A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH ... PART 23 By Rob Williams

Here's what happens in this chapter: The muscle stud Randy and beautiful cop Mark rescue the suffering Pablo. Randy takes brutal revenge. "You couldn't do this, Mark; it would be police brutality. But me ... I work freelance, so I can do what I want." Meanwhile, at home Bob helps Darius explore his fantasies. Bob: "How was that for a fantasy?" Darius: "Un-fucking believable! I'll jack off over that for years."

Now read on. And be sure to let me know what you think. Email me at rw6789@aol.com Enjoy... Rob

A Trial Of Strength ... Part 23

On their way up to the canyon Randy, a muscular stud in full leather, and the beautiful cop, Mark, had stopped for gas at a run-down gas station where they met the exotic looking young mechanic, Pablo. But Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong there. They promised themselves they would stop there on their way back.

"I had a real uneasy feeling about that place," Mark said. "Something wasn't right ... didn't smell right, if you know what I mean."

"Right, I hear you. You wanna go and check it out, don't you?"

"Yeah. I have one of those cop hunches."

"You got it man. Let's hit it."

A heavy silence hung over the gas station as they walked up. Mark paused, then said softly, "Take a look around back. I'll check out the inside."

Mark walked through the office area and went through the door to the repair shop. The door swung closed behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he gasped at the sight. The car hoist had been raised to its highest level. Tied to it, his arms raised high and wide was the young guy, Pablo. His dungarees hung round his waist and his bare chest was marked with red welts. He was gagging on a filthy rag jammed into his mouth, his eyes wide with terror.

Standing before him, his back to Mark, was a huge, burly bear of a guy in grease-stained jeans and T-shirt, and he was holding his belt in his hand.

"You fucking faggot. I paid big bucks for you and you turn out to be a lousy cock sucker. Well, pretty boy, this is what happens to freaks like you."

"Freeze!" The powerful voice made him spin round.

"Who the fuck are you? Get out of here. There's a private party going on."

"Like hell there is," and Mark stepped forward.

The thug raised the belt and brought it whistling down toward Mark's face. But Mark was too quick for him. He raised his arm, let the belt curl round it, and yanked on it, pulling the man toward him. As he fell forward Mark brought his knee crashing up into his groin. He staggered back in agony and Mark followed up with a vicious right to his stomach, making him double up in pain.

Out of the corner of his eye Mark saw Pablo's head nodding frantically, his eyes wide open. But it was too late. Mark felt his arms grabbed from behind on either side and locked in a vice-like grip. The older guy recovered himself and croaked out, "That's it boys. Hold him tight."

He came up to Mark and, grabbing his hair, pulled his head back. The ugly bearded face came close. "I want you to meet my two sons, you shithead. You made a real mistake coming in here. Now they're gonna hold you while I have my fun. Hey, it's a long time since I worked over a good-looking guy like you. Think you're a hot-shot stud, don't ya? Well that face ain't gonna look so pretty when I'm finished with you."

And he raised his belt and brought it crashing down. In a split-second reflex Mark jerked his head to the side and the belt missed his face, thudding onto his shoulder. The man took aim again.

"NO!" For a few seconds it felt like an earthquake as the door crashed open and Randy howled, hurling himself across the room. He crashed into the backs of the two men holding Mark and in one lightning move wrapped his muscular arms around their necks from behind. The veins on his huge biceps bulged as he choked them. As they went limp he pulled them away from Mark, then propelled them forward across the room, smashing their heads against the wall like twin battering rams.

Seizing the moment Mark slammed the back of his fist hard against the face of the thug holding the whip. As the brute spun round Mark came up behind him and locked his arms around him and behind his neck in a full nelson. He pushed him against the wall next to Randy and pounded his head into the wall. The man slumped to the floor dazed and disoriented.

His adrenaline racing Mark became aware of Randy's screaming curses. The leather man was running on pure, blazing fury. His well-known anger consumed him as he continued to hammer the heads against the wall. "You cock-sucking cowards, torturing a kid. Try taking on a man your own size, you fucking shitheads?"

"Hey, man, back off. You'll kill them." Mark put a restraining hand on Randy's arm. "They're finished, buddy. Look at them."

As Mark pulled his arm Randy finally released his iron grip and let the two thugs slump to the ground. He stood over them, eyes blazing, chest heaving, body pouring with sweat. Ever the seasoned cop, Mark had already calmed down and took over.

"I'll secure these mother-fuckers," he said. "Take care of the kid."

Randy came out of his trance and walked over to the young mechanic who was frozen in a blind panic. Randy kicked at the jumble of tools on the floor and picked up a long knife. He pulled the oily rag from the kid's mouth and raised the knife.

But Pablo recoiled, whimpering, "No ... don't, please!"

"Hey, relax, kid. We're the good guys. It's over. I'm gonna cut you free. Just don't move, OK?"

Pablo stared at him. "OK, sir."

It took a moment for Randy to cut the ropes. Pablo's hands fell to his sides and he stood motionless before his rescuer, almost at attention. His handsome face, with its high cheek bones and slanted deep brown eyes was set in a display of defiance. But only for a moment. His face began to crumple, his heavy breathing became sobs, and tears began to stream from his eyes.

As the full horror of the day crashed in on him he fell forward, gripped Randy in a tight hug and sobbed into his shoulder. Randy brought his hands up around his neck and stroked the back of his head. Softly he spoke words of calm and comfort.

"That's it, kid. Let everything go. It's over. You're with me now. I'll take care of you. Your life's gonna change. No more fear, OK?"

Mark had finished tying up the three thugs and stood back watching Randy. He couldn't believe it. This powerful, muscular stud who only hours ago had been dominating him, fucking his ass, and only minutes ago had been delivering a savage, brutal beating, was now tenderly holding this terrified kid, gently stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort to him. It was at that moment that Mark fell completely in love with Randy.

Suddenly Pablo pulled himself free, took a step back and resumed his rigid, defiant stance. He pulled up his dungarees and pulled one strap over his shoulder. The other strap hung down, beyond repair. From one pocket he pulled an oily rag and wiped his eyes, which only added more grease stains to his face. Form his other pocket he pulled his frameless owl-like glasses and put them on. He blinked at Randy.

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have done that. I never cry."

"Hey, kiddo, you're allowed. What was your name again?"

"Pablo, sir."

"Yeah, right. Well, Pablo, here's what's gonna happen. You're with me now. I'll never let anyone hurt you again. That's a promise. But you have to do everything I tell you, OK?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir. What do I do now, sir?"

"You go outside and wait for the officer here and me while we clean up in here. Then we'll take you away from this dump."

Pablo pulled himself up to his full height, turned smartly and left the room, almost at a march.

"And that," said Randy to Mark, "is what I call a man."

A few minutes later the two men had, indeed, cleaned up. The three thugs had taken Pablo's place, tied to the car hoist, arms stretched upward and outward. The grizzled father growled at Mark.

"I paid good money for that kid. I own him."

"Yeah," Mark said. "Well the last time I checked slavery was illegal in this country."

"You don't know who you're messing with here, you fucker. Remember the name Baxter. Me and my five boys will take care of you sooner or later. As soon as I'm free I'm calling the cops."

"I am the cops, asshole," and Mark flashed his police ID at him. "And I'll be the one doing the calling ... especially about your little project here. You smell that, Randy?"

"They stink like dead skunks," snarled Randy.

"No, not just them. Take a deep breath, buddy."

"Yeah," agreed Randy. "And the trailer out back stinks real bad... kinda acrid."

Mark put his face close to the older man. "You been doing a little cooking back there, uh, old man? Got a little meth lab going out there, have we?" The old guy flinched.

"So that's what keeps this place going," Randy said. "They're cooking crystal meth. Would never have thought of this scum as gourmet chefs, though. Kinda gives the words 'Home Cooking' a whole new meaning."

Mark laughed. "Go join the kid while I put the call in. I know a few of the local cops in this division."

As Randy left the old man growled at Mark, "You don't know who you're messing with, you pig. If you ever come back out here my other three sons will work you over good. Just remember the Baxter boys when you meet them again."

"That's that, then," said Mark as he came outside. "The old man's a piece of work. Cops'll be arriving soon, but I want to get Pablo out of here. No need for him to be involved in the investigation."

Randy turned to Pablo. "OK, kid. Go and get your gear and we're outa here."

"I don't have anything, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"They took away all my clothes and things. If I asked for anything they beat me. This is all I have."

Randy looked at him. "When did you last eat?"

"Yesterday, I think, sir. I forget when they last brought me food."

Randy clenched his jaw. "OK, that does it. Do you sell jumper cables here?"

"Battery cables? Yes, sir. They're in the office. Do you want me to get a pair?"

"Three pairs!"

"Three...?" Surprised, he ran inside and came back with the cables.

Randy turned to Mark. "Give me five minutes. Then we can hit the road."

He strode inside the repair shop and faced the three bound men. "OK, it's prize-giving time. You guys have had a good time torturing that kid for a couple of years. Now he has something for you. He walked up to one of the sons and snarled, "This is from Pablo." He raised his arm and, his biceps bulging, smashed the back of his fist against the man's cheek. His head flew backward with a howl of pain.

"And this," Randy said, ripping the guy's T-shirt off, "is from me." He held a pair of jumper cables, one clamp in each hand, and squeezed so the serrated teeth opened wide. As he clamped them hard onto the man's nipples there was an agonized scream of pain as the sharp teeth bit into his flesh.

Approaching the second guy, he said, "This is from Pablo." And he delivered a vicious hard right into the terrified man's stomach, making him double up in pain. "And from me you get the same as your brother here." Again he ripped off the shirt and clamped the teeth of the cable to his tits, provoking more screams.

Randy raised his voice to the father. "Sound like your boys have a good set of lungs, old man. Let's see if you can match them. This is from Pablo." He brought his knee up and crashed it into the man's balls. When the scream died down, Randy said. "Oh, and this is from my buddy Mark who you wanted to hurt so bad." And he jerked his knee up again. "And this is from me." For the third time he ripped off the shirt and clamped the serrated ends of the cables to the suffering man's chest.

Finally he gathered the other ends of the cables and twisted them all together, so each man was straining, pulling tightly on the chest of the others. The screams were so intense that Mark burst into the room.

"What the hell's going on?" He stopped short. "Jesus, Randy, you don't fool around do you?"

"Well," Randy grinned. "I knew you couldn't do anything like this. That would be police brutality. But me ... well I work freelance, so I can do more or less what I want."

"And usually do," said Mark.

"Pretty much," Randy smiled. "Come on. Let's get out of this rat-hole."

"Here," Randy said to Pablo as they came outside, and he held out a bag full of tools from the repair shop. "Those guys won't be needing these where they're going. They're yours."

"Wow," said Pablo.

"Now food," said Mark. "I know a small Mexican restaurant not far from here. We'll stop there and feed this guy." But Pablo suddenly ran into the office. A few minutes later he came out with a helmet he had found for himself. He also had a 'Closed For Business' sign that he hung up. Underneath it he had scrawled, '(a bit tied up!)'. For the first time he grinned as he looked up at Randy, who punched his shoulder and said, "That's my boy."

Pablo jumped on the bike behind Randy, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Randy and Mark kicked their machines into life and they screeched away. In the distance they heard the sound of approaching police sirens that mingled with the screams of the agonized men inside. But these noises quickly died away, replaced by the wind as it whistled past them.

Twenty minutes later the three men were the only customers in the tiny, remote restaurant. "Wow," said Pablo as the waitress placed before him a huge pile of sizzling fajitas.

Randy smiled. "Boy, do we have to broaden your vocabulary."

Pablo wolfed down the food as if he hadn't eaten for days, which he probably hadn't. Between mouthfuls he told his story. In a car he was repairing he had found some magazines left there by the customer. They were mostly pictures of naked men, and he was thumbing through them when the three guys had seen him.

"That's why they called me a faggot and whipped me, sir."

"And are you ... gay I mean?" asked Randy.

Pablo hesitated.

"Look I know that's kind of personal, but if I'm to take charge of you I need to know all about you."

Pablo stammered. "I ...I think I might be, sir."

"You think?......."

"Well, I've never done anything with anyone ... sex or anything, but those pictures were interesting ... especially ... well, especially the one of the black guy with a huge dick."

Randy muttered to himself. "Boy, do I have someone you should meet."

Mark, in cop mode, was more businesslike. "I want to get a few things clear. Pablo. You say you have no relatives."

"No, sir. I've been in foster care all my life."

"And now you're nearly 21 so you've been emancipated from DCFS?

"Uh?"

"Your case with Family Services has been closed."

"Oh, yeah. The Welfare wrote me off a couple years ago. I'm all alone in the world now."

Randy stood up. "Not any more you're not, kiddo. Let's go."

As Pablo leaned over his chair to pick up his helmet his perfect bubble butt was outlined under his dungarees. Mark's eyes widened and Randy rolled his eyes at him and grinned.

Outside they climbed on their bikes and Randy turned to Pablo behind him. "We ride fast, kid, but it'll still take well over an hour to get home. You think you can hold on tight to me for that long?"

Pablo cleared his throat. "I'll hold on tight to you for as long as you want, sir."

Mark grinned at Randy. "I guess that goes for me too ... sir!"

Randy smiled back. "I'm counting on it."

And they hit the road, headed for home."

Meanwhile, back at the house the scene was far more domestic. The previous day, while Randy and Mark were exploring each other in the high desert, Darius had got home first and was preparing dinner. Anticipating Bob's return from work, he had put on fresh jeans and a clean white T-shirt. But still his beautifully proportioned, black, muscular body strained through his clothes.

Soon the door opened and Bob walked in, dressed in his business suit and tie.

"God, I'm bushed. Tough day. But dinner smells good." He put his arm round Darius's neck. "You know, it feels real good coming home to see you being all domestic. You're a good kid. I'm going up to change. Bring me a beer, will you?"

Darius got two beers and followed Bob up to his bedroom. He sat on the bed while Bob changed. He loved to watch this ... it never failed to turn him on. Even dressed in formal business clothes Bob was stunning. His square-jawed, chiseled face, with dark hair and deep brown eyes gave him a Superman look. And Darius was eager to see his incredible body.

Bob took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged off his jacket, then pulled his shirt off. There he stood, stripped to the waist, his broad muscular shoulders and wide lats tapering down, past his sculpted chest to the trim waist of his pants. He kicked off his shoes and socks, unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. He stood facing Darius wearing only his white boxer shorts.

Darius gazed up at this gorgeous man in awe. He was almost drooling. "Jeez..." he said to himself.

Bob pulled on new blue jeans, but remained barefoot. From a drawer he picked a sparkling white V-neck T-shirt that he pulled over his brawny torso. It was not tight but it still clung to his rounded pecs, and his biceps bulged out below the short sleeves.

"You look incredible in that shirt," Darius breathed. "Fucking unbelievable. Look..." And he pointed to his leg. The full length of his swollen ten-inch cock stretched under his jeans almost to his knee.

Bob laughed, pleased at the effect he was having. "Hey, is that burning pot-roast I smell?"

"Jesus!" Darius came out of his trance and bolted for the door.

Half an hour later the two men were sitting at the kitchen table over their meal. Darius had never felt so at ease with a man, despite his almost permanent erection. Bob was not only incredibly beautiful, he was kind, easy going, somehow the bedrock of calm in the house. Randy was the undisputed boss but Bob was the anchor. They were soul-mates, and would be forever, united in affection, passion and lust. Still, Darius brought the subject up.

"I keep wondering," Darius said. "Are you sure you're OK with Randy and Mark going off like that? I mean, Mark's pretty much a god, and they're bound to ..."

"Fuck around?" Mark smiled. "Look, I know Randy better than I know myself. And I know the one thing he still had to do. Don't you?

Darius hesitated. "Fuck Mark's ass?"

"Damn right. My only regret is that I wasn't there to watch. Can you imagine the sight?"

"Oh yeah," Darius grinned. "Stop making me hard."

"I've told you before. Randy and I have a love that's unique. Nothing, nobody will ever come between us. But Randy has to assert his authority, and if it means fucking a Greek god to do it, so be it."

"You're something else," Darius said. 'I ... I just wanna say ... Hell, man, I love you."

"I know," Bob smiled. "And we're all alone in the house. How about that?"

Darius grinned again, "I told you ... stop making me hard."

"But you," Bob said. "Don't you ever feel you'd like to have someone nearer your own age around? Someone you can look after, show the ropes to?"

"Like a kid brother, you mean? Yeah, I guess I do sometimes. But meanwhile I'm not complaining. I'm happy living with two of the most gorgeous men ever to walk the planet. And you feed my fantasies. I fantasize all the time, mostly about you two."

"Hmm, maybe we'll do something about that later. But for now I'm exhausted. D'you mind if we call it a night?"

Darius's face fell. "Well, sure."

"What's the matter? You're gonna sleep with me, aren't you?"

Darius beamed. "Try stopping me."

Upstairs they took off their jeans and stood in their shorts and T-shirts. Bob frowned a little.

"Darius. Don't take this wrong, but I'm really bushed. Do you mind if ..."

"If we just go to sleep together?"

"How did you know?"

"That's one of my fantasies," Darius grinned.

"Then come here."

They climbed into bed. Darius lay on his side and the beautiful man he worshipped pulled up close behind him. Darius gave a big contented sigh as Bob wrapped his big arms around him and held him tight. The young man was in heaven as he felt the muscles rippling under the T-shirt as they pressed against him, the bulge of Bob's cock against his ass. He was in heaven as he closed his eyes and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

"Breakfast in bed, sir?" It was morning and Darius had got up while Bob slept. Now he came in with a tray loaded with steaming hot food.

"You know, I should keep you around," Bob laughed. "Come and eat."

Darius joined him bed and they attacked the breakfast. "So," Bob said. "Sleeping with me was one of your fantasies. Tell me more."

"They're usually a lot rougher than that. Remember the time when I mouthed off to Randy and he punished me real good ... fucked my ass brutally until I cried? Well it hurt like hell and I hated him at the time, but now, every time I think about it, it makes me hard. I guess I kinda like being hurt ... by the right man, of course, and especially if my ass gets punished."

"Yeah but you made Randy real angry. I can't imagine you ever making me that mad. And fantasies have to be close to the truth to be any good."

Bob was silent for a while as he ate.

"Tell you what," he said at last. "Today's Saturday and there's a project I've been meaning to get to. There's a tree stump in the garden that needs to be uprooted. But It'll be real tough, a lot of hard work. You up for it?"

Darius's eyes shone as he began to understand. "Absolutely, sir."

"Go put on your work clothes. I'll join you in the garden."

Darius ran downstairs, and Bob got up and rooted around in the dirty laundry. "I'll give him a fantasy he won't forget," he murmured.

Dressed in cut-off jeans, work boots and an old grubby T-shirt Darius stood waiting, and his jaw dropped when he saw Bob come out of the house. He was dressed in Randy's work clothes ... mud-caked cargo pants and work boots, and an old faded blue tank top stained with sweat and grease. Around his tight waist was Randy's tool belt.

He looked incredible ... an icon of a macho, muscular construction worker. Darius was used to seeing a handsome businessman, buttoned down, almost preppy, but now Bob looked rough, dirty, tough. He was the man of Darius's dreams ... his fantasy come to life.

"Jesus," Darius breathed. "You look ... "

"Forget it punk. We have work to do."

And the work was back breaking. The huge tree stump was a bitch, and they dug, hacked and heaved at it for a couple of hours before it even moved. Despite the hard labor Darius had a permanent hard-on watching Bob's huge muscles flex, strain and gleam as his hair fell over his face that poured with sweat and his clothes clung to his straining body.

Bob tied ropes around the tree stump and they heaved at it. But he was getting frustrated and mad.

"Pull, dammit," he growled at Darius. "You're pulling like a girl. Put some muscle into it."

The criticism stung. "Fuck you. I'm doing more than my share. I need a break, anyway. I'm done, man."

Bob's eyes blazed. "You're done when I tell you you're done, asshole."

"Oh is that so? And who made you the boss? Randy's my boss, not you," and he flung down the rope.

"You fucking shithead," yelled Bob and shoved the sweating black man backwards. Recovering himself, Darius pushed him back. The shoving match that followed quickly escalated into a fight and soon the two men were rolling on the ground, muscles grinding together in a battle for supremacy. Bob was surprised at the black man's strength, but Bob was bigger and gradually gained the upper hand. He finally had Darius pinned under him on the ground, exhausted.

"You arrogant little prick. OK, you want me to show you who's boss? You got it, asshole."

Bob leapt to his feet and grabbed the rope they had been using. Darius started to move but Bob was too quick. Instantly he tied the ropes around Darius's wrists and pulled the other end around the tree stump. Darius was helpless on his back, his arms stretched tight above his head and attached to the tree.

He looked up tauntingly at the huge, sweating construction worker towering over him.

"What you gonna do now, big guy? Fuck my ass? Go ahead, asshole. There's nothing you can do to my ass that Randy hasn't already done. He'll always be boss."

"OK, that does it," Bob growled, and he strode over to the tool shed. He brought back a can of grease and picked up a long-handled hammer they had been using. The handle was rubber-coated and had a rounded end ... fortunately for Darius, whose eyes widened as he began to understand.

"No! You're not gonna ... I can't do that ... Please, I've had enough. I give up, sir. Let's stop."

"Shut up, punk. You asked for this." Bob pulled Darius's cut-offs down to his ankles. He coated the handle of the hammer with grease and brought it up to Darius's hole. With one steady thrust he pushed it between the perfect mounds of his ass. Darius threw his head back and screamed with pain. Bob twisted the handle like a corkscrew, pushing it deeper into the agonized man's gut.

Darius looked with pleading eyes at the magnificent construction worker whose eyes blazed with anger. The agonized young man didn't know where he was. He was aware only of the beautiful face above him, dripping with sweat, lips curled as he tortured his ass. He thought he might pass out when suddenly, brutally the handle was yanked out of his ass. He howled again.

But Bob wasn't finished. He smothered his left hand with grease and held it close to Darius's face. "See this? That's one thing I bet Randy never did to your ass."

"No, sir. Please. My ass can't take that. It's too sore. And your hand's too big. Please stop, sir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

Bob ignored him. He pushed his fingers against Darius's ass and slowly twisted them into his hole. He paused, then pushed again. As Darius felt the widest part of Bob's fist against his hole he knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and screamed as he felt a jolt of searing pain. When it subsided he opened his eyes and looked down at the broad, muscular shoulder. He followed the arm past the bulging bicep and forearm, and he gasped as he saw the wrist disappearing into his ass.

His eyes streamed with tears as the fist started to turn in the furnace of his ass and stroked the velvet lining. He could not take much of this ... and Bob knew it. With his free hand Bob took hold of Darius's huge, stiff cock and started to stroke it. As the pace quickened he looked down at the suffering man's eyes.

"Now, punk, talk. Who's the boss ... who's your master?"

Darius groaned, "You are sir. I'm sorry I said ... I submit to you sir. Do what you want with my ass, sir. It belongs to you."

Bob stroked the big black dick harder and faster and said. "You're gonna show me I'm your master. You're gonna shoot your load when I tell you. Is that clear, asshole?"

"Yes sir."

Bob held his victim's eyes in a penetrating gaze. Darius gazed up at him, his eyes pleading for release. "I'm begging you, sir."

"OK ... now!"

"Aaahh!" Darius's cock shuddered and shot a huge stream of hot cum all over his own chest. He looked up at his glorious master, felt his fist in his ass, and his orgasm erupted again and again. He had never seen or felt anything like this. He was dreaming, in a trance, as his cock pumped load after load.

When his orgasm finally stopped he was sobbing, unable to speak. Bob looked down at the broken man, his gleaming muscles covered in sweat and cum, and realized that his own cock was rigid. Slowly he pulled his fist out of the burning ass, causing a last deep groan from the young man.

There was a long silence as Bob leaned forward, looking down at the tear-stained face. As Darius looked up at him Bob smiled.

"How was that for a fantasy?"

Darius smiled back. "Un- fucking believable. Man, you are awesome. I never thought I ... Jesus, I'm gonna jerk off thinking about that for years. Man ... I really love you, man."

"That so? Well then, how about one last fantasy? How about a filthy, greasy stud construction worker who fucks your ass gently and tenderly because he loves you? How's that sound?"

Darius's only reply was a huge sigh. Bob reached up and untied Darius's wrists. Then he brought his stiff cock up against his ass.

"And this, buddy, is simply because I love you."

He eased his cock into the ravaged ass and both men moaned in mutual pleasure. He stared down into the almond-shaped green eyes, now brimming with tears of love instead of pain. Slowly, gently, Bob pushed his cock into the willing ass, deeper and deeper. The slow, gentle rhythm continued for a long, long time, leading both men hypnotically into a pastel world with no fantasy, no pain, no anger ... just the close communion of two souls.

"You ready?" Bob finally asked.

"Of course," Darius breathed.

"Then let's do it." In total harmony their bodies shuddered and both cocks streamed with cum. Darius felt the semen of this incredible man fill his warm ass as his own second orgasm flooded over his body. As their juice flowed they remained fixed on each other's eyes for a long time. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, Bob withdrew his cock and he fell on the grass beside the sighing man. They turned to face each other.

Bob smiled. "That was a lot of fantasies for one day. Think that'll hold you for a while?"

"Thank you, sir. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're an amazing guy, you know that? God, I'm in heaven."

And they drifted off to sleep.

It was the sound of roaring engines that woke them. They both sat bolt upright and said in unison, "They're home!"

Excited, they leapt to their feet and were halfway across the grass when they stopped and stared. Through the gate came Randy, tousled, grease stained, one arm of his tank torn from his shoulder. Following him came the gorgeous Mark, his T-shirt almost shredded. Obviously they had been in some kind of fight.

Most amazingly they were followed by a hesitant, exotically beautiful young man, with a naturally sculpted body and chiseled features, high cheek bones and slanted deep brown eyes. He was in dungarees, but these too were torn, hanging from one shoulder.

The newcomers also stopped and looked in amazement. Bob and Darius looked filthy, covered in dirt, their shirts ragged, hanging half off their muscular chests. They too had apparently been in a fight. There was a long silence

Suddenly Randy threw his head back and howled with laughter. "Hey, you guys, look!"

He turned to face the big picture window of the house. The others did the same and saw their clear reflections in it, five incredibly beautiful guys, all filthy, disheveled, ripped clothes hanging from their sculpted bodies.

Pablo reached into his pocket and put on his owl glasses.

"Wow," he said.

All five men burst into uncontrollable laughter as they looked at their own astonishing reflections.

And that was Pablo's introduction to his new family.

Five guys. In the coming weeks they would get to know each other intimately, through experiment, exploration and fantasy. Pablo will have his first sexual encounter with a man. And he chooses who. And Mark will remember his promise to get to know Bob.

But in the near future Mark has to return to the desert to give evidence at the preliminary hearing of the Baxter trial. And there are three more Baxter boys on the loose.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 24."