Date: Sun, 9 Feb 2014 02:33:16 -0500 (EST)
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength"- Part 194  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 194
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:
  Bob and Randy's break-up transforms Bob into a macho alpha-stud.  Mark is
thrilled to feel the full force of Bob's domination. "As the business
executive gazed down at the shirtless cop his eyes blazed, adrenaline raced
– he was at the peak of his manhood."  But the break-up could mean the
end of the tribe, and the boys prove their love for each other, "in a wild
orgy, writhing together in a heaping tangle of limbs."

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


A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 194 – "Bob's Transformation"

Bob was feeling numb as he drove out of Palm Springs along the dark sweep
of Highway 111 and he was surprised to see rain on the windshield obscuring
his view.  He turned on the windshield-wipers but that didn't help.  Then
he realized, it was not rain running down the windshield... tears were
streaming from his eyes.  He turned off the wipers, dried his eyes and
burst out laughing at his mistake.  But the laughter bordered on hysteria
and he took a few deep breaths.  He had to get a grip.

It looked like the end of the road for Bob and Randy because of what Randy
had just done.  In the Palm Springs leather bar Bob's arrival had caused a
sensation and he was the focus of the room.  It wasn't only his stunning
good looks and flawless body.  It was his natural warmth and modesty that
shone through ... he looked like Superman, but with the diffidence of a
mild-mannered Clark Kent.

Randy was knocked off balance.  They had never been in this kind of setting
before, with a crowd of lusty men, and Randy saw for the first time the
magnetic effect Bob had on groups like this. There wasn't a man there who
would not want sex with Bob, to have a relationship with him ... to take
him away from Randy as Randy thought in his crazed insecurity and –
worse – his mounting anger.

 "You enjoying my buddy, eh?" he shouted to the crowd.  "All of you, turned
on by this fucking gorgeous man here?  Thing is though, he's my man, see.
He's mine ... and I don't loan him out.  Any guy who wants him has to come
through me, and that wouldn't be pretty.  Hey buddy, how about we show
them, eh?  Time for us to put on a show of our own, I think."

His anger consuming him Randy had shackled Bob to the wall, despite his
protests, had fucked him savagely and made him beg for mercy.  The crowd
was stunned.  The gorgeous man they had drooled over, this Superman with
his easy-going charm, had been humbled before them all, hanging from the
wall, submitting in degradation to the wild-man, begging him to cum in his
ass.

This public humiliation and degradation was devastating for Bob and
something snapped inside him.  He left the bar and drove alone back to the
city, checking into a bungalow of the Beverly Hills Hotel where he started
to think clearly and realized he had to break with Randy.  `It's no good I
can't do this anymore.  I can't go on with this cycle of adoration and
abuse.  I've got to be my own man – regain my manhood – and I can't
do that living with Randy – I just can't.'

Bob called the twins and asked them to bring his clothes for him, and they
spent the night with him.  Back at the house, as Randy lay in bed in misery
and confusion, his boy Pablo, his rock as Randy called him, crawled into
bed with him.  And so it was that Bob and Randy spent the night seeking
solace in the loving arms of their boys.  They had rarely slept a night
apart since they met, but now they tried hard to dismiss each other's image
from their mind.

But, of course, they both failed.

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

The next morning Randy moved out.  Pablo got up early and Randy looked at
the empty space in the bed beside him.  A shaft or pain ran through him and
he knew he could never spend another night in this room now that he and Bob
were through.  He threw a few clothes in a back-pack and went to work on
the construction site.  At the end of the day he checked into a motel.

It is a fact of life that when trauma strikes and men feel bereft, their
instinct is to go back to their roots and seek refuge in long-familiar
surroundings.  Randy was contemplating a move back to Texas, where he would
resume his old life of itinerant construction worker, free of personal
entanglements, free to do `whatever the fuck I want' in a world where no
problems arose that couldn't be solved with his fists.

Similarly, Bob was contemplating a move back to the refined world of San
Francisco, as he had told the twins.  "See I can easily transfer to my
company's Head Office up there.  They've been trying to lure me back there
to take up a real senior position – a great opportunity.  So maybe all
this has happened for a reason.  Don't worry, guys, I'll be taking you with
me."

In the meantime both men sought solace in local roots.  In the past Bob had
often stayed in the Beverly Hills Hotel on his trips to visit the
L.A. branch office – this was his world.  As for Randy, almost without
thinking he had moved in to the shabby, cheap motel at the ratty end of
Hollywood Boulevard, in room 14 where he had spent that fateful night with
Bob that began it all.  This was him, the kind of guy he was – a loner,
a free man, owing `nothing to nobody'.

It was symbolic of the vast difference between them – Bob, the
consummate business executive, in one of the best hotels in town –
Randy, the rugged gypsy construction worker shacking up in a cheap motel.
And soon Bob would be driving his Mercedes back up to the rarified air of
Marin County, while Randy would pile into his truck and hit the road for
the hard-scrabble back streets of West Texas.

"Shit," Randy thought as he flopped down on the motel's thin bed-sheets
after work, "he's out of my fucking league ...  a wonder we ever got
together in the first place."  But they had, in this very room – this
very bed! – and the vivid memories came flooding back.  Randy sprang up
and paced the room – "Damn, can't I ever get away from this man."  He
needed a drink, and robotically he walked round the corner to the run-down
bar with the half-lit `Cocktails' sign flickering tentatively over the
door, the place where he had spent many evenings getting drunk..

It hadn't changed – still the same dark, shabby room with a pervasive
smell of desperation.  For the first time he noticed its name – it
actually had one – `The Last Call.'  Yeah, they got that right, he
thought.  The bartender Sheila, his regular fuck at the time, was no longer
there, replaced by another seen-better-days blond who smiled at the
construction hunk seductively, but he paid no attention.

It had been a one-in-a-million chance, but this was the bar where he had
first met Bob.  Randy had been sitting on this very barstool when he had
seen the guy come in – tall, handsome guy, built like a brick shit
house, casually dressed but, even so, totally out of place in this dump as
he blinked in the sudden darkness after the blinding California sun
outside.

He had sat at the barstool Randy was looking at right now.  They had got to
talking – seemed the guy was on his way down south and had come off the
freeway for a drink and a nap.  Rather than sleep in his car, he had
accepted Randy's offer of a lie down in his motel room.  But as they slept
he had ... "Shit, shit, shit..."  Randy jolted back to the present and
slammed his hand on the bar top.  "Everything OK, sugar?" asked the
barmaid.  "Sure," he growled, "just give me another beer and keep `em
coming."

And so later, shit faced, he staggered back to the motel, room 14 ... and
passed out.

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

The end of Bob's work day was similarly troubled, but in much fancier
surroundings – drinks came from white-gloved room-service rather than a
beer slid across a grubby bar.  But misery grips high and low alike and
when Bob walked into his bungalow in his business suit he was overcome with
a pall of loneliness.  He couldn't call the twins back as he knew they had
their culinary duties for all the guys at the house.  No, there was only
solution and he reached for his cell phone.

"Sure, buddy," said Mark's cheerful voice.  "My shift just ended.  Be there
in twenty minutes."  Bob smiled, recalling the often-stated local belief
that everywhere was twenty minutes from everywhere in Los Angeles.  He
called room service and soon had a table set with drinks and canapιs.
As if to prove the old saying, in exactly twenty minutes there was a knock
on the door, Bob opened it and in came Mark, straight from work in his
uniform.

In the unfamiliar surroundings and tense circumstances they looked at each
hesitantly, with a hint of mutual shyness.  But when Mark grinned, "Hey
buddy," they fell into each other's arms and held each other tight.  Words
may have momentarily failed them but lust did not and they both had instant
erections in their pants.  They gazed into each other's eyes, their lips
joined and impulsively their tongues pressed together in a ravenous kiss –
Bob seeking comfort and Mark eager to provide it.

But soon Bob pulled back with a trace of embarrassment and said quickly,
"Drink?"  Mark detected Bob's hesitancy, accepted a drink and they sat
facing each other across the table.  "So, buddy, how are you?" Mark asked
as lightly as possibly.  Bob shrugged and waved his arm round the room.
"Comfortable, as you see – pampering myself."  Mark reached forward,
closed his hand over Bob's, and said slowly, "No, buddy, I said `how –
are – you?

Bob's eyes became moist.  "Lonely, Mark.  Damn lonely.  I can't hack it in
this town, man.  I associate everything in L.A. with Randy.  I gotta split.
Like I told the twins, I've decided to go back to San Francisco – take
up an offer of a great job in my firm's Head Office.  I'll take the twins
with me."  He stared forlornly into Mark's blue eyes.  "I can't stay here,
Mark.  I can't."

Mark sighed deeply.  "So – you and Randy – it's really over?"

"It has to be.  I can't do that humiliation-apology-forgiveness thing over
and over again.  It's never gonna change.  Randy is what he is – a wild
gypsy.  Funny thing is, that's what I loved about him – the thing that
turned me on so much.  He's the most exciting man I ever met.  But it's
kinda like a drug – and I've got to kick the habit so I don't entirely
lose my own sense of self."

Mark stared hard at him and they each knew what the other was thinking.
Almost from the moment they met Bob and Mark had been in love with each
other but the most they ever did to express it was occasional bouts of
passionate sex together.  Randy always stood between them and Mark knew
that the big construction worker always came first for Bob.  Until now,
apparently.

When the dust had settled, was it possible Bob and Mark had a future
together? Mark squeezed Bob's hand but he pulled it away and stood up.  "I
can't right now, Mark.  It wouldn't be ..."

"...fair to Randy?"  Mark stood up and glared at him in frustration.
"That's what you were gonna say, right?  Man, I thought you said it was
over between you two, and here you are still showing some whacko sense of
loyalty.  You can't have it both ways man ... either it's over and you're
free ... or you're still tied to him.  Let me put it this way, buddy ... if
Randy and Zack were on a lunch break in the trailer and they were both
pumped up and horny, you think Randy would hesitate out of loyalty to you?
Hell no – he'd jump on Zack and they'd fuck.  You know I'm right, man."

Mark frowned.  "Or maybe you've cooled on me too."  Bob was stung.  He
gazed at the handsome cop's earnest eyes and he knew what he said was
right.  Randy was gone, Bob was free ... free to...  There was a long
silence as they stared at each other, their cocks getting harder in their
pants.  Suddenly, impulsively, they threw their arms round each other in a
passionate embrace, crushing their bodies together, their open mouths
grinding against each other, tongues searching inside in a pent-up
explosion of desire that had been building almost since the day they met.
The day they met ...

"Sit down," said Mark, suddenly pulling away from him.  Surprised, Bob sat
down, with Mark towering over him, their faces flushed, their chests
heaving.  The day they met ...  As they gazed at each other, both were
transported to a place and time long ago, on a remote road in Griffith
Park.  Then, as now, Bob was wearing his business clothes – smart suit,
white shirt and tie, and Mark was in his police uniform.  Mark had pulled
him over for doing an Illegal U-turn.

"That's exactly how you looked that day," Mark said, "the first time I saw
your face as you lowered the car window.  You were a bit drunk and asked if
there was any way you could avoid a ticket."

Bob stood up and said, "You made me get out of the car and bend over it
while you frisked me – much longer than necessary.  You made me walk to
a clearing in the woods.  We stood facing each other and ..."

 "... and I told you to strip – slowly.  First I told you to take off
the tie ..."

He waited expectantly but Bob said, "Not this time, officer.  It's my turn
– pay back."  There was a tone in Bob's voice Mark didn't recognize –
a look in the eye.  He was tougher, somehow, liberated, a new Bob.  He was
the boss.  "Unbutton your shirt – slowly."

"OK," Mark said.  Bob's eyes flashed.  "Don't police officers usually call
civilians `sir'?"

"Yes, sir," said Mark, falling under the spell of this dominant man.  He
undid two buttons of his shirt and Bob stepped forward, pulled the open
shirt wider and ran his hands over the white T-shirt underneath.  "Yeah,
that's good," he breathed, and stepped back.  "More."  Obediently the cop
unbuttoned his shirt all the way down and pulled one side out of his
waistband.

"Oh yeah ... raise your arms."  Mark raised his arms to the sides and bent
his elbows, flexing his biceps in a bodybuilder pose.  Again Bob walked
forward, pushed the black shirt's short sleeves higher and stroked the
flexed biceps.  "Shit, man, you look fucking spectacular.  Huh – that
first day ... you were the one in uniform so you had the authority and made
me strip.  But here's what you really wanted.  The minute you saw that
handsome business executive, the minute you frisked him and felt that
muscular body, you felt challenged and you wanted to show him how beautiful
you were.  Am I right?"

"Yes, sir."  Bob stepped back.  "You were so turned on in that clearing,
with the stunning businessman facing you, you wanted to show him your
muscular body – to prove you were worthy of him, right?"  "Yes, sir."
"So show me – slowly."

It was a whole new experience for Mark to yield to the dominant stud that
Bob had become.  Even more erotic, Bob had framed it as the fantasy of a
cop pulling over a business executive then falling under his control.  In a
role reversal of that first day, the cop was submitting to the executive,
obeying his orders.  His cock was roaring hard in his uniform pants as he
pulled the other side of his shirt free of his waist, opened it up to
reveal the T-shirt stretched over his chest, then slowly pulled the shirt
off and tossed it aside.

Bob took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie and paced around.  From the
other side of the room he gazed at the cop, stripped down to his T-shirt,
and said again, "Show me, officer."  Mark pressed his fists into his tight
waist, pushed his shoulders forward and flared his lats in another classic
bodybuilding pose.

"Oh, man," Bob murmured, rubbing the bulge in his slacks.  He pulled off
his tie, rolled up his shirtsleeves and opened the shirt halfway down,
exposing the white tank-top underneath.  He rubbed his own nipples through
the thin cotton and groaned, his muscles rippling.  "See that?  He's
fucking gorgeous.  Try to match it ... show him what you've got, cop."

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

Mark rose to the challenge.  Slowly he pulled the T-shirt clear of the
pants and raised the bottom far enough to show off his eight-pack abs.
Then he reached behind his neck and pulled the T-shirt up slowly – over
his abs, the mounds of his chest, over his shoulders and off.  "Wow," Bob
gasped, seeing the cop stripped to the waist, clasping his hands behind his
back and flexing his pecs.

"Shit damn," Bob moaned.  He undid his shirt and tossed it off, his torso
flexing under the white tank.  Mark gasped and rubbed one hand over the
bulge in his uniform pants.  Bob glared at him.  "Did I say you could do
that?"  "No, sir."  The shirtless cop again clasped his hands behind him.
"Yeah," Bob said, "that's what you did that first day – rubbed your
crotch and came in your pants looking at me.  But not this time, officer.
This time I'm in control and I've got other plans for you."

Bob pulled off his tank and held his arms out displaying his naked torso.
"Remember what you did that day, office, when you first saw this?"  "Aaah,"
Mark groaned, desperate to touch his cock.  But this time he was not
looking at a compliant driver obeying police orders.  Now he was gazing at
a superb alpha male, a handsome executive with a cop in his power ... and
the cop couldn't hold back.  "You are so beautiful, man," Mark groaned,
"such a fucking stud, you're making me ... Aaagh!"

Still gripping his hands behind him, his body flexed, his head flew back
... and his cock erupted in his shorts.  Bob watched the stain spreading
over the uniform pants and saw the cop's pleading eyes.  He walked up to
him, gripped his head with both hands and pulled his face toward him,
kissing him hungrily, their chests pressed hard together.  When he pulled
back he said quietly, "I know what you want, Mark."

Grabbing the back of Mark's neck he pushed him over to face the mirror, the
same mirror he himself had cum on the day before, admiring himself.  Mark
braced himself by pressing his hands high up on the wall, on either side of
the mirror.  Bob gazed at the muscular back, flaring down from broad
shoulders to a narrow waist cinched by the heavy black police belt, with
the mounds of his ass clearly outlined in the uniform pants.  "Man, that is
beautiful," Bob said.  "Shit, it's what I should have done that first day –
pushed you against a tree, pulled down your pants and fucked that cop's
ass.  It's what you wanted, right?  It's what you want now."

"Yes, sir," said the cop, staring into the mirror at the shirtless
businessman behind him.  Bob reached round, loosened Mark's belt and yanked
the pants down below his butt.  He ripped open his own slacks and pulled
out his iron-hard cock.  He spat on it and pressed the head between the
cheeks, then paused.  "Please, man," Mark groaned.  "It's never been like
this. I want it so bad.  You wanna hear a cop beg?  OK, I'm begging.
Please, sir, fuck me in the ass."

Bob reached round to Mark's chest and twisted his nipples in his fingers.
Mark groaned louder – "please, man ... I ... aaagh!"  He howled as the
shaft slammed into his ass and drove deep into his gut.  It pulled back up
the chute, then plunged in again, pinning the cop's body to the mirror.
Bob stared into the blue-gray eyes in the mirror and said, "I love you, man
– always have.  But you've never known me like this, never felt it like
this.  You want it hard?"

"Oh yeah," Mark grinned.  "Give it to me, stud.  You're fucking
spectacular."  Bob wasn't brutal as Randy might have been.  But he pistoned
relentlessly in the cop's ass, sending him to the brink of pain but not
over – keeping him suspended in a state of pure ecstasy.  As his ass was
pounded Mark looked at the Superman face in the mirror and pressed his lips
against the reflection in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth of his
lips.

His cock was pressed against the glass, grinding against it with every
thrust of Bob's merciless rod.  And always, over his shoulder, the stunning
face, the brown eyes boring into his.  The shaft jack-hammered the cop's
ass endlessly and Mark knew he couldn't hold out much longer.  So did Bob.
He reached up high, clamped his hands over Mark's wrists against the wall
and breathed in Mark's ear, "OK, officer – this is what you get for
pulling over a man like me and making me strip in the woods.  It's payback
time, cop, and you're gonna beg me again – beg me to let you shoot that
load again.  You ready, officer?"

"Yes, sir – please, sir," Mark gasped.  "I have to cum - you're making
me so damn hot.  Please let me bust my load.  You win, man – I give up,
you are the best – I submit, sir..."

"OK, cop – shoot that load."  He felt Mark's body shudder against him,
saw the eyes open wide, heard the howl as the cop came again, this time
shooting a stream of juice between his stomach and the glass.  As his body
shuddered and his cock drained he looked into the mirror and moaned, "Oh,
man, that was fucking unbelievable.  It was never like that before."

"No, never like this either!"  Bob yanked his cock out of his ass, pulled
Mark away from the mirror and hurled him onto his back on the bed.  Bob had
held back his orgasm up to now, but that was about to change.  As he gazed
down at the shirtless cop his eyes blazed as adrenaline raced through him
and he felt himself at the peak of his manhood.  He leaned down and yanked
off first one of Mark's boots then the other.  He grabbed the bottom of the
uniform pants, pulled them clear off and flung them contemptuously aside.
He wrapped his fist round the cop's shorts and with one jerk ripped them
off him.

Naked now Mark looked up at Bob with shock and awe.  This wasn't the
mild-mannered man he had always known.  This was Superman, flexing his
muscles and proving his supremacy.  In an act of complete surrender Mark
bent his knees, put his hands behind them and pulled his legs up, offering
up his ass.  Bob kicked off his loafers, dropped his pants and shorts and
towered naked over the submissive cop.

Bob held his arms out and flexed his biceps.  "You see this, man?  This is
me, the real me – get used to it, `cause I'm gonna fuck that ass of
yours a whole lot – starting now.  He dropped to his knees, pushed his
cock into the thicket of soft blond round Mark's hole ... and once again
rammed his cock deep into his ass.  Bob raised his arms, linked his fingers
behind his own head and flexed his muscles as his hips thrust forward
against the cop's ass.  Mark gazed in disbelief at the incredible
muscle-god, his muscles rippling, the ripped, eight-pack abs, the slabs of
his chest, flexing in a another bodybuilder pose.

Incredibly, after two orgasms, Mark's dick was already hard as a rock.
"Take a good look," Bob said, "`cause this is the man who's gonna make you
shoot another load.  You know you can't resist me, stud.  And you sure as
hell can't resist this ..."  He fell forward, pinned Mark's wrists to the
bed, gazed into his eyes and smiled.  "I love you, Mark."  He lowered his
face to Mark's and they kissed, long and passionately.

Mark felt he was floating, when Bob pulled back and gazed into his eyes,
seeing his own reflection.  "You're looking at a new man, Mark.  And it's
not only physical dominance – it's this.  His cock still worked on the
cop's ass as Bob's eyes pierced Mark's like a laser.  It was as if Mark
entered them, hypnotized by them, under their spell.

"You'll do anything for me Mark, I know that.  So now you're gonna feel my
juice spilling into your ass and, as you do, you're gonna shoot another
load.  Feel my abs pressing against your cock, rolling over it as I fuck
your ass.  Now look into my eyes and tell me you love me."

"I love you, man.  I'll do anything for you.  Please, cum in my ass.
Please ..."  Bob stopped moving and there was a deep silence.  And then the
semen started to flow – inside Mark's ass and, for the third time, from
Mark's cock.  There was no noise – words were superseded by the language
of their eyes.  It felt like a slow-motion dream as Bob finally pulled his
cock out of Mark's ass and fell onto him, their open mouths clamped tightly
over each other, breathing in and out, sharing the same breath.

Eventually Bob rolled off him, lay beside him and asked, "You think it
would be OK with Jamie if you spent the night here, buddy?"  Mark grinned.
"It would if he knew I was with you.  The kid's crazy about you."  He
pulled his cell phone from his pants' pocket on the floor and had a brief
conversation with Jamie.  "He's fine," Mark said.  "OK," said Bob, "here's
what's gonna happen.  I'll call room service and order a big dinner, `cause
were both starving.  Then we'll spend the rest of the time in bed.  OK with
you, buddy?"

"Aye, aye, sir," Mark grinned.  "Wouldn't dare say no to the new stud in
town.  Guess I'm gonna be taking orders from you from now on.  I guess
everyone is ... everyone.."

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

The night with Mark had been a catharsis for Bob, where he had flexed his
muscles, physically and figuratively, as a newly minted muscle-stud, a
dominant top-man, taking orders from no-one.  However, he still didn't feel
up to returning to the house yet, fielding questions from the guys to which
he himself didn't yet have answers.  During the next few days he did check
at work to see if the senior position in San Francisco was still open and
was told that they were holding it open for him.  It was his if he wanted
it.  Other than that, Bob made no definite moves and went daily straight
from work into the comforting arms of the Beverly Hills Hotel.

Randy was following roughly the same trajectory, though without the luxury
Bob enjoyed.  Oddly he found comfort in the shabby motel, though he would
never have admitted to himself that it was because Room 14 reminded him so
much of Bob.  He went every morning from the motel to the construction site
where he lustily resumed his role as boss, absolutely in charge, barking
out orders and expecting them to be carried out.  As for Texas, he needed
to make no plans for when the time came.  All he had to do was grab a few
clothes, jump into his truck and go.  Though, like Bob, he was not yet
ready to do even that.

And just as Bob had Mark to confide in, Randy had Zack.  Working together
they had long ago developed a firm friendship based on mutual respect and
admiration – two hard-working bosses who were on top of their game.  Not
that Randy really opened up too much about `the situation' as everyone was
calling it.  Randy had always been something of a loner and Zack respected
his privacy, though he was ready to help him in whatever way he could.

His opportunity came a few days after Bob and Randy had split.  Zack was in
the trailer office having a sandwich and a beer when Randy stomped in and
slammed the door behind him.  He was in a mood and, typically, he didn't
beat around the bush.  "This thing with Bob," he said, opening a beer, "and
what I did in the bar.  I'm not sorry I hurt him – he's used to that."
(Zack rolled his eyes.)

"And I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but I guess I humiliated him in
public and I know he hates that.  Guess I went too far – I was so damn
mad that all those guys were falling over themselves to get near him and he
was getting real thick with one of them.  Yeah, I was wrong and I need to
get punished, Zack.  You're the only guy I can turn to, man."

Zack felt anger rising "Man, I'd really get off punishing you, not for what
you did but for what you just said.  `You're not sorry you hurt Bob `cause
he's used to that' ...  `he deserved it' ... you were `mad that the guys in
the bar lusted for him'.  Man, don't you ever learn?  What is he, a
beautiful, gentle man who loved you, or a fucking farm animal who deserves
whatever you dish out?  You're my buddy and I respect you a lot, but you
can be your own worst enemy and sometimes you fucking make me see red.
Yeah, I'll punish you, asshole."

Zack grabbed him and pushed him forward over the drafting table.  Randy
spread his arms and gripped the top of the table as Zack yanked his work
pants down over his ass.  Randy was, as usual, wearing his dirty old tank
top and Zack, as usual, was shirtless in black jeans Zack ripped open his
jeans and pulled out his long, thick black weapon.  He spat on it, stroked
it a couple of times, then rammed it brutally into the boss's ass.

There was no scream as Randy gritted his teeth against the searing pain.
Zack usually refrained from sex when he was angry, knowing the dangers of a
top man losing control.  But this time his anger overcame him and he
pounded Randy's ass with all his strength.  Randy clenched his jaw as long
as he could but the pain of the relentless jackhammer became so intense he
groaned louder and louder.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw the magnificent ebony body
slamming against him, muscles flexing, glistening with sweat.  Randy knew
Zack was a powerful son-of-a-bitch and he braced himself for a brutal
pounding from his pile-driving cock.

"This is what you need, man," Zack sneered, "a taste of the crap you dish
out.  I'm tired of you brutalizing that beautiful guy we all love just
because you claim to own him, like some dog."  Zack's mounting anger made
him drive his cock ever deeper into the shattered ass.  "Feel that, man?
That's what it feels like when you torture the ass of the man who loves
you.  You proud of yourself, asshole?  Shit, I don't know why I'm wasting
my time on your sorry ass.  Here it comes, man."

The searing pain became unbearable and Randy screamed, "I can't take it,
man.  I give up.  Cum in my ass ... please ... I submit... Aaagh!"  Two
screams echoed round the small space as Zack emptied his cock into the
boss's gut and Randy spilled his own load on the floor."

Zack yanked his cock out of the ravaged ass, wiped it off and stuffed it
back into his jeans.  He stared down at Randy contemptuously, then spun
round and walked out the door, leaving behind him the construction worker's
muscular body slumped over the table, naked except for the work pants
crumpled round his boots.  It wasn't so much the physical pain as the agony
of hearing Zack's scathing words that left him heaving with sobs.

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

And so the week dragged on at the house in a cloud of gloom and
uncertainty.  Bob had spoken often by phone with the twins (about the
household) and with Jamie (about the office), while Randy, of course, saw
Pablo, Ben, Darius and Zack on the construction site.  The episode in the
trailer was never mentioned, but Randy and Zack seemed closer than ever,
having shared raw feelings man-to-man.  Deep down Randy knew Zack had been
right, though he did not admit it to himself consciously, so deep was his
state of denial.

Jamie had called Mario, too, confiding in him about the unfolding drama,
and Mario had responded by coming up to town and joining the group again.
In the continued absence of Bob and Randy, Mark took charge of the house,
trying to hold things together.  To dispel the anxiety and rumors, Mark and
Zack decided to convene a meeting, with everyone present including Steve,
whose expertise as a therapist they felt was needed.

The men sat at the long table in the garden and all the boys sat
cross-legged in the grass gazing up at them.  Mark chaired the meeting and
called on Steve first, though he was able to give them less comfort than
they hoped for.

"There's very little you guys can decide about now until the situation
between Bob and Randy resolves itself – one way or the other.  All you
can do is go day to day, trying to keep the routine as normal as possible.
I know you you'd like me to intervene between them but I can't do that.  As
Randy's brother, one year younger than him, I'm the last guy he would take
advice from.  And as a therapist I cannot approach them – they have to
come to me.  It's a basic principle of my job.  Right now you're in a
holding pattern.  Sorry I can't be more helpful than that, guys."

They all accepted the truth of Steve's words and Mark said, "OK, thanks
Steve, so let's be practical.  Jamie, I know Bob is in touch with you daily
about the office but my guess is you're really up against it in there.  You
need help.  The last time we were all together Randy assumed that Mario
would join us and assist you.  But Mario, I have to warn you that such a
move would be risky right now as we don't even know what's going to happen
to the company from here on."

"That's not a problem for me, sir," Mario replied confidently.  "It's the
slow season at my hotel and they've encouraged us to take vacation.  So I
have taken my two weeks and intend to spend it helping Jamie – if he
wants me."  The two boys grinned at each other and blushed.  "After that,
if things work out, I would love to make my stay permanent" .

"Excellent," Mark said.  "I appreciate that and," he grinned, "I'm sure
Jamie and I can find a way of thanking you later.  Now the men have to talk
about contingency plans for the future of the company, so I suggest we
adjourn to the office, gentlemen, and continue our discussion there."

They got up and went into the house, leaving behind a group of bewildered
boys in a state of anxiety and confusion

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

There was an uncomfortable silence at first as they all looked at each
other, waiting for someone to take the lead.  Suddenly Eddie surprised them
by blurting out, "It's not fair ... everyone's blaming Randy `cause we all
love Bob so much, but Randy is my hero.  When I was gonna get beaten by
that thug I heard his voice – "You touch the boy one more time, asshole,
and I'll rip your fucking balls off.  That's my boy you got there. He
belongs to me."  He had come all that way to rescue me and he took a real
beating for my sake.  He called me his boy and ... and I don't think we
should ..."  But his words trailed off and he broke down in tears.

Pablo was sitting next to him and put his arms round him and hugged him
tight.  Darius leapt to his feet and faced them leaning against the table,
taking the lead.  "OK, guys, I think Eddie speaks for all of us.  It's all
a fucking mess.  Does anyone else have anything to say?  Pablo, Ben, maybe
– you're closest to him, after all, as his boy and his brother."

But Pablo and Ben were reticent.  All they knew was that they would stay
loyal to Randy no matter what.  "I just wanna say," Pablo said, "that if
Randy goes back to Texas he'll take us with him."  Kyle said, "Same goes
for us twins and Bob," and Kevin added, "Bob said when he goes to San
Francisco he's taking us with him."

"I'll stay with Adam, of course," Nate said, "and Eddie will go and live
with Hassan."  Jamie added," Naturally I'll stay with Mark and you, Darius,
would never leave Zack."

This prompted a buzz of conversation and Darius cut through it.  "OK, OK,
so us boys will never leave our masters, but..."  He couldn't think what to
say next, except, "Shit, this leadership thing is tougher than I thought."
He looked down at the boys who were now gazing up at him expectantly.
Darius found them moving and he choked up.  "Yeah, guys but what about us?
We were always a band of brothers, always together – we circled the
wagons when there was trouble.  But this time, I don't know what ..."  He
wiped his eyes, holding back tears.

The silence was heartbreaking but suddenly they were saved, once again, by
Eddie's clear voice.  "Well, guys, Doctor Steve said all we can do is take
it one day at a time.  So what about right now?  We all know we love each
other – a band of brothers, like Darius said.  So let's prove it."
Impulsively he turned to Pablo, who still had his arm round his shoulder,
and kissed him hard on the mouth.  Then he leaned down, unbuttoned Pablo's
shorts and pulled out his cock.  It was limp but with Eddie's cock-sucking
skills he soon had it hard, deep in his throat.

Nate was next to turn to the boy beside him – Ben.  "Hey, mate, about
time we did this.  After all, we might not have much longer."  Ben grinned
at his Aussie directness and they kissed.  They grappled for a while,
ending up on their sides head to toe, facing each other's dicks.

Darius gazed in awe at what was happening.  He fell to his knees and found
himself facing Mario.  "Hey, dude, I never did really make amends for the
time I lost my mind and whipped you while you were tied to that tree.  No
time like the present.  He pulled off his shorts and lay naked on his back,
pulling up his legs and offering his ass.  "Go for it stud."

Jamie and the twins had been sitting near the back of the group closest to
the floor-to-ceiling window of the house.  They all looked at each other
shyly.  Caught up in the general shedding of inhibitions Kyle said, "We
never told you, Jamie, that a California surfer was one of our biggest
turn-ons, and the other day when you came home from the beach barefoot in
your board shorts and that old tank, your hair all tangled, we really
envied Mark who got to fuck you right away .  We jerked each other off
thinking about it."

Jamie grinned, looking over the field of frenzied activity.  Well, guys,
looks like today's the day.  He got on hands and his knees in front of the
window and looked at his own reflection and the twins behind him.  He
pulled his surfer trunks down below his ass and said, "OK, guys – who's
first?"  The twins were mesmerized by the sight of the surfer's white
globes, with tan lines above and below.  And Kevin went first.

Jamie's yell as Kevin's dick drove into him was added to the howls and
shouts of all the other boys as the garden became the scene of a writhing
boys' orgy.  Eddie who had started the ball rolling, had given Pablo the
unique pleasure of getting his cock sucked by an expert, and now climbed on
him, sat on his raging hard-on and was bouncing up and down while Pablo
howled, "Shit, Eddie, you're fucking awesome – a real stud.  Fuck my
cock, boy."

Ben and Nate were going at it like young demons, feeding on each other's
cock in a 69 contest, seeing who could suck the hardest and get the other
guy off first.  Mario was showing Darius just how macho of a top-man he
was, pounding his ass while he wrapped both hands round the black boy's
huge ten-inches and pumped it hard.

And Jamie on his hands and knees was backing up to the cocks of first one
twin then the other.  Then, when Kyle pulled out, he rolled Jamie over,
bent forward and sucked his cock while Kevin took his turn at the ass,
sliding his cock down the chute and deep inside.  The young blond surfer
was being treated to the erotic sensation of being fucked and sucked at the
same time by identical twins.

The initial screams of pain had now become howls of delight (from those who
didn't have their mouths full), and the joyous sounds blended together in
one harmonious chorus.  The frenzied, youthful activity was made all the
more intense and poignant by their knowing that this could be their last
time together, maybe.  They were making their own music, not unlike the
band playing on the sinking Titanic (no `maybe' there).

The shouts of joy reached a crescendo as they started to shoot their loads.
Pablo exploded in Eddie's ass while the boy shot over his face.  Ben and
Nate's 69 contest was a draw as they shot in each other's mouths
simultaneously.  Mario stroked Darius's long black dick hard with both
hands and, when he saw it erupt he came himself, deep in Darius's ass.
Jamie was on his back beating his meat as the twins stood over him emptying
their cocks over him.

Cum was everywhere.  The young bodies, slick with hot jism, were sliding
over each other, their hearts pounding, bodies heaving, their cocks already
hard again.  They were caught up in a wild orgy of lust, writhing together
in a heap, unaware of which mouth they were fucking, what cock was fucking
whose ass. All they knew was that they loved each other, a true band of
brothers, taking perhaps their last chance to say a final passionate
farewell in the way they knew best.

The deafening noise of course reached the men upstairs and they stared down
at the astonishing scene below, at the heap of naked young bodies writhing
all over each other in a tangle of limbs.  "Shit damn," said Zack, "will
you look at that!  The kids must know all this could end soon and they're
making the most of their last time."  Mark gazed down and murmured, "Yeah,
their last goodbye," and he turned away to hide the tears brimming in his
eyes.

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

The mantra Steve had given them was one day at a time and that's how they
played it.  The next day the forced euphoria of the day before was gone,
replaced by the comforting routine of work.  Zack, Darius Pablo and Ben
went back to the construction site and didn't attempt to talk to Randy
about anything except the project at hand.  Mario joined Jamie in the
office and was soon being schooled in the everyday tasks of keeping the
business running.

The twins, Nate and Eddie put in extra effort to keep the house in shape,
with Nate keeping a keen eye on Eddie, who he knew was hurting bad.  The
twins were the calmest of them all, as if they had some secret knowledge
that things would turn out OK.  To this end they spring-cleaned the suite
of Bob and Randy, leaving it pristine, with a big vase of flowers that they
changed every day.  It would be a warm welcome for whichever of the men
returned, if they ever did.

The days dragged on and Bob came to despise the luxury of his surroundings
at the hotel.  He didn't deserve this, he was pampering himself selfishly
when others were hurting and there was so much to be decided.  He had to
come out of his luxury shell and face up to reality, but he still could not
bring himself to go back to the room he and Randy had shared for so long.

Randy was going through similar melancholy.  He too was starting to hate
his cheap motel room, because subconsciously it was his last ink with Bob
and leaving it would be like cutting the cord forever.  He knew he needed
Bob more than ever but hated himself for needing him.  So he took
increasingly to drink, spending more time in the bar and staggering back
nightly to the motel in drunken oblivion.

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

It was one evening when Mark was visiting Bob at his hotel that things
finally came to a head.  Mark's visits were what was keeping Bob from going
crazy.  The cop had come straight from work and they were sitting down to
another room-service dinner when Mark's cell phone rang unexpectedly.
"Hey, Joe, what's up buddy?"  As he listened his expression clouded over
with frustration.  "Jesus Christ, when?  How bad?  Yeah, yeah I know him
... yeah I'll vouch for him.  How long before you transfer him downtown?
Heck, that soon, uh?  Listen buddy, do me a favor and delay it as long as
you can – I'm on my way.  Thanks, Joe, you're a real pal."

Mark spoke quickly.  "A pal of mine at the Hollywood Police division.  They
responded to a drunk and disorderly call at one of those cheap bars at the
wrong end of the Boulevard.  It was Randy, drunk as a skunk threatening to
beat up a guy in the bar.  The cops hauled his ass off to the cells at the
Hollywood Police Station where he's yelling that he's gonna tear the place
apart.  Trouble is, in half an hour they're gonna transfer him to the Glass
House in Downtown L.A.  I have some pull at Hollywood, know a lot of the
guys there, but once he's in the downtown jail all bets are off.  I gotta
get over there, do what I can.  Don't move from here, Bob.  I'll call you."

With a quick hug Mark ran from the room, leaving behind him a bereft man
with tears in his eyes.  "Stupid fucking idiot," he said, talking out loud
as he did in times of trouble.  "Of course he got drunk – and in the old
days he'd take it out on me.  But those were the old days.  I have no
responsibility for him now.  Let him rot in jail."  As soon as the words
were out of his mouth he took them back.  "No, no – he got drunk because
of me, he's missing me."

He paced the room feeling helpless, with no idea what to do.  He took a
deep breath trying to stay calm.  "OK, what would Randy do, even now, if he
heard I was in trouble?  I know damn well what he'd do.  He'd come right
away to help me.  Remember the time those assholes ran me off the road and
he carried me all the way up the sides of the ravine to the road?  In the
hospital he didn't leave my side while I was in a coma ... and he brought
me back to life."

He rushed to the door.  "I gotta go to him – he needs me like he's
always needed me."  He stopped.  "No, Mark said to stay put here.  Gotta
wait for him to do his thing."  He sat down and took a swig of wine, trying
desperately to stay calm.  "Shit, isn't that what I've always done?  He
beats me up, I leave, then go crawling back.  I can't do that again ... but
he needs me."  Bob was confused and exhausted.  He rested his head on his
arms on the table, forced himself to clear his mind and finally drifted off
into a troubled sleep.

He was woken by his cell phone.  How long he had slept he didn't know.  He
almost sobbed with relief to hear Mark's calm voice.  "It's OK buddy,
everything's OK.  Luckily the guys on that shift know me well and owed me
some favors, so we worked things out, bent a few rules and they released
Randy on my recognizance.  By that time he was pretty much beat, whacked
out from booze.  I took him to some rat-hole of a motel he's been staying
in round the corner from the bar he had roughed up.  I ordered him to stay
put there all night until he sobered up, and he was in no shape to protest.
I know he'll pass out for the night."

Mark paused.  "Funny thing, though, as I left the room I looked back at
him, lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and I suddenly
felt real sorry for him.  Such a great guy, but now he's a wreck.  And you
know what?  As he lay there tears were running down his cheeks.  Not
something you see often, the big boss man, the so-called King of the
Gypsies, in tears."

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

Bob was staring at the wall.  Mark had signed off saying he had to get back
to Jamie, and was Bob OK now he knew Randy was safe?  Yes, Bob had said, he
was just fine.  But that wasn't true.  Bob knew now where Randy was –
"some rat-hole of a motel he's been staying in round the corner from the
bar."  Had to be their motel – the one where ...  His eyes glazed over
as he thought of that first night together when it had all started with
Randy roping him to the bed and punishing him for, as he mistakenly
thought, Bob's coming on to him.  He saw the swarthy construction worker
towering over him – he felt the pain as if it were yesterday.

Suddenly he snapped back to the present and everything was crystal clear to
him.  He knew what he had to do.  He pulled on an old pair of jeans, heavy
boots and a wide belt that he hardly ever wore.  He put on an old white
tank top and a frayed denim shirt, sleeveless, hanging open over his chest.

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the rugged muscle stud who had
so recently dominated Mark, forced him to strip and then jack-hammered his
ass.  It was an alpha male he hardly recognized – the new Bob, released
from his bondage of humility and subservience.  "The stupid asshole
motherfucker," he growled, and left the room.

As he drove along Sunset Boulevard toward Hollywood it was all dιjΰ
vu.  He remembered that distant day when, after Randy had released him from
his nightmare in the motel, he had checked into a luxury hotel.  He
remembered his restlessness, his strange inability to leave the city.  Now,
as he dropped down to Hollywood Boulevard and headed away from the glitz
toward the shabby end he recalled his aimless wanderings that night when he
had no idea what he was doing but felt himself inexorably drawn back to
that motel.

He remembered bumping over a rough paving and coming to a halt ... in the
small motel parking lot.  And now, as his Mercedes purred to a halt –
here he was again.  That first time he had stayed in his car for a long
time gazing at the door of Room 14 before plucking up the courage to
approach it.  He had been nervous, knowing he was going back to the savage
domination of the man he was obsessed with.

Not this time though.  Bob felt his whole body flex as power surged through
him.  He got out of the car and strode to door 14.  As he had done before
he peered through a crack in the window blinds and saw exactly the same
sight as he had seen before.  Randy was lying on his back on the bed, his
hands linked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

Last time Bob had knocked nervously and waited.  This time he grabbed the
door handle, turned it ... and walked right in.

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

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 195.

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 urge 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!