good buddies,
still found expression in friendly brawling.

But even these men finally ran out of stamina.  Randy, standing chest deep
in the water leaned with his back to the wall and pulled Bob up against
him, both of them breathless.  They gazed into each other's eyes and Randy
said, "So, your twins sure showed us what love between two guys means.  You
think we can match them?"

"If you're asking if I can come just looking into your eyes, I think you
know the answer is yes."

"Well, I was thinking of making it a little easier than that, buddy," Randy
said, glancing over Bob's shoulder.  "What I had in mind was this."

"Aaagh!"  Bob was suddenly pressed against Randy by a driving force behind
him ... the force of Mark's cock plunging into his ass under the water.
"Fuck!" Bob yelled.  "Fuck you both ... this is a conspiracy ... Oooh!"
His protests faded into sighs of pleasure as he felt the cop's long dick
sliding in and out of him and he pressed against the muscular gypsy's hard
body.

"See?" Randy smiled, their faces inches apart.  "Told you that would make
it easier.  Don't I always take good care of my man?"  He waggled his
tongue.  "So where's my reward, buddy?"

Bob heard Mark's deep voice over his shoulder murmuring in his ear.  "Make
love to him, Bob.  Make love to the big guy while I make love to your ass.

"Fuck you both," Bob smiled, then pressed his lips against Randy's.  Their
open mouths clamped together with the familiar feeling of sharing each
other's warm breath, the same air sustaining them as their tongues slid
over each other.  The water lapped round their chests as the three alpha
males joined in the first of many three-way couplings that afternoon.

Bob ran his hands down Randy's flared lats to his waist under water, then
linked his hands behind his waist and pulled Randy harder against him,
their stiff cocks grinding together between them.  Randy ran his fingers
through Bob's tousled wet hair and grabbed his head, holding it captive
while he kissed him roughly.

Bob loved the sensation of being trapped between these two gorgeous,
powerful men proving their love and lust for him and never wanted it to
end.  But eventually Randy pulled his mouth away and stared into Bob's
eyes.  His hypnotic voice said softly, "Now you know what you have to do,
buddy.  Your twins showed you the way.  Show me you love me.  Show Mark you
love his cock in your ass.  Only one way to do that.  Look at me, man
... you love me don't you?"

Whenever Bob saw his own face reflected in the swarthy gypsy's pale blue
eyes the result was always the same.  Impossible to hold back.  "Fuck me,
Mark," Bob sighed, "I love you guys.  Cum with me Randy ... yeah ... now
... now!" ..."

As he felt Mark's cock shudder and erupt inside him Bob smiled into Randy's
eyes (just as the twins had smiled at each other) and together they blasted
a load of semen that floated up to the surface of the water between them.

Mark pulled out of Bob gently and came round next to them.  "Hey, guys, can
I get a lick in here?"  He ran his tongue over their lips as they kissed,
and they invited him to share in their embrace ... a very wet, very
breathless, but positively triumphant trio!

******************************

Soon their three-way kiss collapsed into sputtering mirth that made them
separate in a gale of laughter.  When at last they calmed down Mark said,
"Well, we did promise a three-way in the pool and, if nothing else, we guys
do honor our promises."

"Yeah," Bob said, "and I'm the one who ended up with a dick in his ass –
bastards."  He pressed his hands on their heads, pushed them both forcibly
under water and ran out of the pool.  Randy surfaced and followed him while
Mark reached up and grabbed Bob's leg as he ran by.

The trip sent Bob sprawling on the grass and, in an instant, Randy was on
top of him.  He flipped him over on his back and pushed his legs in the air
while Mark emerged, knelt at Bob's head and clamped his wrists to the
ground.  "Hey, guys, cool it!" Bob shouted.  "We're three intelligent,
civilized guys and – what? – when we're alone together all we can
find to do is fuck?"

"Yeaah!" Randy and Mark shouted together, grinning down at him.

"Animals," Bob said, stifling a grin.  "You disappoint me.  I expected a
bit more sophistication."

"I don't do sophistication," Randy said derisively, "and Mark's a cop."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark objected.  "That all cops are
Neanderthals like you?"

"Hey, who are you calling a `knee-ander...' whatever that was?"

"It means caveman, Randy," Bob said, wriggling free while the gypsy and the
cop were distracted by their sudden playful dispute.  "And I'd say that
nails you perfectly."

"Oh right, caveman again is it?" Randy said, faking indignation.  "That's a
low blow, dude.  Well I can prove I'm no caveman `cos cavemen didn't drink
beer and I could kill for one right now."

There was a momentary stunned silence, then all three men roared with
laughter and collapsed in a heap.  "You know, big guy," Mark laughed, "you
can be a prize idiot sometimes.  Only you could make a segué from
caveman to beer."

"Whad'ya mean?" Randy protested.  "I was serious.  I need a damn beer.
Where are those twins anyway?  They usually come running out right on cue."

Bob rolled his eyes and sighed.  "Randy, if your memory span was longer
than a gnat's you would recall that we gave the twins the rest of the day
off.  They are no doubt making love upstairs even as we speak.  Now that's
sophistication.  And in their absence we're fending for ourselves."

"He's right you know, buddy," Mark agreed.  "And I vote that the guy who is
the most parched for a beer is elected to go to the kitchen and get a
six-pack from the fridge."

Bob looked at Randy derisively.  "I appreciate that the kitchen is
unfamiliar territory for you, Randy, but the entrance is over there to the
left.  And the fridge will be that big tall white thing with two doors
facing you against the wall."

"Asshole," Randy grinned, but he got up and went into the house.  Mark
smiled, "You know, you get away with murder with that guy, Bob.  Anyone
else, he'd slug `em."

"Yeah well I already got a lot of fist-slugs in the memory bank, Mark.
Randy slugged me so often in his real caveman days that the account's full
and we just draw on the memory if things get rough," Bob laughed

"Nah, seriously, Mark, deep down he's still the fist-swinging Texas gypsy,
but he's become much more civilized.  Look at the way he shed a tear
watching the twins.  I wouldn't say it rises to the level of sophistication
– like he said, Randy doesn't do sophistication – but he's even
developed quite a sense of humor.  Oh shit, and here comes proof of it."

They looked up at the weirdly incongruous sight of the naked muscular
construction boss wearing one of the twins' white bib-aprons, a knee-length
affair looped round the neck and tied round the waist, leaving the ass bare
at the back.

The strange thing was that, as absurd as it might look, Randy still managed
to look supremely sexy with his muscular arms and shoulders and his
swarthy, stubbled features that contrasted with the white cotton fabric.
Randy had such strong intrinsic sex-appeal that no clothes could mask it
– even a crazy outfit like this.

He was carrying a big tray loaded with beers, chips and dip that he placed
on a table with a flourish and the deferential statement, "Gentlemen,
refreshments are served.  Is there any other service I can provide you
today?"

Mark jumped to his feet and laughed, "Oh, don't get me started, man."  He
reached round and squeezed his bare butt.  "Beginning with this."

"Forbidden territory," Randy growled.  "Around here I'm known as the
fuck-er not the fuck-ee."

"Oh really?" Mark said, shooting Bob an amused look with raised eyebrows
and a downturned mouth."

Randy took off the joke apron and the three men lounged round the table
buck naked and reached for the beers.  Bob asked, "Now please, Randy, can
you think of something to talk about other than fucking."

Randy twisted his finger tip into his cheek, crossed his eyes, and with a
hillbilly drawl said, "Nope – cain't say as I can, mister."

"You really are the king of assholes, you know that?"

"Yeah, and you're the asshole's lover – what does that make you, the
asshole's dick?"

The mocking banter continued amid howls of laughter as the men relished the
virile company of their best buddies.  Of course they did eventually settle
into conversations not focused on sex, including praise for the twins that
evolved into discussions of all the boys, especially speculation about what
the four senior boys – Pablo, Darius, Jamie and Nate – were up to in
the dunes.

Mark said, "I got a call from Jamie who said there was a lot of sex
happening – no surprise there – and that Pablo had been pulling his
superior `head boy' stunt until they tied him up and fucked some sense into
him."

"Yeah," Randy shrugged, "well he probably had that coming.  Anyone who goes
around spouting all that `I'm-top-man' bullshit to his best buddies needs
to be taught a lesson."

There was a sudden silence as Bob and Mark stared hard at him with
sparkling eyes and sputtering laughs.  "Hey, I was talking about Pablo,"
Randy growled. "Don't get any ideas, guys."

In all their friendly banter, and even their more substantial conversation,
the subject of sex hung always in the air despite Bob's plea to the
contrary.  The only question was when, not if, it would rear its head
again.  That answer came when they went to the kitchen.

********************************

Hunger, of course, caught up with them soon enough, along with the
realization that they were on their own when it came to food.  "Shit damn,"
Randy said, "where are the twins when you need them?  I know, I know,
upstairs fucking – a word I'm banned from mentioning apparently."

"Oh you can mention it, dude, but right now you have to choose between
fucking and eating."

"Huh, you got me there, pal.  Tough choice – I got big appetites for
both.  OK, eat first, fuck second.  Never thought I hear myself say that."

The three men had been spoiled by having two young gourmet chefs to make
sure their stomachs were filled.  Not today, though.

When Bob had chided Randy that the kitchen was unfamiliar territory to him,
the same could apply to all of them, except that Bob had some rudimentary
skills as he enjoyed working with the twins sometimes.  But they always
gave him directions and this time he was in charge.  "Hmm," he mused, "it's
like the start of a bad joke ... three musclehunks in a kitchen.  Not very
promising."

Fortunately the twins had been their usual thoughtful selves before they
disappeared upstairs.  "Well look at that," Mark said, "those kids put out
for us everything we're gonna need ... three big salmon steaks, potatoes
for baking and bunches of spinach.  They've even laid out all the herbs and
stuff that we'll need."

"Yeah, now all we have to do is cook it," Randy said morosely.

"No problem, men," Bob grinned.  "We've met worse challenges than this.
Unfortunately, Randy, fists won't solve this one.  Calls for a delicate
touch."

"I don't have no delicate touch," Randy pouted.  Bob chuckled.  "Tell me
about it!  Never mind, buddy, just follow my lead and do what I tell you.
I suggest you wash the spinach.  I think even you can handle that.  You
just throw it in the sink and turn on the tap."

"Mark, you mix the sour cream and yoghurt and other stuff the twins left
there for the potatoes and I'll get the steaks ready for the oven."  With
varying degrees of willingness they got to work.

If Darius had been there with his camera he would definitely have
proclaimed this `one for the archives' – three muscular, buck-naked
alpha males with semi-erect cocks grappling with the mysteries of a
kitchen.  A ham-fisted Randy got more water on the floor than he did on the
spinach.  Mark cursed softly as he stood at the butcher-block table trying
to measure out the confusing ingredients.  Bob had the most success
spreading herbs and spices on the steaks ready for roasting.

Then Mark had a spill.  The butcher-block island in the middle of the room
was where the twins usually chopped, mixed and prepared ingredients.  But
they knew what they were doing, which is more than could be said of Mark.
He was whipping the sour cream in a bowl with such force that his hand
slipped, the bowl shot forward over the front of the table and crashed to
the floor.

Reflexively Mark lunged forward frantically in a futile attempt to catch it
and ended up splayed across the table on his stomach, his arms reaching
down to the floor trying to pick up the shattered pieces.  "Shit fuck
piss," he groaned, "the motherfucker got away from me."

Bob laughed, "Cop – beaten by a bowl," as he stared at the naked man
sprawled across the butcher-block.  But Randy's gaze was more sharply
focused on the bare ass pointing up at him – almost begging for it."

"Shit damn," officer he grinned, "why do you do this to me?  You know I can
never resist an invitation like that."  He spat in his hand, grabbed his
semi-erect cock and, with just a few strokes, made it hard as steel.  He
pressed down on the small of Mark's back and drove his thick cock between
the exposed ass cheeks and deep down his chute.

Mark's head, hanging over the other edge of the table, jerked up and he
yelled, "Aaah ... fuck you, man."

"No, fuck you, officer," Randy laughed.  "You know what they say, dude
... if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.  Except I don't
think that's an option for you right now, buddy."  Randy looked up and
winked at Bob.

Bob walked to the front of the table where Mark's head was again hanging
down in submissive acceptance of the inevitable butt fuck.  Bob grabbed his
tangle of blond hair and pulled his face up, inches away from his already
rigid dick.  "Sorry about this, buddy," he smiled.

Mark looked up at the stunning body and face of the man he loved and
grinned, "I'm not.  Go for it big guy."  He opened his mouth and ... "mmm"
... he felt Bob's warm, thick shaft slide down his throat."

Randy was having a ball.  He was careful not to pound hard – this was a
love fuck, not a revenge fuck – as he shifted his hands and pressed them
now on the rock-hard cheeks of the cop's ass while he pushed his cock
between them like a slow, steady piston.  He gazed down at the rippling
muscles of the cop's broad back, then up at Bob's face glowing blissfully
as he fucked the handsome Greek-God face.

"Well, buddy," Randy said, "one thing's for sure.  If a guy's gonna get
spit-roasted, best place is the kitchen.  And you don't even have to fire
up the oven.  Let's show the police officer how much we love him, buddy."

Bob grinned, "Well cops are pledged to `protect and serve' so I guess this
is the `serve' bit."

At that comment Mark choked on Bob's cock, which had less to do with his
gag reflex than his smothered laugh.  He reached up and grabbed Bob's
waist, raised his eyes and gazed lovingly at Bob as he feasted on his cock.
"Eat it, man," Bob smiled.  "God it looks so hot, that gorgeous face
getting fucked, those sexy lips wrapped round my cock."

As the three muscle-gods settled into a sensuous three-way fuck they were
not entirely unobserved – or at least unheard.  The twins' bedroom was
immediately above the kitchen and, lying nestled together in bed, they had
heard the clumsy sounds of the trio's attempts at cooking their dinner.
The brothers grinned and winced as they imagined the scene.

When the mixing bowl crashed to the floor Kyle said, "Ouch. Sounds like
things are not going as planned.  Bet that was Randy."

"Nah," Kevin giggled.  "Bob would never let him near our chinaware.  Ever
hear the phrase `bull in a china shop?'  It was probably Mark."

"Prob'ly.  It's quieter now, except for all those grunts and groans.
Wonder who's getting fucked."

"Not Randy, I bet.  He's like Pablo – always boasts that he's top man."

"You're right, bro.  But you heard what the guys did to Pablo in the dunes.
Group fucked him real good ... brought him down to earth with a bump.  If
Randy pulls the same shit, Bob and Mark won't let him get away with it for
long."

The twins' speculation was pretty close to the mark.  They knew better than
any of the others the dynamics and cross-currents in the tribe and observed
it all with detached amusement – just as they were listening now.  And
the volume was about to increase.

Mark had been subjected to his buddies' cocks for some time now, one
driving into his ass, and the other filling his mouth, with a rhythmic
pounding that made his muscles flex and his cock shudder on the table
beneath him.  The two men he loved were using his magnificent body,
sprawled on the table, and he knew he couldn't last much longer without
busting his load.  His arms tensed and he tightened his grip on Bob's
waist.

Bob felt the tension and knew what it meant.  He pulled out and said, "You
ready, Mark?"

"Sure, man.  I wanna drink you."  He turned his head to look back over his
shoulder at Randy.  "You hear that mother-fucker?  I'm real stoked ... I
gotta shoot."

As always in these situations it was Randy who called the shots – the
cum shots.  "OK, suck dick, big guy."  Again Mark clamped his mouth over
the long shaft and Randy smiled across his muscled back at Bob.

"You gorgeous son of a bitch, let's fill up the cop with our jizz, show him
how much we love the big stud."  Then louder (loud enough so the twins
heard), "OK, men, let's do it!  Shit damn this feels good."  He pounded ass
harder, Bob sank his cock deep down Mark's throat and ... "aaagh!" ... they
poured semen into the blond cop's ass and mouth.

A muffled scream came from the gagged cop as he swallowed hard, his body
bucked and his cock erupted with hot juice that spread beneath him all over
the butcher-block table.

Upstairs, Kyle smiled at Kevin.  "At last ... took them long enough.  Now
maybe we'll get some peace and quiet ... as long as they don't burn down
the kitchen."

"Yeah, but what worries me is the mess the kitchen will be in.  You can
only imagine – floor and counters smothered with food, broken china,
liquid – won't be able to tell the difference between semen and
sour-cream.  We should make them clean it up."

"Yeah," Kyle grinned devilishly.  "You know what we should do?  Put on
those leather outfits Zack gave us and crack the whip making those naked
musclemen crawl around swabbing the floor.  Then we'll cum all over them
and make them clean that up too."

They giggled at the improbable scenario and cuddled closer.  "Well," Kevin
smiled, "a guy can dream can't he?"

**********************************

Despite kitchen chaos and a spit-roasted cop, the meal was surprisingly
good.

Of course, there was a lot of confusion at first as a cop sprawled naked on
the butcher block doesn't leave much room for anything else, so the herbs
and condiments carefully set out by the twins had gone flying.  Bob brought
out replacements – or as many as he could remember – and the salmon
steaks got properly seasoned and roasted, the potatoes got oiled and baked,
the topping got mixed and the spinach got steamed.

They even made an attempt at cleaning up the kitchen, though not to the
exacting standards of the twins, and it was a self-satisfied trio that sat
round the table by the pool.  Bob had insisted they dress for dinner, which
consisted of pulling on boxer shorts.

Of course, one thing they had found in the kitchen with no difficulty was
the wine, which they now swallowed with relish.  Randy raised his glass and
said proudly, "Well, guys, we did it!"

"Er, are you talking about cooking dinner or spit-roasting me?" Mark
grinned.

"Well both," Randy boasted.  "Not often a cop and a salmon get roasted at
the same time."

"Randy," Bob said dismissively, "you make it sound as if you accomplished
both single-handedly.  You may have taken the lead fucking Mark but, as I
recall, your culinary contribution was minimal at best.  Basically washing
the spinach."

"Well at least I didn't end up spilling it all on the floor like our police
officer pal here."

"Hey, I could have caught that bowl if you hadn't nailed my ass first,
mother-fucker."

And so the high-spirited conversation seguéd rapidly from sex to salmon
and back to sex.  They did for a while talk about the tribe, the men, the
boys and their work, but there was a subtext that Randy did not pick up on
but which Bob and Mark were acutely aware of as they exchanged secret
glances throughout the meal.

It was actually a mirror image of what had happened with their boys on
their trip to the dunes.  They too had indulged in some wild group sex
right from the start, but Jamie, Darius and Nate had nursed a growing
desire to, as Darius had put it, `knock that boss's-boy bullshit' out of
Pablo, the self-described top man of the group.

Pablo and his master Randy were cut from the same cloth – the boss and
the boss's boy – and Pablo had even used the same terms as Randy –
fuck-er and fuck-ee – seeing himself most definitely as the former.
Just as Pablo had attempted to fuck the cop's boy Jamie, so Randy had
ploughed the cop himself in the kitchen.

Normally the boys followed the example of their men, but here the sequence
was reversed.  Bob and Mark loved Randy like crazy, but even in the
playful, rambunctious atmosphere of this man-fest they still felt the need
to puncture his inflated self-image.  The boss's boy had been group-fucked
into subservience and it looked like the boss himself was to meet the same
fate.

But Bob and Mark knew that, unlike Pablo, Randy could not be man-handled
into submission.  He was too tough for that ... in physical strength he
really was the boss.  But Bob had a more subtle arsenal of persuasion.

Randy had previously boasted that, in training the twins how to win a
fight, he had taught them to first spot the rival's weakness.  Bob was an
old hand at this and knew exactly how to push Randy's buttons and play on
his weakness.  Randy's belief in himself as the undisputed boss meant that
he always rose to a challenge ... it was bred in the bone ... he couldn't
resist.

So that's the soft spot Bob went for.  "Man, how about those twins today,
uh, overpowering Zack and double fucking him?" he said, referring to the
earlier scene of the twins' triumph.  He glanced meaningfully at Mark who
picked up his cue.

"Yeah but you know, not many men have the guts to let themselves be used
like that.  Hell, Zack could have thrown those kids off in a second if he
chose to, but he wanted to give them the thrill they were looking for.
Most macho guys would be too insecure to let their buddies see them take
two dicks in their ass at once – especially getting double-teamed by two
boys.  But Zack is one of a kind, as tough as they come.  He has nothing to
feel insecure about."

"Hey," Randy protested, "that don't prove how tough a guy is.  Don't get me
wrong, I admire Zack's strength, but hell, taking two dicks in your ass
don't prove nothin'.  I can take Zack in a fight anytime and I can do
anything he does and more."

There was an uneasy silence as Bob and Mark exchanged looks that showed
they were unconvinced.  Randy shot surprised looks at each of them.  "What?
You don't believe me?"

"You would let the twins double-team you while everyone watched?" Bob asked

"In a heartbeat.  And I could take bigger dicks than theirs too."  He saw
the others exchange smiles and the penny dropped.  "Ah, I get it now, I
know what you two assholes are up to.  Well it won't work – I'm not
falling for that."

Mark and Bob high-fived each other and Bob laughed, "You won your bet,
dude.  You said he didn't have the guts and I didn't believe you.  I guess
Zack's the bigger man after all."

"Now wait just a goddam minute here," Randy said, springing to his feet.
"You," pointing at Bob, "get down on the goddam grass – right there
where Zack was."

Meekly Bob got up from the table and lay on his back on the lawn, looking
up at Randy as if scared of him – a look that always turned Randy on
like crazy.  Randy reached down, ripped Bob's shorts off him and knelt down
beside him.  "I want this rock hard, man."  He closed his mouth over Bob's
already stiff cock and brought it to the required `rock hardness'.

He leapt to his feet, dropped his shorts and stood astride Bob like a
colossus, glaring down at him.  "You think I can't fucking take this?  You
know damn well I can take anything, starting with your schlong!"  He
dropped to his knees astride Bob's waist and in one bold move dropped his
ass onto Bob's wet rod, riding it all the way down without even flinching.

"Feel good, man?  You like fucking the big guy's ass?  Well try this ..."
He rose and fell rapidly on Bob's cock, sitting on it hard, letting it
penetrate deep inside him.  It was typical of Randy's legendary savage
fucks, except that this time it was his own ass getting pounded, almost
like he was fucking himself – blurring the line between fuck-er and
fuck-ee.

Bob was blown away, staring up the swarthy muscle-god gypsy with his
stubbled jaw and long black hair, his ass riding his cock.  Straddling Bob
like a rodeo cowboy astride a bucking stallion, the man was a homoerotic
icon of machismo, even when he was getting fucked in the ass –
especially when he was getting fucked.

"Don't you cum yet, man," he commanded, feeling Bob's cock shudder inside
him.  Then he looked back over his shoulder and shouted to Mark, "What are
you waiting for, officer?  Come on, let's see what you got."  Randy leaned
forward, his face now directly above Bob's and Bob opened his mouth to
drink the sweat that dripped from the gypsy face.

Jumping into the action Mark took off his shorts and his cock sprang out,
iron hard, already dripping pre-cum from watching the two handsome lovers
fuck.  He knelt close behind Randy and pressed the head of his dick at the
point where Bob's cock entered Randy.  He waited until Randy pushed back
onto Bob's rod and drove his own in on top of it.

Randy's body shuddered with the impact and Mark expected an agonized yell.
But there was no howl of pain.  The only reaction was Randy staring
unflinchingly at Bob and saying, "See, buddy, that's how a real man takes
two stud cocks in his ass ... how he gets double-teamed by his buddies.
OK, guys, let's go for it," he yelled and moved faster, sliding his ass
back and forth on the two long shafts.  The sensation for Bob and Mark was
mesmerizing as they felt their cocks sliding against each other in the
gypsy's hot ass.

Bob stared in disbelief at the pale blue eyes gazing resolutely down at
him.  But, knowing Randy intimately, sensing his every mood, he glimpsed an
almost imperceptible grimace in his eyes and knew that Randy was enduring
more pain than he let on.  Bob didn't expect Randy to verbally submit, but
submission can take many forms and he was about to see one of them.

Randy, a seasoned fighter, knew that the best form of defense was attack
... and the fact that his own ass was under attack made no difference. His
pride would not let him submit to these guys ... but he could make them
cum.  He could always make a guy do that.  So, despite the pain, he stepped
up the force of the two pistons driving inside him by pounding his ass on
them harder and faster.

"That all you got, men?" he shouted.  "Come on, guys, fuck!  Fuck my ass.
Fuck the boss's ass, make him bust his load all over his lover."

It was everything short of pleading.  He grabbed his own cock and stroked
it.  "It's what you want, right buddy?" he said to Bob.  "You wanna feel my
jizz pouring all over that gorgeous body of yours, over your face?  You
wanna drink my cum, I know you do.  Feel the cop's dick sliding against
yours in my ass?  You make him cum in me and I'll splash my juice all over
you."

Bob stared up at the laser blue eyes penetrating his and said, "Yeah, I
want it, man.  I want it real bad.  My cock feels so hot in your ass, I
gotta cum.  Oh shit ... Mark, cum with me, buddy.  You ready?"

"Let's do it, man," Mark yelled "... let's shoot together inside him.  Damn
that feels hot.  I love you, guys ... yeah ... fuck ... fuck ... Aaagh!"

That was all three men howling like animals, the sound bouncing round the
garden and echoing over the sunbaked hills.  Feeling two simultaneous
explosions of juice deep inside him, Randy pumped his dick and blasted a
ribbon of cum that arced up high in the air and splashed down into Bob's
open mouth."

The clamor faded into silence as they let their cocks drain, let their
heartbeats slow and their breathing subside.  Then suddenly Randy rose up
off their cocks, leapt to his feet and stood astride Bob, his eyes gleaming
in triumph.  If he had beaten his chest and given a Tarzan yell they would
not have been surprised.  But instead he grinned and said simply, "Thanks
guys," and performed a graceful swan dive into the pool.

Mark pulled Bob to his feet, they wiped off their cocks and sat at the
table.  As Mark poured more wine he smiled at Bob.  "The guy's amazing.
Even when he's getting fucked by two big cocks at the same time he manages
to come out on top.  I feel like it's us who just got jackhammered.  How
does he do it?  Does he feel no pain?'

"Oh yeah he does," Bob chuckled.  "Look at him now, sitting in the pool
with his back to the wall against the warm-water jet, letting it soothe his
ass.  It's plenty sore and, yeah, he felt real pain.  Not that he'd ever
admit it.  `Real men' never show weakness – another of his sayings."

Mark smiled.  "Been one hell of a day, Bob.  I love you guys so much.  You,
er, still gonna spend the night at my place?  Randy too?"

"Of course we are, dude ... you, me and Randy ... especially Randy now that
he's once again proved his top-man status.  And, er, maybe we can get some
sleep too?"

"We'll see about that," Randy shouted from the pool, always getting the
last word.

Upstairs from their bedroom window the twins looked down at the garden
having witnessed the whole scene.  "So dude," Kevin said, "who do you think
came out the winner there?"

"They all did," Kyle laughed.  "Winning and losing is a thing of the past
for those guys.  Now they're equals and, more important, in love."  He
sighed.  "No, the only loser in all this is our kitchen.  Come on, bro,
let's go down and survey the wreckage."

**************************** *************************

Meanwhile, up at the Grady House the afternoon had passed with just as much
gusto and laughter as the three men in their macho bonding down at the
tribe's house.

After their brief chat in the kitchen Pete and Brandon had rejoined the
party where they were greeted warmly.  Grady and his guests had all put two
and two together and realized that something was the matter.  They guessed,
correctly, that it probably had something to do with their boisterous
conversation about leather boys strutting around and standing defiantly
over their masters.

But one thing they had all learned from way back is that the last thing
Brandon ever wanted was for guys to make special allowances for him, either
in what they did or said.  There was to be no tiptoeing around the fact
that Brandon was in a wheelchair.  So their conversation resumed unabated
and Brandon smilingly joined in.

After all, he was back with the three amigos – himself, Eddie and Ben
– and their pals Danny and Brian, with Grady as circus ringmaster
endowing the gathering with his charismatic charm and bubbling sense of
fun.  The Grady House was a House of Mirth.

Through it all Pete kept a close but discreet eye on Brandon.  He was a
brave, independent boy but Pete knew that occasionally his awareness of
being different from the other boys reared its head and triggered a
melancholy mood for a while.  Pete loved Brandon for his strength and
courage and saw part of his job as his master to help him maintain his
usual optimism and make sure he didn't lapse back into sadness and
insecurity.

Pete also knew that with Brandon you could not sweep feelings and problems
under the rug.  Part of Brandon's strength came from confronting issues
head on.  Which is why, when they got back home and settled down with a
late-night brandy, Pete looked Brandon in the eye and said, "Brandon, that
little chat we had up at Grady's this afternoon.  We didn't get into it too
much at the time, and I know how you like to talk things out, so do you
want to talk about it now?"

"Yes please, sir.  Like I said, it was when the guys started kidding around
about doing what the twins had done – you know, dressing in leather,
walking around preening, and standing legs astride over their masters, that
I tried to imagine myself doing the same thing for you ... but of course I
couldn't `cos I'm in this frigging wheelchair."

"But, kiddo, I always thought you had come to terms with that long ago.  I
mean you're so independent and so cheerful, something I love about you."

"Yeah, most of the time, sir.  But underneath all that the truth still nags
at me and sometimes, out of nowhere, it rises up and socks me in the
kisser.  Face it, the real truth is that I'm not like the other guys and
never will be."

"But Brandon, that's what makes you so special for the other boys.  They
love you for being so brave and think of you as their hero."

"But that's just the point, sir!  I don't want to be special or brave or
anyone's hero.  I just want to be an ordinary, regular guy, no different
from the other boys.  I want to be like a normal boy for you, sir, so we
can do things together – all the things you want me to do."

"Brandon," Pete smiled, "I won't insult you with the platitude that you
already do all those things.  But if words don't work, maybe deeds will.
He went to a closet and pulled a package from the top shelf.

"You remember that time when we went out to the desert as part of Zack's
motor-cycle gang – me on a Harley riding next to you on that nifty
motor-trike of yours?  Darius lent you one of his leather outfits and a
spare helmet and you looked terrific.  So after that I went right out and
bought you this.  I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you
... and now's the moment."

Brandon took the package and ripped it open.  His eyes opened wide as he
saw a full leather outfit ... chaps, vest, sleeveless leather shirt, the
works.  "And there's these too."  Pete pulled off the shelf black boots and
a badass skull-cap helmet – "like those Hell's Angels wear."

Brandon's eyes brimmed with tears, he leaned forward and threw his arms
round Pete's neck.  "I love you so much, sir.  It looks awesome."

"And that's not all.  There's a reason I'm giving it to you now, kid.  See,
I'm off work for a few days so I called Uncle Mike out in the desert.
Right away he invited you and me to take a run out there and stay with him.
You seem to be a favorite of Mike's after what you did for his nephew
Brian, and as I recall you were a big hit in the leather bar Mike owns."

Brandon opened his mouth but Pete said, "You don't have to decide now.  I'm
sure as hell going `cos I could use some desert sun and the company of the
guys out there.  But ... what with this depression you're in ... I'll quite
understand if you don't feel like coming, afraid you'd be out of place
among all those guys – you know, like you said, too different from them
all ... can't do what they do.  So if you'd rather stay home, I understand.
I'll only be gone a few days, so ..."

"Sir," Brandon said, blinking back tears behind his black rimmed glasses,
"Please stop.  I know just what you're doing – trying to jerk me out of
my funk by throwing my own words back at me.  I never heard such bullshit.
Hearing it coming out of your mouth makes me feel stupid ..."

"So you'll come?" Pete beamed.

"Sir, if you try to leave me home I'll get all dressed up in my new leather
gear and follow you on my bike.  And you know it's got a ton of power and
can overtake your Harley any day of the week.  So I'm afraid you're stuck
with me, sir, and so is Uncle Mike."

Pete roared with laughter and said, "That's my boy.  Besides, in the future
when the twins cater Mike's party for all his leather buddies they're gonna
wear the leather outfits Zack gave them.  They'll ask you to help them and
you have to look the part, right?"

"Right, sir."

"OK, here's what's gonna happen now.  We're gonna shower together – and
if you wanna suck my dick in there that's allowed – and them I'm gonna
take you to bed and make love to my boy.  In the morning we'll get up
early, you'll call Bob and ask his permission to take a few days off work.
And if he says yes, we'll suit up in our leather and hit the road.  How's
all that sound?"

"Sounds perfect, sir."  He blinked excitedly.  "You know, whenever the
other guys go to the desert they always seem to have some kind of
adventure.  Think that'll happen to us?'

"I'd bet money on it kiddo.  OK, let's hit the shower."

*************************************

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 337


Hey guys, this is Rob Williams.  I hope that chapter got you off, and I
welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in
planning future chapters.  E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, I invite you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can
read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including
pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great
artwork.  Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or
click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses.  Enjoy