A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH -- PART 30 by Rob Williams

In this chapter the three muscle-gods define their relationship as Bob is fucked by the other two magnificent men ... the golden, god-like uniformed cop, and the dark, swarthy muscular demon. Like being penetrated by God and the Devil at once.

Then the focus shifts to the relationship between master and boy. Randy's growing affection for young Pablo builds toward a stunning conclusion. They confront physical and emotional challenges that culminate in Randy asking an astonishing question ...

As always, let me know what you think. I love hearing from you. Email me at rw6789@aol.com.

A Trial Of Strength -- Part 30

Randy and Bob have spent an intense night in the shabby motel room where their life together began. And the two muscle-studs have emerged with their relationship more solid, more passionate than ever before.

Meanwhile, at the house, Mark, Darius and Pablo have spent the night together. The beautiful young men have been enthralled by what the gorgeous cop made them do ... to each other and to him.

Morning comes.

The voice boomed, "Anyone home?"

Darius and Pablo woke instantly, jumped out of bed and pulled on their shorts.

"They're back! Let's go see," said Pablo.

"Breakfast for five I guess," mumbled Darius, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

As they disappeared upstairs Mark too pulled on his shorts. He had been longing for the return of Randy and Bob, but now that the moment had come he hesitated. He was unsure what to expect from them ... what was in store for him. Slowly he climbed the stairs.

When he joined Darius and Pablo all three stared at the two men who had just come in. They were both dressed in leather. Randy was in tight leather pants and boots, a studded harness stretched over his sinewy chest, covered by a black leather vest. Bob wore leather chaps over his jeans and a tight, shiny black leather shirt that showed the contours of his sculpted torso underneath.

But more than the look, there was an air about them, something redolent of what could only be described as man sex. They exuded it. The two leather muscle gods were disheveled and the smell of sweat mingled with the smell of leather ... and even the smell of stale semen. They looked as if they had been having sex all night, and they had obviously slept in their clothes.

Mark was the first to speak. "Jeez, you guys. You look ..."

"...awesome," Pablo breathed.

Darius stepped hesitantly forward. "Can I touch you guys?" and he ran one hand over the harness covering Randy's chest and the other over Bob's tight leather shirt. He got an instant hard-on.

Randy laughed. "Well you guys don't look as if you were exactly wasting time, either. Look at you. The three men realized they were wearing only their boxers. They too were disheveled, Darius and Pablo with the sheen of sweat on their perfect young bodies and the muscle-god Mark with his awesome body gleaming in the morning light.

As always Randy took charge. "OK, let's stop looking at each other. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but there'll be time for that later. It's Sunday, time to regroup. You two," to Darius and Pablo. "Go jump in the shower, get cleaned up and have breakfast ready in an hour. As for you guys ..." and he slung his arms over the shoulders of Bob and Mark. "We're going downstairs. Have a little talk."

In the mirror-lined basement room Bob and Mark sat on the bed and Randy sprawled in the armchair.

Mark said, "You two sure look like you had one hell of a night. Wish I'd been there."

Bob grinned, "You were."

On Mark's puzzled look Randy explained. "The two leather guys you see before you actually stood in front of a mirror and jerked off looking at you ... or at least the mirror fantasy of you. Bob was wearing your cop shirt that you left on the floor of the motel. And you were terrific. We shot our load all over you."

Mark smiled. "As I said, I wish I'd been there. You guys are something else."

"Couldn't have done it without a beautiful man to fantasize about," said Bob and ruffled Mark's already disheveled hair. "OK, Randy, remember your promise. You said you'd turn the fantasy into reality when we got home."

"Randy grinned. "Never let it be said that I don't keep a promise. You got it, man. Here's what I want you both to do. First, the clothes."

A few minutes later Randy sprawled back in the chair and looked up at the men he had told to dress. Mark was once again in his smart cop uniform ... black police shirt tight on his muscular torso, one button open at the neck to reveal a triangle of white T-shirt. His wide lats tapered to the leather belt at his waist. His black pants were tucked into high, shiny leather boots. As always, he looked magnificent and Randy felt a stirring in his groin.

Bob's clothes were less elaborate. In fact they consisted of only one item ... leather chaps over his otherwise naked body. His V-shaped, sculpted upper body narrowed down to the slim waist of the chaps, and his legs were encased in gleaming black leather. His dick hung loose through the front of the chaps, and the perfect mounds of his ass bulged through the back, naked and vulnerable.

Randy, still dressed in his full leather outfit, spoke to them.

"We've been through a lot in the last few days, guys. A lot of challenge, struggle and physical pain. And a lot of macho posturing. Face it ... we're all equally strong and beautiful, but we needed the confrontation. Now, I'm going to ask you just one question. After all this, who's the master?

Mark replied crisply, "You are, sir."

"Absolutely," said Bob.

"Good. But I want the confrontation to end. I want us to stop fighting and just get off on each other. We three guys are like nobody else. We deserve each other. And nobody else in the world would satisfy us. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," said the others in unison.

Randy stood up. "And this is how we'll seal the pact."

He lay down stretched on his back on the bed. "Mark, come and stand here," pointing behind him. "And you, Bob, on your knees over me."

In a second Bob was on his knees astride the beautiful leather man. They gazed into each other's eyes and their worlds merged together as they always did. And, as always, their erections were instantaneous.

"Reach behind you," Randy ordered Bob. "Undo my pants."

Bob obeyed and gasped as the long thick cock sprang out of the fly, rock hard. In a reflex he grabbed hold of it behind him. He saw the pale blue eyes in the swarthy face penetrate his as the voice said, "You love me?"

"You know I do, sir."

"Sit on my cock."

Bob eased his ass upward, positioned it over the cock in his fist and slowly sat back until the head rested on his hole. Not breaking his gaze with Randy he paused, then suddenly sat smoothly down on the huge shaft. It disappeared quickly into warm, moist, silky inside of his ass and he felt it penetrate his gut. Mark watched as both men raised their head in a simultaneous moan of ecstasy. Bob clenched his ass muscles tight around his lover's rigid cock and they held still, feeling the pulsing of their heartbeat in the tight union of cock and ass.

"That's it, man," Randy groaned. "That's where my cock belongs, deep in the ass I own."

"Yes, sir," Bob breathed.

After a minute Randy reached up behind his own head and unzipped Mark's pants. Reaching into his shorts he pulled out the cop's long cock that was hard as iron. He held it in his left hand behind him and brought his right hand round Bob's neck. He pulled his lover forward until he was pressing Bob's head against the cop's shaft above him.

"Yeah, man," Mark breathed. "Take the cop's dick all the way in, stud."

Bob opened his mouth wide and pushed forward, swallowing the cock whole until it was as deep in his mouth as Randy's dick was in his ass. The feeling was incredible, and he stole a glance sideways into the mirrored wall. What he saw was almost as exciting as the sensation in his mouth and ass.

He was being fucked by the two most beautiful men he had ever known. The golden, god-like uniformed cop was fucking his face. And the dark, swarthy muscular demon had his cock deep in his ass. It was as if he were being violated by God and the devil at once. Slowly he began to move. He raised his burning ass, then lowered it back down on his master's cock until he was sitting on the wiry, moist pubic hair. And his head moved too, letting the cop's dick slide in and out of his mouth, hammering against the back of his throat and down deep inside.

"God that looks incredible," Mark said, as if in a trance. "Fuck his ass, man, while I fuck his face. Make him feel both of us. Come on, man ... give it to him.

And they did. They increased the rhythm with Randy's glistening body bucking, heaving upward as he hammered at the ass bulging through the leather chaps. Mark had both hands behind Bob's head and he pulled if forward, then back, in a relentless pounding of his handsome face.

Bob was transported out of the real world. All he was aware of now was the two pistons, one hammering his mouth, the other punishing his ass. Even when he managed to glance sideways all he saw in the mirror was the shirtless man stripped down to chaps, his Superman features swallowing a huge dick and the hard globes of his ass being invaded through the chaps by a brutal cock.

All three men were in a pitch of exhilaration, knowing that this wild, passionate frenzy was possible only between the three of them. They all looked sideways into the mirror at the sight of the three bodybuilders, flexing, pumping, pounding at each other. The image alone was enough to make them want to shoot their loads. It was accompanied by the sensation of stinging fire, in the quivering cocks of the cop and the leather stud, and throughout the entire, muscular body of their victim.

They were all close to orgasm when suddenly Randy said, "That's enough, guys."

Startled, dismayed, the other two stopped still. Randy looked up at Bob and smiled. "Now ... do you love Mark and me together?"

"Yes, sir. God, I want ... "

"I'll tell you what you want, buddy. You want both of us."

"Yes I do, sir."

Randy looked over his shoulder at Mark. "Get behind him, man."

Mark's body shuddered as he suddenly realized what he had to do. He walked behind Bob as he knelt over Randy, and fell to his knees behind him. He rested his cock against the ass that was already filled with a rigid shaft. The cop's own cock was still hard as iron.

Randy smiled up at Bob with a look Bob had never seen before. "Now you belong to two men, buddy. And I'm gonna show you what that means."

He pulled the handsome face toward him and their lips met, grinding against each other in a passionate embrace. Bob was losing himself in the taste and smell of the man he worshipped, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain against the sphincter of his ass. His eyes opened wide as he realized what was going to happen and he threw his head back with a howl as the second big cock pushed into his hole, sliding against the thick rod already inside him.

He looked pleadingly at Randy. "No, man. I can't take that, sir. Please, you'll both split my ass wide open. The pain, man ... you're stretching my ass ... "

"Be quiet," Randy said softly, "and look in the mirror."

Bob obeyed and what he saw made all the pain tolerable. The dark-haired muscleman was on his knees in his leather chaps. The cheeks of his ass bulged through the back of the chaps and disappearing into them were two huge cocks. One belonged to the brawny leather man beneath him and the other to the gorgeous, uniformed cop behind him.

He was being impaled by two beautiful masters, a leather man and a cop. Their cocks were sliding against each other in his hole. His body was filled with them, stuffed by them and his mind soared into a region he had never visited before. The pain was still there, but it didn't matter. All he wanted was for these two muscle gods to take him, use him, pound him ... to fuck him for ever. Tight as his hole was already, he flexed and clenched his ass even tighter around the two grinding dicks.

Randy looked up and saw the chiseled features of the cop between Bob's legs. "That's it man. We're together at last, both us inside the body of the man we love. This is it, buddy. Doesn't get better than this. Yeah, push your cock deep man. It feels incredible against mine. You're fucking my dick, man, and I'm fucking yours." And together they felt the beautiful man's ass muscles gripping their cocks like a vise.

All their consciousness was focused on one sensation ... the other-worldly, burning union of cock and ass. They looked first at each other, then at the mirror. The eyes they recognized, but the image in the mirror was of strangers, beautiful strangers, a Superman being ass-fucked by a stunning leather man and a magnificent cop.

The union of the three men was so spiritual that orgasms were almost an afterthought. As they watched in the mirror the three muscular bodies began to flex, then shudder and three shouts echoed around the room. Bob became aware of hot liquid streaming into his ass from the two cocks as his own eruption splashed onto his heaving, sweating chest. The orgasms were endless. But finally the three magnificent bodies collapsed in a heap on each other in an embrace of complete exhilaration.

Breakfast was ready and Darius and Pablo waited. They had heard the shouts from downstairs and knew that something momentous was happening. After a silence they heard the door open, footsteps on the stairs, and the three men emerged. They were sweating, exhausted, gleaming with the elation of passion. The overwhelming odor of leather, sweat and semen filled the room. It was pure, virile sex.

Randy smiled at their eager faces. "Breakfast ready? We're starving."

They were so hungry the guys didn't clean up or change before breakfast. This was fine with Darius and Pablo who reveled in the way their masters looked and took in deep breaths to savor the smell of their overwhelming masculinity.

The meal was finally over and Randy said. OK, you two guys. Go play in the pool. There's something Bob, Mark and I need to discuss."

When they were alone Randy turned to Mark. "So, buddy, I hope I convinced you that you really are one of us now. I did it in the only way I know ... full-on sex. But Bob has a more practical suggestion of his own."

Bob smiled. "As we were driving back home this morning I broached a topic with Randy and he totally agreed with me, Mark. Escrow closes on the house in a few weeks so we will own it outright and the renovations can begin. But we want you to be a part of that. We want to put your name on the deed. We want you as co-owner."

Mark was taken aback. "Wow, you guys ... Jeez, I never expected that. I'm ... I'm flattered." They were amazed to see tears come to his eyes. "You really do want me as a partner in your lives, don't you? After what we just did and now this ... "

"So what do you say?" asked Randy.

"Well, yes, of course. I can't imagine life without you two, especially now I know how you feel. Of course, I want to pay my share ... split the costs three ways. I'm making good money now, so that's not a problem." He hesitated, choking up. "I just don't know how to thank you ..."

Randy jumped up. "No need, buddy. From now on it's the three of us. So let the renovations begin!"

The house was humming for the next few weeks. The relationships had been defined and preparations were under way for the pool house to be rebuilt. Pablo started his job that Mark had arranged for him in the Police Department Motor Pool and the other guys resumed their regular work. All was set for a calm, ordered domestic routine. Until one evening ...

Randy's day had been shit. There was a major snafu at the construction site caused by late delivery of supplies. As site manager Randy had had a blazing row on the phone with the contractor's head office. When he finally emerged from his trailer office he saw a major fight under way between two of the construction workers. In his savage way he broke up the fight and was on the verge of hurting the guys until his foreman, Jack, intervened. Randy fired the two guys on the spot and would now have to look for replacements.

The whole thing was a fucking mess and Randy was tense with anger. He handed over to Jack for the day, stormed off the site and headed straight for his regular bar on Sunset. He straddled a stool at the counter and didn't say a word, except to order a beer, then another and another. The beers were backed up by multiple shots of tequila. Finally he stumbled out of the bar and headed home in his truck.

Drunk as he was he still made it home OK and then decided he wanted to take out one of the Harleys. He needed to be alone, put some miles behind him and feel the surge of speed. He flung open the garage door and saw Pablo with his head under the hood of Bob's SUV.

"Out!" he bellowed. "Get out now. I need some space."

Pablo straightened up and, dressed as usual in his greasy dungarees over his otherwise naked body, he blinked at Randy.

"I'm sorry sir. I can't do that. I have to stay here and finish the tune-up on Bob's car. I promised it for 6pm."

Randy's eyes blazed. "I said I want you gone, asshole. I'm taking one of the Harleys. Are you defying me?"

"I have to sir. I made a promise to Bob. Also, I can't let you take the Harley. You're too drunk to drive, sir."

Randy couldn't believe his ears. He clenched his fists. "You ungrateful little piece of shit," he screamed. "Out of my way!"

"No sir." Pablo stood his ground.

Randy stepped forward and threw one of his clenched fists into the young man's stomach, making him double over. Then he gut punched him again, and again. Pablo reeled backward but regained his balance. His eyes too now blazed with anger. He and Randy were both running on pure adrenaline and rage.

Pablo clenched his hands together, raised his arms and brought them crashing down into Randy's stomach in a hard double forearm smash. As Randy doubled over, Pablo brought his knee up hard into his balls and, with a howl, Randy fell to his knees. Pablo pressed his boot hard against the stunned body and pushed the big construction worker onto his back. Then he brought his boot straight down into Randy's abs, making him grab his stomach in pain.

Pablo raised his boot to strike again. Randy was sluggish to respond, his reflexes blunted by too much booze, but just as the boot came down for a second time he grabbed it and twisted the young man off balance. Pablo spun across the room and ended up crashing to the floor against the wall.

Re-energized Randy sprang to his feet and towered over the crumpled body. He glimpsed a broken fan belt hanging on the wall, wrenched it free and raised his arm. He smashed it down across Pablo's chest and naked shoulders as the kid cowered in fear at the fury in his master's face. Fueled by his drunken rage Randy thought only of revenge. The fan belt lashed down across the terrified body again and again, until Pablo was howling with pain and fear.

"No, sir. Please, sir, don't. Please don't hurt me any more."

It was the sound of the young man's anguished voice that began to bring Randy to his senses. He shook his head to clear the alcohol haze and looked down at the floor. He stopped dead still. Cringing in front of him was the beautiful, crumpled form of the young man he had rescued and brought to the house, the man he admired for his guts, his honesty and his bravery against huge adversity. He loved this young kid ... and he was giving him a beating.

Pablo's pleading eyes looked up at him. "Please, sir ... please. When you rescued me in the desert you said you'd never let anyone hurt me again."

His words pierced Randy like a sword. His head was clearing and he took in the enormity of what he had done. With the howl of a wounded animal he fell to his knees and scooped the trembling body into his arms.

"Oh, God," he groaned. "Oh, God, what have I done? Oh, man, I didn't mean it. I love you, kid. You're the last person in the world I would hurt."

He held Pablo very tight and began to sob. Pablo stayed frozen, unable to move in the vice-like grip of Randy's big muscular arms. He couldn't breathe and croaked, "You're hurting me again, sir."

Randy relaxed his grip, pulled back and looked deep into Pablo's eyes. "Pablo, forgive me. I never apologize, but I do this time. It was my anger ... and the alcohol. I never meant to hurt you. I love you, man. Can you forgive me?"

Pablo jumped up, pulled himself to attention and looked straight ahead. "Sir! It's my fault, sir. I was way out of line. I don't know why I did that? I should never have hit you. I realize I don't deserve to keep my place in the house now. I'll leave right away. And I suppose Mark will take away my job at the Motor Pool."

Randy's heart broke as he looked up at the tough, dignified young man. He reached up, grabbed his wrist and pulled him down on the floor beside him. "Sit down, kid." They sat side by said leaning against the wall. Randy turned to him.

"First of all, kid, I once told you that you're not going anywhere unless I say you can. And I'm never gonna say that to you. You belong here, with us ... with me. And second of all, Mark would never take that job away from you." He paused and looked deep into the bewildered eyes.

"You know, the way you reacted back there was exactly the way I would have reacted when I was your age ... still would today, actually. You and I both have an angry streak in us. You were real brave, and dead right. You could not break your promise to Bob. And I certainly was in no state to drive. I thank you for that." He grinned, "And by God, you sure pack a punch."

"You mean I did OK, sir?"

"You did great, kid. Takes quite a man to bring me to my knees."

Pablo looked nervously at the big man. "Any suggestions sir?"

"Well, since you ask, yeah, one. You know how you slammed me first with a double forearm smash to the gut and then followed up with a knee to the groin? Well, it's better to go for the balls first. A man can recover pretty quick from a gut punch, but a knee to the groin will take him out long enough for you to finish him off.

"Got it, sir. Thanks, I'll remember that. Thing is, sir, the double forearm is my signature move."

Randy laughed. "Just don't practice on me. I'd rather not get beaten up again."

Pablo sighed. "I just wish I was stronger, bigger ... more muscular you know. I should start going to the gym."

"Be careful, though, kid. A lot of guys ruin their bodies by getting too big. You have a perfect, beautiful natural body. But we can set you up with a workout routine if you like."

"A guy who came into the garage in the desert said I should start taking steroids."

Randy glowered. "The guy's an asshole. If I ever see you messing with that shit I really will beat the living crap out of you."

"OK, sir." Pablo grinned sideways at him. "Just checking."

Randy looked at the kid's cheeky face and laughed. He threw his arm around his neck and ruffled his hair. "God, I love you man. You remind me so much of me when I was your age. Hey, tell you what."

"Yes, sir?"

"Remember when I first pulled you out of that hell-hole in the desert, what was the first thing we did?"

"Went and got something to eat. I still remember that big pile of fajitas."

"What say we do that now? There's a little Mexican joint down on the corner of Figueroa. I'm in no state to drive ... as you pointed out ... but we could walk down the hill. Fajitas and maybe a pitcher of Margaritas. You game?"

"You bet, sir!" Pablo beamed.

"OK, finish up here on Bob's car, then get cleaned up and meet me in the garden. Then we'll talk some more."

Before he hit the shower Randy went to see Bob in the room he used as an office.

"Jesus," Bob said, looking at the filthy, sweat-stained man. "What happened to you? Bad day?"

"Take too long to explain. But I want you to do me a favor. Would you ask Darius to spend the night with you? I need to talk with Pablo. Get to know him better."

"Sure, I don't mind." He smiled. "And somehow I don't think Darius will object to a night in my bed."

"Asshole," Randy grinned. "No one would object to that."

Half an hour later Randy came out into the garden wearing jeans, boots and an old, faded gray V-neck T-shirt. Pablo was waiting for him, and he took Randy's breath away. He had really cleaned up, wearing beige cargo shorts, sneakers and a white T-shirt that made his milk-chocolate skin glow. He was wearing his wire-rimmed owl glasses.

"Ready?" Randy smiled. "Let's go."

As they walked down the hill Randy threw his arm over Pablo's shoulder and they chatted like regular buddies.

"I was thinking," Randy said. "At the gym we should start you off with a routine of light weights and high reps. That'll help with definition and let you establish good form. Form is more important than the weight you use. Then we can increase the weight for a bit more bulk ... but not too much."

"OK, sir. You're the boss. I'm in your hands."

Randy shot him a quick smile. "Good. I like that."

In the small Mexican restaurant Pablo was confronted by a huge steaming pile of fajitas and ate hungrily. Randy was pleased that, with the help of the Margaritas, the young man's nervousness and awe of him had disappeared and he talked a mile a minute, relating his history of being shunted from one foster home to another. Randy was impressed, and proud, that there was no hint of self-pity in the boy's voice, just resilience, a determination to survive, to make something of himself despite the odds. As Randy listened to him, watched him, he felt a wave of affection unlike any he had ever felt before.

As they left the restaurant Randy asked, "So how's the job at the Motor Pool working out?"

"Terrific, sir. Jeez, you should see the engines in those cop cars. They're really souped up. I love working on them."

"The guys treating you OK?"

"Sure. They were a bit leery at first, me being so young and all, but then word got around about what I had done with you guys in the desert and ...

" ... and now you're the local hero."

Pablo grinned, "Something like that."

Their train of thought was interrupted by the sound of raised voices in the distance, and they quickened their step. They couldn't yet see the three guys up ahead. Two wiry skinheads were beating up on a young Mexican guy cowering in front of them, kneeling on the ground.

"You fucking faggot," one of the skinheads yelled. "We don't want no faggots around here. This is what we do to them. You know what the Bible says about faggots? ... They gotta die."

A deep voice growled, "Oh, is that what the Bible says? What does it say about assholes?"

The skinhead whirled round and his reflexes were fast. He made a dive for Randy but the big man stepped smartly to one side, like a matador with a bull. The thug staggered straight forward toward Pablo, and Randy watched with a smile. The boy calmly took of his glasses, placed them in a back pocket, and raised his knee to just the right height. The guy slammed into it, balls first.

"Good boy," said Randy. "Always let the other guy do the work for you."

The skinhead double up in pain and Pablo smashed his fist on the back of his neck, sending him crashing to the ground. The guy they had been beating staggered to his feet and sped away with a muttered, "Gracias, senor". Randy had tackled the other thug and now held him helpless in a full nelson. "You want him, kid?"

"Yes please, sir."

"He's all yours. I got your back, kiddo."

As Randy flung the guy forward Pablo looked up at Randy.

"Now sir?"

"Good a time as any," Randy grinned. As the skinhead staggered forward he got Pablo's specialty. He brought his signature double forearm smashing into the thug's belly and he howled with pain. Pablo again smashed his fist on the back of the guy's neck and he joined his buddy on the ground.

"You don't fool around, do you, kid?" grinned Randy. He came forward, picked up one of the guys and clamped his arm round his head. "Let's finish them off, OK?"

"Sure, sir."

Pablo did the same with the other guy, looked at Randy and grinned. Both of them now had a head clamped under their arm. They propelled the guys forward and crashed their heads together. The thugs sprawled on the ground.

As Randy looked down at them he said, "Hey, Pablo. I suddenly remembered what the Bible says about assholes."

"What's that, sir?"

"Thou shalt get pissed on."

Okey dokey," said Pablo, pulling out his dick. Randy did the same and they stood over the terrified skinheads, pouring two streams of hot piss on them. As the thugs lay groveling in fear, soaking on the ground, Pablo said, "You know, they're lucky. It should taste like Margaritas."

Randy roared with laughter as they high fived each other. He threw his arm around Pablo's neck and they walked back up the hill.

Back home Randy walked Pablo back to the pool house. On the young guy's questioning look he smiled.

"Don't worry. I arranged for Darius to spend the night with Bob. Tonight I want you all to myself."

When they walked inside Pablo turned and looked straight into Randy's eyes with his steady gaze. "Are you going to fuck me tonight, sir?"

"Boy, you're direct. Go straight for the jugular, don't you? Well the answer's no. I'm not gonna fuck you ... not tonight anyway. Sit down."

They sat on the side of the bed and Randy looked into Pablo's eyes. "Don't get me wrong, kid. I am gonna fuck you. That's not negotiable. You're the only guy in the house I haven't fucked, but it's gonna wait. With you it's different. I want to know you much better. I want us to be closer before we do any of that. And when the time comes I'm gonna do much more than fuck you. I'm gonna make love to you."

Pablo sighed a deep sigh. "I was hoping you would say something like that, sir. I feel the same but I didn't know how to put it in words."

"I told you before, kid, we're very much alike."

They stripped off their clothes and climbed into bed. They talked a lot more, long into the night. One topic was sports and it turned out that Pablo's game was not football but soccer.

"I played with different local teams but it never lasted long," he said. "I was always moved to another home."

Randy said, "Highland Park, down the hill, is real Hispanic so there's lots of soccer. We'll get you on a team. You ever been to a Galaxy game? They're at home to Seattle next Sunday in the playoffs. Beckham's on the squad. Wanna go?"

"Do I?! I've never been to a big game, sir. That would be awesome."

"It's a date then."

And so it went on until exhaustion overcame them. Randy said it was time to sleep. Pablo turned over and pressed his back into Randy's chest. The big construction worker folded him in his muscular arms, loving the feel of his smooth, velvet skin. His cock rested against the mounds of Pablo's perfect ass. He held him in a tight, warm embrace, and felt the young man's beautiful body relax against him with a sigh of utter contentment.

As they lay naked, scooped together, Randy had a strange sensation that there was something right about this, almost inevitable. His mind raced with thoughts of the past and the future. After a long time he spoke softly.

"You asleep yet, kid?"

"No, sir."

Randy hesitated. "Pablo, there's something important I want you to think hard about."

"Yes, sir?"

"How would you like to become my son?"

TO BE CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 31"