A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 323 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy tries to impress Uncle Mike, who puts him to work on "a Labor of Hercules". As the half-naked gypsy's muscles flex and strain Mike moans, "Un-fucking-believable. Fucking gorgeous." When the fireman Jason comes for his boy Ben he asks Mike, "A guy gets off work hot and horny and finds a sexy young gypsy waiting for him – so what's the guy gonna do?" Mike grins, "Hmm, fuck him? ... Just a guess."

CHAPTER 323 – "RANDY'S LABOR OF HERCULES"

************ In the previous chapter ***********

Randy was deeply in the doghouse. On a trip to the desert he, Bob and Mark and their boys were weekend guests at the desert home of Mike, the genial middle-aged owner of the leather bar near Palm Springs who had lately become a new friend.

But Randy's protective instincts toward his boy Pablo had led him, incorrectly and absurdly, to the delusion that Mike was exerting too much influence on Pablo and insidiously trying to weaken Randy's authority over his own boy. "You want him for yourself, that it? You wanna get in his pants."

His paranoia had inevitably led to a confrontation at the end of their visit where Randy's rage had spiked, he had insulted the older man and slugged him. Mike, a tough no-nonsense older guy, had retaliated with a brutal tongue lashing.

It concluded with, "Boy, I've thrown more crazy guys like you out of my bar than I can count, and right now I'm throwing you out of my house. You'll get out right now and never set foot here again. I don't want you to call, I never want to speak to you again. Just know that for me, Randy, you don't exist." The visit was over.

During the ensuing week Randy had sullenly distanced himself from the tribe's men and boys who all blamed him for his irrational outburst. But his boy Pablo stayed loyal and close, and his lover Bob remained loving, knowing how much Randy was weighed down by guilt. Even so, Bob said, "You're on your own with this one, buddy. If you can find some kind of way out of this, great. But it's all up to you."

Being the consummate construction worker, Randy sustained himself with hard labor, but as the weekend approached even that solace would be less available. By Friday night when they went to bed Bob could tell Randy was more pensive than usual.

And in the morning he was gone. It was well before dawn that Bob turned over in his sleep, reached out for Randy ... and he wasn't there. Bob went down to the kitchen in the dark but he wasn't there either. He was nowhere in the house. He had gone.

It was Saturday morning and Mike was sleeping in late in the desert. Friday night he had closed his bar, counted the evening's take, and didn't get to bed until 3 am. He slept soundly and didn't stir until nearly eleven the next morning when he was woken by a banging noise from outside.

"What the fuck...?" He shook his head, rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. He walked to the window and did a double take. Out in the garden by the pool heater was Randy, in his work clothes – cargo pants, boots, tool belt round his waist, and his grubby old tank stretched over his chest. And round three sides of the pool heater was a sturdy trellis.

"What the...?" Then Mike remembered the conversation round the table last weekend when Mark had admired his garden and Mike had mentioned that he still needed something to disguise the ugly pool heater, like a sturdy trellis, but hadn't got round to finding someone he could trust to do it. And he recalled Randy's words ... "Hell, we could do that for you easy. We'll take care of it next time we come out here."

Mike had regarded it a as a throw-away comment and, after their big fight, he had dismissed it from his mind. But here the guy was ... and the job was almost finished. He watched as Randy worked hard, struggling with the last of the trellis panes. It was a job for two or three guys but Randy was tackling it all alone ... and succeeding.

"Jesus Christ," Mike muttered as he gazed at the construction worker. "The man's amazing ... and so fucking gorgeous. But he's still a fucked up mess." He tried to recall all the crappy things Randy had said to him and the insults he had hurled back at Randy, but his memory was hazy. He could still remember the sock to his jaw, though, and he rubbed his chin.

But even that memory faded as he watched the brawny gypsy, muscles flexing as he lifted the heavy trellis, his stubbled jaw clenched with determination, blue eyes piercing like lasers even from this distance. Mike flashed incongruously on a guilty boy frowning hard as he concentrated on a homework task set as punishment. But this was no boy, far from it, and Mike shook his head and said again, "Fucking beautiful."

The last panel was set in place and Randy hammered in the final nails. He walked round the trellis, testing its rigidity, then stood back satisfied and swung the hammer back in his tool belt. He was breathing hard and sweat ran down his face and muscular torso under the already-hot desert sun. "Fucking gorgeous," Mike murmured yet again under his breath. "But you're still a dickhead."

He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went out to the garden. Randy whirled round with a look verging on panic. "I thought you were still asleep."

"You look hot, boy, all covered in sweat ... you wanna beer?"

"Look, I know you told me never to come back," Randy said gruffly, "but I promised to do this and I always keep a promise. That's the only reason I came. Anyway, it's done and now I'll get out of your hair."

"Boy, you are such an asshole. I said, do you wanna beer?"

"The back panel here opens so you can get to the heater and there's plenty of loose earth round it so you can plant a creeper or something."

"Don't be so fucking pig-headed, boy. Now I won't ask you again. Do you want a fucking beer?"

"Well, yeah, I ... I guess I could use a drink."

"Right ... follow me." As Randy walked obediently behind him toward the house Mike looked back over his shoulder. "You're still an asshole, though."

A hint of a smile creased Randy's lips.

************************ Chapter 323 ************************

Mike got beers from the fridge and they sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Unable to make eye contact Randy shifted uneasily in his chair, displaying a nervousness Mike found incongruous in such a dominant, powerful man. He guessed, correctly, that very few situations ever made this tough gypsy nervous. Now he looked more like a truant schoolboy sent to the headmaster for discipline.

Like so many men before him, Mike's heart melted as he gazed at this complex, conflicted man. He was not about to forgive him his unpardonable conduct toward him – not yet. Mike was not as quick to be seduced back under Randy's spell as the members of the tribe were. He had no wish to be part of the cycle of misbehavior-guilt-apology-forgiveness, a cycle he knew from experience would only be repeated again.

"Look at me boy," he said sharply.

Slowly Randy raised his head and Mike was startled by the incredible pale blue eyes that stared at him from the swarthy, gypsy face with its stubbled jaw and thick black hair. He wondered how many men had fallen instantly in love, or at least in lust, with those eyes. But Mike's steady gaze did not falter as he said evenly, "You have got to get your act together boy, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," Randy mumbled, staring down at his beer with a chastened expression.

"Shit, boy," Mike grinned, lightening the mood, "you stink of sweat and that tank looks as if it ain't seen soap and water in weeks, if ever." He reached behind him, opened a drawer, pulled out one of his own black T-shirts and tossed it across the table. "Take it off and put this on."

Meekly Randy obeyed. He stood up, yanked off his tank and once again Mike stared in awe at the shirtless, muscular construction worker. He pulled on the black T-shirt that fitted him snugly and Mike couldn't decide whether he looked hotter stripped to the waist or in this shirt that accentuated his brawny arms and chest. Randy sat back down and took another slug of beer.

Mike grabbed the filthy tank, got up briefly and threw it in the washing machine where his own clothes waited to be washed. He turned it on and soon the chugging sound of churning water was a background to their conversation.

As he regained his chair Mike said, "If you like you can take that as a metaphor. That grimy, and admittedly sexy, old tank kinda defines who you are, and now it's getting a wash. And so are you. Let's see if we can make it all the way to the rinse cycle, eh?

For the first time Randy grinned. "You sure have a way with words, Mike."

"Yeah, and as I recall so do you, boy. Just not the words a man wants to hear." Randy winced and Mike took a hit of beer, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth then got down to business. "OK, first things first. I appreciate your coming out here specially to do that job on the pool heater. The trellis looks great, just what I was hoping for, and I know what it took for you to do that, Randy. I would guess you're a guy who's not big on apologies, am I right?"

"Yeah," Randy said with a faint smile, part bashful part boastful.

"Now for the rest. You can be a terrific guy, Randy, one of the most exceptional men I've ever met – powerful, dominant, a natural leader of men, and totally fucking gorgeous with massive sex appeal. One look from those blue eyes and most men would be hooked. And what you and Bob have done with those boys and the whole damn tribe of yours is nothing short of miraculous."

"But ..." Randy said with a wry grin.

"Yeah, yeah, there's a big but', ain't there? There's a whole nother side to you that's nothing like the plus side. And I'm no fool, I know where it comes from. When you attacked me last weekend I know you thought you were protecting your boy – a protective instinct that ironically is also one of your best features.

"Mark told me of all the times you have come to the rescue of one of the boys and put yourself in danger. Hell, it's a legend round these parts how you and Mark rescued young Pablo from the clutches of those psychotic Baxter brothers who were using him practically like a slave in that rundown old gas station out here."

"Yeah, but did he tell you how those guys later captured Mark and me and tortured our asses, and how Pablo rescued us?"

"Oh, yeah, that's part of the legend too. And anyone can see how that kid's hero-worship of you shines out of his eyes – and out of his backside if I may say so," Mike chuckled. "But Randy, that other part of you ... that explosive anger. I know it's just the other side of the same coin, but it's gotta go, boy. It's fucking dangerous ... you're gonna end up killing someone.

"This last time you just ruined a weekend, but how many guys are you gonna ruin in the future? Not only your imagined enemies, but the guys you love most – Bob, that gorgeous lover of yours?" Pablo, your own son who idolizes you? I've heard how brutally you worked Bob over in the past ... shit, boy you're lucky you didn't kill hm – the man you say you can't live without! You're paranoid about losing him but your anger is steering you straight into doing just that!"

By now Randy was squirming as he knew it was all true. Somehow it was all more agonizing to hear it coming from an older, wiser guy he had only known a short while, rather than his brother Dr. Steve, or the leaders of the tribe, Mark, Zack, Hassan whom he looked on as brothers.

Mike's tone softened a little. "Randy, I know it all comes from your early life on the tough streets of West Texas bringing up all those young brothers – hell, I can only imagine ... But this ain't West Texas, boy. This is California, and we're not your enemies ... you're surrounded by friends. So do me a favor. Next time you feel that anger coming to the boil, call me, or call your brother Steve. Use us like a recovering alcoholic uses his sponsor. Will you do that for me?"

"Yeah, boss," Randy smiled, fixing him with his startling blue eyes.

Resisting that charm again Mike said sternly, "But don't think I've forgiven you, boy. I'm no pushover, falling for those sexy blue eyes like everyone else. One more flare-up like last weekend's, with me or any of those great guys of yours, and I'll run from you so fast you won't see me for dust. You'll be history."

"I get it, Mike. And thanks for talking to me again, man. If you had refused to have anything more to do with me it would have been ..." He choked up and Mike got another glimpse of the little boy who always moved Bob so much. Randy pulled himself together and said, "And in the future if there's anything you want doing, anything at all, you know who to call."

"I might take you up on that, buddy. As a matter of fact transportation is a bit of a bitch right now. My truck's overheating, which is real bad news in the desert. I've got my motorcycle but that ain't firing on all cylinders either. I just haven't had time to take them in and rent something while they're fixed."

"Heck, don't waste your money on that, Mike. Pablo and his assistant, my little brother Ben, are the best mechanics around. I'll tell Pablo to bring young Ben out here and they'll have your stuff fixed in no time – on the house.

"No Randy, there you go again. I'd love them to come out here but you mustn't order them to do it. You still don't get, do you? Pablo would get a ton more satisfaction out of it if it's his decision, his idea, a chance for him to do a favor on his own without being instructed by you. Just mention casually that my truck and bike are playing up and I guarantee that Pablo will leap in with the suggestion. You've trained him well, boy. Now just back off and watch the results."

"OK, Mike, got it. Anything else you need?"

Mike's stern demeanor softened and he grinned almost bashfully. "Well, Randy. Now you mention it ...

"Tell me," said Randy intrigued.

"OK, but first you're gonna call that gorgeous man of yours and put his mind at rest. He must be worried not knowing where you've gone."

Mike discretely left Randy alone in the kitchen and he called Bob who answered anxiously. Randy said, "I'm out here at Mike's. Yeah I'm fine ... yeah we had a chat and ... no he hasn't forgiven me, probably never will, but we're making progress. No, I'm not staying long ... I'll call when I'm on the road home." He grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I know we didn't fuck last night but we'll make up for that when I get home – big time ... yeah, love you too, man."

Randy went outside where Mike was waiting for him. "Come with me," Mike said and Randy followed him to a corner of the large garden. "I've been trying to make this plot a vegetable garden but this old tree-stump is in the way – must have been there for decades. I was trying to get it out as you can see but it's a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. I took a pickaxe to it and wrestled it to a draw but it's too tough for my old bones. I was wondering if ..."

"No problem, man. Piece o' cake. That all you want?"

"Well, kind of." He looked sheepish. "I'll level with you, boy. You may be an asshole at times and we'll work on that, but ... well, in addition to being an asshole you are also one gorgeous mother-fucker, best I've ever seen ... and I'm a sucker for beautiful muscle-studs like you. So what I was thinking is, while you do battle with this old tree, I ... I could sit and watch and ..."

"... and jerk off?" Randy flashed a gleaming smile. "Hell, wouldn't be the first time a guy's done that. In our tribe everything's fair game. Bob does it often ... Pablo too. And I've even caught my kid brother Ben watching at the construction site when he thinks I'm not looking. Hell, man, I can make any of them cum any time just by working my body."

This flash of arrogance made Randy even sexier in Mike's eyes and he didn't feel so much of an old perv knowing Randy was used to other guys doing the same thing. "I'll go back over there and sit in that lawn chair so you won't notice me. I kinda get a kick out of looking at a guy when he don't know he's being watched and drooled over. It's just one of my things."

"Say no more, man, I know the drill." Randy grinned slyly. "Remember the last words you said to me last time I was here? – `You don't exist for me, Randy'. Well same goes for me now, Mike."

Mike chuckled, "You really are an asshole, boy." Then he walked some distance away and sat unobtrusively in the chair, legs man-spread in front of him as he stroked the bulge in his pants.

Normally Randy had no physical vanity – he took his stunning looks for granted, always had. But at times like this he knew how to show himself off, a talent he had perfected for to excite Bob. After the way he had insulted Mike last time, he really wanted to impress him now, hoping the older man could like him despite his faults. And his looks would help him do it.

He now ignored Mike, as he had promised, and pressed his boot against the solid tree stump, testing it. It gave way just a little thanks to Mike's former efforts to loosen the earth round it, but it's old roots went deep and Randy knew it would take a mighty hammering before it would yield.

He reached for the pickaxe Mike had left leaning against the fence, weighed it in his hand, then stood before the offending object with his legs spread wide. He swung the axe up in a wide circle and slammed it at the base of the tree. It stubbornly refused even to budge and Randy swung at it again ... and again, growling "fuck you" as if to a defiant rival.

"Oh shit," Mike growled, staring at the tall, swarthy gypsy, his biceps bulging as he wielded the axe. The desert sun was reaching its height and blazed down on him, his black T-shirt already soaked and clinging to the contours of his superb physique. When he took a breather for a few seconds he towered over the offending tree stump, legs wide apart, eyes blazing as he glared fiercely down at it, long black hair falling into his blue eyes.

Mike imagined how terrifying he must look staring down at a rival he had just beaten to a pulp. And even though that ferocity had its dark side Mike had to admit it was pornographically hot. He recalled Bob saying, "I'm not blind to his flaws, Mike. Hell, I love him because of them ... that rugged masculinity, his alpha-male gypsy arrogance – so fucking sexy. You know, he's often called the King of the Gypsies and that's just what he is."

And so he seemed to Mike right now as the big stud swung back into action, his muscles rippling under his tight, wet shirt, darkly chiseled features gleaming with sweat that ran down over his stubbled chin and dripped onto his shirt. When he turned his back his long hair was matted to the nape of his neck that Mike found so sexy.

The sleeves of the shirt pulled back off his bulging biceps and, with each upswing of the axe the bottom of his shirt lifted and gave a glimpse of his bare, slim waist cinched by the tool-belt, and even the lower part of his washboard abs.

Mike's cock was so hard in his pants that he stopped stroking his bulge several times to avoid cumming. In the past when he had secretly watched other guys, or watched porn, he knew the frustration of premature ejaculation, and with this guy especially he could have shot a wad any time but needed to save it and prolong the ecstasy.

Whenever Mike watched porn he increased the pleasure by talking to himself, describing the scene, fantasizing about what would come next. And now he groaned softly, "Fucking beautiful man. Shit, look at that fucking stud work, that perfect body. Dammit, man, you know what I want next. You're sweating like a pig, you know what you have to do. Come on, man. Do it!"

And Mike's silent wish was granted. He unzipped his jeans, yanked out his stiff cock and stroked it as he watched spellbound. Randy had stopped working, leaned the axe against the fence and looked up at the sky, wiping the back of his hand across his wet forehead. Then he reached behind his neck and slowly pulled up on his T-shirt.

Randy knew exactly what he was doing, an act he had perfected from the many times Bob had watched him and he had judged the effect from Bob's reactions. He also knew that teasing was a great aphrodisiac, as Mike was about to find out. The T-shirt slid slowly upward, revealing the tight waist, then the lower abs. But just as the spectacular eight-pack came into view ... Randy stopped, with the abs only partly revealed below the shirt.

"No," Mike moaned to himself. "Don't do this to me, boy. Oh fucking shit, man."

Randy picked up off the ground a bottle of water Mike had left for him. He took a long drink, then poured some over his head, letting the water soak his hair and run down his face and shirt. He shook his head, spraying water on all sides, then put down the bottle, stretched his arms to the sides and massaged his sore right shoulder with his left hand.

He was driving Mike crazy ... and suddenly it happened at last. Randy reached behind his neck again and in one quick move pulled the T-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. He stood still for a minute, his dark face squinting in the bright sunlight, stripped to the waist now in all his glory – broad shoulders, the hard mounds of his pecs, muscled arms, razor sharp abs, his wide lats tapering down to the trim waist circled by the heavy tool belt.

"Oh shit," Mike gasped, beating his meat faster. "Goddammit, look at that fucking stud."

Randy picked up the bottle, leaned back and poured the rest of the water over his chest and abs. Then he picked up the axe, slung it over his shoulder and walked round the tree stump assessing which part to attack next, and knowingly giving Mike a view of every part of his magnificent body – front, sides and back, including the bulge of his ass in his work pants.

All Mike's careful restraint went to hell as he stared in disbelief at the gypsy muscle-god, his perfect physique gleaming under the ferocious sun. "Ah man," he groaned quietly, "that's fucking incredible ... bare-chested construction boss ... that body, that face. You're making me cum, man. I can't hold back ... fuck ... fuck ... aaagh!" His cock erupted, blasting cum up over his T-shirt in the most explosive orgasm he had had in a very long time.

His exclamation was loud enough to reach Randy who, concentrating hard on the tree stump, smiled inwardly with the satisfaction of knowing the effect he was having on this man he wanted so badly to impress. OK, he thought, one down ... now let's shoot for number two. He knew it might take a while with a man Mike's age, but he was confident he could make him cum again. Such was Randy's arrogance in his sexual power and magnetism – justifiable as it turned out.

Mike was still calming down after his visually induced climax and his first reaction was one of regret that he had cum so soon, as it was clear that the homoerotic display was far from over. But then he realized that as he continued to watch he could relax and enjoy the show without the pressure of his cock bursting for release. He could sit back and stroke his dick while he contemplated the phenomenon of this extraordinary man.

Managing a leather bar for as long as he had Mike inhabited a world of men trying, with varying success, to present a macho image to the world. The trappings they used were their leather gear, the powerful motorcycles, butch attitude – a studied projection of toughness and virility to the men around them. But Mike had long since learned that true masculinity came from the inside out, it was a state of mind, and no amount of heavy leather could make up for a lack of it. Some men had it and some didn't.

As he gazed at the shirtless construction worker, his muscles rippling as he swung the axe, Mike realized he was witnessing masculinity personified. Randy never put on a macho front to the world, didn't need to dress up and `act tough'. His virility was bred in the bone ... he was what is inadequately described as "all man." And Mike knew that there is nothing more erotic than a beautiful man who pays no attention to his own beauty, is mostly unaware of it.

Randy of course was aware that Mike was watching him, and he wanted to impress him, but his muscular exertions came naturally – it's what he did all day on the construction site. And his effortless machismo made him respected by his crew, craved by men and loved by Bob. Sure, his dominance sometimes exploded in rage, but Mike hoped he might help him control that.

Mike's contemplation on masculinity was eloquent, but his grunted words to himself were anything but. "Fucking gorgeous hunk of man ... come on stud, work that fucking body."

It was like watching one of the Labors of Hercules Mike drooled as he saw the brawny gypsy swing the axe high time after time, smashing it down on the stubborn tree stump, his chiseled features grimacing with the effort, his stubbled jaw clenched and blue eyes gleaming in concentration. His long black hair swung over his face with each blow, sweat now poured down his naked torso and made a growing stain in his cargo pants spreading down to the bulge at his crotch. Hard labor always gave Randy a hard-on.

"Man," Mike groaned, "look at the shape of that massive cock. Damn, imagine getting fucked by that rod, feeling that muscle-god pounding your ass. Those leather `top-men' in the bar would line up to get ploughed by him."

Mike's grunted words and the visual fantasy had their effect and he was surprised to find that his cock was already hard again in his fist. These days it always took a while for him to build up a head of steam. It was many years since he had the sexual potency of, for example, young Eddie, his former bar-back until he joined the tribe and became the boy of that hunky Marine Hassan. "Shit," he grinned to himself, "that little gusher could cum every five minutes."

As he gazed in wonder at the brawny construction worker Mike realized that the tree stump was at last yielding to the powerful gypsy, as so many of his rivals had surrendered in the past. Glaring down at it Randy tossed the axe aside, bent down and wrapped his arms round the stump, pulling it from side to side, hearing the roots tear and snap. Mike stroked his cock faster, turned on by the straining muscles in Randy's back, shoulders and massive arms.

And finally, with one last mighty tug heave, Randy wrenched the stump free. Mike gazed in disbelief as Randy pulled it out of the ground and, using all his last reserves of strength, raised it high over his head in triumph, his body stretched upward, dirt dripping down on him, muscles flexed, veins popping, a glorious image of complete supremacy.

"Holy shit," Mike gasped. Gazing in wide-eyed wonder he fantasized that Randy had thrashed a man in a brawl and was now holding his body up high in triumph. He walked round the hole in the ground, displaying his helpless victim before tossing him contemptuously on the ground.

Randy stared down at the offending object as if taking its obstinacy personally. "Fuck you ... fuck you..." he growled. In a final act of total dominance, and humiliation for his broken rival, Randy ripped open his pants, pulled out his massive, rock-hard cock and pumped it in his fist, roaring "Fuck you ..." as he blasted a stream of jizz down on the object of his scorn.

Completely lost in the incredible fantasy Mike felt his loins pulse as semen raced up his cock and poured out over his already cum-soaked shirt. He yelled in jubilation at the top of his voice, throwing all pretense of silent observer to the desert air.

His breath heaving, heart pounding Mike gazed at the triumphant construction boss who was still holding his dripping cock pointing down at the ground. And suddenly a continuous stream of golden liquid spurted from it and soaked the fallen tree. In Mike's vivid imagination the savage gypsy was pissing on his broken rival in a final act of degradation and total annihilation.

"Un-fucking-believable," Mike groaned.

Mike pushed his cock back in his pants, got up and walked over to Randy. "Boy, you sure know how to stoke a man's fantasies. In all my years I've seen some pornographic sights but never anything to match that. Totally fucking gorgeous. Randy, it's a privilege to shake your hand."

Randy flashed a gleaming smile and gave Mike a bone-crushing handshake. "Well, you're old enemy's beaten, Mike. Your tree-stump's out and you can plant you vegetable garden. If you like I'll saw it into logs for your fireplace on those cold desert nights in the winter.

"Nah, I'll take care of that, Randy. Got all summer to do it." But there is something you can do for me. As gratitude for your herculean efforts here I wanna take you out to lunch, and then I'm gonna send you back to that man of yours and I'll probably jerk off thinking about you fucking Bob's ass."

"Or vice-versa," Randy grinned.

"Yeah that too. I think my all-time fantasy is watching an alpha stud like you submitting his ass to gorgeous top man like Bob. Hell, I'd pay good money to see that."

Randy laughed, "Keep your money in your wallet Mike. When you come to town you're gonna visit us and watch whatever you like ... on the house. Lunch sounds great, but I guess I'm gonna need to borrow another shirt." He picked up the black T-shirt off the ground. "This one's shot, soaked with sweat, my cum and piss that splashed on it. Sorry, you'll have to throw it out."

"Are you mad, boy? I'm gonna keep that forever, just the way it is, and whenever I'm feeling horny on those cold winter nights you mentioned I'll pull it out and remember the summer's day when I got to watch a hot musclehunk gypsy giving me the best pornographic fantasy of my life. Oh, and by the way, taking you to lunch is not only to say thanks. Can you imagine what it'll do to my reputation around here being seen out with you?"

Mike was right. After he showered and dressed in his cargo pants and boots (minus the tool belt) and a clean, V-neck gray T-shirt of Mike's accentuating his perfect physique, they got in Randy's truck and Mike took him to a popular lunch hangout frequented by many of the same men who frequented his bar.

To say that heads turned when they walked in would be an understatement – Mike later called it synchronized swiveling. Mike was, of course, well known there, as a bar owner and leader of the community, and men kept coming to the table to say hello. "Always like this?" Randy asked.

"Not like this," Mike chuckled. "Hell, guys have come up who I haven't spoken to for years. `Course, you realize it's not me they're looking at. Guess it must be the hunk I'm with."

But the interruptions finally tapered off and the two men were left in peace to talk. Mike asked a lot of questions about Randy – his life in Texas, his family, how he first met Bob and the growth of the tribe, and Randy answered freely, wanting to show Mike that he was not always the angry dickhead who had attacked him last weekend. "Mike," he said at last, "last week you saw the caveman side of me, but I hope you can see I'm not always such a fuckup. I know you can never forgive me, but ..."

"Listen son, it's not a question of forgiveness. You and the other guys have got to get out of that anger-regret-repentance-forgiveness syndrome that repeats itself over and over. All I want is for it to not happen again, `cause it makes you less of a man – yeah, even you, hot stuff. If it does happen, that's it. Like I said before – I'm out the door for good."

"OK boss," Randy grinned. "And next time I feel the rage rising I promise I'll think `Mike' and call you. Oh, and by the way, I will drop an ever-so-subtle hint to Pablo that you need a mechanic out here, see how he reacts."

"When lunch was over Mike said, "Right, now it's time for you to go back to L.A. and make love to Bob. Tell him things are OK between you and me, he'll like that. And tell him we want to see that Superman face of his out here real soon. Now I'm gonna walk round the corner to my bar `cos my truck's parked there, so you can leave straight from here." He smiled roguishly. "So how about we make their eyes pop by saying our goodbyes here, eh?"

They stood up and Mike held out his hand, but Randy said, "We can do better than that, man," and wrapped his arms round him in a long tight hug." As they walked out Mike grinned, "Not a limp dick in the place, Randy. Thanks."

The parking lot was crowded with guys coming and going, and heads turned. Randy said, "That tank you washed for me is in my truck, buddy, so you can take this back." He pulled off the gray T-shirt, handed it back to Mike, then strode across the parking lot shirtless followed by Mike and countless pairs of eyes. He leaned in the truck, pulled out his tank and put it on.

He noticed all the guys staring at him and said, "Mike, you're a bad influence on me. You could turn me narcissistic."

Mike chuckled, "You, boy? Nah. You're no narcissist. You're a prize asshole sometimes, but never vain."

"Thanks, Mike – I think." Randy swung himself up into his truck, gunned the engine and roared away. In the rearview mirror he saw Mike suddenly engulfed in men in the parking lot and grinned, "Good for you old buddy."

A couple of hours later when Randy got home Bob was waiting for him in the garden sitting by the pool with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. He stood up and Randy held him tight in his arms for long minutes. "Everything OK?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine and dandy, buddy. Is that other glass for me?"

"Er, no, it's for my other lover I'm waiting for."

Randy smiled, "Well he can go fuck himself – or I'll do it for him when he gets here."

As they sat down and Bob poured the wine the twins appeared with trays of food. "Would you like a snack, sir?" Kyle asked Randy.

"Well, before I left the desert Mike took me to lunch, but how can I say no to your food, kids?"

"Glad to hear it, sir," Kevin smiled. They put down the trays, went back to the kitchen, and within minutes news of Randy's reconciliation with Mike was common knowledge in the tribe.

"As a matter of fact," Bob said to Randy, "Mike called me after you left and told me all about it – the thing with the trellis ... and the stuff with the tree stump and all. I had the feeling he was stroking his bulge while he described it, and it sure gave me a hard-on hearing it. Good for you, Randy. Mike's a great guy, and I'm proud of you."

Just then Pablo bounced up to them having heard the news from the twins, holding a wineglass he brought with him. "Take a pew, kiddo, help yourself to wine<" Randy said. "I owe it to you, boy to tell you things worked out OK. He told him in outline what had happened and how it all turned out. Then, as Pablo took a sip of wine Randy winked surreptitiously at Bob. "I said he should come into town and visit us – when his truck is working."

Pablo looked up sharply. "What's wrong with his truck, sir?"

"Ah, seems it overheats all the time. His bike's on the fritz too – timing's off or something."

"Hell, I could fix all that," Pablo said eagerly. "I could take Ben out there and the two of us could take care of that easily."

Randy grinned at Bob. "Yeah, Mike thought you'd say that. Said it should be your idea though."

"I'd like to see Mike again now that things are ... well you know. Me and Ben could go tomorrow `cos it's Sunday. Ben's down at Jason's house right now so I could go and ask Jason if he'll let Ben come with me? Can we go, sir?"

"Hey, kid, you pride yourself these days on being your own man, so it's your call. I say go for it. Just take care of yourself and my little brother, OK?"

Pablo scuttled off as the twins came out with another bottle of wine. "Sir, we thought a celebratory dinner tonight if that's OK?"

"Sounds like a winner," Randy said, "but give us a couple of hours, OK? Things to do."

As the twins left Bob asked, "Things to do?"

"Yeah," Randy frowned. "Before I left Mike he did give me one firm instruction. Said when I got back to town I had to `make love to that gorgeous man of yours'. I guess he meant you. Said I should fuck you – or vice versa. But of course, if you're waiting for that other lover of yours ..."

"Well," Bob stroked his chin. "It's starting to look like he's stood me up. I guess you'll have to fill in for him."

They stood up, Randy threw his arm over Bob's shoulders and as they walked toward the house Randy growled, "My man was stood up by some guy? Just wait `til I get my hands on him. I'll beat the crap out of him."

"I thought Mike had cured you of all that."

Randy shrugged. "Well, kind of."

"You're such an asshole," Bob grinned.

"Yeah, that's what Mike said."

Early next morning a truck left the house with Pablo at the wheel and Ben sitting beside him. The previous evening, the blond fireman Jason had given his permission for his boy Ben to go with Pablo out to the desert provided they stay with Mike.

Jason was especially willing because he was scheduled to spend the day in and around Idyllwild in the San Jacinto Mountains helping the local fire departments monitor fire hazards in the many homes scattered in the mountains where the brush was abnormally dry in the California drought. The location was only about an hour from Mike's house near Palm Springs so he planned to go there straight from work to drop in on Ben.

Ben was excited as they drove east at the prospect of meeting this man Mike who his big brother Randy had talked so much about, and of showing off by introducing his master Jason to him. They had already alerted Mike that Jason might drop in after his work in the mountains.

Also, Ben loved being with Pablo. When they first met there had inevitably been rivalry between Randy's kid brother and his adopted son, but Randy had solved that by pairing them up at work. Pablo, the company's mechanic, needed an assistant so Randy had designated Ben. Over many months Ben had come to like and respect Pablo and enjoyed working with him.

Pablo had trained him to become a skilled mechanic and Ben looked on him as a mentor – almost like an older brother, especially now that Pablo had become more independent and assertive after his long talk with Mike. Pablo never talked down to Ben and decided that he should know everything that had recently gone on between him, Mike and Randy.

Ben listened wide-eyed and couldn't wait to meet this older man who seemed to have so much influence over his big tough brother. When they arrived at the house Mike heard them pull up and came out to greet them. "Hey kid," he smiled at Pablo, "come here and give you old Uncle Mike a hug."

Pablo found himself wrapped in Mike's burly arms and liked the warm feeling of security it gave him. In the short time he had known him he had come to respect him and, like the other boys, called him Uncle Mike. "I was afraid I wouldn't be seeing you again, kid, but that master of yours has a way of making everything come right – hard man to resist."

"And who is this young buck?" Mike grinned, breaking away. "No, don't tell me ... no need ...hell, I'd recognize you anywhere as Randy's kid brother – same gypsy looks, black hair, high cheek bones, and those piercing blue eyes. And muscles too by the looks of it under that old tank you're wearing, just like your brother. Guess he makes you work out hard, uh?"

"Yes sir," Ben said shyly. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Randy and Pablo have told me all about you."

"Not all, I hope," Mike laughed, "that's a whole lot of years to cover. Hey, come here, kid. If I can get away with hugging your musclehunk brother I'm sure he'd let me do the same to you." He threw his arms round the boy, then pulled back and said, "So let me get this straight. Pablo, you are Randy's adopted son ... and you, Ben, are Randy's brother. So Ben, er, that makes you, Pablo's uncle – by adoption!"

"Yeah, well that's something we try to forget, sir," Ben smiled. "I think of Pablo as my brother." And Pablo chuckled, "You better believe it." They followed Mike into the house and Ben was impressed by the ranch-style spread and the extensive grounds.

"Guys," Mike said, "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've come all the way out here to fix an old guy's truck and motorcycle, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to reward you by walking out on you for a while. I gotta work the early shift at my bar and get it all set up for the Sunday beer bust before handing it over to my other two bartenders. Probably won't be home `til about four in the afternoon.

"But let me show you where everything is in the kitchen – beer, sandwiches I've made for you, and a ton of other stuff in the fridge. Help yourselves, go for a swim, the house is yours."

"Thank you, sir," Pablo said, "we'll be just fine. But could you show us your truck and bike and explain the problems you're having?" Mike did just that and Pablo got in the truck, started it up and watched the heat gauge, then straddled the Harley and rode it up the street and back.

With the voice of an expert he said, "I don't think it's serious, sir. We've brought a whole load of equipment with us so with any luck Ben and me should have them both fixed by the time you get back. Do you want a lift to the bar?"

"No, it's just down the block, I'll walk – do me good."

"Right, let's get to work Ben." Mike watched in awe as Pablo took off his T-shirt and jeans and pulled a pair of greasy overalls over his naked body and hooked the strap over one shoulder. Mike guessed correctly that this was the sexy gear he always wore at work. Ben simply pulled off his tank top and worked shirtless.

Mike stood back and looked at the two young muscleboys. "Shit damn, I should leave the bar locked up and just watch you two work." He sighed. "But duty calls. See you later, boys." And he left them to their labors.

The boys worked hard, with Pablo teaching Ben as they went along. "So this part here ... not working right. Can you tell what's wrong with it?" When Ben got it right he was rewarded by a big smile and a playful punch in the shoulder. "Hey, I better watch my job," Pablo laughed. "You'll soon be nipping at my heels, waiting to take over." Ben blushed with pleasure.

They did take a break for beer and sandwiches as Mike had suggested, then quickly got back to work. It was a little after four o'clock when Mike came home and they were just finishing up, crouching beside the bike. Unobserved Mike watched for a minute, smiling to himself as he saw Pablo explaining techniques to Ben who nodded wide-eyed, hanging on his every word. Yep, Mike thought, the boy has the makings of a real leader, just like his dad.

He cleared his throat and the boys turned and stood up. "Great timing, sir," Pablo smiled. "The job's finished. The truck was no problem – couple of hoses, tune up - but the bike was more of a problem. Wasn't even safe. When did you last have it serviced?"

Mike shrugged. "Dunno, can't remember. Never maybe."

Pablo shook his head and tut-tutted with that classic mechanic's frown of disapproval familiar to all car owners. "Nah, regular service is key," he said. "Whenever we come out here in future I'll give it the once-over if that's OK, sir."

"You guys visiting is pleasure enough. Throw in a tune-up and I'm happy as a clam at high-tide. Hey, sounds like we have a visitor." They heard a car pull up outside, the gate opened and Mike's mouth sagged in disbelief. "Holy fucking shit."

A fireman in full firefighting gear walked in – yellow jacket, big fireproof yellow pants and helmet. He stopped just inside the gate and took off his helmet and it was clear that this was no ordinary fireman, with his handsome, chiseled features, high cheekbones and a square lantern jaw.

He ran his hands through his short blond hair and murmured, "Man, it's hot," as he shrugged off his bulky firefighting jacket. His regulation protective pants were held up by red suspenders over his shoulders, and under the suspenders he wore a dark blue Fire Department T-shirt that was soaked with sweat and clung to his body.

"Damn," Mike said, "this has to be one of your guys, kids. Has to be."

He was jostled by Ben who hurtled past him, and Jason's face broke into a dazzling smile as he opened his arms wide. "You came sir," Ben shouted, launching himself into his master's arms. Jason held him tight, lifted him off the ground and spun him round. "Hey there, kiddo. Just what I need after that hot slog through the mountains."

Ben wrinkled his nose. "Phew, you stink of sweat, sir."

Jason put him back on the ground and grinned, "Well you're no oil painting yourself, kid. Look at you, no shirt, your chest streaked with grease, oil smudges over your face ..." he chuckled ... "Just the way I like you, kiddo."

Ben grabbed his hand and dragged him over to Mike. "Sir," he said proudly, "this is Jason ... he's a fireman and I'm his boy. He's been in a fireman's calendar ... the August page, sir."

"And that, apparently, is all you need to know, Mike," Jason smiled, wrapping both hands round Mike's and shaking it warmly.

"August page, eh?" Mike grinned affably. "So that's where I've seen you before. I gotta get me a new copy – the August page is real sticky. And I'm not the only guy in these parts who jacks of regularly to that picture – everyone's favorite masturbatory image."

"Thanks for the compliment, Mike. It's great to meet you at last. So, has my boy here been behaving himself?"

"Behaving himself! He's spent the last few hours fixing my truck and my motorcycle – with a little help from his friend." Mike winked at Pablo smiling in the background. "I hear you've been working up around Idyllwild. Hotter'n hell up there. Bet you could kill a beer." He went to the kitchen, got beers from the fridge and glanced through the window. "Oh shit," he moaned, "be still my heart."

He watched as Jason pushed the suspenders from his shoulders and they dropped to his sides. Reaching behind his neck he pulled his T-shirt up and off, wiped the sweat from his face then shoved it in his back pocket. The upper body was spectacular ... broad, solid shoulders, heavily muscled arms, a superb chest with perfectly rounded pecs, ripped washboard abs, and wide lats that slanted down to a narrow waist at the belt of his fireman pants.

Jason's chiseled blond features and sculpted physique reminded Mike of the young Tab Hunter, whom he remembered jacking off to in movies, especially when he took his shirt off. Instinctively Mike grabbed the crotch of his jeans with the impulse to jerk off to the vision outside. Hell, he had beat his meat to the guy's picture often enough and now here he was in the flesh, a moving, homoerotic fantasy. But no, he must remember his duties as a host."

As Mike came outside with the beer he saw Jason drop his loose, bulky pants and step out of them, shirtless now in his standard dark blue uniform pants. Jason took the ice-cold beer gratefully and he threw his head back taking a long draft of it. Mark watched his prominent Adam's apple move as he drank and murmured, "So fucking sexy."

Mike sat down with Pablo and Ben while Jason stood and looked round the garden. "Hmm, great spread you got here Mike, and a real big pool you can swim laps in. Hey, you got enough water in that to put out a good size fire if one ever breaks out. A decent water pump would do the job. Every homeowner should have one ... I can get you one for free if you want."

"Thanks, Jason – generous as well as gorgeous, eh young Ben? But right now why don't you just dive right in. Great way to cool off." Mike chuckled. "Besides I wanna see you naked."

"Be my pleasure Mike," Jason grinned, his natural vanity kicking in. "But right now, at the risk of being a really selfish guest, there's something I need first. See working in all that heat not only makes me sweat – it makes me horny, and I've found there's one surefire remedy for that. Come on, Ben, show Uncle Mike what you got." Jason sat down next to Mike.

Eagerly Ben jumped up and stood on the lawn facing them. The boy had picked up his master's appetite for showing off and he grinned impishly as he first kicked off his sneakers, then teasingly unbuttoned his shorts one by one and let them drop. He was wearing blue boxer briefs underneath and he turned his back to them and slowly pushed them down, pausing when they were halfway down his ass, then pushed them off, exposing his perfect bubble butt.

Ben turned round to face them, buck naked, his cock standing out stiff and proud, and Jason pointed his beer bottle at him. "See what I mean, Mike. Now that is a beautiful sight, like a junior version of his big brother Randy. Now, a guy gets home from work hot and horny and finds a sexy young gypsy waiting for him. So what's a guy gonna do?"

"Hmm ... fuck him?" Mike grinned. "Just a guess."

"Bingo, right in one, buddy."

"OK, stud go right ahead," Mike said. "Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa."

Jason walked over to Ben and stood facing him. "You know what to do, boy."

Ben sank to his knees, bent down and began unlacing Jason's boots and pulling them off. He pulled off his socks, then leaned forward and licked the bulge in his master's blue serge pants. He reached up, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down over Jason's slim hips, his muscled thighs, down to the ground and Jason stepped out of them.

The fireman stood there naked except for his dark blue boxer shorts. "Holy shit," said Mike to Pablo next to him, "will you look at that gorgeous blond stud – total muscle god. But kid, don't you think we should go indoors and give them privacy. I already jerked off looking at your dad Randy yesterday. Don't wanna get a reputation as a voyeur."

"No way," Pablo protested. "Jason wants us to watch. Tell you the truth, sir, Jason can be real vain – in a good way. I've watched him jerk off in his gym looking at himself in the mirror. It looks really, really hot when he cums all over his own reflection."

"Hey, nothing wrong with a little narcissism," Mike grinned. "A man looks like that, it kinda goes with the territory. If you've got it flaunt it, I always say, and that guy has it in spades. Me, I'm happy to sit back and watch – happy as a pig in shit."

By now Ben had his face buried in his master's shorts, his mouth clamped over his bulge. Then his tongued probed inside the fly and in a few seconds Jason's long cock sprang out. Using all the skills his friend Eddie had taught him Ben licked the head of the cock, then swallowed the whole shaft in his mouth. Jason grabbed the young gypsy's thick black hair and pulled his head forward repeatedly, his face slamming into the sweaty blond pubic hair poking out of the fireman's shorts.

But, as Jason had said, he was real horny and what he really wanted was his boy's ass. So he pulled out abruptly and said, "Get ready boy." Ben fell naked on his back on the grass, and pulled his legs back exposing his ass, while Jason pushed down his shorts. Mike stared in awe at the muscular blond towering naked over the dark young gypsy boy eagerly offering his ass to him. "Don't get much better than this, sir," Pablo whispered in Mike's ear.

"Damn straight," said Mike. "Fucking pornographic."

Jason dropped to his knees behind Ben, spat in his hand and pushed wet fingers in the boy's ass. "Will this be enough lube, kid? Can you take it like this?"

"Definitely, sir," Ben grinned. "I'll take it any way you want, sir. I'm your boy."

Jason flashed a smiled, eased his hips forward and felt the tip of his cock press against the curly black hair round his boy's ass. "I love your hairy little but, kiddo. Here it comes." Ben's blue eyes sparkled as he gazed into Jason's face and felt his cock slide slowly into his ass. Teasing, Jason suddenly pulled out and Ben moaned, "No, sir, please. I want all of it."

"OK, kiddo, you asked for it. You're my boy ... and I'm gonna fuck you." He pushed in all the way this time, the start of a long assault on Ben's hot ass, alternately fierce, loving, dominant, teasing, and driving Ben wild with the uncertainty of what came next. No matter what, he would take anything from this spectacular man that he worshipped.

Under the desert sun sweat dripped from Jason's face onto Ben's and the boy shook his head to clear his eyes making his black hair fly from side to side, reminding Mike of his big brother's identical gesture earlier after he poured beer over himself. Jason leaned forward and pinned Ben's wrists to the ground, saying with a smile, "The hot young gypsy's my prisoner now. You like that? Tell me how it feels to be at the mercy of a hot stud fireman, boy."

Ben knew that Jason liked to have his vanity stroked and he was good at it. "It feels awesome, sir. You're so gorgeous, the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and I'll do anything for you, sir. I'm your boy, your little gypsy boy, and I love feeling your cock in my ass. Fuck me, sir. Fuck me hard."

"You got it, kid." Jason increased the power and pace of his thrusting cock and said, "You think you deserve your master's jizz in your ass, boy? Is that what you want?"

"More than anything, sir. I dream of that, sir ... I dream of you cumming inside me and when I wake up I'm all wet and sticky. Please do it, sir. I'll be a good boy – please let me cum for you."

Pablo nudged Mike. "OK, sir, it's time. Follow my lead." They got up, walked over to the enraptured couple and stood one on each side of them stroking their cocks. Jason was in full control now, pounding his boy's ass, staring down into the wild blue eyes and groaning loudly.

"Your ass feels so good, Ben. I love you, boy. I wanna see you shoot all over that pretty body. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy and cum for me? Do it, and I'll cum in your ass."

"Yes, sir," Ben panted. "Thank you sir ... I love you, sir. I think I'm cumming ... yes ... yes ... yes!" He howled as his cock exploded over his abs and chest and Jason blasted his pent up sperm deep inside his gypsy boy's ass.

They came again and again, and it was minutes before they were spent. Then Jason fell on top of his boy, kissed him hard and pulled out his cock. He rolled off him and lay next to him, both of them on their backs, their heads turned, smiling at each other.

Mike gazed down at the dazzling pair, the dark boy and his big blond master, and shouted, "Fucking gorgeous ... I gotta cum, I gotta."

"OK, let's go sir," Pablo shouted. "Yeaahh!"

Gazing upward Jason and Ben erupted with laughter as semen rained down on them from both sides – in their faces, their hair and over their heaving bodies. "I'm drowning in cum," Jason yelled. "Me too, sir," Ben laughed. "Help – I'm drowning."

It was minutes before calm was restored and Mike said, "Fucking spectacular guys. You're all such a fucking mess, so now get in the damn pool and clean the hell up." Ben and Pablo ran to the pool and fell in, while Jason stood up and Mike grinned at him.

"You know how fucking beautiful you are, don't you stud? And that makes you even sexier. I take it you and the boys are staying the night – won't take no for an answer – and it'll be an honor to take you all out to dinner. Now let me drool while I watch you dive naked in the pool."

Jason flashed his dazzling smile. "You got it, buddy. And thanks for the compliment." As he turned to the pool Mike said, "Oh and Jason, don't worry about the water pump. If fire breaks out I'll just have you guys cum all over it. That deluge will douse the fire in no time."

Jason laughed, "You are a crazy guy, Mike, you know that?"

"I like to think so," Mike grinned.

As the excitement continued in the desert it was mounting at another house back in the city – the Grady House. Grady was due back from his Tarzan location shoot in England. Mario, with his European poise, tried to hide his excitement – and failed.

The houseboys Danny and Brian were thrilled too, working like demons to get the house ready, especially the master bedroom, and prepare enough food to withstand a siege – which in a way they were. They knew that when Grady came through the gates into Mario's arms and they closed behind them, they wouldn't open again until the reunited lovers were good and ready.

And that might take a very long time.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 324

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