A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 270 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: Bob visits Randy at work to make peace. "He gazed at the construction boss, in his frayed tank top and cargo pants, muscles rippling from exertion, a fiery look on his rugged gypsy face. But even as Bob watched he saw the strength and confidence drain from the big man, who seemed to crumple before his eyes. He looked like a nervous young boy waiting to see if the grown-ups had forgiven his misbehavior."

CHAPTER 270 – "RANDY & BOB – WITH MY BODY I THEE WORSHIP"

Randy, nominally the big boss of the tribe, now saw his reputation circling the drain. All the guys were keeping their distance after he had reacted irrationally to his brother Steve's infatuation with the handsome model. He had fucked and humiliated Grady, then had a savage fight with Steve, and was now in the dog house.

Working morosely alone he had sprung to life on hearing that young Brandon was in danger, a boy he loved and admired for his bravery coping with life in a wheelchair. The boy had gone off alone on his handicap-adapted motor trike and had run into trouble down the coast in a biker bar in Sunset Beach, captured by two out-of-town bikers and threatened with rape.

With Randy astride his Harley, about to speed to the rescue, Bob had asked, "Are you sure you should go, Randy?"

Randy's blue eyes pierced Bob's. "Of course, buddy, I have to. It's what I do ... I take care of my boys - and my brothers. You should know that by now."

Bob watched him disappear into the distance – and he understood. He understood it all and his eyes brimmed with tears of love - and of guilt. Guilt over his harsh recrimination when Randy had impulsively acted to "help" his brother Steve. Now he was on another mission to help one of his most vulnerable boys. And in a fundamental way the two weren't so different.

Bob saw now that both actions sprang from Randy's fierce protective instinct, a feral instinct that was ingrained in him so long ago, so bred in the bone that it overshadowed all his other reflexes, especially restraint. It was a visceral impulse that consumed him and he stopped to reflect on his actions only after the deed was done. After all, Bob thought, when a lion protects his cubs he doesn't stop to think. He just tears the enemy limb from limb.

Gazing at the empty road Bob's eyes filled with tears and he murmured to himself, "Man, I love you so much. Stay safe, buddy. And bring our boy home."

Randy had arrived at the beach in time to rescue Brandon and thrash the two thugs. He sent them limping back out of state on their bikes with the warning, "If you shit-for-brains mother fuckers ever come back to California you better hope the cops nab you first, `cos if they don't I will and I'll rip your fucking balls off, stuff them down your throat and choke you to death."

Randy made phone calls to a relieved Bob, then to Brandon's master, Pete, who was out of town in Yosemite on Park Ranger business. Pete showered him with thanks. "Randy I'll always be in your debt. Can you take real special care of him tonight? He's a tough young kid but some of that's just bravado and underneath he was probably shit scared. Please, do whatever it takes to make him feel safe and loved. Anything ... you know what I mean."

Randy got his chance to do that for Brandon sooner than they anticipated. It turned out that Brandon's trike had been damaged and the mechanic couldn't fix it until the next day, so they had to stay down at the beach in the local motel. And that's where Randy was transformed from ferocious warrior to gentle caregiver and lover.

Up to that point Brandon had shown his usual courage and ingenuity in the face of danger. But Randy knew that when the boy finally relaxed and the adrenaline drained away, he would at last give in to his fear and let it all come out. And that's what happened when Randy slowly, tenderly eased his cock inside him and held him in his arms.

"That feels so good, sir, after ... after those guys ..." Brandon choked up and tears started to flow down his face. "I was so scared, sir. I thought they were going to ... you know ... I was praying you would come ... I knew you were the only one who could save me. I'm sorry, sir, I tried not to cry but ... Please, sir ... make love to me ... make me feel safe. I love you, sir."

Randy leaned forward and licked the tears from his cheeks. "Hey, it's me, Brandon, and I am gonna make love to you. It will be an honor to fuck a brave kid like you."

"Not so brave, though, sir. You won't tell the guys I bawled my eyes out, will you?"

Randy grinned. "As Eddie would say ..." He ran his fingertips along his pursed lips and twisted them at the corner like a key, making Brandon laugh through his tears. "Thank you sir."

And so they made love – soft, tender, healing love. The wild gypsy face seemed to soften, the darkness less dark, the fierceness less fierce. This was the man Brandon had watched yesterday in a brutal fight with his brother, and a few hours ago demolishing two men with the savagery of a tiger. And now here he was making love to him – with a tenderness that was surprising and doubly erotic coming from a warrior like him.

Sometime later, after their love-making had reached its inevitable climax, they were on their sides facing each other on the bed, propped up on one elbow, a beer in the other hand. Brandon inhaled sharply as Randy idly traced the bottom of his cold bottle over the boy's chest. "You, er, tired, kiddo?"

"Not at all, sir," Brandon said with mischief glinting in his eyes. "As a matter of fact, Pete said I should be sure to thank you and I haven't really done that yet. Eddie always says there's only one really great way to thank a guy ... and he gave us all lessons."

"Yeah, I've heard about Eddie's lessons – the best little cock-sucker in town Hassan says."

"... in the world according to Eddie," Brandon laughed.

"Course," Randy said, "at this rate we might be up for hours yet, but I can take it if you can. And like I said, we can sleep in late tomorrow. Your bike won't be ready til noon. The night is young, so let's make the most of it, and let tomorrow take care of itself."

"Fine with me, sir. You're the boss." Randy grinned ... he kind of doubted that.

Before doing anything else Brandon called his master Pete up in Yosemite. He and Randy had managed to speak to the Ranger once already as soon as the rescue was over and Brandon had tried several times since but Pete had been out in the field. This time he answered, his voice full of concern, and Brandon was quick to reassure him that he was just fine. Randy got up and went to the bathroom, ostensibly to pee but in fact he was just being discreet.

With his usual candor Brandon told Pete everything that had happened – that Randy had made love to him and they would be sharing a bed for the night. Far from being upset Pete was relieved that Brandon was safe and happy. Better to be in the arms of a man like Randy than in the clutches of two vicious bikers. Besides, Pete never for a moment doubted his boy's love and loyalty to him, and he trusted Randy implicitly. He simply wanted his boy to feel loved and protected and he encouraged Brandon's plans for `thanking' Randy.

Which Brandon then proceeded to do. In fact they `thanked' each other – over and over again. And in breaks from their sexual exertions they lay happily talking, reminiscing and laughing together. There were no inhibitions as they shared their hopes and fears with each other.

One anxiety in particular seemed to obsess Randy – the prospect of facing Bob again after his lover's pained disapproval of his destructive actions. As strong and confident as Randy was, as lovingly tender as he had just proved he could be, one irrational fear always gnawed at him ... that the handsome, sophisticated Bob would one day leave him, a rough-hewn, impulsive construction worker. Whenever Randy screwed up, as he had recently done so badly, he was afraid that day had come.

But when he confessed his fear to Brandon the boy cheerfully swatted it away. "Oh that's not gonna happen, sir ... never. It's obvious to everyone that Bob is totally nuts about you, the boys talk about it all the time. You two are an example to all of us. You're the foundation of everything. No Bob and Randy, no tribe."

Randy squeezed Brandon's shoulder. "Thanks, kiddo, I needed to hear that. You three boys – you, Eddie and Ben – seem to share everything, don't you? And I have a favor to ask you. I worry about Ben sometimes being overshadowed by his two big brothers, and I don't spend enough time with him. I know Jason takes good care of him, but could you look out for him too? You know, kinda tip me off if you think he's having any problems."

"Sure, sir, no problem there. We three amigos look out for each other – and we don't pull any punches. Like, we tell Eddie he talks too much ... not that it makes a lick of difference though," he grinned. "We also call out Ben when his anger flares up."

Randy chuckled, "Yeah well that kinda goes with the territory in our family."

"And the dudes tell me loud and clear when I'm getting too bossy."

"Yeah I get that a lot too," Randy grinned, "but don't let's get back on that subject. Hey, we've been fucking for a long time, kid. Don't you think it's time we got some sleep?"

"Good idea, sir. You're the boss."

"Yeah, yeah, so you say, kiddo. I'm not so sure about that when you're around."

They had both underestimated how completely exhausted they were after a tumultuous day – Brandon's solo trip and terrifying experience, Randy's fear for him as he sped to the rescue, then rage and savagery toward the bikers, all topped off with a love-making marathon. Any intentions they had of waking in the night and `doing it again' never materialized.

In the morning it was Brandon who woke first – with a roaring hard-on. He turned his head on the pillow and gazed at Randy's face. Still in a deep sleep he looked serene – not a word usually applied to Randy. But in fact there seemed to be something just below the calm surface. With the stubbled jaw, high gypsy cheekbones and long dark hair falling over his brow he gave the impression that serenity could change to ferocity at the slightest provocation.

Brandon knew what it was ... the eyes. They were closed in sleep right now but as soon as they opened and the bright blue lasers flashed, Randy would be alive and ready for anything. That was one of the things that made Randy so sexy and Brandon wanted to see it happen now. He wriggled on the bed, made throat-clearing noises and coughed, but nothing worked. Randy was in a deep sleep.

Brandon took advantage of Randy's unconsciousness and gently pushed the hair back off the gypsy's face, then traced his finger down over his nose, his lips his stubbled jaw and onto his neck where a bead of sweat lay in the hollow beneath his adam's apple. Carefully he leaned over and licked the sweat with the tip of his tongue.

He wanted to see the rest of the body so he eased the sheet down off Randy's torso to just below his waist, so tufts of black pubic hair poked over it. Brandon pulled back on his side, his head propped up on one hand, and gazed at the rugged muscle-god, naked to the waist, his chest rising and falling slowly with deep breaths. His body was striped with the sunlight shining through the window blinds.

As with all pornographic images it stirred Brandon's mind to even more imaginings, and to memories long dormant. As a young boy he read books all the time to ease his loneliness and now he flashed improbably on one of his favorites, Gulliver's Travels. Specifically he recalled one illustration of the giant Gulliver tied to the ground with many ropes, at the mercy of the Lilliputians. It was the first bondage picture he had ever seen and even now he remembered how his cock had jolted – as it did now.

From that time on he had searched for similar images in books, videos and, more recently, in real life after he joined the clan. And now it seemed as if that search had culminated in this very moment as he gazed at the muscular giant lying on his back, arms at his sides. With the distortion of memory he recalled Gulliver looking exactly like this swarthy gypsy.

Stretching the bounds of fantasy he imagined that this giant had been tied down by all the boys, who were now working on his body, subjecting him to multiple forms of erotic discipline. Brandon himself resumed his examination of the brawny physique, his head moving lower and lower to the wiry pubic hair. He pushed the sheet further down with his face and suddenly the giant's cock sprang up beside his cheek, hard as a rod.

Randy had a roaring hard-on as he slept.

Brandon felt sure he had to be dreaming of Bob. Randy had fallen asleep worried about Bob's reaction to his unforgivable behavior, but apparently his dreams tilted toward optimism. Whatever, the big man's erection was catnip to Brandon and he licked the head very gently. There was a deep growl from Randy in his sleep – like a dog protecting his boner.

But he didn't wake, just stirred slightly. It could be, Brandon thought, that a mouth over his cock fitted in perfectly with his dream (Bob forgiving him?) so he plucked up his courage and went farther, sliding his mouth gently down over the whole thick shaft. By turning his head slightly he was able to keep one eye on Randy, but there was no movement except for a faint smile playing over his lips.

Evidently Brandon was part of Randy's dream, a novel experience that he found exhilarating. He carefully proceeded to work up and down the cock but kept his mouth wide open, his lips barely touching the cock. It was something Eddie had taught him, sucking open-mouthed with almost no physical contact, letting only hot breath play over the cock.

"Mmmm," came the guttural sound from the sleeping giant as his deep-sleep smile widened. This was new territory for Brandon and he trod it very carefully. Breathing heavily against the cock he occasionally let it touch the membrane of his throat and even pressed his lips on it momentarily. Each time he did that he felt the cock pulse and Randy stirred, his muscles rippling slightly.

Brandon screwed up his courage and went for broke. He closed his throat muscles round the giant cock (remembering Eddie's recipe for not gagging) and moved up and down, keeping his lips lightly pursed. He felt the unmistakable signs of the cock bulging with the pent-up load of sperm that had been building throughout Randy's erotic dream. Brandon was sure Randy was imagining Bob's handsome face rising and falling on his cock, but the boy didn't mind. It was amazing to feel the cock start to throb, to taste the musky pre-cum in the back of his throat.

His own cock was following right along, hard as a rock rubbing against Randy's leg. Randy's body jolted now, tossing in his sleep and Brandon decided to turn Randy's sleeping fantasy into a wet dream.

Brandon was the first to cum. Randy's leg pressing against his cock did it, made him spurt jizz hard against the muscular thigh, which in turn made him reflexively squeeze Randy's cock tight in his mouth. He saw Randy wince in his sleep, his breathing became ragged and "aaahh" ... a long loud groan preceded the eruption of sperm deep in the boy's mouth.

And that's when Randy woke up. In a daze between sleeping and waking he moaned, "What? What the fuck? Bob, are you ...? Aaahh ..."

Cum kept spurting down Brandon's throat as Randy struggled into consciousness ... and the dream of Bob evaporated. He closed his eyes in a mild panic that Bob was not there, and the next thing he knew an open mouth sealed tightly over his and jism flowing into his mouth – his own, he realized. Reflexively he inhaled hot breath and semen and gulped them down.

Finally their mouths separated, Randy opened his eyes and found himself staring up at Brandon. He relaxed but Brandon noted his confused expression and said, "Don't worry, sir, next time it will be Bob."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean...?" But he stopped and smiled up at the boy. He was still getting used to Brandon's directness and razor sharp talent for stabbing at the truth. "You're right, kid, I was dreaming about Bob. You really think Bob comes next?"

"Positive, sir. I'd bet money that he was dreaming of you too last night."

Randy grinned and shook his head. "You little punk. What – you predict the future as well as suck dick? Let's hope your predictions are as good as your blowjobs, eh? Great way to be woken up, though, having your morning hard-on taken care of by an expert young cock-sucker. Come here, kiddo." Randy pulled the boy close and wrapped his arms round him.

As he pressed against Randy Brandon felt the stickiness of his own cum shot and said. "I'm sorry, sir, I busted a load looking at you when you came in my mouth. I couldn't help it you looked so gorgeous."

"Brandon, how many times have I told you that you don't have to apologize for cumming when you look at a guy? Besides, the sheets are pretty much shot after everything we did last evening. They'll probably have to burn them."

"Or I could stuff them in the bag on my wheelchair, sir, along with your T-shirt and my other mementos of the trip," Brandon grinned impishly.

Randy laughed, "You don't quit, do you, kid? Shit look at the time. OK, quick shower, check out of the Ritz here and grab some breakfast. Then we'll pick up your bike and hit the road home."

They did all of those things in quick succession. At the service station Randy checked on Brandon's motor-trike that the mechanic had cleaned up like new and mounted a new front wheel. "Looks terrific, buddy. Great job," Randy said, pulling out his wallet.

But Brandon restrained him. "No, sir, I'll pay for this." Randy let him, knowing this was another display of independence. While the mechanic was inside running the card Brandon said, "I can afford it, sir. Pete gave me my own credit card and Jamie gave me a raise and a promotion. You are looking at the official new assistant office manager.

"About time too," Randy grinned. "You deserve it, kiddo." Brandon wheeled himself onto the trike platform, locked the wheel and raised the drawbridge' behind him, as he liked to call the ramp "OK," Randy said, "now you know the route back, cos you're gonna lead and I'll be right behind keeping an eye on you. I got your back, kid."

"I already know that, sir ... in more ways than one."

"Think you're so smart, don't you? Now shut up and ride, kiddo."

The tribe was big on rituals to maintain cohesion, camaraderie and discipline. They ranged from the nightly group dinner Bob insisted on to the more solemn punishment ritual where a man or boy was subjected to public retribution in front of them all. There was a much lighter mood today, though, as they prepared for the `welcome home' ritual.

The whole group had been by turns fearful and jubilant as news of the events down the coast trickled in. They had pieced together a general account of what had happened (enhanced by the boys' incessant rumor mill) and Bob had arranged for everyone to be present for a late lunch to welcome Randy and Brandon home. (Nobody ever said no to Bob.)

Bob had other motives too, as he saw this gathering as a means of rehabilitation for Randy. Bob realized that he had judged Randy too harshly for his misguided intervention in Steve's infatuation for Grady. That much condemned action was now offset against the widely acclaimed rescue of Brandon. Different as the incidents were, they were really only two sides of the same coin – Randy's all-consuming protective instinct. As he had said to Bob, "It's what I do, man ... I take care of my boys - and my brothers. You should know that by now."

The festive air was matched by the noise level, so loud that they didn't hear the two bikes pull up at the gate. As Brandon had ridden proudly up the coast with Randy close behind, Randy had been moved, once again, by the boy's confidence and courage. When at last they pulled up at the gate Brandon wheeled himself back off his trike and Randy knelt down beside him.

"Kiddo," he said, "I know the trip began badly for you but I think it turned out just fine, don't you? "I'm glad we had to stay for the night – wouldn't have missed it for the world. Making love to a gutsy young stud like you was real hot. I gotta thank Pete for letting me do that and, when he gets back in town, maybe we can all three have dinner together and ... who knows?"

"I'd like that a lot, sir, if Pete agrees. Thank you for saving me, sir. I knew you would come, but I've never been so pleased to see anyone in my life. You're even more of a hero to me than ever. I know the guys will all give you a great big standing ovation."

"Nah, not this time," Randy said. "I left work so suddenly yesterday that I got stuff to catch up on at the construction site, so I'll see you later."

He kissed Brandon hard on the cheek, then jumped in his truck and sped away. Brandon didn't buy the work excuse for a second. He knew Randy was nervous about seeing Bob again, fearful of another rejection, so he took refuge in the territory where he felt safest. He was a construction worker at heart, and at the building site he was master. It was his safe place.

Guessing most of this Brandon sighed, thinking how dumb men in love could be sometimes. So he wheeled himself to the gate and prepared to face the music alone.

And the music was loud, in the form of a huge cheer that went up the moment Brandon appeared. He had not expected a gathering like this and he was immediately engulfed by the boys. "Hey, hey," said Zack, elbowing them aside. "Let the poor guy get to the table, will ya? You must be starved, Brandon.

"A bit hungry yes, sir," he said, overwhelmed by the reception. The twins took over, guiding him to his place at table where they quickly took care of his appetite. All the boys were staring at him waiting for him, in Darius's words, to spill the beans. Darius stood discreetly back training his camera on him. Second to being there, filming a boy telling his story was essential.

First Brandon explained that Randy had said he had work to catch up on so he had gone straight to the construction site. Then he pulled Pablo aside and said softly to him. "Pablo, I gotta tell you that me and Randy spent the night together and we, well, we, er..."

Pablo grinned. "Thanks for telling me, kid, but I already know. Randy called me and told me everything. Don't worry, dude, I get plenty of the same treatment from him and there's enough of that big guy to go around. It sounded hot though ... wish I'd been there. Maybe one day soon we can ... you know ..." They exchanged conspiratorial grins.

By this time the others were getting impatient so, through mouthfuls of food, Brandon told his story, featuring Randy as hero. "He was totally awesome, dudes, you've never seen anything like it. He got there in the nick of time and man, you should have seen that fight, two against one. He thrashed those bikers but good, totally demolished them. He dragged them over the beach to the parking lot and practically threw them on their bikes."

The boys eyes grew wider and wider and the men were engrossed by the story too – especially one of them. Bob was sitting a little off to the side and as Brandon's description of Randy's heroics grew ever more intense Bob's eyes gleamed and he felt his cock get stiff in his shorts. He had expected this to be the big reunion where he embraced Randy him in front of them all, but he guessed that the big, tough gypsy had been scared to face him.

The crowd was so engrossed in Brandon's story, leaning forward at the table hanging on his every word, that no one noticed Bob quietly get up, walk out through the gate, and slide into his Mercedes that purred softly away.

The trip to save Brandon had been a rejuvenation in a way for Randy, doing what was most satisfying for him, using his fists to defend and rescue one of his boys. He had done this countless times growing up in an itinerant gypsy family in Texas and taking care of his younger brothers. It's what came to define him, in his mind and everyone else's, as the big boss man.

In this case he had also had the decided bonus of Brandon's grateful eyes staring up at him, wanting Randy's strong arms to wrap round him and love him. As much as the frightened boy had needed love and comfort, Randy too felt exactly the same needs and had been rewarded by the adoration of the remarkable young man.

So as Randy now flexed his muscles, lifting lumber bodily from the back of an open flatbed delivery truck and piling it where it would be needed for the next day's construction, he was feeling pretty good about himself. He had let the crew go home early and was enjoying his solitary supremacy on the site, the gypsy king, lord of his turf.

When he finished unloading the lumber he shook out the tarpaulin and replaced it on the flatbed of the truck. Taking deep breaths he raised his arms and stretched, his pumped muscles rippling in the sunlight. The hard manual labor had charged his body with the satisfyingly macho feeling of raw strength that had always been the foundation of his alpha-male confidence, and it temporarily banished all other concerns from his mind.

But even as he gloried in his physical strength, the fear he had managed to suppress, the one fear that haunted him, now seeped back into his consciousness. And it was at that moment that he heard a sound – slow hand-clapping at the open gate. He looked up, saw Bob, and his heart missed a beat. Standing in the shadows he looked spectacular, the look that always turned Randy on – blue jeans and V-neck white T-shirt stretched over his muscular torso.

Bob gazed at the construction boss, in his frayed old tank top, cargo pants and boots, muscles rippling from exertion, a determined look on his rugged gypsy face. But even as Bob watched he saw the strength and confidence drain from the big man who seemed to crumple before his eyes. Bob thought Randy had never looked so much like a nervous young boy as he did now, waiting anxiously to see if the grown-ups had forgiven him for his misbehavior.

Randy was confused, not sure if the slow applause had been sarcastic, a prelude to more recriminations. But he was good at bravado and said in an accusatory tone, "What are you doing here," as if to a man encroaching on his territory.

"I came to see you," Bob said simply. "I expected you to come in with Brandon but, as the old saying goes, `If the mountain won't come to Muhammed, then'..." he smiled. "...then I'll have to go to the mountain. So here I am." He walked up to him. "And how is my grizzled mountain man doing?"

Bob's playful tone gave Randy hope and he shrugged, "OK, I guess."

"Brandon's been regaling us with stories of your heroism. Once again, it seems, you've rescued one of your boys by trashing the enemy. You protected Brandon in the same way you thought you were protecting Steve." Randy winced but Bob said, "No, no, don't worry, I've done with that subject. I realize now that what you did was with the best motives as you saw it. You sure seemed to do a number on Brandon. He's positively glowing. You made love to him, I hope."

Randy perked up. "That boy is outstanding. When he was in real serious danger from those thugs, his wheelchair stuck in the sand, he dragged himself across the beach on his elbows and that's where I found him. And he wasn't panicked, he told me exactly what was happening and even saved me by pulling one of the guys over when he came at me with a knife.

Randy's eyes misted up. "But later in bed, when the kid finally relaxed, he let it all out and cried in my arms. I'll never forget what he said." Randy's blue eyes gleamed with tears as they pierced Bob's, almost pleading with him. "I was so scared, sir. I knew you were the only one who could save me. I'm sorry, sir, I tried not to cry but ... Please, sir ... make love to me ... make me feel safe. I love you, sir."

Randy's voice, Brandon's words – the same need felt by both. Bob heard the plea addressed to him and smiled, "You and Brandon are so much alike. So what did you do about it?"

"I fucked him ... made love to him. Most of the night actually. It was what the boy needed to feel safe again. We all need to feel safe don't we, buddy?"

They stood gazing at each other in that way they had of seeing themselves in each other's eyes, sharing the same, private world. Bob held out his arms and wrapped them round Randy who buried his face on Bob's shoulder. Bob felt tears against his neck as Randy murmured, "Man, I can't stand it when I've made you mad. When we're not together I feel so ... so..."

"... so unsafe? Well no problem there, buddy. You just told me how to make a man feel safe." He pulled away and looked over at the empty truck. "You know, I stood back there for a long time watching you unload the truck. God you looked spectacular ... so hot I almost creamed my pants. And when you were finished I had a crazy idea you had emptied the truck for a reason. Let's see here."

He looked around and found loading pads nearby that he threw on top of the tarpaulin in the truck, making it a soft flatbed. Randy was rooted to the spot, gazing in awe at his gorgeous, dark-haired lover with the flawless physique and handsome, chiseled features. He had even let stubble grow back on his square jaw.

Bob walked up to him and smiled. "You know, I can just see you pulling off Brandon's boots and pants for him ... a bit like this." He dropped to his knees in the dirt, unlaced Randy's work boots and pulled them off. Then he reached up, unbuttoned the cargo pants and let them drop round his ankles. The massive cock almost hit him in the face as it sprang up proudly erect like a flagpole.

"Oh, man, there's only one way to treat a thing like that." Bob smiled up at him. "I know Brandon did it and I can't hope to compete with an Eddie-trained expert like him, but here goes. Oh, and by the way, that thing Brandon said to you. Same goes for me. I love you, man."

Bob plunged his face down onto the long thick shaft and instantly felt it shudder deep in his throat. All Randy's fear, his loss and longing, his erotic dreams last night ... all of the pent-up emotion now poured into the man on his knees before him. He grabbed the tangled dark hair, pulled the face back off his cock and blasted more sperm into it, watching it run down the handsome face, down the cheeks, over the stubbled chin and drip down his neck to the V of his T-shirt.

Then he reached down, pulled Bob up by the armpits and clamped their lips together, sucking in his own sperm from his lover's mouth. They kissed hungrily, passionately, making up for all their time apart. Finally it was Bob who pulled back, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, gulped down the last of Randy's semen and grinned. "Good. I like a man who's just shot a big load. Makes it hurt more when he gets a cock shoved in his ass.

Bob surprised him by doing what Randy did so often. He grabbed him by the waist, lifted him bodily and laid him on the truck's flat bed, his legs hanging over the tailgate. He stared down at the big gypsy construction boss, naked except for the greasy tank top stretched over his chest. "Magnificent," Bob breathed. He pulled his T-shirt off over his head and Randy gasped, "Oh shit," staring up at Bob the way he liked him best – shirtless in blue jeans, his flawless torso gleaming in the sun.

Bob ripped open his jeans, pulled out his cock and spat on it. "So, Brandon told you he was scared and you were the only one who could save him. Make love to me,' he said, make me feel safe'. It's you want too, big guy, I know that. Man I've missed you." He pressed forward on the tailgate, pushed Randy's legs up high ... and drove his cock deep in his ass.

"Aaaagh..." It was a scream of ecstasy, not pain, but it startled Bob and made him pause. "No, no," Randy urged him, "don't stop ... I wanna feel it. I wanna feel your cock in me. Fuck me, man. Fuck me ..."

So that's what Bob did, fucked the swarthy gypsy hard and long. As he gazed down at him Bob saw a remarkable transformation come over him. From the nervous boy he had first seen, then the anxious lover asking to feel safe, Randy, impaled on his lover's cock, slowly morphed back into the rugged alpha male Bob knew and loved.

"That's it, Randy," Bob smiled. "Come back to me. I wanna see that big lumber jack I watched manhandling the wood. You're safe now, man. We both are ... back together. Tell me you love me, buddy."

"Asshole ... dumb question." Bob grinned – yeah, Randy was back.

As Bob ramrodded his ass, Randy reached up, grabbed his own ankles and pulled them back exposing his ass even more as an offering the muscle-god above him. Bob leaned forward and braced his hands on the flatbed beside Randy's head so their faces were inches apart.

Fucking more gently now Bob smiled into his lover's eyes ... And there they were, back where they belonged, sharing their own private world ... a world unknown before they met but whose magic had embraced them so long ago.

Their love-making seemed eternal as Bob tenderly fucked Randy's ass with his cock and his eyes with his eyes. They both felt their balls bulging, their cocks pulsing as they held back their climax again and again. When finally it became too intense Bob asked, "Can you cum again?"

Randy grunted, "Another dumb question, but then his eyes sparkled playfully. "I will if you will."

And so they did. Bob bent down, their mouths met and churned against each other as Bob's semen flowed inside his lover and Randy came for a second time, this time between their heaving chests. Bob fell forward and as their bodies pressed together his cock finally slid out of Randy's ass. They rested cheek to cheek, chest to chest, feeling their hearts beat against each other in perfect rhythm.

Words faded into insignificance – words could do damage. So no more hurt, no more recrimination. What they felt was transcendent, way beyond words, beyond understanding. They were simply in love.

By now the crowd round the table was getting impatient. Brandon's engrossing recitation had run its course, Darius had switched off his camera and now they waited. Bob had walked out on the celebration and they all knew why. So now they kept quiet, straining their ears for the soft hum of his Mercedes.

And at last it came. They held their breaths, the gate opened and in they came. One sight of them answered all their questions. Bob was shirtless with unmistakable streaks of dry cum over his face and chest. Randy too had cum stains over his grubby tank, his pants were buttoned only halfway up exposing tufts of pubic hair, and he was barefoot. His boots, laced together, were slung over his shoulder.

They walked to the middle of the garden, stopped and faced each other, then fell into each other's arms and into a long passionate kiss. These were the masters – one even-tempered, the other quick with his fists who had used them to rescue the handicapped boy who was so dear to them all. Brandon had predicted a standing ovation – and that's what they got.

As men and boys got to their feet and cheered it was obvious to all that this latest upheaval in the tribe had been put to rest. As always, they took their cue from Randy and Bob, from their renewed passion and loving embrace – not to mention the semen drying on their faces

In bed that night Bob said to Randy, "Hard to believe this whole thing started only yesterday morning up at Steve's house. So much has happened since then it seems like a week ago. But Steve and Lloyd seemed to have healed their differences pretty quickly yesterday evening before they left here. Lots of love and laughter, according to the twins, not to mention great sex. Steve still had cum over his face. That's two really cool guys who believe the old saying, `Don't sweat the small stuff – and it's all small stuff'."

Randy really didn't want to revisit a subject he was not proud of – barging into Steve's place as he had yesterday where he had fucked and humiliated Grady as punishment for, as he thought, seducing Steve. Bob had said they should put that to rest, but after his big fight with Steve Randy felt bad for him and asked Bob, "Have you spoken to my brother since then?"

"No. I do know that when Steve came down here he left Grady in the tender care of Hassan and his boy Eddie and together they somehow restored his self-respect. Eddie couldn't stop talking about how Hassan had `sold' him to Grady – ass, mouth and all. But I have no idea what happened when Steve and Lloyd got home yesterday, or even if Grady was still there."

"I should go up there in the morning and make peace with my brother," Randy said.

"No, please, Randy, "not yet. Let them sort it all out first. That brother of yours is a smart guy. He's a shrink after all. His methods are unusual, to say the least, but I'm sure he'll come up with a solution. Best to leave it alone for now."

"Hm, does that apply to you too?" Randy grinned. "Should I leave you alone?"

`Hell no. One reason I fucked you is that I know you always retaliate." Bob reached down, felt Randy's rock-hard cock and smiled. "And I can tell tonight's gonna be no different, big guy.

Bob was right about most of it, as always. When Steve and Lloyd had left late yesterday afternoon, they drove back home up to Mulholland in silence, partly because peace had been restored between them but mostly because neither knew what to say about Grady. But as it turned out, Grady said it for them.

Hassan and Eddie were still on the deck in the gathering dark when Steve and Lloyd arrived. Hassan jumped to his feet and smiled with relief, seeing the two men together and, more to the point, cum stains all over Steve's T-shirt and face.

"Hey, guys. Welcome home. You don't look any the worse for wear, doc." He laughed. "Amazing what a face-full of jizz can do for a man."

He saw Steve glancing toward the house and said, "He's gone, Steve. Grady went home a while ago. But I can tell you that he too was none the worse for wear ... quite the opposite, in fact. Knowing that he needed an ego boost I rented my boy's ass out to him and that sure restored his spirits. Plus I made a hundred bucks on the deal so it was a win-win all round."

"I'll say," Eddie chimed in. "The dude was amazing as well as totally gorgeous. When he shoved his dick in my ..." A piercing look from Hassan silenced him and he pursed his lips tight, eyes open wide but still with the light of mischief dancing in them.

Hassan picked up a folded piece of paper from a table. "Here, Steve, Grady left this note for you." Nervously Steve took it, unfolded it and scanned it. "Here," he said, "you should all hear this. He read it out loud in a quavering voice.

"'Hey, Steve, I thought it best to hit the road as I have a strong feeling I caused a whole bunch of problems for you and Lloyd – not to mention that brother of yours. It's not the first time I've found myself in that position with guys ... that's why I spend a lot of my time alone in my little house on Laurel Canyon. From what Hassan says, it's the same reason he is kinda reclusive up here. Man, that soldier is so fucking gorgeous people fall at his feet all the time, so he hides up here with his boy (who is also pretty amazing, by the way – a prefect boy for Hassan)'."

Eddie preened with a big smile on his face as the letter continued.

"'I just want to say that I had a great time with you, Steve. It wasn't only the amazing sex – the best I've ever had – but I felt a real connection with you, different from anything I've felt before. But I realize that's water under the bridge and you won't want to see me again – and I don't blame you, doc. If had a lover like Lloyd I'd hold onto him like crazy and never let some asshole pretty-boy come between us.

"'I feel real bad about Lloyd. I always looked forward to working out with him but I betrayed his friendship. I don't think I could look him in the face again so maybe I'll switch gyms. I know we were only gym buddies but, believe it or not, his was one of the very few friendships I had.

"'Of course I still have that addiction to handsome men to deal with and I would have loved to keep you as my shrink, but I know that's not on. You'll dump me as a patient and refer me to another doc – someone safer. I just wanna say that I would have liked getting to know you and Lloyd better as you are an amazing couple. Hell, even watching you two fuck would have been a major turn-on. Damn, there I go again. Sorry about that, doc. Shut your mouth, Grady, it always gets you in trouble.

"'I wish you and Lloyd all the best in the world, Steve – I envy you your happiness. Say hi and thanks from me to Hassan and Eddie – another great couple. I leave you with a big hug ... Your buddy, Grady. P.S. Perhaps you could text me info on that therapist referral thing."

Steve folded the letter and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. There was a long silence where Lloyd gripped Steve's hand and Hassan wrapped his arm tight round Eddie's shoulder. Hassan said, "Come on kiddo, let's leave these guys alone and go down to my house. You wanna spend the night with me, don't you?"

"Dumb question, sir. Oops," and he pursed his lips shut again. Not for the first time Eddie lightened the mood and made them all laugh, and Steve and Lloyd watched the Marine and his boy walk down the gravel path to the guest house.

Another long silence as Steve and Lloyd stood shoulder to shoulder watching the last streaks of blue sky fade away and the hills turn from green to deep purple. They were thinking the same thoughts, and they both knew it.

"You know what we have to do, don't you buddy?" Steve said.

"Of course I do," Lloyd replied. "I just don't know how."

They lapsed into silence again and eventually Steve sighed, "Nothing we can do tonight, though, buddy. It's a delicate situation so let's sleep on it. Besides, my body's still aching after the fight with Randy, followed by that workout you put me through," he grinned. "I don't feel hungry after all that food the twins plied us with so what do you say to an early night?"

"Nothing I'd like better," Lloyd said, and in half an hour they were freshly showered and in bed. But they found they couldn't sleep on it, as Steve had suggested, and instead they talked through the problem. They didn't want Grady to disappear from their lives but, after everything that had happened they wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see them again.

"I can't approach him," Steve said. "It's too soon and he would think it was just some kind of clumsy apology." Lloyd agreed. "And there's no point my going to him as he thinks I'm the one he's injured so badly. Pity we can't think of an intermediary to put out feelers, see how he's feeling. Bob maybe? Nah, they haven't even met. And knowing Hassan I'm sure he'd rather stay out of it." He grinned. "Randy maybe?"

"Yeah, right," Steve chuckled, "start another fire why don't you?" But his mind was already ticking over, a therapist in search of a solution. "I think I've got it. There is someone who could help. Someone discreet who Grady wouldn't be surprised to get a call from. Yeah ... perfect."

First thing next morning, a Monday, Steve called his Beverly Hills office and spoke to his receptionist. "Hi, Ruth. I'll be in shortly but could you do me a favor in the meantime? That last patient I saw here in my home office last Friday... Yeah, Grady, that's the one. Well we made some progress and I think another session would be useful, but he left without making a follow-up appointment. This week I'll be seeing patients at home tomorrow and Friday as usual. Do I have anything open on either of those days?"

"Let me check ... Yes Steve – the schedule's pretty full but the last appointment at 3:30 is open both days."

"Good, offer him a choice of either day. Say I asked you to call. He may not want to continue treatment – always the patient's choice as you know – but if he does, see which day he prefers and let me know, OK? Thanks, Ruth. See you shortly."

Lloyd was with Steve at breakfast when he made the call, and gave a puzzled grin as Steve put the phone down. "You see, Lloyd, one of the first rules for a therapist is stay detached – never get emotionally involved with a patient."

"Huh," Lloyd chuckled, "bit late for that now isn't it?"

"I know, I know, but here's the deal. Grady genuinely wants treatment for his sexual compulsion, or rather his addiction to gorgeous men – which is precisely what I've treated you for in the past, following hot guys round the supermarket the way you do. In fact he assumed that I would be dumping him as a patient and he asked for a referral to a new one. So by offering him another session I'll be lobbing the ball gently in his court. His choice, take it or not.

"Personally, judging by the tone of his note, I think he won't take it – he won't want to get burned again like last time – in which case I'll refer him to a new doctor. But at least he'll be getting the call from Ruth so we're keeping it on a professional level – a genuine offer of more therapy, which he himself says he needs. And if he declines, as he probably will, no harm done."

Just then the phone rang. "Yes Ruth." He put her on speakerphone.

"That Grady sure is a nice young man, doctor. So polite. He said he would like to come tomorrow at 3:30. In fact he said he wants to get back into therapy right away – even asked if I had anything sooner but I said today's schedule was full. Anyway, Beverly Hills is a bit of a trek for him so your home works fine. He sounded very eager and thanked me profusely – almost as if I invented therapy," she chuckled, "so I hope it goes well."

Steve thanked her and switched off the phone. "Ruth's a doll. She's been with me for years and sometimes I wonder just how much she understands ... probably just about everything. But she's the soul of discretion, and she likes you a whole lot by the way."

"So what about Grady?" Lloyd asked impatiently. "Ruth said he sounded eager."

"All I know is he wants more therapy," Steve said, "so I'll keep it cool and clinical." Then he grinned at Lloyd. "Except there's a bit more to it than that. Do you think you can get off work early tomorrow, because ... well, I'd like you to be here?"

"Me?? Hell Steve, Bob once told me I was playing with fire and I think he'd tell you the same thing now."

"Maybe so, but trust me on this buddy. Now here's what I'm thinking..."

From then on there was an air of heightened anticipation around the house until 3:30 the next day finally came. Lloyd was home, working at the drafting table in his office, and Steve was finishing up his notes on his previous patient when the bell at the gate sounded. Steve buzzed it open and went out to meet Grady, trying to stop his heart pounding. ("He's a patient, he's a patient.")

It was a replay of the first time. As usual on work-at-home days Steve was casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt though, consciously or not, he was wearing the same gray V-neck T-shirt he had worn the last time and that Grady had found sexy. Grady too was wearing pretty much the same as last time – baggy cargo shorts and a loose T-shirt that flattered his spectacular body even more than tight gym clothes would have.

As before, he came toward Steve smiling, though this time there was more than a hint of nervousness in his smile. They held everything in check by keeping it coolly professional.

"Good to see you again, doc," Grady said. "Same here," said Steve shaking his hand. They pulled their hands back quickly like they had given each other an electric shock. That unnerved them so Steve led Grady straight into the office and offered him a seat on the couch. Steve sat behind the desk, looked at the notes on his clipboard and picked up where the last session had ended – that is, before it went off the professional rails, about which nothing was said, as if it hadn't happened.

"Last time, Grady, I said we shouldn't just treat the symptoms of your condition, we had to examine the roots of it, what it is in you that triggers this compulsion you have. And here I'm going to suggest something rather unorthodox. You see, my lover Lloyd has exactly the same addiction to beautiful men that you have. You both told me you're supposed to be just workout partners at the gym but you find it hard to get beyond the sexual attraction for each other.

"Now here comes the part you might find weird, and you certainly don't have to agree to it. Er... Lloyd is in the house, in his office, and, with your approval, I'm proposing that I talk to you both together. That way we can examine the issue from both your points of view which would help us get to the truth faster. But it's up to you, Grady. This is your session and it's private. It's your call."

Grady seemed taken aback and blinked in confusion. "Wow, didn't see that one coming. But, I mean, like ... doesn't Lloyd still hate me for what I did last time?"

"Lloyd never hated you, Grady, and anyway that's all water under the bridge." He detected a flash of disappointment cross Grady's eyes and Steve hastened to correct himself. "Oh, I didn't mean that I ... that we ... can't ..." Steve blushed in confusion and Grady smiled and relaxed. They understood each other perfectly.

"Sure, doc, why not?" Could be interesting. I was kinda hoping to bump into Lloyd again anyway so ..." with a smile and a shrug, "... why not?"

Steve went to the door and called Lloyd's name. In a few minutes Lloyd came in, even more casually dressed in gray sweat pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. Grady jumped to his feet and Lloyd walked up to him. They looked nervously at each other, then shook hands uncertainly before pulling each other into a tight hug."

"Great to see you again, dude." "Same here, buddy."

"Great," Steve beamed at them and picked up his clipboard notes. "Just take a seat together on the couch there, gentlemen, and we'll begin."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 271

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!