A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 308 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: On the anniversary of the day they first met Bob and Randy go back to the same seedy motel and re-enact the wild events that once took place there. "The swarthy gypsy lay on the bed gazing up at the bound young executive. `I know just what you need, man'." Later, a cop overpowers them both. "That's good," the cop growls, "both of you fuckers tied up at my mercy. Question is, what to do with you."

Chapter 308 – "RANDY & BOB RE-ENACT THEIR PAST"

It was the day of the big housewarming party at the Grady House.

Before now all the gatherings had taken place at the tribe's compound, and this was the first time a party had been held at the new Grady House, with lovers Grady and Mario as the hosts. The hot and handsome Grady had recently bought the large house from the money he was making in his starring role as Tarzan in the big-budget movie now shooting at Warner Studios.

Grady's celebrity was growing and future stardom was certain, but that hadn't stopped the Ranger Pete and the Marine Hassan earlier that morning from double-teaming him in the house's gym in a fierce serial fuck that, in Grady's movie fantasy, had left `Tarzan' naked on the ground, smothered in cum, exhausted ... and elated. It took his Italian lover Mario to come and rescue him, make love to him and heal his ravaged ass with the balm of his own warm juice.

They were still upstairs making love even as the noisy group of men and boys gathered in the freshly manicured grounds by the pool awaiting the appearance of their hosts. Their earlier exploits in the gym were common knowledge almost as soon as they had ended, thanks to the efficient grapevine fed and watered by the boys who had witnessed them.

So when Grady and Mario appeared at last, freshly showered and still bathed in a bright afterglow, a great cheer went up and the two blushed with embarrassment and pleasure. They made sure that everyone had a drink in their hand, then Grady gave a short speech of welcome, ending with a toast to "The Tribe!"

Before they dived into the feast Mark stood up and took the floor. As one of the most senior men, the cop commanded huge respect in the tribe, not only for his natural authority as a police officer but also for his stunning Greek-God looks.

"I'm not gonna delay the festivities with a long speech," Mark smiled, "but on a special occasion like this I have to pay tribute to the founders of this tribe, Randy and Bob. Over time they have created an extraordinary group of men and boys and, like most of you, I personally am in love with them both."

After a burst of enthusiastic cheers Mark resumed. "I also happen to know that this is the anniversary of the day they first met on a scorching hot day in a small, shabby bar at the scruffy end of Hollywood Boulevard. And all this time later, here they are still together, and here we are too, thanks to them." More cheers.

"Also, rumor has it that later this afternoon they plan to slip away for their own private celebration. Not sure where they're going, but I have a fair idea of what they'll be doing, and all I can say is, I wish to hell I was a fly on the wall watching it." He sat down amid wild cheers and applause, and a slightly overwhelmed Bob and Randy saluted their thanks.

As the party finally got under way Randy grinned at Bob and quietly slipped him a scrap of paper. "This is the surprise I promised you, buddy. The address is here. It's all set, all arranged. All you have to do is dress appropriately. I think you'll know what I mean."

Bob glanced at the paper and smiled. "Son of a bitch, I should have known. You know, you scare me Randy. You always have."

"That's why you love me, big guy. It's why we fell in love right from the start. And it's why you've got a boner in your pants right now."

Bob grinned, "Fuck you, man."

This first housewarming was a casual affair (the tribe didn't do formal well, if at all) but it was a kind of dress rehearsal for more formal parties to come, where Grady would host the cast and crew of his movie and production executives. The three chefs, Danny and the twins, were decked out in white aprons and chefs hats. The servers, Eddie, Brandon and Ben, were proudly wearing their new uniforms of black pants, white, short-sleeve shirts and red waistcoats.

They dashed energetically between kitchen and table bearing food, most of it carried by Brandon who had the advantage of a large tray table on his wheelchair. At times he could barely see over the pile of dishes on it, the cause of much good-natured laughter.

A surprise to some was that the new boy Tommy – who had willingly submitted his ass to most of the men of the tribe and had become the obedient boy of both Pablo and Darius – now emerged as a kind of maître d'. He had experience as an event planner at the luxury hotel where he had been assistant manager, and now kept a professional eye on the arrangements, though Danny was still in overall charge.

It was Bob who had first seen the potential in Tommy, once his arrogance had been knocked out of him and he had acknowledged his long-suppressed need for domination, and Pablo had been guided by Bob. Such was the force of Bob's personality (not to mention his stunning good looks) that his gentle suggestions had even more impact than Randy's barked orders.

Randy knew this well. He knew the quiet power of this extraordinary alpha male, and as he gazed at Bob now he marveled at the memory of their first meeting when he had angrily dominated and humiliated the man who was eventually to become his lover. Bob returned his gaze, reading and sharing his thoughts as they both pictured their upcoming private celebration of the anniversary of that first meeting.

Surrounded by a large boisterous group of friends, the noise gradually faded into the background as they gazed into each other's eyes. It was as if they were in a bubble, separated from the festivities no matter how rowdy they became. They were sitting face to face next to Grady and Mario who sat together at the head of the table. And they jerked back to reality when Mario engaged them in conversation.

"You two look so far away," he smiled. "Penny for your thoughts ... but no, I imagine they are much more expensive than that."

"Not for sale at any price," Bob laughed. "But I'm sure you'll hear all about it when the boys' jungle drums start pounding out the news."

"Jungle drums?" Grady laughed. "You're talking my language. I know all about jungle drums, me being the King of the Jungle and all. I tried to persuade the movie's writers to include a scene where Tarzan beats out a warning on the jungle drums. I thought I'd be really swift at that, but they told me to go away and practice my Tarzan yell."

And so the meal proceeded in a wave of playful conversation, clowning around, laughter, great food and a lot of drinking. Steve came over to Bob and they sat together watching the tribe at play. "I love to see all you guys like this," Steve said. "I've given therapy sessions with most of them and dealt with all their problems and insecurities, but they're a resilient bunch and I love them all. Only guy I haven't treated is the new boy Thomas. I need to talk to you about him.

They shared their thoughts about Tommy for some time until Steve finally said, "Still, no problems with the other boys right now, that's for sure. Mark was right, you and Randy with your opposite backgrounds and personalities have really created something terrific here you know that ...?"

"Yeah, and it's been a long haul ... through pain and heat and gloom of night, as the saying goes," Bob laughed. "Of course, none of it would have happened if we didn't have each other. Randy's my rock." Bob looked round and frowned. "Hey, where is he, by the way?"

"Oh," Steve shrugged casually, "I saw him slip away quietly amid all this noise, while we were engrossed in conversation." He smiled. "And I have a strong feeling you know where he's gone, judging by that obvious hard-on in your pants."

Bob grinned, "Oh I know where he's going alright. And that's my cue to follow. `Course, you know everything, doc, so you know I'd follow him anywhere."

They stood up and Steve pulled Bob into a tight hug. "Take care of my big brother, Bob. As you know, he's impulsive ... tends always to walk on the wild side, and I worry about him. But I couldn't entrust him to anyone better than you. No one knows and loves him as you do."

Bob turned to leave. "Thanks, Steve ... I'll do my best, but you know Randy – always the boss, as I think I'm about to find out all over again."

"Enjoy your anniversary party, my friend ... whatever happens."

****************************************** .

It was about an hour later that Bob pulled away from the main house, his heart thumping in his chest. After leaving the party he had dropped in at his house to collect his thoughts ... and to change his clothes. Randy's wishes had not been specific but Bob knew exactly what he wanted. So as he drove down the hill in his smart Mercedes he was dressed exactly as he had been that long-ago fateful night that had changed his life forever.

He remembered the clothes he had bought at a store in the smart Renaissance Hollywood Hotel – a white dress shirt with short sleeves, a pack of white tank-tops and boxers, tan slacks, loafers and even a red tie to re-establish himself as the confident executive he knew himself to be.

The hotel had been an oasis that memorable day where he had checked in to revive and replenish himself, and to shed the filthy cum- and piss-stained ragged clothes Randy had left him with after working him over in the motel. Bob had needed a taste of luxury after his shattering experiences with the dark gypsy construction worker in the motel at the other end of the boulevard – the squalid end.

And now, on the anniversary of that day, Bob was retracing his steps and headed to the Renaissance Hotel once again. Right now he needed a drink. He drove up to the valet who greeted him with a deferential thank you, sir' and Bob remembered how important that sir' had been after the degradation Randy had subjected him to. He went straight to the bar and as he nursed a Scotch he mused over his feelings back then.

He had been running away from a failed marriage in San Francisco, headed to Mexico just to get away. He had stopped off in L.A. for a few hours' rest and a drink and had found himself in a dark beer bar where he had met the rugged gypsy-like construction worker in filthy work clothes and stinking with sweat. His name was Randy and he said Bob could shack up for a few hours in his cheap motel room round the corner.

Exhausted and drunk Bob had accepted and passed out on the one bed in the room they had to share. And while they slept Bob had made his fatal mistake. Dreaming of Sheila, the sexy barmaid at the bar they had just left, he draped his arm over the body next to him – and Randy had erupted in anger. Bob still remembered his exact words.

"You fucking pervert! You were coming on to me, shithead. Me! You didn't tell me you were a fag. Look at this," and he had slapped the bulge in Bob's briefs. He felt his very masculinity had been challenged and he flew into a rage-filled assault on Bob, even though Bob protested his innocence.

In truth, neither man had ever felt any trace of sexual feelings for another man ... until then. The fact that Randy found Bob to be a perfect specimen of manhood had only increased his hostility, based on some deeply buried insecurity and impulses that this man had stirred in him for the first time in his life.

They had fought, mano-a-mano, two muscular alpha males in a trial of strength that Randy had won and subjected his rival to a night of degrading acts of humiliating defeat. But the next day Randy had gone back to work on the construction site and Bob had left the motel with huge relief and headed to the hotel where, all these years later, he now sat staring down at his drink.

What he remembered most was that, against all his masculine instincts, and even in those squalid motel surroundings, he had fallen under Randy's spell. Repulsed at first by the gypsy's savage treatment of him he had come to accept it, to want it ... to plead for it. At the time he had been horrified by his own cravings, though now, of course, he understood that even from the beginning he had been falling in love with Randy – and Randy with him.

As Bob now sat in the hushed, opulent bar it was not only the memories that came flooding back, it was the feelings ... feelings that had confused and scared him at the time but which he now expected and welcomed. It was more than desire. It was a visceral craving, a fire in the belly that he could not repress, not matter how hard he had tried that first time.

As he stood up and paid for the drink he moved instinctively, as he had then, out to the parking valet whose `thank you, sir,' still rang in his ears as he drove out of the hotel and turned left on Hollywood Boulevard.

When Randy had left the Grady House he had gone not to his house, but to the now deserted construction site. In his trailer office he raked around in a pile of dirty clothes in the corner and pulled out a pair of old mud-spattered cargo pants, work boots and a thin, ragged tank top that stunk of grease and sweat.

He drove to Hollywood and headed for the opposite end of the boulevard from Bob's smart hotel. It was the rough, shabby neighborhood where Randy had always felt most comfortable, the tough gypsy construction worker who never sought luxury, never expected it. Born and raised in hard-scrabble Texas he had always been content with a few beers after work, a pizza and a quick shag of Sheila the barmaid to get his rocks off, then hit the sack in his cheap motel.

Randy could always find quick sex – a big, muscular guy like him, seductively handsome with his rugged looks, long black hair and square, heavily stubbled jaw. He was aggressively male, a man who never submitted to another – until he met Bob in the same scruffy bar Randy walked into now. He half expected Sheila's gravelly shout, "Hey handsome, how's it hangin'?" But of course Sheila was long gone, replaced by a heavy-set bartender who had the worn-out look of a heavy drugger.

In the gloom Randy saw a couple of guys at the bar with their backs to him. One of them had a broad back and tousled dark hair and for a brief, heart-stopping second he flashed on Bob, the way he had first seen him sitting on that very stool. Randy grabbed a beer and nodded casually to the guy ... who looked nothing like Bob. How could he? Bob was unique, the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and the very thought of him made Randy's cock get hard as he drank in silence.

In the old days he would have downed enough beers until he was good and drunk, then stumbled off to the motel round the corner and passed out. But now he was restless, impatient, and after one drink next to this man who was not Bob, he bought a six-pack, left the bar and drove his truck round to the motel. At the bleak little office he said to the bored clerk, "Room 14."

Randy grabbed the key and walked to the room, his heart pounding.

Bob knew exactly where he was headed, unlike that first day when he had driven aimlessly, in a daze, not knowing what he was doing or where he was going. All he had felt was a strange desire gnawing at him, but for what? He'd have done better to ask himself, for whom?

This sense of bewilderment was alien to the normally self-confident, in-control business executive and it had been with some surprise that he had eventually found himself parked in the small courtyard of the motel that he had left the day before with relief. It was exactly the same place where he now sat in his Mercedes, gazing at the peeling paint on the door of Room 14.

He shuddered as he recalled that day and that instant which had been one of the lowest, panic-filled moments of his life. As he had sat uncertainly in his car he had heard voices and laughter and saw the swarthy gypsy stagger into the courtyard with his arm round Sheila. They stumbled drunkenly into the room and as the door closed behind them Bob's heart had sunk. Randy had clearly put Bob out of his mind. He had turned his back on all they had been through and resumed his old life ... starting with a night with Sheila.

Bob had almost driven away in despair, but something had kept him there – and his patience had been rewarded. A while later the door flew open and Sheila had staggered out, pulling her disheveled clothes around her. "Fuck you," she yelled over her shoulder. "What the fuck's happened to you, anyway? You can't get it up and you're a million miles away. It's like I'm not even there? Your mind is totally someplace else. Get a life!" Slamming the door behind her she had staggered away into the night.

They were words of anger and frustration, but they had been music to Bob's ears – a sign of hope. Then, as now, he had got out of his car and walked over to the window of Room 14. He looked through a crack in the blinds – and there he was, lying on his back on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Back then he had been wearing just his boxers, but now he was still in his work clothes – grubby pants and boots and his greasy tank top.

Bob knew, of course, it would be like this – it was planned – but now, strangely, he felt as nervous as he had that first time as he knocked softly on the door. He waited ... nothing happened ... and he knocked again, louder. Suddenly the door opened and the doorframe was filled by the powerful, muscular figure of the gypsy construction worker.

Randy stepped back wordlessly and Bob walked in. They stood facing each other, locked eyes and were transported back to that moment that had changed their lives. Once again they experienced that strange, almost hypnotic sensation they had both felt that first time as they saw themselves reflected in each other's eyes. They were drowning in each other's gaze.

And now, as they felt the same surge of lust and longing they had felt then, even stronger this time, they realized with the wisdom of hindsight that that was the exact moment they had fallen in love. After everything he had endured Bob had come back and suddenly knew why he had come back. His confusion disappeared and floodlights had illuminated his new world.

Randy, in the desperation of loneliness, had willed his return, had prayed for it although he was not a praying man. Now Bob was here and Randy knew they would never part again. Those were the feelings they had shared back then, and the feelings they shared now once again as they gazed at each other.

"You came," Randy said softly.

"You knew I would," Bob replied.

Randy had an impulse to take Bob in his arms and hold him long and hard, but he also wanted to re-live the magical events of that extraordinary day. That's what he had planned for – the surprise he had plotted for their anniversary, so in his mind he slipped back into the skin of that gruff construction worker who had known only one way to ensure this man would not leave him.

Now he pulled Bob over to the wall facing the bed, and underneath one of the ceiling beams. He had prepared for this moment by hanging ropes from the beam, shoulder width apart, with wrist restraints at the ends.

He now raised Bob's arms one by one and secured his wrists so Bob's biceps were level with his shoulders, his forearms pointing straight up. That's how he had tied Bob the first time, and he remembered how his heart had pounded as he did it ... as it was pounding now. He knew exactly what he wanted. He undid Bob's tie and let it hang loose round his neck. He undid several buttons of his shirt so it revealed the white tank underneath.

Then he went back to the bed and lay on his back his hands behind his head, staring up at the handsome business executive, his arms raised, roped to the beam above him. He stared hard at Bob's chiseled features, his disheveled dark hair falling over his high forehead, his strong, square jaw and soft brown eyes.

And the body! His superb physique could not be disguised by the business clothes, his shirt clinging to his torso, the tank top partly visible stretched over the mounds of his pecs. His upper arms were stretched sideways so the short sleeves of his shirt slid back off the flexing biceps. His shirt slanted down from his broad shoulders to the elegant brown belt round his slim waist.

Impulsively Randy's hand went down to the bulge in his pants and rubbed his pulsing hard-on. His eyes fixed on the homoerotic image before him, a pornographic fantasy of a muscular businessman in bondage. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and stroked it slowly in his fist, moaning "You are so damn beautiful, man ... dressed like that, so smart, so fucking hot"

Bob stared down at the rugged gypsy, his muscles rippling as he stroked his thick shaft. He looked so wild, so savage ... so entirely different from the sophisticated executive, that Bob marveled again that they had met in a one-in-a-million chance ... had fallen in thrall to each other and had become inseparable lovers.

Once again Bob realized that this tough, dominant man had only one insecurity – his desperate need for Bob. Randy used to talk of owning him and had so often used brute force to hold onto him. And as Bob looked down at the brawny construction worker, his muscles rippling under his sweaty tank, surveying the young executive tied up as if he did own him, Bob's cock jerked in his pants.

Knowing exactly how to turn Randy on even more Bob looked up at his bound wrists and pulled at them in a simulated attempt at escape. He flexed his biceps and pulled himself up, hanging from the ropes, his jaw clenched, grimacing with effort. As he writhed in the air, his shirt came loose from his pants and hung open over the white tank. Sweat soaked the tank so his pecs were visible through the thin, wet fabric.

As he had that first traumatic day Bob stared at Randy defiantly. "Fuck you, man. Let me go. I'll fucking kill you. Let me loose, asshole."

He was driving Randy wild. This is how he remembered Bob, the vision of the handsome struggling young executive that recurred in his mind so often in the intervening years, a fantasy that often made him cum.

As it did now.

Dazzled by the erotic spectacle before him Randy beat his meat faster and faster, yelling. "Shit, that is so fucking hot, man. Remember how I tied you up that day? How you struggled and cursed me when I whipped you. You looked so fucking beautiful, man, you made me cum. Fuck you, man, you're doing it again. I gotta shoot ... fuck ... fuck ... Yeaaah!"

Bob watched mesmerized as the big gypsy's body jerked, his muscles tensed ... and his cock blasted a long stream of jizz over his greasy tank. Bob pulled himself higher, his muscles close to exhaustion as he yelled, "I love you, man!" and his cock exploded in his pants. He held the excruciating position until his cock had drained, then fell exhausted back down on his feet, his magnificent body sagging from the ropes, his head bowed in submission.

Back on that first day when Randy had looked at his submissive captive, part of him wanted to embrace and comfort him, but his macho pride would not allow it. Today was different. He jumped to his feet, put his hand under Bob's chin, raised his face ... and kissed him ravenously. When he pulled back he ran his hands over Bob's shoulders and biceps, then under his shirt feeling the rock-hard pecs under the wet tank. "You OK, man? You sure you're OK?"

"Even better than I was when you tied me up for the first time in my life and worked me over."

Randy stroked Bob's face and his eyes misted over when he recalled how close they had come to losing each other. "Thank god you came back that day, man. It was such a close thing. If you hadn't come I would have searched for you, followed you to Mexico and found you and begged you to stay with me."

"But I did come back, Randy. I'm here ... for you."

"Yeah, you are," Randy grinned, his macho confidence replacing his momentary insecurity. "And you remember what I made you do next?" He reached up, unlatched the wrist restraints, and Bob's arms fell to his sides. Randy went to the old wardrobe against the opposite wall that had a full-length mirrored door. He propped it open, making sure the angle was just right, then he lay back on the bed.

Instinctively Bob looked over to the mirror and saw himself, just as he had that day in beige slacks and a slightly disheveled dress shirt open over his sweat-soaked tank.

"Remember that?" Randy said, his hands once again propped behind his head. Back then I realized you didn't know how fucking gorgeous you were. A hot man who is unaware of his beauty is so damn sexy. So I wanted you to know. You remember what I ordered you to do?"

"Yes, sir," Bob answered softly. Looking at the mirror was like looking back in time into a different world. And he remembered how Randy had said, "keep your eyes on the mirror" and had given him step by step instructions. This time instructions weren't necessary. Bob had done this to please Randy many times since that day.

He slid his tie from round his neck and let it fall to the floor. Then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tail out of his pants and shrugged it off. "Oh, shit," Randy moaned, gazing at the thin wet tank clinging to Bob's pecs and washboard abs. Randy had not put his cock back in his pants and it now stood up already rigid again, proud as a flagpole. He stroked it slowly and said, "Show me the rest, man."

Bob pulled the tank off over his head and admired himself in the mirror naked to the waist in his tan slacks. He unbuckled the belt, unzipped the pants and let them and his shorts drop. He stepped out of them and his loafers, leaned down and pulled off his socks. Buck naked he looked at his reflection and ran his hand over his chest and abs, then flexed his biceps in a moment of self-muscle-worship. He heard Randy moan in ecstasy but kept his gaze fixed on the mirror – as instructed.

Randy was awestruck by the sight of this beautiful naked man making love to his own body in the mirror, his gorgeous cock swinging between his muscled thighs. Just as he had that first day Randy once again felt a stab of fear ... his craving for this man was so intense that the thought of losing him gripped him with panic. "I gotta have you, man. I gotta keep you with me." Reacting in the impulsive way he had then, he leapt to his feet, pushed Bob back under the beam and again raised his arms and buckled the restraints round his wrists.

Now that Bob was his bound captive again Randy relaxed. How many times in the past had he done this in his primitive impulse to make sure Bob didn't leave him? It was illogical to be sure, a feral, caveman instinct, but Randy always solved problems physically and this was his way of binding the man to him as securely as he had bound him to the beam above him.

It had been some weeks after their first meeting before Randy discovered there was another much more potent weapon he had to ensure Bob's fidelity, one that required no physical restraint. Sexual magnetism was not something Randy was ever especially aware of, even though his was overpowering.

The swarthy, muscle-god gypsy with his chiseled features, stubbled jaw, black hair and hypnotic laser blue eyes oozed sex appeal, something he had always taken for granted. But over time, seeing Bob's visceral reactions to him, he came to understand that sexual bondage was far more powerful than the cruder physical kind. That first day he did not know that weapon was in his arsenal ... but now he did. And he used it.

Randy faced the naked bound man and penetrated him with those pale blue eyes. Bob was lost and he knew it. Randy knew it too, knew that Bob would do anything for him – and accept whatever Randy did to him. Randy took a few steps back and, with a slight sardonic smile on his face, he reached behind his own neck and slowly pulled his greasy tank up and off over his head. He tossed it aside and stood motionless.

There were so many images of Randy that beguiled Bob and this was one of them, the macho construction worker stripped to the waist in mud-streaked cargo pants and heavy work boots. Bob felt his knees go weak as he stared at the slabs of his chest, the ridges of his eight-pack abs, his broad shoulders and slim waist. Randy watched with satisfaction as he saw Bob's cock stiffen, get harder and rise to full rigid attention. "That's it, stud. Just the way I want you."

Randy bent down, unlaced his boots and pulled them and his socks off. He straightened up, fixed Bob again with his penetrating gaze and ripped open his pants. He let them drop and grinned, "Now we're equal ... well, not quite. You're tied up, and I'm not. You could say you're at my mercy. Fuck, it's like Superman's been captured, tied up naked, and now he's gonna get fucked in the ass."

He walked forward and ran the back of his fingers over Bob's nipples, making him inhale sharply. "We did a lot of things that night didn't we, buddy? But there were a couple of things we didn't do. We didn't kiss ... didn't do that until we knew each other better. And we didn't fuck ... not until I took you to the forest and we grappled in a torrential thunderstorm and I fucked your ass.

"Well, I took care of the kiss just now. Now for the other thing. You know what's gonna happen to you now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you want it real bad, eh?

"You know I do."

Randy wiped his hand over Bob's chest that was wet with sweat. Then he went behind him and pushed his wet fingers in his ass to loosen him up. He pressed his cock between the ass cheeks and they both looked at their reflections in the mirror, Bob with his arms tied above him, Randy over his shoulder, reaching round him and squeezing his tits.

"We should have done this that first night," Randy grinned. "Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to tame you. That took a while ... and you loved every painful minute of it. But I could have owned you that first night just by doing this ..."

Slowly Randy pushed the whole thick length of his huge cock into his lover's ass, driving it in deeper and deeper until it passed over the inner sphincter and came to rest deep inside. Bob's breath was heaving, his heart beating wildly as he sighed, "Aaah ... that's it ... oh, man ... I love you Randy. I love it when your dick's inside me."

"Feels good, eh? That's where it belongs, where we belong. Always together just like this. Man your ass is hot." He slowly pulled back, paused, then buried his cock in Bob's ass again.

Given the setting, a room where Randy had once treated Bob so brutally, it could have been one of Randy's legendary savage fucks. But not this time. Today was about love and affection, the culmination of all the time they had been together, all the trials, the fears, the joys and the hard-earned ultimate certainty that they were soul mates for life.

Randy wrapped his arms round his lover's chest, pressed his cheek against Bob's neck and they gazed at each other in the mirror, losing themselves in each other's eyes, entering that private world they had visited together so often, a magical world where time paused, space blurred, and only they existed.

Bob sighed as the gypsy's cock massaged his ass, driving in deep, then back, again and again in a fuck that consumed their whole being, their whole world. After a long while Randy said softly. "So here we are, buddy, back in Room 14. We've come a long way since that day, but in a way we never left. You're still the same spectacular man as you were then, the day I fell in love with you. Hell, I could stand here forever sliding my dick in your incredible ass just like this."

Bob grinned, "Well I couldn't – not without busting a major load – like I wanna do now."

"I know what you want, man – I always know what you want." Randy reached up and freed one of Bob's wrists. His arm dropped and he wrapped his hand round his rigid cock. "That's it, buddy. OK, now one more for old time's sake. Like I said, I always know what you want."

Abruptly Randy pulled back, then slammed his cock in deep. The gentle massage turned into a savage pounding as Randy's cock pistoned into his ass. Once again he was the gypsy construction boss jackhammering the captive Superman who, tied by one arm, lunged forward, his arm stretched upward, his body writhing, muscles flexing as he pounded his cock in his fist.

"Shit that is so fucking hot, man," Randy yelled. "You're making me cum, I gotta cum inside you, buddy. Let me see you shoot, man. Now ...do it now ... aaagh." As Bob felt his lover's cock spew hot semen deep in his ass his own cock unleashed a ribbon of cum that rose high in the air and splashed on the floor at his feet.

Randy hugged him tight as his cock drained in his ass and he whispered in his ear, "Happy Anniversary, big guy."

Before they showered Randy picked up the phone and Bob asked, "Who are you calling?"

"Room service," Randy grinned.

"In this dump?" Bob chuckled.

The primitive shower stall was, as Bob remarked, the size of an old-fashioned phone booth, but they didn't mind. It just meant they had to stand closer together, their wet bodies sliding against each other. "Besides," Randy grinned, "didn't Clark Kent change into Superman in a phone booth? Well I've got my own personal Superman right here, but don't fly out and save the world, buddy. Your job is here, soaping me up."

Their physical intimacy was, inevitably, starting to get sexual when they heard a knock at the door. "Ah, room service," Randy said and left the shower. Grabbing twenty bucks from his pants' pocket he opened the door, buck naked with water streaming down his muscular body, his massive cock swinging between his legs.

Randy grinned, "Giant size? Everything on it, no anchovies, right?" No answer from the stunned boy. "Hey, earth to boy. Giant size, right?"

"Er, yes sir, the boy gulped, his eyes running down the spectacular body and settling on the cock. "Giant size ... everything on it. Definitely, sir."

"Good kid," Randy smiled, penetrating him with his seductive blue eyes. He took the pizza and handy over the cash. "Keep the change, kid ..." he flashed a dazzling smile "... unless you'd like to take the tip out in trade?"

The boy swallowed hard and croaked, "Er, yes please, sir ... I mean no, sir ... thank you, sir. Thank you." He tore his eyes away from Randy's smiling face and, with one last drooling look at his giant-size cock, he turned and staggered across the courtyard to his delivery van.

Randy closed the door behind him to face Bob who stood there with one of the motel's skimpy towels round his waist. He smiled and shook his head, "Son of a bitch, Randy, I saw that. You just demolished that poor kid."

"Nah, he loved every second of it, can't wait to tell his girlfriend, or boyfriend. But I tell ya', whether his taste runs to boys or girls he's out there right now jacking off in his van."

"Arrogant bastard." Bob peered through the window blind. "But, er, his van is still out there."

"Told ya'," Randy smirked. "Anyway, what's with that towel, asshole?" He reached forward and whipped it off of Bob. "This is our anniversary feast and it's gotta be naked. I want it to be like that picture you showed me once of a picnic on the grass where everyone was sitting round butt naked."

"Hardly," Bob said haughtily. "The painting was by Manet – 19th century France – hard to reproduce in this flea-pit motel at the wrong end of Hollywood Boulevard."

"Whatever," Randy shrugged, "you make your own fun, I always say. So crack open that six-pack, buddy."

They sat crossed-legged on the floor munching on pizza and swigging beer. "Nothing like beer and pizza," Randy grinned. "Say what you like about those twins of yours serving up their fancy food, I miss those days when I'd get back here after a tough day on the construction site, stuff my face with pizza and get drunk on beer.

"`Course, that was before I met you and you tried to clean up my act, civilize the caveman. Boy was that a lost cause. You know what they say – you can take a guy out of the cheap motel but you can never take the cheap motel out of the guy."

He laughed at his own joke and as Bob gazed at him, the rough, black-haired blue-eyed gypsy with grease running down his chin, he had never loved Randy quite as much as he did now. This squalid room was their heaven and they had never felt so close, so totally in love. They reminisced about that first meeting in the bar and their subsequent days in the motel, their first home together.

"Yeah, I sure worked you over, buddy. Broke your spirit like taming a stallion."

"Hey, not so fast. I fought back, remember? Beat you up real good. I tied you to the bed and slapped you around, gut-punched you, tortured your tits. Shit, what I should have done is shoved my dick up your ass. It's what you wanted ... I saw the way you looked at me."

"The hell I did," Randy protested. "All I wanted was to get free and totally trash you. You're crazy, man, if you thought I wanted to get butt-fucked by a guy back then, least of all you."

They both looked down at Randy's cock rising up in denial of his words. "You're full of shit, you know that?" Bob said. "That dick says everything. OK, tell me you don't want me to tie you to the bed like I did then, only this time fuck your ass. Go on tell me you don't want it."

"Fuck you man," Randy growled and launched himself at Bob. In seconds they were wrestling, rolling naked over the floor, scattering the pizza remains and empty bottles until Bob was on top of Randy pinning his wrists to the floor. Of course, they both knew that Randy could never be beaten that easily and he had allowed Bob to win. It was his way of admitting that he wanted this gorgeous man's shaft inside him. Of course he did.

"This is how it was, big guy," Bob panted, hauling Randy's limp body onto the bed. "I had you spread-eagled like this and ..." He grabbed their tank tops from the floor and used them to tie Randy's wrists to the corner bed posts. He knelt astride his waist and gazed down at the helpless gypsy, his arms stretched up in a V, tugging at his wrists, moaning, "Fuck you, man."

"Yeah, that's just what you said that first time. I saw your eyes blazing with anger and I gut-punched you. What I should have said is this. `Macho construction worker like you, fucks like a stallion, shoving your big dick in whatever hole you want. Time you had a taste of your own medicine, stud. You've never felt anything shoved up your own ass ... until now.'

"You would have cursed and struggled but I would have softened you up like this ..." Bob eased himself backward and knelt between Randy's legs. He leaned forward, licked Randy's rock-hard cock, then sucked it all the way down his throat. Randy gasped, his cock pulsed and he almost lost his load, but Bob pulled off just in time. "Don't cum, man, that's an order – not `til my dick's in your ass. I'll make sure you don't."

Bob had done this to Randy before, something that drove him wild. He sucked his cock, clenched his throat muscles round it and brought him to the edge of orgasm before pulling off. "No, man, don't do that," Randy groaned. "It drives me crazy. Let me cum, man."

"Not on your life, asshole." Bob resumed the torture of Randy's cock, whose craving for orgasm was denied over and over again. He was shuddering, moaning, "No, please ... I wanna feel your dick in my ass. Fuck me, man. Shove your rod in my ass. I wanna cum. I wanna get fucked so bad. I wanna get fuuucked ...!"

Suddenly the door crashed open and ... "Freeze!"

Bob looked up in shock to see a uniformed motorcycle police officer in the doorway. When the cop removed his helmet the shock was only slightly lessened when Bob saw it was Mark. What was going on? (Randy seemed less surprised.)

"What the fuck?" the cop barked. "You sucking this man's dick? That's disgusting. And you," jabbing his finger at Randy. "I heard what you said, you sick fuck. You were begging this man to shove his dick up your ass and butt fuck you? Not on my watch you don't. Maybe this crummy motel does rent rooms by the hour, but this stuff is way out of line. You – on your feet."

Confused and alarmed Bob obeyed and the cop looked at the ropes and restraints hanging from the ceiling beam. "Huh, we got a little bondage going on here, eh? Is that what you're into? Fine by me ... does my job for me and I don't even need handcuffs." He manhandled Bob over to the wall, pushed his arms up and buckled the restraints round his wrists so he was in the same helpless position as he had been with Randy.

"That's better," the cop growled, "both of you fuckers tied up at my mercy. Question is, what to do with you both." He paced the room while he decided.

Bob was totally blown away. What was Mark doing? Some time ago the three of them had committed to a sort of three-way love affair and Bob knew Mark loved them both. Had he found out where they were going, flown into a jealous rage and followed them? Would he punish them both? What would he do to them?"

One reason Bob was so alarmed was his painful memory of a man called Hans. Hans had been a thug who, in those early days, had invaded their room, overpowered them both and subject each of them to brutal treatment while the other one was forced to watch.

Was Mark going to do the same? No, he couldn't believe that. Bob knew Mark loved him and would never hurt him. Most likely this was a setup ... part of the surprise Randy had talked of. And yet Mark's rage looked so real, and Randy showed no sign of being in on the plot.

As a matter of fact Randy was not really in on the plot. He had previously told Mark where he was taking Bob (Mark could have guessed that anyway) and had suggested that Mark drop in on them at some point – join the festivities. But it was no more precise than that. The timing and activity was left vague. Randy certainly didn't expect him to burst in while he was tied to the bed begging Bob to fuck him. That was not what he wanted.

"Right," said the cop, coming to a decision. "So you, big guy, allowed yourself to be tied up so you could get your ass fucked. Well, I always believe that the punishment should fit the crime," (throwing Randy's own rule back in his face) "so in future maybe you'll be more careful what you wish for."

He turned to Bob. "And you ... you were sucking your buddy's dick getting ready to plough his ass. Well seems like you're a little tied up right now so you're in no position to fuck anyone. Don't worry, let me save you the trouble. After all, a cop is sworn to protect and serve."

He turned back to the bed, stepped on it and stood astride the bound gypsy struggling beneath him, tugging at his bound wrists. Randy gazed up at the Greek-God blond cop in his black uniform, the only flash of white his T-shirt at his shirt's open neck. His tight waist was circled by a heavy black belt and his pants were tucked into high, shiny black boots astride him.

Mark put his foot on Randy's chest, like the victor after a fight, and snarled "OK, stud, let's see what you got." He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and dropped to his knees straddling Randy's chest, stroking his cock in his fist. First you're gonna get my rod hard and lube it up. He leaned forward, braced his hands on the headboard and raised his hips so his body was stretched, arched over Randy, his cock pointing at his face. "Open up, big guy."

Bob watched mesmerized as Mark's hips fell and he stuffed Randy's mouth with his cock. The gypsy struggled but was forced to swallow the huge cock. He choked as it pistoned repeatedly in his mouth, and when Mark finally pulled off Randy was gasping, but the cock was good and hard ... and wet. Mark looked down with satisfaction at the swarthy face, tears in the eyes, spit dripping from the stubbled jaw.

"OK, now how did it go? `I wanna feel your dick in my ass. I wanna get fucked so bad. I wanna cum.' Huh, seems to me that shouldn't take long after your buddy sucked your dick and you just ate the cop's. Your balls must be fit to burst. Let's give it a try. He knelt between Randy's legs, pushed them up high and planted his cock against Randy's hole.

Randy glared up at him and growled, "You won't make me cum, asshole. I'm saving that for my man."

"Oh really?" Mark slammed his hips forward and plunged his long rod in the depths of the gypsy's ass. "Aaagh," Randy howled, and as he gazed up into the cop's gorgeous face he knew that his boast had been empty bravado. He had been fucked by Mark before and it was always incredible. Mark was a powerful alpha male, a man's man, and feeling his cock inside his ass was second only to when Bob fucked him.

After Bob had sucked his dick, bringing him to the cusp of orgasm again and again, Randy didn't stand a chance. Impaled on the cop's pounding rod he felt juice racing up his cock. He fought against it, pulling frantically at his restraints, his body bucking and heaving. But he knew he was beaten. "No," he howled. "Fuck you, man ... no ... no ... aaagh!" and his cock exploded in a shower of jizz so fierce that it splashed on his chest and up onto his face.

"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck you, cop."

Mark pulled out right away, stood up, and with a triumphant smile said, "Well, you wanted to get fucked, man. Seems to me you got fucked good. And of course I made you bust your load. Like I said, we protect and serve."

He turned and walked over to Bob. "Which brings me to you, stud. God you're gorgeous, and hey, what's this? He slapped Bob's cock which was hard as a rock having watched the incredible sight of the gypsy getting butt-fucked by the cop. "Looks like you wanna shoot a load too, but it ain't gonna happen.

"See, man, with you it's different. Oh sure, I am gonna fuck your ass, `course I am. I made your man blast a load but I'm ordering you not to. I'm gonna have mercy on your buddy over there. More than anything in the world he wants to feel your juice in his ass. And so he will."

Mark stared straight into Bob's eyes with a hint of a smile – the Mark Bob knew and loved – and his voice softened. "I have to fuck you, man, and I have to cum in your ass, you know that, don't you? But you're not gonna cum. You save it for him. You promise me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He went behind Bob, pushed his cock between his ass cheeks and smiled at him in the mirror. "See that? You feel my dick against your ass, feel it enter you, feel it slide all the way inside you? Good." The slow fuck began. "Oh man, that ass is prime, it feels so good. You are such a beautiful fuck, man."

Randy stared at them in desperation. He knew how much Mark loved to fuck Bob, and knew how much Bob loved it. They were in love with each other and Randy knew Bob always came when Mark did. But not his time, please. As he watched Bob writhe, impaled on Mark's cock he saw his cock shudder, saw it drip with pre-cum and he craved the feeling of Bob's juice inside him. So he pleaded.

"Please, man, don't make him cum. Please, officer, I'm begging you. I submit, you win, cum inside him, please ... before he loses his load ... please, sir!"

The combination of Bob's velvet ass round his cock and the sound of the macho gypsy begging in submission pushed Mark over the edge. "OK, guys, here it comes. Man that ass is so sweet. I gotta cum, of course I do. Oh yeah ... yeah ... oh yeaah..." His cock poured semen inside the ass he loved so much, stream after stream until it oozed out of Bob's ass and ran down his leg. "Oh shit that feels great."

He slumped against Bob's back to regain his breath. Then suddenly he pulled his dick out, walked over to the side of the bed and said, "And there's still some left for you, stud." He stroked his cock and the last remains of his sperm spurted out over Randy's face, completing his total dominance of the rugged construction worker tied to the bed smothered in cum.

He shoved his cock back in his pants, zipped up and was all business once again. "OK, you guys, you're lucky I'm not gonna arrest you for indecent behavior. I have my own way of dealing with men like you. Let that be a lesson to you."

He headed for the door, then turned and frowned. "Oh, we don't want you to starve to death do we? Course, you could always yell for help but somehow I don't think you're gonna do that. Tell you what ..." He walked over to Bob and loosened one wrist restraint a notch. "You work that enough and in time you'll get free. And don't forget, Superman, your buddy there still wants you to cum in his ass. But I'll leave that to you."

At the door he turned round and said, "Happy Anniversary, guys." The door closed behind him and seconds later they heard a motorbike roar to life and speed away.

They both knew what Mark had done. He had done it deliberately, for two men he loved. He had left them tied up naked, craving each other more than ever before. Bob flexed his biceps and tugged at the ropes. He gazed down at his lover, the handsome, muscular gypsy lying naked, bound and helpless on the bed, his chest, abs and face smothered in the cum of two men, his own and the cop's.

Bob whimpered, "I wanna fuck you, man. I wanna fuck you so bad. Please ..."

Randy flexed his muscles and yanked at his wrists, trying desperately to get free. "I need your dick in my ass, buddy. God, you gotta fuck my ass."

They gazed at each other as so often before but this time with an edge of desperation. Never had their desire for each other been stronger, never so cruelly denied. The two beautiful alpha males – the dark, rugged gypsy and his Superman lover – gazed at each other across this shabby room, each of them writhing helplessly in bondage, so close but powerless to touch. If desire alone could release them they would be free. As it was, their frustration was agonizing as their bound, naked bodies struggled in vain.

Bob looked up at the wrist restraint Mark had loosened slightly. Had he devised the final torment or was it true, could he escape? He inhaled sharply and twisted his wrist. Yes, it was looser than the other, but it would take time.

Randy watched his lover struggle, willing him to succeed. He tugged hard at his own bound wrists as if their combined effort would end in freedom. The two muscle-gods writhed mightily in bondage and were close to exhaustion when Randy heard Bob gasp as his wrist chafed against the leather. He saw his Superman features grimace in pain, his stretched muscles flex as he writhed, tugged ... and with one mighty heave, his wrist came free.

Quickly Bob reached up to his other wrist and unbuckled the restraint. Free, he launched himself across the room and onto Randy and they kissed passionately, ravenously. Bob was so close to orgasm that he pushed Randy's legs in the air and plunged his cock into his ass.

"Aaah." Their sighs released their pent-up tension and frustration and Randy moaned, "Shit, man, I love you. Fuck me ... fuck my ass. Man, your cock feels so good inside me. Don't stop. Don't ever stop loving me, man."

Bob fucked as long as he could, not wanting the feeling to end, but at last he said, "I gotta cum, Randy. Tied up like that, watching the cop fuck your ass, then getting fucked and holding back for so long. Man, my nuts are bursting. Please let me cum in your ass. Cum with me, Randy. Look at me, buddy ... look into my eyes."

"Yeah, yeah," Randy panted raggedly. "OK, let's do it, buddy. Fuck ... fuck ... I love you, man ... I'm cumming ..." His body shook as he blasted juice over his own chest and felt his lover's sperm pouring into his ass at long last.

After his heartbeats subsided Bob reached up and unknotted the shirts from Randy's wrists. Randy pulled Bob down onto him, their cum-slicked bodies sliding against each other and they smiled at their own reflections mirrored in each other's eyes. They lost all track of time as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, bound together more tightly than mere ropes ever could.

A while later they were lying on the bed side by side, each lost in his own thoughts. Randy turned on his side, propped himself on one elbow and gazed lovingly at Bob. `You look miles away, buddy. Not too far, I hope."

Bob chuckled, "No farther than the Grady House. I was just thinking about something Steve said earlier about young Tommy."

"Tommy? What's up with him?"

"Dunno, really, but Steve's a bit worried about him. It's all so new to Tommy, being low man on the totem pole and trying to fit in as the boy of Pablo and Darius. Course, he likes being dominated and all, but I agree with Steve that there's more to him than just being a fuck-boy.

"Yeah," Randy said. "I heard Ben and the boys talking about putting on some kind of sideshow at the party – kinda like a boy orgy with Tommy as the victim. He'll love it and they'll all have fun, but stuff like that can get out of hand if they're not careful."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry. Steve said he'll keep an eye on them, and he wants to have a therapy session with Tommy soon, show him there's more to life than being a subservient bum boy."

"Well if anyone can sort that out my brother Steve can. His methods are kinda crazy but he gets results. Anyway," Randy said, "enough about the tribe. I'm starting to feel neglected. This is our anniversary after all."

Bob grinned at him. "It's not over is it? We don't have to leave yet, do we?"

"Hell no. Buddy we can stay here all night and as long as we want. I did a deal with the owner of this place. I gave him a big bonus and he says the room is ours in future whenever we want it for as long as we want."

"And we will, won't we? I mean we don't have to wait another year."

"No way. We're gonna hole up here often, even if I have to drag you here. Which, come to think of it, might not be a bad idea. Get those old caveman juices going."

"Asshole."

"`Course, room service is limited. Just pizza."

"Perfect," Bob grinned. "Like you said, beer and pizza. Nothing beats it."

"Except for beer, pizza and great sex," Randy said. "Talking of which ..." He pulled Bob close ... and Bob didn't resist.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 309

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 invite 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