A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 394 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 394 – "A COP'S TOUGH PENALTY FOR THE SURFER""

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Jamie's meltdown at work continues to reverberate. The angry gypsy Randy needs to reassert his manhood over his lover Bob. "Are you gonna fuck me, Randy?" "Damn straight I am. It's the only language you understand." Then Jamie's master, the cop Mark, punishes his surfer jock in a special way. "Jamie lay in bed beside the man he worshipped, longing for his touch – but the muscular cop was ignoring him." _____________________________________________________________________

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

Mark's boy, the blond surfer Jamie, had been chatting with his good buddy Nate. "Is everything OK, mate," Nate said in his Aussie drawl. "You've seemed kinda tense all morning. Something on your mind?"

"Nah," Jamie laughed. "This ain't me tense, it's me relaxed. You want tense you should see me in the office."

Nate frowned. "You know, Jamie, that's something I always thought was odd – you the avid California surfer, an outdoors guy, and yet the job you do as office manager keeps you cooped up in front of a computer all day. The two things don't go together, somehow."

"Tell me about it. Oh don't get me wrong, it's a great job, and Bob's a wonderful boss, but ... I dunno, just lately it's been getting to me, like I wanna ... break out, run away and go back to being a beach bum like I used to be."

"Ooh, steady on, mate. You don't wanna do anything rash like that. I don't think Bob would approve, and if you upset Bob you upset Mark, you know that." Nate was referring to Jamie's man Mark, the handsome, musclehunk cop who loved his boy and was especially proud of his toughness and self-discipline.

Nate's words turned out to be prophetic when, on Monday morning, Jamie had flipped out at work. In a classic case of burnout, the pressure of work finally got to him and something snapped. When Bob said Randy wanted a file urgently Jamie yelled, "No! Fuck the file, fuck Randy, and fuck you. I've had it ... up to here with this fucking job and all the pressure. I'm done ... done with everything." He shoved Bob against the wall and stormed out.

Bob ended up with a cut on his face and the cop Mark made matters worse when he came in furious at his boy. Bob argued that it had not been Jamie's fault but Mark shoved him roughly aside and roared away on his motorcycle after Jamie. Bob had hurt his shoulder but grinned ruefully at his boys, the twins. "Just a bruise. Kind of goes with the cut on my face. Hell, first the boy then the master. I must have a target on my back today. What a fucking mess."

When Mark caught up with Jamie he took him to the house of Doctor Steve, the tribe's therapist. Steve's house manager, the sexy gymnast Tommy, took care of Jamie and distracted him from his troubles with erotic action by the pool.

Mark went back to make his peace with Bob. "Mark," Bob said, "I know you so well, and you'll never be able to shed that cop thing – law and order, crime and punishment. In your world a guy commits an offense, he gets arrested and punished. Well, in this case you claim you're the offender because you injured me, so you want to be punished.

He pushed the uniformed cop on the bed, pulled down his pants and fucked him. "Here's your penance, officer. When you go back on your shift patrolling the city astride that throbbing bike, heads will turn and look at the gorgeous cop as they always do. But only you will know that your pants are creamed with your own cum, and your ass is loaded with the jizz of the man you love."

When it was over Mark went back to work and Bob sighed. One down, one to go. Now he had to break all this to Randy. Better tiptoe through that one, he thought. No knowing how he'll react.

********************** CHAPTER 394 **********************

News spread fast on the tribe's grapevine, especially news as momentous as Jamie's dramatic meltdown at work, Mark's fierce reaction, and the injuries they had both unintentionally inflicted on Bob. In fact just about the only guy who was unaware of the drama was the tribe's leader, the gypsy construction boss Randy.

And that was the way Bob wanted it. When it had first happened Bob said to his boys, the twins Kyle and Kevin, "Whatever you do, don't tell Randy. If he hears I've been hurt he'll go ballistic. I'll explain it all to him later, but leave that to me, boys. I'll have to tread lightly and downplay it or he'll go apeshit, blaming Jamie, Mark and everyone in sight.

But keeping a secret in this clan was well-nigh impossible. Someone always spilled the beans, and this time that role fell to young Ben, Randy's kid brother who worked on the construction site as the assistant to the chief mechanic Pablo, Randy's macho grownup boy.

It was the middle of the afternoon and Ben and Pablo had their heads together bent over the engine of one of the trucks on the construction site. As they worked Ben was gossiping. "Dude, no-one saw that one coming. The way Eddie described it Jamie totally lost it.

"Well I wouldn't believe everything you hear, kid. Eddie wasn't even there."

"No, but he got it from Darius who heard it from Brandon, and Brandon got to the office just after Jamie flipped out and stormed out."

"You know how everything gets exaggerated around this place. Here, hand me that wrench."

"Maybe so, but it seems Bob got hit real bad, first by Jamie and then by Mark, and you know how much Mark loves Bob – crazy about him. Just wait till Randy hears about it. Seems he's the only one who don't know yet."

"Yeah, well don't you go shooting your mouth off, kiddo, `cos Bob wants it that way. He wants to break the news to Randy himself.

"What the fuck are you guys on about?" Randy's deep voice silenced them. He had been standing right behind them and they now looked up at him in shock."

"What the fuck is all this about Jamie and Mark? You say Bob got hurt?"

"Seems that way, sir," said Ben, so intimidated by his big brother that it all spilled out. "Jamie wigged out in the office. Seems he blew a gasket, knocked Bob down and stormed out. And when Mark came back the shit really hit the fan. Bob tried to stop him going after Jamie so Mark threw him against the wall and ..."

Pablo had been kicking Ben trying to make his stop, and he now interrupted him. "Sir, this is all just rumor ... you know how stories get exaggerated ..."

"And why the fuck did no-one tell me?"

"We were all scared," Ben blurted out, becoming more talkative the more nervous he got."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean? Why would anyone be scared of me?"

"Because they thought you would blow your stack, sir ... kinda like you are now."

Ben knew he had said way too much and winced as he looked nervously at his fierce gypsy brother. But Randy loved his little brother and, despite the bad news, smothered a smile as he stared down at him. "OK, kiddo, it's not your fault. And it seems like you're the only one of the damn bunch who'll tell me the truth. Pablo, hold the fort here. I gotta go see Bob."

As he strode away Ben looked at Pablo and stammered, "Sorry, dude. I guess I fucked that up didn't I?"

"Kid, you're just like your pal Eddie. His motor mouth is always getting him in trouble." Then he smiled and ruffled Ben's hair. "Ah, never mind, junior. Randy had to find out sooner or later and only his kid brother could get away with it. Now let's get back to work."

When Randy got back to the house he went first to the kitchen where the twins were working and Kyle said, "If you're looking for Bob, sir, he's in the office with Brandon."

In the office Randy found Brandon seated at the computer with Bob next to him, both gazing intently at the screen. Bob looked up and, seeing the anger on Randy's face, stood up and said, "Ah, you've heard."

"Damn right I heard ... finally! Are you hurt?"

"Nah, just a scratch on the forehead and a bruised arm. I'm fine."

Having reassured himself that Bob's injuries were slight Randy focused on the real source of his anger. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me about this? Seems the whole damn tribe knew about it, everyone except me. If you get hurt I need to know about it, dammit."

"Randy, there was no real damage so I told everyone not to mention it to you, knowing you would come roaring in here like a bull in a china shop. Everyone was scared to tell you, afraid you would go ballistic, like you're doing now."

"That's exactly what my little brother said. Shit damn, why is everyone scared I'll blow my top?"

"Because your anger is legendary, Randy, as I know only too well."

"And what the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Brandon backed his wheelchair out from between them and said, just as he had said earlier when Mark had charged in, "Sir, maybe I should make myself scarce and come back when ..."

"No, it's OK, Brandon," Bob smiled. "Randy and I will go upstairs. I would like you to keep working on the figures we were going over."

"Okey dokey, sir, no problem."

Randy looked down at the kid in the wheelchair and his anger melted. Gutsy, independent Brandon was one of his favorites and he ruffled his hair. "You're not scared of me are you boy?"

"I little bit, sir ... sometimes."

"Well don't be, kiddo. You know I could never get mad at you. And don't forget, like I've told you before – something other guys have trouble remembering" (glaring at Bob) – "if you ever have a problem you come to me, OK?

"Okey-dokey, thank you, sir."

"Now I gotta take Bob away for a while. We got stuff to straighten out." As he pushed Bob toward the door Bob looked back over his shoulder and Brandon gave him a wide-eyed grin and an encouraging thumbs up."

When the men got up to the master suite Randy said, "OK, now why don't you tell me, finally, what the hell's been going on here."

Bob sighed and launched into a sanitized version of the story so far – how Jamie had suddenly cracked from overwork, yelled at him and stormed out, causing unintentional physical injury to Bob in the process. Then how Mark had come rushing home, criticized Bob for pleading Jamie's case, and left the room, brushing against Bob who fell against the wall – second injury.

"Now Randy," Bob hastened to say, "I don't want you to go blaming Jamie. He's a good, loyal worker but the pressure of work got to him and he just burned out is all."

Randy's reaction was surprising as he said heatedly, "'Course I don't blame Jamie. Over the weekend at Grady's place I could see damn well that the boy was under some kind of stress. I've seen the same thing in my own boy Pablo after he worked long hours on the construction site. Remember the time when I ordered him to take a vacation to chill out? He went out to the desert with Darius for a week at Mike's place and came back fitter than ever."

Randy never ceased to surprise Bob. Despite his anger his first instinct was always to protect the boys. And at work he could be a tough boss but he was well known for his support of his crew and always put their safety and well-being first.

To outward appearances Randy was a tough taskmaster with a loud voice, but underneath all that he had an instinct for knowing his men's capabilities and never pushed them beyond their limits. So it really should have come as no surprise now that he defended Jamie.

"You're right, Randy," Bob said. "The one to blame is me for piling so much work on him and not recognizing the stress building up in him."

"No, you are not to blame for this, man. You're just the boy's boss not his master. No, the one I blame is Mark. Dammit, Jamie's his boy and if he had been watching closely he should have realized the boy was near the end of his rope. But Mark is first and last a cop. They're so fucking macho they never admit weakness nor accept it in others. Hell, I bet Mark fucked the kid in bed last night and still didn't notice how tense he was."

"Well, anyway," Bob said, "Mark came back and apologized for hurting me and we made our peace."

"Did he fuck you?"

Bob had heard this question from Randy so many times that it bounced right off him. "No, Randy, he didn't fuck me," he sighed. "As a matter of fact I fucked him to `punish' him."

"Good," Randy said with a satisfied grin.

"As for Jamie, he's up at Steve's tonight, and tomorrow Mark will go up there and, with your brother Steve's advice, he'll decide how to deal with his boy."

"Fine, but there is one thing I do blame you for, man. When trouble hits like this and you're involved, I need to know, get it? Dammit to hell, I'm the boss of this outfit, a fact you still can't get through your head. All this bullshit about Ooh, don't anyone tell Randy cos he'll get mad'. How do you think that makes me look to the other guys – everyone knowing the problem except me, until I overhear it from my little brother who was so nervous he spilled all the beans?"

Randy was getting madder and louder, jabbing Bob in the chest as he vented his annoyance. "And that all started with you, man. What did you tell the boys? ... Careful, don't say a word to Randy, let's keep him in the dark until I break it to him, cos I know how to handle him'? Well I know how to you too, asshole, and everyone else around here, `cos I'm the fucking boss."

"So what are you gonna do, stud? You gonna hit me? Well take your best shot, big guy. I've already taken hits from Jamie and Mark, so you'll be next. The line forms to the right."

"Asshole. No, I'll leave the police brutality to Mark. That's not how I show you who's boss."

Bob saw the gleam in the gypsy's eyes that was so familiar to him. "You gonna fuck me?"

"Damn straight I'm gonna fuck you! It's the only language you understand."

`And it's the language you always use to prove you're the master', Bob thought, but he stayed silent. He was surprised that Randy was reacting so strongly to being left out of the loop, but he realized that the macho gypsy saw it as insult to his manhood.

Bob could have been upset at Randy's tirade but he wasn't. Far from it, he loved Randy like this ... it turned him on more than anything else when the caveman surfaced from his lair. Standing there in his filthy work pants, boots and the sweaty tank hanging over his heaving chest, his eyes blazing, heavily stubbled jaw clenched, long black hair falling over his swarthy gypsy face, he reminded Bob of the first time he laid eyes on him on that bar stool in the dark bar at the shabby end of Hollywood Boulevard.

His mind flashed back to the subsequent week he had spent as Randy's virtual prisoner in that sleazy motel where Randy had raged even more. Then too he had felt his manhood was threatened, but that time by the inexplicable lust he felt for the man he had just met. Bob had been scared then and Randy had been brutal. But now, Bob knew, Randy would not hurt him beyond his limit, and he felt nothing but excitement.

"Take your clothes off and get on the fucking bed," Randy barked.

Quickly Bob stripped naked and lay on the bed face down, flexing the mounds of his perfect ass that Randy was about to fuck. "Nah, I wanna see your face as I plough that ass," Randy growled, hooking his foot under him and flipping him onto his back so he lay sideways on the bed, his ass hanging over the edge, feet on the floor.

Randy pulled his cock out of his pants and spat on it. He pulled Bob's legs up high so his ass was level with his cock. In his typical no-foreplay way he drove his shaft deep in Bob's ass, making him howl in pain. Keeping his cock in deep Randy reached down, wrapped his hands behind Bob's neck and pulled him up bodily, clear off the bed, holding him in midair facing him. Impaled on Randy's cock Bob wrapped his legs round Randy's back and locked his feet behind him, held up by the rugged gypsy's great strength.

"See, this is what I can do to you, man, `cos I'm stronger than you and I'm the boss." Bob stared at the powerful man, his muscles flexing as he held him up helpless and started to fuck him. He pulled his hips back so his cock came almost free, then rammed it in even harder, making Bob wince, tears brimming in his eyes.

Randy gloried in his strength, flaunting it as he held Bob captive, proving his supremacy by fucking him in a position only a man of his strength could maintain. Bob's own cock was rock hard as he stared at the muscular gypsy, still in his sweaty work clothes, holding him bodily and pile-driving his ass. It was exhilarating to be in Randy's power ... but painful too getting butt-fucked in this position.

Randy got carried away, proving his might and his manhood by pounding Bob's ass mercilessly until Bob groaned, "You're hurting me, man. It really hurts."

The sound of Bob's plaintive voice brought Randy back to reality and he stared at his lover's handsome, tormented face. "Oh shit," he moaned ... "oh shit, I'm hurting you." He pulled his cock out of his ass, dropped Bob back on the bed and paced the room, his hands linked behind his neck. "Fuck, fuck – you see what you made me do? I fucking hurt you, man ... I'm no better than the other guys."

He dropped to his knees beside the bed and gazed down at Bob. "No, forget that first bit, buddy, you didn't make me do that. I did it all on my own `cos I'm such a dumb shit. I was just trying to prove that I'm the man around here, the big boss, the one guys look to when there's a problem."

Bob smiled at the anxious gypsy face, at this complicated man he loved so much, a man who could be a fierce dominant alpha male one minute and then just like an insecure young boy the next. "Randy, you keep saying you're the boss so often it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself. Of course I and everyone else know you're the boss. Look at me, man. Do I look like the kind of guy who would sleep with anyone less than the leader of the tribe?"

Again that self-satisfied look as Randy grinned, "No, I guess not."

"I know the boss can hurt me, as you did often when we first met, and you did just now. But what really turns me on is when the leader of the whole tribe makes love to me. There's nothing like getting butt-fucked by the boss."

Randy knelt on the bed between Bob's legs. "Man, I don't deserve you, I always seem to end up hurting you. It's just that I was so mad that those guys injured you and I wasn't here to protect you."

"Face it, big guy, if you had been you'd have clobbered them both, and you know it. But once a caveman not always a caveman. I know the other side of you ... and that's what I want now."

Randy reached for the jar of lube by the bed, something they seldom used, only when they fucked someone else, like the twins. "This'll make a change," Randy smiled, pushing two greasy fingers gently in Bob's ass, then spreading the rest of the lube over his still raging cock. "This way even a caveman couldn't hurt you."

He pushed up one of Bob's legs and eased his cock slowly in his ass. "Mmm," Bob sighed, "yeah that is different."

"You like?"

"Mmm, I like. Do it some more, boss."

And this time they made love the gentle, non-caveman way, with Randy's long, thick cock massaging the tender membrane of his lover's ass and Bob reaching up rubbing his hands over the sweaty tank, feeling the pecs ripple underneath. "I wanna see more," Bob grinned. May I?"

"Don't you always? Knock yourself out, dude."

Bob began slowly and methodically to rip the tank from Randy's muscular chest – off one shoulder, then halfway down the middle, pausing to gaze at the homoerotic image of the swarthy gypsy construction worker with his ripped shirt hanging from one shoulder, still covering part of his muscular torso.

Then suddenly Bob used both hands to rip the whole tank off and he gazed up at the shirtless gypsy making love to his ass. He ran his hands down Randy's neck, over his broad shoulders, then traced his finger down the cleft between his pecs and over the ridges of his rock hard abs.

"Enough of that, man," Randy growled, "I gotta own you, you sexy son-of-a-bitch. He grabbed Bob's wrists and fell forward, pinning them to the bed above his head.

And then their eyes met.

It was always the eyes with these two, Bob's deep brown eyes staring into the hypnotic pale blue eyes set in the swarthy features, with the high gypsy cheekbones and heavily stubbled jaw. When those eyes had first met in the gloom of the shabby bar it had been little more than a frisson, a fleeting glance they barely noticed at the time, but a glance that had sealed their fate.

And ever since then, whenever they made love, they gazed at each other and glided happily into an inner world, a magical world where nothing existed except them, soulmates unlocking the mystery of love between two alpha males. Bob said softly, "Maybe for some men your fists make you the boss, but for me and the men of the tribe it's your eyes that do it. They can make us all obey your orders – whatever you want."

"And what about you, buddy? What do you want from me?"

"Easy, I want to feel your juice inside me ... deep inside."

"OK, dude," Randy smiled, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Deal?"

"Deal."

As they stared into each other's souls and basked in the glow of their own private world, the physical release of Randy's pent-up semen in his lover's ass was almost an afterthought. Until, that is, Randy broke the spell by pulling his cock out, stroking it and spurting the last of his sperm over Bob's chest, at the same moment as Bob laughed, "I love you, Randy ..." and proved it with a jubilant eruption of his own.

A minute later Randy was on the bed holding Bob tight in his arms. "You OK, buddy? I mean, you've been knocked about a bit today, so ... you sure you're OK?"

"After getting fucked by the leader of the tribe, by the sexiest man in the world? I feel so damn good and, best of all, with your arms round me I feel safe. I've never felt safer in my life." They lay in silence for a while, then Bob said, "And Randy, I'm sorry I didn't call you as soon as the shit hit the fan here. You should have been here, `cos you're the ultimate authority after all."

"Yeah, well just make sure you do next time. If there is a next time."

Bob chuckled, "Randy, you know as well as I do, there's always a next time. But right now I gotta get back to Brandon. Poor kid is wrestling with those tax figures all on his own."

"Yeah, and I've gotta hit the road back to the construction site ... make sure I'm not overworking that kid brother of mine," Randy grinned. He went to the dirty laundry hamper and pulled out another old tank top. "No point using a clean one – only gets covered in grease and soon stinks of sweat. Here, better throw the ripped one away."

"No, hand it over and I'll give it to Brandon. He and Brian collect them. This one will take pride of place as it was ripped off the boss."

"OK," Randy smiled. "So we're OK again, right buddy? And all that's left in this mess is for Mark to deal with his boy tomorrow. That's a tough one."

"Oh, I'd put my money on Doctor Steve. I'm sure he has some novel ideas buzzing round that deviant mind of his that are definitely not in the therapist's manual."

At Steve's house Tommy, the house manager and former gymnast, was doing his best to keep Jamie's mind off his coming confrontation with Mark. After their post-swim sex in the afternoon they had gone down to the basement gym where Tommy had showed off part of his gymnastics routine and they had partnered each other lifting weights. Jamie then helped Tommy around the house, preparing dinner, all under the watchful eye of Doctor Steve.

Steve's main preoccupation was helping Jamie to relax after his stress-induced eruption in the office. He tried to impress on him that "Your outburst was not, in itself, something to be ashamed of, Jamie. It is a common experience in people with high-stress jobs, something usually beyond a person's control. Your tussle with Bob before you rushed out was unfortunate, but the physical injury was accidental and I'm sure Bob does not reproach you for it."

Steve's opinion went some way to assuaging Jamie's guilt and Steve intended to impress the same argument on Mark when he came up to the house next morning. In the meantime Steve, his lover Lloyd and Tommy made dinner a lighthearted affair, with no reference to the `incident'.

It had been Steve's idea for Jamie to share Tommy's bed that night. A sleepless night alone in the guestroom, racked with anxiety, would have been exactly the wrong medicine. In fact, the two young athletes – the gymnast and the surfer – did more than just sleep. Sex reared its head again and Jamie fucked Tommy for the second time that day before going to sleep, and when they woke they sucked each other off to take care of their early-morning hard-ons.

One thing Jamie was careful not to do was let Tommy fuck him and Tommy intuitively grasped why. "Sorry, dude," Jamie said, "but Mark always fucks me and I don't want to ... you know ..."

"You don't wanna do anything to upset Mark any more than he is. I get it, dude, and anyway you don't hear me complain, do you? I know how good my ass looks, after all those ice-skating years, and I love to get it fucked. And you, you sexy mother fucker, are one of the best, like a stallion in heat."

But when they got up and showered all of Jamie's fears came rushing back to him, knowing that he had to confront Mark and take whatever punishment he dished out. He didn't care if it hurt – he wanted that, wanted to prove how sorry he was, how it was just a lapse and he really was the tough young stud Mark wanted him to be. Just as Mark had felt the need to be punished by Bob for injuring him, Jamie felt the same need to prove his remorse to Mark.

At the same time Jamie took to heart what Steve had said to him. He felt bad about the way he had spoken to Bob, but he accepted Steve's explanation of burnout from work stress and did not feel all that guilty about it. In fact he had wanted to talk about his stress buildup to Mark, but had stayed silent when Mark emphasized how proud he was of Jamie's toughness.

So he would not grovel to Mark like a misbehaving boy. He had his own pride to maintain after all. But above all he longed for Mark to still love him, still respect him, and for that reason he would accept his punishment from Mark, whatever it was.

Jamie helped Tommy get breakfast ready and Steve suggested they all have it with Lloyd out by the pool. "When Mark gets here I need to have a talk with him before he sees you, Jamie. I feel strongly that you need a break, a short vacation. I have already mentioned this to Mark on the phone, and I've discussed it with Bob. One thing I'm certain of is that Mark is still totally in love with you – absolutely."

They were just finishing breakfast when the gate buzzer sounded. Jamie gave a startled look to Tommy who squeezed his arm reassuringly. Lloyd got up from the table and said, "I'll buzz him in. I gotta get to work anyway, so good luck guys," he grinned as he went into the house.

Steve stood up too. "Jamie, stay here with Tommy and try to relax. Deep breaths always help." At the front door Steve watched Mark swing down from his truck, and it struck him how the cop looked just as sexy in casual clothes as he did in his uniform. He was wearing cargo shorts, sneakers and a blue V-neck T-shirt, and smiled with just a hint of tension.

"Hey, Steve. Listen buddy, thanks for doing this ... you know, taking care of ..."

Steve chuckled, "Think nothing of it, officer. All in a day's work for me. Let's go through to the office first, eh?"

They sat facing each other, Mark perched uneasily on the edge of the couch, attempting a smile. "Kinda reminds me of the first time I sat here facing you all those years ago, doc, when the police department sent me to you for anger management training. And here I am again."

"Long time ago eh, Mark? Before I knew the tribe or found out I was Randy's brother. And a long way from that Anger Management 101 session. In a way, though, this little chat is about anger too, but not yours – Jamie's."

Mark shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Don't worry, Mark, this is not a therapy session, but I did want to make a couple of points before you see Jamie, and then it's up to you. I try never to insert myself too much between a man and his boy.

"What happened to Jamie yesterday is something I see often as a therapist. It's one of the main reasons patients seek me out, when their work becomes so stressful they finally crack and do something impulsive – like telling their boss to `take this job and shove it'. I don't see it as a sign of weakness either. It's more like a fundamentally strong man asserting himself, even if it means kicking over all the workplace rules. It's an impulsive act, sure, but it takes a lot of guts."

"Yeah, but Steve he ..."

"I know, I know. It was unfortunate that the boss in this case was Bob, a man Jamie loves and respects. When Bob tried to restrain him the resulting injury was accidental and I know that's what Jamie feels most guilty about. But others have their share of blame too – me, you, Bob.

"That weekend up at Grady's place I noticed a lot of tension in Jamie and I should have said something but didn't. And Bob could have been more alert too, especially when he piled one project on him after another. And you, Mark. I know you're proud of Jamie for being strong and resilient, but didn't you see any signs of stress in him, even when you were in bed together?"

Mark sighed deeply. "Steve, I've run that through my mind endlessly since last night and I realize now that I was blind to his problems. In fact I probably made things worse by telling him I admired his strength so much."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, "that could have inhibited him from sharing his troubles with you."

"Dammit, man, I even told him that if he ever had any problems I would always be there for him. And I wasn't – not in the way he needed. And you know what he said? `Thank you, sir.' Just that. And that's how I left it."

"OK, OK, so a lot of us dropped the ball on this one, but let's not dwell on the past, let's think about the future. First, punishment. I know you, especially being a cop, still feel a need to punish Jamie in some way. But more importantly, Jamie wants that. Enduring a penance from you is a way for him to show you he's sorry, to make amends and convince you he loves you."

"You're right, doc, but I don't wanna hurt him. The guy's already feeling pretty bad about himself and ... and I love him, Steve. So I'm at a loss ... I have no idea what to do."

Steve gave a conspiratorial smile. "Well ... I might have a suggestion."

"Dude, I was hoping you'd say that. But no ropes or rough stuff, eh? So what should I do?"

"Well ... almost nothing, Mark. And that's the whole point. Less is more. Let me explain ..."

A few minutes later Mark walked out onto the deck, and Jamie sprang to his feet on the other side of the pool. `Oh shit,' Mark thought as he got an instant hard-on, staring at the stunningly sexy young jock, barefoot and shirtless in his faded blue surfer trunks. It was the look Mark loved most, the image he always had in mind when he got horny during a shift, pulled over and surreptitiously jerked off sitting astride his bike.

His impulse now was to run over, pull the boy into a hug and take him to bed. But he curbed his desire (less is more), went to him and held out his hand. Jamie shook it nervously, scared even to make eye contact at first, but the mere touch of Mark's hand made his cock swell.

When he finally did look up, the blue-gray eyes pierced his and Mark said, "Jamie, you need a break from all this ... a vacation. Steve thinks so and so do I. So here's what I suggest. I've already cleared a week at work – I had a lot of accrued leave coming – and Bob has agreed to give you a week off." Jamie moved to object but Mark went on, "It's OK. Bob's covered it with Brandon and Nate and your job will be waiting when you get back."

"OK, sir ...thank you," Jamie said meekly.

"I thought I would take you up to the shack in the Guadalupe Dunes. `Course, I gave that shack to you a long time ago so I can't force you to use it ..."

"No, sir, that would be fine ... fine. I ... I always think of it as our shack, sir. When would we ..?"

"Right now, straight from here. I see you've got your surfboard in your truck outside so we'll put it in mine. I grabbed a few of your clothes from home, though you won't need much ... you, er, you look fine just the way you are. So what do you say? Shall we ...?"

Tommy stood up and hugged Jamie and whispered, "Told you not to worry, didn't I?"

Mark said, "And Tommy, I understand I have you to thank for taking care of Jamie – probably in more ways than one, eh?"

They shook hands and Tommy said quietly, "Just so you know, sir, I ... I didn't fuck him."

"Glad to hear it, Tommy." Mark turned to Steve. "Doc, thanks again for all your help and advice, unorthodox though it usually is."

"Well here's one last thought that is so orthodox it's a platitude. Just remember – love conquers all. Good luck you two."

As he went out with them to the truck Steve said quietly to Mark, "One word of warning, Mark. As you well know, when a man punishes a boy it's often just as hard on the man as on the boy."

As a cop Mark was a creature of habit and on their trips up to the dunes he and Jamie always followed pretty much the same routine, from the boners they nursed in their shorts to the clothes they wore. Mark always wore a ribbed black tank top, knowing how much it turned Jamie on.

And a little over halfway into the three-hour drive, just past Santa Barbara, Mark would pull off the highway and drive into the brush where he would park in a sheltered spot and fuck Jamie on the tailgate of the truck.

But this trip was different. A few things were the same. They still had stiff dicks in their shorts and Jamie was shirtless wearing the same board shorts he always wore. But the similarities ended there. As they hit the freeway Jamie's habit was to slide his hand over Mark's leg and rest it in his crotch. But he was still very tentative, not sure of Mark's feelings, so he waited for Mark to make the first move – a move that never came.

Jamie noticed, of course, that Mark was not wearing his black tank-top. Pity, he thought, but he had probably left in too much of a hurry and forgot it. Often they drove mostly in silence, simply luxuriating in each other's presence. But this time Mark had to clear the air a little.

"Jamie, I don't want us to talk about yesterday just yet. Just know that, while I understand the pressure you were under and I don't think of what you did as weakness, the fact is you hurt Bob and I have to punish you for that."

"Oh I know, sir, and I want you to ... whatever you think is right."

"Yeah, well, we'll leave it at that for now. We'll just have to work through this together."

"Encouraged by Mark's words Jamie looked forward to their sexual halfway interlude as they passed through Santa Barbara. He knew the turnoff well and his heart beat faster as they came close. This is where Mark usually started to slow down ... But he didn't slow down. Sped right past the turnoff without a sideways glance.

Jamie's cock pulsed in his shorts and his ass ached in anticipation of the pleasure of Mark's cock in it, a pleasure that was denied him. As Mark stared straight ahead Jamie stole a glance at him, at the Greek God profile, at his muscular torso under the tight blue T-shirt, his biceps flexing slightly as he drove, and for a second Jamie thought he would cream his shorts. But he forced himself to hold back, driving him mad with frustration.

Jamie didn't know what punishment Mark had in mind for him but this sexual denial was punishment in itself, he thought. What he had not yet realized was that this was the punishment Mark had in mind. This was it – and it would only get worse.

When they arrived at the shack on the beach and went in, the small room was redolent of all the sexual acts it had witnessed in the past between them. On a normal trip the sexual vibrations would have pushed them over the edge of desire, Mark would have thrown Jamie on the bed and fucked him. As they brought in their gear from the truck they brushed against each other, Mark inhaled sharply and Jamie thought, `this is it'.

But Mark only said, "Hey, I'm starved. How about we go to that little cantina in the village and stuff our faces? His face wasn't the body part Jamie wanted to get stuffed, but of course he agreed and pulled on a T-shirt. They ate lunch in a surreal atmosphere of everyday talk about the tribe and the boys, even though they were both nursing stiff boners under the table.

As they walked back to the shack Mark did finally raise the subject of Jamie's job and the work he was currently doing. "Long hours, I guess. How often do you get to go surfing at the beach?"

"Not so much these days, sir. Once a week if I'm lucky."

"Well at least we can put that right this week. You can surf to your heart's content. You should take your board out as soon as we get back to the shack."

Mark got a beer from the fridge in the shack's small kitchen and sprawled in the Adirondack chair on the porch, watching as Jamie pulled off his T-shirt, kicked off his sneakers and unloaded his surfboard from the truck. He leaned it against the wall and waxed it up, using long strokes that made the muscles of his tanned body stretch and ripple in the sun.

Mark's breath got heavy but he faked nonchalance by draping one arm over the back of the chair and taking long gulps of beer.

"Good enough," Jamie said, admiring his board. "OK, I'm off, sir."

Mark watched the bronzed young surfer stride down to the water, his board under his arm. "Holy fuck," he breathed, as he gazed at the tousled blond hair curling at the nape of his neck, at his broad shoulders, flared, muscular back, down past his long sexy waist to his ass, those gorgeous mounds straining under the shorts pulled tight over them.

"Fuck," Mark said again, remembering Steve's warning – when a man punishes a boy it's often just as hard on the man as on the boy. This was fucking agony. He saw Jamie launch the board into the waves, then dive on top of it and paddle out strongly through the surf. His ass was even more prominent now as the water splashed over it making the shorts cling to the bulging globes.

Mark impulsively ripped open his shorts, pulled out his pulsing cock and stroked it, his gaze focused on Jamie as he reached deep water, turned the board around and sat astride it. He waited for the exact moment, then jumped on the board and crested the wave. It was a long ride and Mark stared at the magnificent young surfer, arms outstretched, perfectly poised on the board, the muscles of his thighs, abs and torso flexing as he strained to keep his balance.

As the spray curled around Jamie like a fine mist he looked to Mark like a young god riding the crest of the wave. He pounded his cock and moaned, "Damn you're beautiful, boy. I love you Jamie ... I love you ... aaagh." His cock erupted in a spray of semen that splashed down on him and drenched his shirt.

"Fuck ... fuck," he panted, hastily pulling off his shirt and hanging it over the railing to dry. He looked up to see if Jamie had seen him jerk off, but he had evidently been concentrating so hard on the water beneath him as he rode the wave in that he had seen nothing else. He skidded to a halt in the shallow surf, then turned round and paddled back out to sea.

Mark took a long swig of beer, then managed to relax after his orgasm had relieved the pressure that had been building for hours. He leaned back in the chair, linked his hands behind his head and turned his face to the sun, his eyes closed.

Out in the deep water Jamie sat astride his board in calm water, a long lull between wave sets. As the board rocked beneath him his mind went back to Mark, of course. He pictured him in the truck staring straight ahead, thought of the other times when they had stopped halfway and Mark had thrown him on the truck's tailgate, pulled down his shorts and butt-fucked him, then matter-of-factly got back in the truck and they resumed their journey, only to fuck again as soon as they got inside the shack.

He gazed into the distance and saw Mark sprawled shirtless in the chair, arms behind his head, lats flared, his gorgeous face turned to the sun. "Damn, damn," he murmured and thought, `why doesn't he just get on with the punishment – tie me up to the old door frame we've used before, whip me, slap my ass, whatever. All this waiting is agony'.

As the board rose and fell on the swell, the rocking motion chafed his balls pressed down on the board, and his cock was straining in his shorts. He unlaced the shorts, pulled out his cock and stroked it. He gazed hard at the distant image of the bare-chested cop lying in the sun and imagined him getting up, standing over him, then pressing his cock against his ass.

He pounded his cock in his fist and yelled, "Fuck me, sir ... fuck me, please ... aaagh." He screamed as semen spurted from his cock and splashed on his board, to be washed off instantly and carried out to sea. His screams too were carried away on the wind and did not reach the man lying in the sun, his cum-splashed shirt drying on the railing beside him.

Later that afternoon they went for a run on the beach. They always did this every time they came up here as it somehow made them feel even closer to each other, exerting the same physical effort in equal strides, their breath even, their feet pounding in unison in the wet sand. After a couple of miles they stopped and took a breather, as usual, before they started back.

They leaned forward panting, hands on their thighs, and Mark glanced at Jamie's butt straining under his shorts. Often at this point, alone on the deserted beach, they would make love in the shallow surf, and now Jamie held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping that this was the point where Mark would at last do what Jamie needed so much.

Then he heard, "OK, man, time we started back."

Jamie straightened up, sighed, and splashed through the surf again, side by side with the man whose touch he craved.

That evening they didn't eat much and turned in for an early night. Jamie got naked thinking that now, surely was the moment the ice would break. But Mark kept his boxer shorts on and when he got in the bed beside him Mark turned over on his side away from him and said, "`Night, buddy."

Jamie could have wept. Here he was, lying inches away from the man he worshipped, the man he wanted so badly to touch, to hold, to love. But maybe that was it. Mark was being friendly enough ... but did he still love him? It seemed not. He had said he didn't blame him for yesterday's outburst, but maybe it had stifled something inside Mark – the love and respect Mark had once felt for him but could not feel any more. Love was complicated, fragile, Jamie knew that. Maybe when something shocking happened it could be lost forever.

He couldn't sleep. How could he, with Mark breathing deeply beside him? He seemed to be sound asleep so Jamie got out of bed carefully and went silently to the bathroom. There he peed, but when he turned round, the door was ajar and he could see Mark lying on the bed in just his boxers, the sheet pushed down below his waist.

And suddenly Jamie's memory sped back to the first time Mark had ever brought him up here. That time they had stopped halfway in a motel. Jamie was still putting on a macho pose then, boasting of his sexual prowess with women. He had never been attracted to a man but when he went to the bathroom, just like now he had looked through the door and seen Mark sleeping naked with moonlight slanting through the window and across his magnificent body.

Then, as now, he got hard and stroked his cock, and then, as now, he felt overwhelming lust for the striking muscle-god and stifled his gasp as he pumped jizz all over the bathroom door. He remembered his panic when he realized what he had done and had frantically wiped his jizz off the door – just as he did now.

At least he had released the sexual tension, temporarily, and when he crept back to bed and lay down, careful not to touch Mark, he at last felt drowsy and in two minutes he was asleep.

It was around 2am that Mark woke suddenly from a dream. It had been about Jamie but the details evaporated quickly as dreams do. He looked over at Jamie who was fast sleep. Always, when he was sleeping, Jamie's face became angelic, his lips slightly apart, his blond hair falling over his face. But Mark resisted the strong urge to kiss him, and felt the need to go out for some fresh air. He eased himself off the bed and went out to the patio.

Jesus, this is tough, Mark thought. Punishing Jamie by withholding sex, barely touching him, was at least as agonizing for Mark as it was for the boy, as Doctor Steve had predicted. But he had accepted Steve's suggestion that this was the least hurtful way of punishing Jamie so he had to go through with it.

Breathing deeply he walked round the shack a few times to calm his sexual urges, but without much success. The more he pictured Jamie lying naked in bed the more his libido surged.

And then suddenly there he was. As Mark passed the bedroom window he glanced in and saw the hot young jock sleeping naked on the bed, with moonlight slanting over his body, just as it had when Jamie watched Mark through the crack of the bathroom door. "Holy shit," Mark sighed out loud. "So fucking gorgeous."

Mark dropped his boxer shorts and grabbed his cock that was already straining for pent-up release. Gazing through the window at the iconic surfer, his muscles rippling in the moonlight as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths, it took only a few strokes of his cock for Mark to murmur, "Fuck, Jamie ... I love you so much, man. Aaah ... aaah ..." And his cock erupted against the wall of the shack and ran down the shingled wood.

Mark Inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and beating heart and, without even stopping to pick up his shorts, he walked back to the front porch butt naked, went in quietly and noiselessly slid back into bed beside Jamie, taking care not to touch him.

In the morning the first rays of the sun shone through the window onto Jamie's face, making him wince in his sleep and then blink. As he struggled into wakefulness he suddenly became aware the he was pressed against Mark's back with his arms draped over him. Alarmed he pulled away, but so suddenly that Mark stirred and opened his eyes.

Mark's first instinct was to hold Jamie, prior to making love to him in their regular habit of morning sex. But he stopped himself just in time, remembering that he was still punishing his boy. He grunted, "You're awake early, Jamie."

"Yes, sir. I, er ... I'll put the coffee on." He got out of bed and went to the small kitchenette to fill the kettle. But as he went through the familiar routine his daze from drowsiness and confusion suddenly cleared. It was as if something had snapped, like the way it had when he blurted out his raw feelings to Bob about his job, the incident that had started this whole thing.

This was a muted version, of course, without the anger and insults, but it was, once again, Jamie's way of asserting himself. He whirled round, stood by the bed and stared down at Mark.

"Sir, I'm done ... I can't do this. I can't be with you, sleep with you, without touching you or making love. It's pretty clear you don't want that, because you've stopped loving me, but I can't be just buddies with you, sir. I love you, worship you, and I ... I need to ... to touch you, sir."

Despite his assertive manner his eyes brimmed with tears. "Sir, I need you so much that I've jerked off secretly watching you twice already, but I can't take any more. So I'm asking you to start my punishment, and then, when you've done whatever you have to with me, let's just go home and call it quits ... please, sir."

This was the strong assertive Jamie that Mark loved, a forceful young jock standing naked before him, so handsome, so sexy. And Mark couldn't take any more either.

"Jamie ... Jamie ... don't you get it? This was your punishment ... denying you my touch, my arms round you ... my cock in your sweet ass. That was my way of punishing you, buddy. And I gotta tell you, it was as agonizing for me as it was for you. Not love you? How could I ever stop loving you, kiddo? Ever since we left home I've had a hard-on, and I too have twice jacked off and blown my wad looking at you. But it's over, Jamie. Come here ... please come here."

He held out his arms and Jamie fell into them, with the whimper of a lost pup coming home. And the floodgates opened. All the pent-up desire of the last twenty-four hours now found release as they held each other tight, rolling all over the bed and over the floor, while Mark kissed Jamie's face – his brow, cheeks, eyes and finally his lips, clamping their mouths together, inhaling and exhaling in unison, sharing the same warm air, the same breath of life.

When at last they separated, their breath heaving, Mark gazed into his eyes and said, "I love you, Jamie, and I'm sorry I gave you so much grief. I wanted to touch you every minute. Driving up here I wanted to pull off the road and tailgate fuck you as we always do. In the restaurant I wanted to lean across the table and kiss you. And when I watched you with your surfboard walking down to the water, man, I wanted so bad to run after you throw you in the surf and fuck that gorgeous ass."

Jamie smiled. "As I walked to the water I thought of you behind me watching me, and I was praying you would do just that. And later, when we went for our run, before we turned back I closed my eyes and prayed again that you would carry me into the surf and make love to me."

"Well, Jamie, your prayers are answered at last." Mark leapt to his feet, walked to the door and stood in the open doorway, as he always did when he came home from work.

"What the fuck, boy! You know you're supposed to be on the bed waiting for me. Always!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Jamie scrambled to his feet, lay on his back on the bed and pulled his legs back, offering his ass to the cop, to the man he worshipped, just as he did every day of his life.

"That's better," Mark growled, coming close and kneeling on the bed, his long stiff rod touching his ass. He leaned forward between his raised legs and braced his hands on the bed on either side of his face. Jamie gazed up at the Greek-God face, at the blue-gray eyes penetrating his and heard the voice that always excited him. "So what do you want, boy? You want the cop's rod in your ass?"

"Yes, sir. Please ... please fuck me, sir."

"Mmm, let's see. Well, you took your punishment so I guess you deserve it." Then Mark smiled, the teasing over. "Damn, I wanted this so bad. I love you so much, boy. Here it comes ..." There was a moment's silence ... and then the naked cop drove his shaft deep in the surfer's ass." Jamie's eyes opened wide, stared up wildly at the beautiful man and yelled "Aaah ... aaah ... aaaagh!" His cock spurted cum all over his writhing body as he felt Mark's cock explode in his ass and fill it with his juice.

"Oh, sir ... I love you ... I love you. I couldn't help it, couldn't hold back."

"Hey, calm down dude," Mark smiled. "Now that we've just busted out nuts like we've been dying to do, now we can make love, me and my handsome surfer boy."

And so they did. While the sun flooded the room with light and heat Mark made love to Jamie's ass with his cock, to his mouth with his lips, and to his eyes with his eyes. It seemed never ending as they lost all sense of time and place. It was just them, two glorious men in a world of their own, feasting on each other as Jamie reached up and stroked the cop's magnificent body rising and falling above him.

"We're gonna do this all week," Mark smiled, "over and over again. And when your ass is good and sore you can fuck mine. Deal?"

"It's a deal, sir."

"And Jamie, you can finally stop calling me sir. You're my man ... always have been, always will be. And you know what? You are so fucking sexy I'm gonna cum in your ass again. Do you wanna touch your cock?"

"No need, officer. Just arrest me – make me your prisoner."

Mark grabbed Jamie's wrists, pinned them to the bed and said, "So you're my captive and this is your prison. You're at my mercy, I can do whatever I want with you – tie you up, fuck your ass, make you suck my dick, then fuck your ass again. Think of that, man, a surfer's fantasy, captured and worked over by a cop. And that young jock is gonna bust his load whenever the cop orders him to. Like right now. You ready, stud?"

"Whenever you say officer."

They smiled at each other, Mark drove his cock in faster and harder and their smiles became laughter as their cocks erupted one more time.

And now they made coffee, and cooked breakfast together, which they ate sitting out on the porch. "This is gonna be the best week of our lives, Jamie, you know that?"

"I'm sure of it," Jamie grinned.

"Er, Hassan mentioned to me that in the middle of the week he has to come up to Vandenberg Air Force Base for meetings on recruit training as he's the Marine Captain in charge of that. It's only 20 minutes down the coast so we could invite him to drop in here when he's done ... but only if you want to. You know Hassan and I have kind of a special relationship, so I understand if you don't want it."

"No, I think it's a great idea – provided I get to watch," Jamie grinned. "Hey, why don't we tell Hassan to bring his boy Eddie with him? Eddie's always on at me to give him surfing lessons so this would be an ideal time. And if they want time alone there's always Zack's shack just down the beach." He frowned. "Only thing is I doubt if Bob can spare Eddie from work at the house."

Mark grinned, "You can leave that one to me, dude. I think I can persuade Bob. Yeah, we'll make quite a foursome – provided we can find a way to stop Eddie talking nonstop."

"Gag him," Jamie chuckled. "He'd enjoy that. Bound and gagged by a cop, a Marine and a hot jock surfer. He'd be in hog heaven."

"Hmm, there's a bunch of stuff we can get up to. You know what they say, a man is limited only by his imagination ... or his fantasies. In the meantime, stud, let's go for a run. And this time we won't just turn round and come straight back. We'll make up for last time, OK."

"Like you said officer, I'm at your mercy."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 395

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 own Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters. Click on the green `Chapter Synopses' button to browse all the chapter descriptions. Enjoy

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