Date: Thu, 22 Dec 2011 02:52:00 -0500 (EST)
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: A Trial Of Strength - Part 61  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 61
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER Steve, the virile, macho stud, tries to suppress his
mounting lust for Randy, but he's losing the fight.  "He entered a world he
had never dreamed of.  He was lost.  He gazed awestruck at Randy.  He was
such a fucking ... man!  The ultimate, dominant male, the dark, demonic
King of the Gypsies was going to fuck the square-jawed Superman face of
Bob, kneeling shirtless before him."

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

As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions.  They can be very
helpful.  E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, NOW YOU CAN VISIT MY WEB-SITE: You can read the whole story, all the
many chapters, with extras, on my web-site www.atrialofstrength.com.
There's even a picture of me!  Also, click on the Support tab, go to the
Contact Us page and send me your comments and story ideas.  Enjoy!

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


A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 61

He knew that it had been the most incredible orgasm of his life.  But
that's just about all Steve remembered.  Last night was something of a
blur.  He must have been thinking of his girlfriend, Connie as he pumped
his cock and creamed his shorts.  And yet ...

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

Steve and Randy had become good buddies during the course of Randy's anger
management therapy.  It was a guy thing as the therapist and the patient
got to know each other, talked a lot, became workout partners at the gym.
Maybe it was because they looked exactly like each other that they got on
so well.  But they were nothing more than buddies.  Steve was a ladies' man
... `Steve the Stud,' they called him ... and he was happy fucking a
different girl every night.

But then one night Steve slept over at Randy's house.  They shared a bed
and while Randy slept soundly Steve was restless.  He thought first of
Connie and began to stroke his dick.  But his mind drifted back to when he
had first met Randy.  He saw the dark, gypsy face telling his life story
over lunch.  He thought of his body flexing in the gym.  He saw him
stripping for bed.  Now he was beside him, here, naked in the same bed.  He
heard him, smelled him, felt his incredible warmth.

He couldn't focus on Connie.  As if in a dream be became submerged in the
sound, the heat, the scent of this man ... his very maleness.  He stroked
his cock harder, started to sweat ... and then, suddenly, his dream was
broken by the sound of a muffled shout.  It was his own.  He felt a sticky
wetness in his shorts and realized he had just had an orgasm ... was still
having it as jets of cum continued to pour into his shorts.  It was the
most spectacular orgasm he had ever had.

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

The next morning he put all this out of his mind.  Probably just a wet
dream.  He and Randy worked out hard in the downstairs gym and took a
shower.  Over breakfast the conversation was as lively as ever as Darius
and Pablo fell over themselves to serve and to please this exciting new
man.  The meal was almost over when they heard car doors slam outside.

"Great," Randy beamed.  "The guys are back."  Bob, Mark and Jamie had been
away for the night in San Diego.  As they came in Randy clapped Mark on the
shoulder and hugged Bob.  "Hey guys, you're early.  You must have burned
rubber on the freeway.  He turned toward the table.  Steve, you know Mark
already of course."

"Hey, big guy," Steve said.  "You're looking great as usual."

"Hi, Steve.  Been a long time.  Let me introduce Jamie."  They shook hands

"And this," said Randy proudly, "is my buddy Bob I've talked so much
about."

Bob and Steve faced each other for the first time.  As their eyes met they
both had a sharp, involuntary intake of breath.  A deep silence fell over
the room, a frozen moment.  You could have heard a pin drop.  All eyes were
on Bob and Steve.

Then, suddenly, it was Jamie who jerked them back to reality.  "Hey, guys,
you're never gonna believe the security gear we brought back from San
Diego.  Cameras, monitors, the works.  Come and look."

The freeze-frame jolted back into a frenzy of activity as the three boys
ran out of the house and Steve looked at his watch.  "Hell, I gotta get to
work.  I'll have patients lined out the door.  Hey, Randy, thanks for the
workout.  Mark, good to see you again, man.  Bob, great to meet you at
last."  They shook hands and held each other's eyes for another long
moment.  Then he was gone.

Mark went off to get ready for work and Bob and Randy were left alone at
the table.  Randy grinned over his coffee cup.  "So what was all that
about?"

"You noticed."

"Hard to ignore a bolt of lightning."

"It's just that he looked so much like you."

"And that's all it was?"

"Sure ... well, he's very impressive ... everything you said he was.  I can
see why you guys get on so well."

Randy grinned.  "Anyway, we're safe there.  Steve's really into the ladies,
a real stud."  He laughed.  "I even have a feeling he jerked off last night
thinking about his girlfriend Connie.  I missed you sleeping next to me,
buddy.  Wanna make it up to me?  We've got half an hour."

He put his arm round Bob and they walked quickly upstairs to the bedroom.

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

Randy's next therapy appointment wasn't for another four days, so Steve got
on with his life as usual ... well, almost.  He had a full slate of
patients and, professional as ever, concentrated on them and their needs.
Some of them droned on a bit, though, and at moments like that the
therapist's attention wandered momentarily.  The image that came most often
to his mind was Randy's smiling face, his pale blue eyes, tousled black
hair and square, stubbled jaw.  Jesus, he's a handsome dude, Steve thought.

When he did not have the distraction of patients, when he was reading or
making notes, Steve's thoughts again wandered to the extraordinary man he
had met so recently, the man he had described as `The King of the Gypsies.'
Late one afternoon he sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head
and smiled as he remembered Randy working out in the gym, sweat-soaked
muscles straining and flexing hard.  He recalled the night he had dinner at
his house, then he saw the image of Randy stripping for bed.

Yeah, that bed.  He had a clear recollection of sleeping with him, watching
his chest rise and fall in sleep, smelt the beer on his breath and felt the
warmth of his body.  He was transported back to the moment ... the moment
when he suddenly felt the sticky wetness in his shorts ...

"Jesus Christ," he murmured to himself, shook his head and got back to his
notes.  Just then his phone rang.

"Hey, big guy."  It was Randy.  "What's up?"

"Hey, I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah?  Me and the gym I hope."

"Well, as a matter of fact ..." Steve stammered.

"Reason I ask, I was gonna swing by the gym for an hour when I get off
here.  You wanna come for a quick workout?"

Steve felt a warm surge of pleasure.  "Sure, man.  I could use the
exercise.  Tough day."

"Good deal, buddy.  I'll leave your name at the door.  See you in half an
hour."

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

In the gym locker-room Steve changed into gym shorts and T-shirt.  He
watched as Randy kicked off his boots, took off his jeans but kept on the
old sweaty tank top he had worked in.  He pulled on an old jock strap, then
walked over to the urinal to take a piss.  Steve couldn't take his eyes off
the tall, sculpted physique in just a tank and jock strap as Randy pulled
out his cock and let fly a stream of piss.  The man was an icon of raunchy
masculinity.  Then he pulled on old shorts and they walked into the weight
room.

The gym was a major one in the middle of Hollywood, so there were plenty of
good-looking men there, great physiques.  Nevertheless, all heads turned as
these two guys walked across the floor, two gorgeous men looking so alike
they could be brothers.  Steve was aware of the hush that fell over the
gym; Randy was oblivious as always.

They wasted no time and were soon sweating through a bone-crunching
workout.  As usual Randy took charge, guiding Steve through the routine
that would be most effective in achieving his goal of chiseled definition,
not too much bulk.

Steve enjoyed the physical exertion as always, but with Randy it was
something special, a heightened intensity, exhilaration even.  Steve
watched his magnificent body gleam and flex as he pumped iron, then let
Randy coach him on refining his technique.  Steve was standing between the
cables, his arms stretched up and out, grasping the handles.

Randy offered advice.  "Here, change the grip ... hold them at an angle
... like this."

Facing him, Randy came close, their chests touching, and reached up across
Steve's body to adjust the handle.  Randy's armpit brushed against Steve's
face and he gasped as he breathed in the musky smell of the armpit hair,
even tasting a drop of sweat on his tongue.  Something else that made him
gasp was the jolt that shot through his cock.  He shook his head to rid
himself of this sensual overload.

"OK, that's got it.  Now I'll show you exactly the right angle to push the
cables down."

Randy pressed close behind him as he reached upward, put his hands over
Steve's on the handles and flexed his biceps as the men moved in tandem.
As their arms moved forward Steve felt the sweat-damp chest press against
his back, felt the hot breath on the back of his neck, and the bulge in
Randy's shorts pressing against his ass.  Again the jolt in his cock, which
this time made him pull away.

"OK, man.  I think I've got it.  Can we go on to the bench press?"

"Sure, I'll spot you.  We'll start with the 45's."

As Steve lay on his back on the bench Randy stood behind him astride his
head, smiling down at his face.  "OK, stud, you ready to press?  I'll be
right here to guide you."

Steve grabbed the bar and lowered it to his chest.  He looked up and saw
the awesome sight of the handsome, dark, demon face looming over him, the
arms bulging as Randy grabbed the bar to guide it.  He saw the wet tank top
stretched over the massive chest, and glimpsed the muscled thighs astride
him, almost touching the side of his face.  He gasped and momentarily his
strength failed him.

"It's OK, hold on, buddy.  Here, let me help."  Randy leaned further
forward and Steve saw straight up through the leg of his shorts the
piss-stained jock strap round his bulging balls and cock.  Suddenly his
eyes stung as he felt hot drops of sweat falling on his eyes from Randy's
face.  He heard the big man strain, smelled his body, tasted the sweat that
poured off him.  Steve's cock was now rock hard.

With a panicked surge of strength Steve pushed the bar up and rested it on
the rack.  He stood up quickly and said.  "Sorry, man.  I gotta take a
piss."  He strode quickly to the restroom, went into a stall and closed the
door.  His heart was pounding.  The image of Randy was sharp in his mind
... the sinewy muscle god in tank top and jock strap pissing in the urinal.
Steve pulled down his shorts, took his rigid cock in his hand and after
only a couple of strokes shot a huge load of cum over the door.  Stifling a
shout, he watched in amazement as stream after stream hit the door and
poured down it.  He stood panting, his mind in a complete daze, unable to
comprehend right away what had happened.

"Jesus Christ," he moaned and slammed his fist against the wall. "Shit!"
As he gathered his thoughts he pulled yards of toilet paper and hastily
scrubbed the door clean of his sticky cum.  He flushed the paper, pulled up
his shorts and wrenched open the door.  He knew what he had to do.  He
grabbed his clothes and gym bag from his locker and marched out to Randy.

"I, er ... I gotta go, man.  Just remembered something ... something I
gotta do.  Sorry, man.  Thanks for your help.  Just ... just gotta go."

He turned round, and Randy watched dumbstruck as Steve strode quickly
toward the exit with his clothes and his gym bag over his shoulder.

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

"Must've been something you said," Bob smiled later that evening as he lay
in bed with Randy.

"No, seriously, dude.  One minute everything was going just fine, then he
goes to take a leak and whammo, he can't wait to get out of the place.
Some bullshit about remembering something he had to do."

"Well, you know how psychiatrists are.  Sometimes they're a worse mess than
their patients.  Tomorrow he'll be back to normal."

But that was far from the truth.  Randy couldn't rid his mind of Steve's
odd behavior so the next morning, while he was working with Darius on the
construction site, he took a break and called Steve.  He dialed a number
where Steve always picked up, but this time he got the receptionist.

"No, Dr. Peterson is not available right now," she said.  "Actually, he has
reassigned your case to another therapist, Dr. Farnham."

Randy couldn't get his mind round this.  "Let me speak to Steve," he
barked.

"As I said, sir, Dr. Peterson is unavailable.  I can put you through to
Dr. Farnham."

"Fuck Dr. Farnham, and fuck you, lady."  All Randy's anger therapy went
right out the window.  His blood was boiling.  He slammed his phone shut
and shouted to Darius, "Hey punk, take over here.  I have something to do
... won't take long."  He stormed off the site and Darius heard the squeal
of tires as the truck roared away.

The same receptionist was startled by the door crashing open as she was
confronted by a wild man, eyes blazing, dressed in an old tank top, filthy
cargo pants and boots.

"Excuse me, sir," she said quickly.  "Do you have an appoin...?"

Randy totally ignored her, strode through and yanked open the inner door to
Steve's office.  Steve was alone going over some notes at his desk.  He
looked up in alarm as Randy walked in and slammed the door behind him.

"OK, what's all this bullshit," Randy barked, "this Dr. Farnham bullshit?"

Steve took a deep breath and stammered, "That's right, Randy.  I can't
treat you anymore.  I can't see you anymore.  No more hanging out together,
no more gym.  It just won't work."

"That's it?  That's all I get?  You've `reassigned my case'?  Is that all I
am now, a `case'?"

"Randy, you shouldn't have come.  It's for the best if we don't ..."

But he got no further.  Randy walked round the desk and grabbed the
therapist by the throat, hauling him up to a standing position. Steve
clamped his hands on Randy's wrist but it was squeezing his neck in a
vise-like grip.  Randy's eyes blazed as he held him with one hand.

"Now listen to me, asshole.  Nobody blows me off like that.  You think you
can dump all over me?  Who the fuck do you think you are?  This is me
you're dealing with now, mother-fucker.  Apparently you didn't get it the
first time.  Seems you need a repeat performance."

He released Steve's neck and then, in a replay of the day they first met,
he slammed his fist into Steve's gut.  As the therapist doubled over Randy
delivered a forearm smash across the back of his shoulders.  Steve fell to
his knees gasping.  He managed to look up at the man towering over him.  He
was wild, savage, magnificent ... `the King of the Gypsies.'  But what
struck Steve the most was the infinite pain in his eyes, the bewildered,
questioning pain.  He heard the ache in his voice.

"I thought we were buddies, man.  You were my friend ... like a brother.
Why, man ...?"

His voice trailed off, he gazed down at the fallen man, then turned and
quickly left the office.  Steve choked back a sob.  His pain was not only
the soreness of his ribs.  Worse was the anguish, the guilt that he felt at
hurting this incredible man.  Worse still was the realization that despite
the beating he had taken ... or maybe even because of it ... his cock was
raging hard in his pants.

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

Bob and Randy were so close it was as if they shared one soul.  They shared
the same feelings, the same intuition, and when one hurt the other hurt.
That's how it was now as Bob looked at Randy, slumped dejectedly at the
table across from him.

Bob shook his head.  "This is all totally weird, man.  There has to be more
to it than meets the eye."

"We were buddies.  And he blew me off just like that."

Bob realized that Randy felt not only the loss of a new friend but also the
intense blow to his pride.  People gravitated to Randy, accepted him as
boss, obeyed him.  Rejection was new to him, a bitter pill that was hard to
swallow.  Bob couldn't see his soul mate in pain like this.  Something had
to be done.

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

Steve's receptionist buzzed the intercom.  "There's a gentleman here,
doctor.  Not the same one as before."  (The relief in her voice was
palpable).  "He apologizes for not having an appointment but says it's
important he speak with you."

"The name?"

He heard another voice interjecting on the intercom, "It's Bob, Steve.  I
just need a minute."

Steve jolted upright and found himself straightening his tie and smoothing
his hair.  He cleared his throat.  "Have him come in right away."

The door opened and there was Bob.  Just like before their eyes held in a
penetrating gaze that made both their hearts beat a little faster.  They
shook hands.

"Hey, man," said Steve.  "Come in, sit down.  It's ... it's good to see you
again."

"Good to see you too," Bob said softly.  He sat at the desk and looked
uncertainly at Steve.  "Look, Steve, I know you're busy so I won't beat
around the bush.  And I wanna make clear that Randy doesn't know I'm here.
If he did he'd beat the shit out of me.  But, you know, he's hurting like
mad and I can't just sit and watch that.  That's why I came, to ask what's
going on."

Steve gazed at the man sitting opposite him.  He was not only stunningly
beautiful physically, there was a graciousness, a gentleness about him that
made him intensely attractive.  He had taken a risk coming here, not for
himself but for his friend.

"You really love him, don't you, Bob?" Steve asked gently.

"He's my life Steve.  That's why I have to help him now."

Steve took a deep breath.  "Trouble is, man, I don't think I can help you
much.  My gut is in knots by what I did, but just take it from me that I
had to."

"But you liked Randy."

"I liked him a lot."

Bob gazed at Steve, the pain in his eyes, and he suddenly knew the truth.
He spoke softly.  "Did you like him too much, Steve?  Is that it?"

Steve looked startled, then tears came to his eyes.  "God, man, nothing
like this has ever happened to me before.  You know my reputation with the
ladies.  I fuck women.  I'm not into guys, no way!  Some of my patients
are, of course.  And among them a few may even lust for me."

"All of them, would be my bet," Bob grinned.  "Just look at you."

"Yeah, whatever.  The point is I'm no stranger to the subject.  I have no
problem with it.  I'm a therapist, for God's sake.  But it's just not for
me.  I have never, ever felt anything like that for another guy.  Not
remotely."

Bob smiled.  "But Randy's not just `another guy'."

Steve relaxed a bit and managed to smile back.  "You can say that again."

Bob reached over the desk and touched Steve's hand.  "Tell me about it,
Steve."

Steve couldn't resist Bob's deep, comforting voice, and the whole story
poured out ... his first tempestuous meeting with Randy, the meals, the
walks, the male bonding, gym partners.  Then that night at the house."

"He made me cum, man!  He was fast asleep and just his presence, his naked
body beside me made me shoot my load.  I went into denial about that but
then, as we worked out together at the gym, I couldn't take it anymore.  I
went into the restroom, into a stall, and just thinking about him I shot a
huge load of cum all over the door.  Jesus, when he came here yesterday and
thrashed me my dick got hard.  I mean, what's happening, man?  What the
fuck's happening to me?"

Bob smiled.  "Randy's what happened to you, Steve.  It's what happened to
all of us.  Everyone in that house is in love with him.  In lust with him
too."

"Yeah, I guess I saw that when I met them.  But not me, Bob.  It's just not
me.  I can't see him again.  Ever."

"Oh, don't worry, Steve, it doesn't change you.  Your old feelings and
desires are the same as before.  Except that now, your affection for Randy
is an add-on, something new.  Go with it, Steve.  We've all learned to.
You don't have to distance yourself from him."  He gave him a piercing
look.  "You'll find you won't be able to, anyway.  You'll have to come
back."

Steve was swept by a wave of admiration and warmth for the man opposite him
who seemed to read him like a book.  "But what about you, man? ... you and
him, I mean.  How can I see you both when you are, well, just about the
closest, most loving couple I've ever met."

Bob laughed.  "Oh, don't worry about that.  We've been down that road many
times and back again, and I've got the bruises to prove it.  Seriously,
though, what Randy and I have surpasses anything else, any other feelings
we might have for others, any dangers or distractions.  Don't worry about
us.  Just love us both, Steve."

Again Steve locked eyes with this awesome man.  He imagined him with Randy,
imagined him in bed, imagined him naked ...  Then he shot up from his desk.

"I can't do this, man.  It's happening again.  Look!"  He looked down at
the bulge in his pants.  "I've got a boner just talking to you.  It's
happening with you too.  Man, you're so fucking gorgeous, I ...  No, I
can't.  You've gotta leave man.  You've gotta get out of here ... now!
Go!"

Bob stood up and smiled.  "OK, Steve.  But when you're ready give me a
call.  And you will call.  I know that.  When you're ready."  Then
something extraordinary happened.  Bob walked up to Steve, held his head in
his hands, and pressed his lips against his.  For an instant Steve
recoiled, but as he tasted Bob's lips, looked into his deep brown eyes, he
lost himself and probed his mouth with his tongue, grinding their mouths
together.

Then the cold water of reason splashed over him and he pushed Bob away.
"Go!"  Bob quickly left the office and Steve rushed into his private
bathroom, frantically tearing open the fly of his pants.  He pulled out his
raging cock and stroked it.  He could still see Bob's eyes, feel the taste
of his lips.  Standing in front of the bathroom mirror he saw his own
reflection.  Then he saw Randy, saw him naked ... with Bob.  What did they
do together?  How did they make love?  He saw the two magnificent bodies
come together, saw them fall on the bed, saw them writhe in each other's
arms.

His mind was spinning out of control.  He ripped off his shirt and tie and
stood shirtless before the mirror.  He saw his muscular, naked physique
reflected back at him, gazed into his own eyes in the mirror.  Then Randy
and Bob were beside him.  He felt the warmth of their bodies, felt again
the taste of Bob's lips, felt the thud of Randy's fist in his stomach
... and that did it.  "NO!"  He screamed out loud as he watched a jet of
creamy, white liquid hit the mirror.  The semen poured from his cock onto
the glass, streaming down it, obscuring the graphic images that had made
his body convulse in this explosive climax.

He was totally exhausted.  He fell to his knees sobbing.  His mind was a
tornado of thoughts and sensations.  But through it all he heard again
Bob's calm, confident words.  "You'll find you won't be able to stay away,
Steve.  You'll have to come back.  When you're ready give me a call.  And
you will call.  I know that.  When you're ready."

And suddenly Steve knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bob was right.

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

In fact Steve did make a call right away.  But it was not to Bob or Randy.
It was to Connie at the restaurant.

"It's Steve.  Look, doll, when do you get off?  Half an hour?  Perfect.  OK
if I pick you up, take you to my place?"

Connie didn't need to be asked twice and within an hour they were both in
Steve's house on Mulholland, in bed.  All the old affection and physical
lust were there.  Steve fucked her like a stallion, then they lay and
talked for a while, and then made love again.  It was great for them both,
better than ever.  As he lay there with his girl Steve smiled.  He had
needed to reassure himself that what Bob had said was true: "Don't worry,
Steve, it doesn't change you.  Your old feelings and desires are the same
as before."  Guess he was right.

Much later, after Connie had left, Steve heaved a deep, satisfied sigh.  He
was still the same macho guy as before.  He smiled, still `Steve the Stud.'
His old confidence flooded back.  He was his own man ... self-assured, in
charge, strong enough for anything.  Strong enough to do what he knew he
had to.  Strong enough to make another phone call.  He smiled as he thought
of Bob, poised, sure of himself, handsome as a prince.  He couldn't wait to
hear his deep brown voice.  He picked up the phone.

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

Bob's voice on the phone was calm, reassuring.  Steve less so ... nervous,
hesitant.  "Did you, er ... talk to Randy?"

"Told him everything," Bob said.  "I always tell him everything."

"And what did he ... ?"

"First he was mad at me, of course, but he wasn't really surprised at what
you told me.  Happens to him all the time, guys lusting for him.  Normally
he doesn't give a shit, doesn't think about it, but this time I think he
was flattered.  Relieved in a way.  He really values your friendship,
really wants you to like him.  That was what had upset him the most,
thinking you didn't.  So the fact that you liked him enough to ... well, it
was icing on the cake.  He can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah, me too."

"Don't get me wrong, now.  He's not sorry he slugged you."

"Nor me.  I really deserved it."

"Most people say that when Randy hits them.  Anyway, now that's out of the
way, dinner at our place?  Just the three of us?"

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

Mark knew there was something going down and that Randy and Bob wanted to
be alone with Steve.  And he knew exactly how to make that happen.  "Hey
guys, he said to Darius, Pablo and Jamie.  Why don't you make dinner just
for Randy, Bob and their guest.  When you've done you can leave it for them
`cause I'm gonna take you boys down to Malibu for dinner at one of those
fancy restaurants overlooking the ocean.  What d'you say?"

The young men jumped at the chance.  They loved going out with the
spectacular cop.

"You'll have to dress up a bit.  No tank tops, Darius; no dungarees, Pablo;
and Jamie, you can have one of my shirts.  We'll have a blast ... paint the
town a bit.

As the boys worked in the kitchen, talking excitedly over each other, Randy
turned to Mark.

"Thanks, Mark.  You're a prince."

"Glad to help, buddy.  You seem to have quite a story going on there with
Steve."

"I think we do.  We'll tell you all about it when you get back."

Mark grinned.  "I'm counting on it."

"It's still a work in progress, of course, but I promise you'll be a part
of it.  That is, if you want to be."

"Try stopping me.  Haven't I always been part of your stories?"

"That's just what I wanted to hear.  God, I love you, man."  And they held
each other close in a warm, masculine embrace.  "Enjoy Malibu.  Don't let
the kids eat too much.  We gotta keep them looking like hot young studs.
Who knows, they might become part of the story too."

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

So Randy and Bob were left alone, and the boys had set up a great meal on
the table in the garden.  When Steve arrived any awkwardness or doubts
disappeared amazingly quickly, despite what they had all been through.  It
was almost as if the three men had been buddies for years.  True, they
stayed off the topic of any lustful desires they might have for each other,
but there was plenty of other stuff to talk about ... guy stuff mostly,
work, exercise, trips they had taken.

Steve kept them laughing as he described, without naming names, some of the
weird problems he had heard of in his therapy sessions.

"Anything you couldn't handle?" asked Randy."

"I could usually calm them down ... come up with some kind of answer."

"Did you ever feel threatened?" Bob asked.

"Only twice, when a guy slugged me.  Same patient each time, actually.  But
he was the exception."  He reflected for a moment.  "Yeah, that's how I'd
describe him ... an exceptional guy."

There was a brief moment of uncertainty, then they all suddenly roared with
laughter.  The ice over that particular topic was finally broken.  From
then on they relaxed as they lounged by the pool drinking beer.  But there
was still Topic A that hung in the air, and they all knew it.  Finally Bob
caught Randy's eye and he nodded.  Here goes, thought Bob.

"Have you, er, ever dabbled in aversion therapy, Steve?"

Steve was taken aback.  "Aversion therapy!  Wow, that came out of nowhere.
Aversion therapy?  Nah, psychology has mostly turned its back on that.
Deliberately exposing patients to uncomfortable stimuli to cure them of
unwanted behavior can be dangerous."

"Nevertheless ..." Bob mused.  "Look, Steve, there's something we have to
confront, and we all know it.  We've talked about your feelings for Randy,
and even for me, and we can't let it hang like a sword over our heads, get
in the way of our friendship.  We can't tiptoe around this anymore."

"So?"

"So we thought we should throw you in at the deep end of that murky pool
... call it aversion therapy if you like.  But maybe if you were to
actually see a display of the things you've been thinking, if you saw how
Randy and I are together, it would turn you off so much you'd be over it,
cured.  On the other hand ...?

Steve interjected emphatically.  "There wouldn't be any `on the other
hand,' man.  No way."

"Great.  So is that a yes?"

Steve frowned.  "I dunno, guys.  Like, what did you have in mind?"

"We'll show you.  You gotta trust me," Bob said.  "Put yourself in our
hands."

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

They all went up to the bedroom.  Steve was nervous, apprehensive, but felt
a strange shiver of exhilaration.  Randy and Bob faced him.  Bob spoke
first.

"Tell the truth, Steve.  We know you fantasized about each of us.  But did
you wonder what we were like together?  Did you wonder what we did?  Did
you wonder how we made love?"

"Now look, guys.  I don't wanna even ..."

"Steve," Randy said sternly.

Steve took a deep breath.  "Of course I did.  When you left my office, Bob,
I tried to imagine it as I jerked off in the bathroom and shot my load.
But you gotta understand, I'm not ..."

"Steve!"  It was Bob who stopped him this time.  He spoke gently.  "Forget
the conventions, forget the labels.  You're here with us now ... just the
three of us.  This is our world.  And here's the deal.  We're gonna show
you what we do when we're alone together.  And if that turns out to be
aversion therapy for you, if it upsets you, repels you, feel free to leave
at any time.  We'll understand.  And we can still be buddies.  But we want
you to see.  We want you to know us as we are.  We owe that to you."

Steve replied in a small voice.  "OK"

"Now sit down.  Make yourself comfortable.  Chances are you'll decide to
leave and we won't even notice when you do.  From here on it's Randy and
me."

Steve sat in the armchair.  He felt nervous, confused, apprehensive.  He
felt alive!

Randy faced Bob and smiled.  "Come here motherfucker."  He took Bob's face
in his hands and kissed his lips hungrily.  Then he held him at arm's
length.  "Come on man, let me see that glorious body."

One of Steve's reflexes was to run right out the door.  But he found he was
rooted to the spot, mesmerized, riveted by what was happening in front of
him.  He watched as the two men moved in unison.  They reached forward
behind each other's neck, took hold of the T-shirt and pulled it slowly
upward.  Steve gasped as he realized the men were undressing each other.
Inch by inch he saw two magnificent torsos being slowly revealed.

The shirts came free of the slim waists and he saw the tight ridges of
their abs.  The thin cotton rose higher and the hard slabs of their chests
and the wide lats were exposed.  As the men pulled the shirts over each
other's head the broad shoulders and muscular arms were finally bare.  They
threw the shirts to the floor and stood facing each other, two magnificent
studs, stripped to the waist, each glorying in the sight of the man before
him.

Steve couldn't breathe.  He had never seen anything more beautiful than
these gleaming muscle gods poised to join together ... poised to make love.
He knew they would strip naked and enjoy each other in ways he had never
even dreamed of.  He watched as they held each other's eyes.  But then he
was shocked to see Randy's expression cloud over, become dark, forbidding.

"On your knees, boy," he growled.

"Yes, sir," breathed Bob.

Steve felt dazed, unable to grasp what was happening.  He watched as the
handsome muscular stud fell to his knees in submission.  Bob unbuttoned
Randy's pants, reached inside his shorts and pulled out his huge, thick,
hard rod.  Steve had never seen Randy's cock before and now he was
thrilled, horrified at the thought of what would happen next.  Bob opened
his mouth wide.

No, this was too much, Steve couldn't watch any more.  He pushed himself
out of his chair and walked quickly toward the door.  As he was leaving he
glanced back and saw that Bob's lips were touching the head of the huge
cock.  Steve stopped dead.

As if in a trance, he turned round and fell back in the chair.  He suddenly
realized that his own cock was rock hard in his shorts.  He was hypnotized
by what came next.  He saw Bob's face move forward, and the head of the
cock slipped between his lips.  Slowly, slowly, the whole monstrous shaft
slid into the mouth.  He saw Bob swallow as the rod pushed deeper and
deeper down his throat until the handsome face was buried in Randy's dark
black pubic hair.

Steve entered another world, a world he had never dreamed of.  He was lost.
He gazed awestruck at Randy.  He was such a fucking ... man!  The ultimate,
dominant male, the dark, demonic King of the Gypsies was going to fuck the
square-jawed Superman face of the shirtless man kneeling before him.  It
was the most thrilling sight Steve had ever seen.  He knew now, beyond
doubt, that he could not leave this room.

As he moved his hips back and forward, Randy gazed intently into his
lover's eyes.  But then, just for an instant, he turned his head and shot a
quick, penetrating glance at Steve.  That fleeting look was all it took.
It was a challenge ... a command.  Steve rose slowly out of his chair.

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

TO BE CONTINUED in   "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 62"