A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 60 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER There's a new man in town. Steve is the therapist assigned to Randy's anger management sessions. And he's gorgeous, looks exactly like Randy. He's also quite the stud with the ladies ... a different girl every night. The therapy starts badly. Randy slugs him. But soon they develop a firm, masculine friendship. It's a macho, guy thing, gym partners, good buddies. And then one night they share a bed...

As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions. They can be very helpful. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 60

"Consider yourself fired, Dawson. That was your exit interview."

Randy looked down at the construction worker he had just beaten to a pulp. But this latest, brutal display of his legendary anger would have repercussions way into the future. He was ordered to undergo a course of anger management with a therapist.

His reaction was predictable as he talked with Bob and Mark. "Me! See a shrink! Yeah, right. It'll be a cold fucking day in hell when I sit down with a shrink. You can take that as a no."

Mark tried to sweeten the pill. He suggested a therapist that the cops used. "I told you before, a lot of cops go through anger counseling. Had a few sessions myself way back. The therapist was great. Steve. He's a hell of a guy ... handsome too ... looks a lot like you."

"And that's supposed to be a recommendation?" Randy growled.

"Would be for me," Bob grinned."

"Asshole!"

"I think you'd like him," Mark persisted. He looks like a kind of preppy version of you. He just divorced his wife and now he's playing the field. Different girl every night, so they say. It's not for nothing they call him `Steve the Stud.' But aside from all that he really is a great therapist. Helped me a hell of a lot. Won't you let me set up an appointment for you?"

And so the first meeting took place, and when they came face to face the two men were startled at the resemblance between them. But the session didn't last long before Randy's anger surfaced. "Now look, doc, you're starting to annoy me already. This whole thing is bullshit, your questions are bullshit, and I don't like you." Steve stayed silent, letting him talk.

"I've heard all about you, doc ... what's your name? ... Steve. Think you're hot shit, don't you. Apparently the ladies fall at your feet and you fuck em all. Steve the Stud.' Well that don't cut any ice with me, doc. I'm always the boss, and I always get what I want. And what I want right now is to get the hell out of here."

Things went downhill from there when Steve risked a bold approach. "You know, this session is supposed to be about you and all you've done so far is talk about me." He paused for effect. "Are you jealous of me, Randy?"

Randy shot to his feet. "You arrogant fucking prick! Me? ... jealous of you? You're way off base, man. I'm not jealous of anyone, least of all an asshole like you." He was seething. "OK, just now you asked if I settle all my arguments with my fists. The answer to that question is yes, doc. Like this."

Randy hauled back and slammed his fist into Steve's stomach. As the therapist doubled over in pain Randy brought his arm down in a forearm smash across the back of his shoulders. Steve fell to his knees, coughing and groaning.

Randy towered over him. "Now I've got a question for you. How did you feel about that, stud?"

Bob was sitting with Mark in the kitchen as Randy came in. When Randy cheerfully told them what happened Bob buried his face in his hands, "Holy shit."

Randy was enjoying himself. "Let's just say it's a safe bet there won't be another session with Doctor Steve."

"That's for sure," Mark groaned. "He'll say you're untreatable and according to the rules he'll have to report you as being a danger to yourself and others."

But they were all wrong. Just then the phone rang and Mark picked up. When he heard the voice he hit the speaker button so they could all hear.

"Hi, this is Dr. Peterson. That you, Mark? How you doing, big guy? Say, could you give Randy a message for me? He left here without scheduling a follow-up session. Have him call me, will you? I should probably see him as soon as possible. Take care, man." There was a stunned silence as the phone clicked off.

"Holy shit," Bob said. "I've heard of cool, but this guy is something else. Like nothing happened!"

Randy grinned. "Knew he wouldn't report me. The guy doesn't have the balls."

"Whatever," Mark said. "You have to go back, buddy."

"Like hell I will. The guy's a quack."

Mark was fast losing patience. "Now look, pal. You have to have therapy or we lose our insurance. This is not all about you ... it's us, the company. OK, you've let Steve know who's boss. You've staked out your territory, pissed on your weed patch. Now you've got that out of your system for God's sake get back in there and talk to the guy."

Randy looked at Bob who merely gave him a "he's right" silent shrug. Randy growled. "Fancy fucking office in Beverly fucking Hills."

Bob grinned. "If you feel out of place there, let me lend you one of my fancy fucking shirts."

"Whatever ... asshole," and Randy couldn't suppress a grin.

So there he was a day later in Beverly Hills ringing that fancy `bing-bong' doorbell. He was wearing the usual jeans and boots, but this time he had on one of Bob's smart dress shirts, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

The door opened and the two men stood face to face. The resemblance was truly remarkable ... same steel blue eyes, black hair, high cheek bones, square jaw ... same height, same broad shoulders and sculpted physique. Only the tone was different. As Mark had said, Steve was a well-groomed, preppy version of the swarthy, demonic construction worker. His hair was neat, close cropped; Randy's was wild, unkempt. Steve was clean-shaven, unlike Randy's dark stubbled chin.

There was a hesitancy on both sides, but Steve smiled and said, "Come in, Randy." Like last time Randy threw himself in the big armchair and glowered resentfully. And just as before, Steve sat facing him. After the last disastrous meeting it was hard to know where to begin.

Randy cleared his throat and murmured, "You OK, doc?"

Steve smiled. "Sure, just a few bruised ribs. Nothing broken."

"Look, about that thing ... "

"The fist thing?"

"Yeah ... well, about that ..."

"Randy that's in the past. You strike me as a guy who doesn't look back ... no regrets, no apologies. Am I right?"

"Shit, that's not half bad. You nailed me, doc." He paused. "I didn't expect you to call. Why did you?"

"Let's just say I like a challenge."

There was another uneasy silence, then Steve stood up. "Look, Randy. I can see that a session like last time isn't gonna work. Probably have the same result." He grinned, rubbing his bruised ribs. "So I'm gonna suggest something unorthodox." He took a deep breath. "This office is the problem. Why don't we go to the restaurant downstairs and talk over lunch? Might be easier."

"You mean that fancy fucking restaurant I saw as I came in?"

"Don't worry. You'll fit right in. I see you wore a dress shirt this time. My guess is that's a rare thing."

Randy looked him in the eye. "Right again, doc. I borrowed this one." And for the first time the two men smiled at each other.

The restaurant hostess, a raven-haired beauty, flashed a smile at Steve. "Hi, handsome." Then looking at Randy, "Jesus, Steve, you never told me you had a brother."

"Never seen the guy before," Steve grinned. "How about a quiet booth in the back, Connie? We have a lot of talking to do."

"For you, Steve, anything." As the two stunning men were led through the restaurant there was a notable hush in the room.

"You coming to see me later?" Connie smiled seductively as she showed them their booth.

"I'll call you, sweetheart," Steve said, kissing her cheek.

"Or you could always send your brother," said Connie, eyeing Randy as she left the menus and walked away.

"Hell, man," Randy said as they sat down. "Have you fucked all the girls in this place?"

"I get around," said Steve non-commitally. "Since I got divorced I've pretty much been playing the field."

"Seem a bit restless."

Steve frowned. "I dunno. They're all great in their way but ... somehow there's always something missing. Something I can't put my finger on."

"You're the shrink, doc."

"Yeah, yeah. `Physician heal thyself.' By the way, did you notice all the heads turn as you walked through the room?"

"Nah. Never think about that stuff. Don't give a shit what other people think."

"Jesus. You really don't have any vanity, do you? Still, it's time we talked talk about you."

Randy sighed. "I knew we'd get round to that. Look, I'll give you the CliffsNotes version of my life and that'll have to do."

"OK, let me guess. Born on the wrong side of the tracks?"

"Hell, where I came from there were no tracks. Deepest rural Texas. I was the oldest of six brothers. We moved around a lot, dirt poor, itinerants ... gypsies I guess you'd call us. I was sixteen when my old man went to jail and mom drank herself to death. I was left to bring up the kids."

"I knew it," Steve smiled. "The King of the Gypsies."

"Yeah, whatever. I soon became a tough son-of-a-bitch. Had to take care of my little brothers. Protected them like a tiger. And yes, I did settle all my problems with my fists. Anyway, the kids grew up and finally I was on my own. Got married for a while, wife split and I moved out here to L.A. Worked in construction, fucked a lot of women, just like you."

"Then what?"

Randy hesitated, then looked straight at Steve, two pairs of steel blue eyes boring into each other.

"Then ... in a crummy bar on Hollywood Boulevard I met a guy named Bob. And my life changed." His eyes misted for a moment, then he snapped back. "Some time after that the cop Mark moved in ... you know him of course. I met a kid named Pablo, a terrific, tough little guy, who I ended up adopting. Then there was Darius, who's now my right-hand man, and Jamie. There are six of us."

"And you're the big boss man."

"Of course."

Steve laughed. "The King of the Gypsies again."

Randy smiled. "I never thought of it like that. And we're not exactly gypsies. We do pretty good. Bob and Mark are my partners in a construction company and the boys all work for us. Anyway, then a mother-fucker insulted Darius, called him a stinking nigger. I slugged him and ended up being assigned to you. That brings us to now, this moment."

Randy stopped speaking suddenly and Steve looked at him, taken aback, feeling a mix of admiration, compassion, empathy, awe even ... and something else he couldn't define. Jesus, he'd never met a guy like this. He blinked and shook his head.

"Sorry, I kind of lost my professional poise there for a moment. But hell, Randy, that's some story. You're something else, you know?"

Randy frowned. "You know, doc, I never told anybody this shit before. But just so we're clear. Whatever I say is just between us? You'd never tell anyone?

Absolutely not ... doctor/patient confidentiality. The only time I break that is if I consider the patient a threat to himself or others. That's why I said, if you hit me again I'd have to report it.

Randy gave him a piercing gaze. "No you wouldn't, Steve. Not me. You wouldn't report me."

Steve was transfixed by the penetrating blue eyes and he heard himself say. "No, Randy. Not you. I wouldn't report you."

"Good," Randy laughed. "Now we've got that out of the way I promise not to hit you again."

"Wow," Steve laughed. "I'll take that as progress." He recited as he wrote on a napkin. "Breakthrough! Patient promises not to slug me."

Randy threw his head back and laughed. "You're not half bad, doc. You're easy to talk to."

"It's my job."

Randy looked deflated. "Yeah, I guess that's it."

Steve quickly touched his hand. "Randy I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It came out wrong. Forget the therapist thing. I really enjoy talking to you too. You're ... well, I've never met anyone like you."

"There isn't anyone like me. Except you, when you look in the mirror."

"Yeah, there is that. Guess they all still think we're brothers."

"Let them. Like I said, I never give a shit what people think."

Steve grinned, "I can believe it. Come on lets order. I'm starved."

"One thing," Randy said. "I'm paying."

"OK." The therapist smiled as he recognized another small gesture of Randy asserting his dominance. Steve was real comfortable with that ... accepting Randy as boss.

After that the therapy sessions became regular and frequent, though `therapy sessions' would not really be the right phrase. They were more like intimate chats between two buddies, guy talk, where they unburdened themselves, told each other stuff they would never tell anyone else. Sometimes they talked in Steve's office, other times they went for a meal, or just walked in the neighborhood.

Inevitably, since both men had great physiques, talk often came round to fitness and their gym routines. They complimented each other, of course, but on one occasion Steve said, "Problem is I'm getting too big. I don't want more bulk. I just want good definition."

"No problem there," said Randy. "Lighter weights, more reps."

"Yeah, but I feel kinda weird when other guys see me take off half the weight they've been pressing."

"First rule of the gym, doc: never let other guys intimidate you. How long do you work out?"

"Couple of hours each time, I guess."

"Too long. Shit, if you worked out with me I'd have you looking just the way you want in no time." He paused, then spoke tentatively. "Look, we have a gym in the basement at our place. If it wouldn't get in the way of the doctor/patient relationship, why don't you swing by and I'll show you what I mean. No guys to intimidate you there. Think of it as a trade-off. You improve my mind and I'll improve your body. What d'ya say, doc?"

Steve smiled. "I don't think that would impair the doctor/patient relationship at all. Quite the reverse in fact."

"You like him, don't you?" Bob and Randy were lounging in their bedroom in their underwear before hitting the sack. Bob smiled. "I can tell by the way you talk about him. Something special there?"

"Well, I haven't hit him again yet," Randy grinned.

Bob laughed. "Now that's progress. Therapy must be working."

"Actually Steve's a great guy. We talk about everything, even things I've never told you."

"That's the point of therapy ... unload all your crap." He paused. "Is, er ... is it just doctor/patient between you two?"

Randy suddenly became serious. "First of all, Steve is the ultimate ladies' man, a stud who fucks girls like a jack-rabbit, so he has absolutely no interest in me in that way. Never been a hint of it." He reached out and took Bob's face in his hands. "Hey, buddy. I swear this is not another Lloyd situation. I was a damned fool over that and deserved my punishment. Never again, man."

"Randy, you know me better than that. It wasn't the fact that you fucked Lloyd. You're welcome to that. It was the fact that you ignored me for two weeks. I don't care how close you are to Steve. Just don't forget me."

"Bob," Randy said gently. "You and I are a breed apart. You're my life, man. I swear I'll never hurt you again. Well," he grinned, "unless you want it. Fact is, it's you I'm scared of ... of what you'll feel when you meet him. See, Steve does look exactly like me physically, but he's more like you mentally. Shit, he's well dressed, cultured, the executive type, probably got college degrees up the ass. Just like you. With his looks and that calm, sophisticated thing he's got going, you'll probably like him a lot."

Bob grinned. "You know I don't give a shit about sophisticated. I'll take the rough over the smooth any day. And it doesn't come any rougher than you."

Randy gazed at him. "Come to think of it, fucker, you haven't had it rough for a long time. I think you've become soft."

Bob instantly knew where Randy was going with this and his heart beat faster. He looked defiantly at the big, swarthy bodybuilder. "Oh yeah? I'm a lot tougher than you think, asshole."

Randy's face grew dark, his body flexed under his T-shirt and his eyes narrowed. "OK, prove it!" In a lightning move he reached forward and ripped Bob's T-shirt from his body. Grabbing Bob at the waist he lifted him bodily and threw him onto his back on the bed. Kneeling astride him he ripped the torn T-shirt in two, pushed Bob's arms up and wide, and quickly tied his wrists to the posts at the corner of the bed.

Kneeling over the excited man Randy glared down at him. "That sounded a lot like a challenge, you mother-fucker. You know you can't challenge me without paying the price."

Bob gasped as Randy stripped off his own T-shirt and his muscular torso flexed over him. He had forgotten just how magnetic this wild, beautiful demon could be.

"If it's rough you want, you've got it, asshole." Randy reached forward and clamped his fingers over Bob's nipples, causing a sharp intake of breath as Bob realized what he was in for. The pressure increased slowly as Randy twisted sensitive skin in his fingertips. What started out as a sensuous jolt quickly turned into pain and Bob groaned.

Randy glared down at the tense face. "All you have to do is submit, boy, and beg me to fuck that sweet ass of yours. That's how you make the pain stop."

"Go fuck yourself," Bob groaned.

"OK, asshole. If that's the way you want it." Randy now put all his energy into torturing the tits and Bob screamed. His beautiful face thrashed from side to side as flames shot through his chest. Randy knew exactly how to go right up to Bob's limits ... and then just over.

"Now what do you say, boy?" Randy growled.

Bob's breathing was ragged but he managed to moan, "Fuck off, asshole."

"Fuck you, man," Randy yelled and increased the pressure. The muscle stud's beautiful body twisted and strained against his restraints, and the Superman features grimaced in pain. This is the sight that turned Randy on the most. God, he loved this man. He was magnificent, his body stretched to its limits, muscles writhing and flexing as he tried to escape. "You're perfect like that ... so fucking gorgeous, man. I love hurting you."

"Fucking coward," Bob groaned. "Easy to hurt a man when he's tied up."

Randy smiled. "Right on, man. If it's a trial of strength you want, you got it." Quickly Randy untied his wrists and Bob instantly began twisting Randy's nipples. Soon both men were gazing into each other's eyes defiantly, each man torturing the other's nipples as hard as they could. The pain for each of them was intense, but no man could break Randy like this.

Soon Bob gave in to the inevitable. The pain was intolerable and he groaned, "OK, man, you win. I give up. I can't take any more. I submit.'

"Not good enough, fucker," and Randy wrenched harder on the tits, making Bob scream.

"Please, sir. Please, fuck my ass. It's yours, sir. Please, please stop hurting me and fuck my ass. I'm begging you."

"That's better, boy. OK, you asked for it." He threw Bob's legs in the air and heard his scream echo round the room as he plunged his rigid shaft deep into his ass. There was no teasing, no build-up. The ferocious hammering began right away and Bob felt like he was being ripped open.

His eyes were screwed up with pain, but when he opened them he saw the glorious sight that he loved more than anything in the world. This magnificent dark demon was looming over him, sinewy body bucking and flexing with the effort of ploughing his ass. The dark, stubbled face dripped sweat, the black, tousled hair flew wildly as the savage eyes burned into him.

This was his master, this is what he lived for. No other man could do this to him. Randy owned him completely. Their eyes met, penetrated each other and they passed into that magical world where only they existed ... together.

"This is it, man," Randy whispered. "This is what binds us. Fuck everyone else ... the Lloyds, the Steves. Fuck the world. This is us, man. This is forever. God you feel good. I love your ass. I love you, man."

Bob moaned. "I worship you, sir. You're my master. There's nothing like this. Nothing in the world. Aaargh ... please, sir. I'm so close. Please let me shoot. Let me shoot my load for you."

Randy didn't speak. He pulled his cock out of Bob's ass, looked at him, then in one long driving movement, plunged it back in, deep, deep into the inner secret place of his ass, exploding in his gut as he screamed with the ecstasy of triumphant release. Bob shot simultaneously, a huge jet of hot, white cream that sprayed over his stomach, his chest, his face and hair. The men were joined in an exquisite, magical union that nothing could ever break.

Randy fell forward onto the gleaming body and sobbed as his emotions overflowed. Both men held each other, laughing and weeping, their minds and bodies exhausted. Nobody else mattered ... nobody even came close.

Half an hour later they still held each other. Randy whispered in Bob's ear, "That make you feel safe now, buddy? Safe from all the others?"

"I always feel safe with you," Bob replied, then he laughed. "Makes me want to meet Steve even more."

"Good, because the day after next he's coming here to use the gym. You'll meet him then."

Bob winced. "Fuck. No I won't. You forgot, that's when Mark and I are going to San Diego for the night to finalize the purchase of the security equipment. Mark wants to take Jamie too, give him a treat."

"OK, well I'll just put Steve off."

"No, don't do that. Let him come by, use the gym, stay for dinner. You'll be all alone except for Pablo and Darius. Be company for you."

"You don't mind?"

"You can ask that? After what just happened here?"

Randy grinned. "You tired?"

"Not yet."

"Wanna go again, asshole?"

"Whatever you say, sir. I'm all yours."

"You bet your life you are."

"Hey, Darius," Randy said. It was two days later and Bob, Mark and Jamie had already left for San Diego for the night. "There'll be one extra for dinner. Think you and Pablo can handle it?"

"Sure, sir. Who's coming?

"You'll see." They heard the sound of wheels on the gravel. "Right now, in fact."

Randy went out to the gate and when he came back Darius and Pablo were standing in the kitchen. In unison, their jaws dropped and their eyes opened big as saucers. Randy had walked in with ... another Randy! The guy was a dead ringer.

"Guys, this is Steve. He'll be joining us for dinner. Steve, this here is Darius and Pablo. Say hi to Steve, guys."

But they didn't move. They were rooted to the spot in total disbelief. Steve came forward with a big smile and held out his hand."

"Hi, guys. I've heard a whole lot about you." Still they didn't move. "Guys?"

Randy howled with laughter. "You'll have to excuse them, doc. I guess one Randy is already more than they can handle. Two has sent them into shock. Listen, guys. The doc and I are going downstairs for a quick workout. Make sure dinner's ready when we come back. We're starved."

It was only after they left that Darius turned to Pablo. "Dude, did you see what I saw."

"I ... I think so."

"God, he's just like him."

"Now that'll get your fantasy wheels spinning off their axles."

"You betcha."

In the gym the two guys stripped off and Randy threw a pair of shorts to Steve. This was, in fact, the first time they had seen each other's bodies without clothes and they were both impressed. But these were just two buddies, two guys, so their remarks were simply those of gym partners.

"Wow, we really do have the same build," Randy said, admiring Steve's muscular physique."

"Sure, but mine can use work."

"That's what we're here for, doc."

They did a few preliminary warm up exercises, then went into a simple, light-weight routine. Steve could tell that Randy's expertise was going to be really helpful, but right now he was running out of steam.

"Sorry, man," Steve said. "I had a real rough day. The mind's preoccupied ... hard to concentrate. What say we just have dinner, then I'll come back real early tomorrow morning and we can have a proper workout?"

"Sure, no problem. Morning workout's always better ... when you're fresh." Then Randy frowned. "Come to think of it though, that's a bit dumb, you going back and forth to your house on Mulholland. I'll want a few drinks after dinner anyway, so why don't you crash here for the night? That way we can start with a real early morning workout, the boys'll give us breakfast ... and we're set for the day."

Steve paused, then said, "Sure. Makes sense, I guess."

Randy hit the side of his head. "God, that's stupid of me. Knowing you, you probably have a date for the night." He grinned, "Connie, maybe?"

"Not tonight, no. I'm kinda bushed so I was planning an early night. No, that would work fine."

"Great," Randy smiled. "OK ... dinner!"

As dinner began the boys got over their stunned silence and, as soon as their tongues became untied they talked nineteen to the dozen. They were thrilled to be having dinner with these two glorious men who looked so alike. Afterwards they would talk about his together late into the night.

Steve was amused by their enthusiasm and it was immediately clear to him that they worshipped Randy. He looked at the big man and was again impressed by his absolute, natural authority, tempered with an equally natural affection for the boys. The therapist in Steve was fascinated by the fact that Pablo was now Randy's adopted son, and asked how that came about. Randy explained the details and Steve turned to Pablo.

"And how did you feel about that, Pablo?"

Randy threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Sorry, kid. A joke between the doc and me. Therapists always ask that question ... `how did you feel about that?'. Made me mad the first time this guy asked it."

"Yeah, I recall," Steve grinned, rubbing his still-sore ribs.

And so the dinner progressed, with the boys doing most of the talking, falling over themselves to explain enthusiastically the work they did for Randy. Again Steve was amazed at their adoration of Randy and his obvious pride in them. And again he thought to himself, "This man is something else. These guys treat him like a god. They're probably not the only ones."

When dinner was over Randy said, "OK, guys, early start tomorrow. Say goodnight to the doc here."

Still awestruck Darius and Pablo said in unison, "Goodnight, sir."

"'Night guys. It was great meeting you. Randy's lucky to have you."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Randy grinned. "I chose them ... hand-picked."

Randy had grabbed a six-pack of beer on his way upstairs and he and Steve now sprawled in armchairs in the bedroom. They chatted easily, like guys who had known each other for years. All their initial inhibitions had long since evaporated and they drank until they had quite a buzz going.

"OK, big guy, better hit the sack," Randy said. "I promised you a muscle crunching workout tomorrow so you'll need a good night's sleep. You can share a bed with me here or sleep down in the basement."

"Nah, here's fine ... unless you snore like a trooper."

Randy grinned. "Never had any complaints up to now."

They were tired and a bit drunk so they put off the shower until the morning. Randy stood and stretched and Steve watched as he quickly stripped down to his shorts and threw himself down on the cool sheets with a huge sigh.

"Aaah, no better feeling than this."

"Hmm, I can think of a few," Steve grinned.

"Asshole," and Randy threw a pillow at him.

Steve also stripped to his shorts and climbed in beside Randy. It was a big California King bed so there was a ton of room. Steve lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and a sudden feeling of intense well-being spread over him like a warm blanket on a cold night. Didn't know where the sensation came from but he couldn't remember feeling this good before.

But sleep didn't come easily for him ... unlike Randy, who in a few short minutes was in a deep sleep, with long, even breaths. Steve thought back over the events of the last week or so and felt real good about meeting Randy ... a new buddy.

But still sleep didn't come and he knew why. He nearly always slept with one girl or another and always had sex just before falling asleep. Breathing deeply he tried to calm himself, but he found himself thinking of Connie and his dick started to get hard. He quietly began to gently massage the bulge in his shorts. Soon he had his dick in his fist and he was stroking it.

He thought of going to the bathroom but figured that Randy was in such a deep sleep he could masturbate here, quickly and quietly, without waking him. He listened to his deep, steady breathing and knew he was safe. So he concentrated on the voluptuous Connie and a smile came to his face. She was a beautiful woman, but the thing he loved about her was her toughness. She let him do anything to her and the thought of that just made him hard.

Steve really admired people who were strong. No doubt about it, Connie was pretty much the ideal woman, just as Randy was the ideal man. Steve was still stroking his cock as his mind wandered from Connie to Randy. He had never, ever met a guy like him. He felt privileged to have met him, to be lying beside him, watching his chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing.

"I gotta sleep, he thought," so he brought his thoughts back to Connie. He stroked his dick harder as he remembered some of the things he had done to her. She really was a great fuck. He imagined her naked beside him, hearing the sensual sound of her breathing as he caressed her body. Yeah, he could almost feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathing ... a bit heavier than usual, though.

Something else was different too. He lay in a trance, his dreamlike thoughts wandering like a man halfway between sleeping and waking. Yeah, something else was different ... the smell. He loved Connie's scent, could even shoot his load breathing in her essence. But this smell was harsher. There was the trace of beer, mixed with sweat, male sweat.

He couldn't focus on Connie. His mind kept coming back to the other senses ... the smell of the man beside him, the sound of his breathing, and above all the incredible warmth of his body. He felt the man stir slightly, then settle back into sleep with a deep, satisfied sigh. Steve's cock reared. There was something, a magnetism, radiating from this awesome man.

Steve tried to pull his thoughts away, back to Connie, but he failed. Instead his mind drifted back to when he had first met Randy. He saw the dark, gypsy face telling his life story over lunch. He thought of his body flexing in the gym. He saw him stripping for bed. Now he was beside him, here, naked in the same bed. He heard him, smelled him, felt his warmth.

As if in a dream be became submerged in the sound, the heat, the scent of this man ... his very maleness. He pumped his cock harder, started to sweat ... and then, suddenly, his dream was broken by the sound of a muffled shout. It was his own. He felt a sticky wetness in his shorts and realized he had just had an orgasm ... was still having it as jets of cum continued to pour into his shorts. It was the most incredible orgasm he had ever had.

The shout made Randy stir vaguely in his sleep and he murmured, "You OK, man?"

"Sure ... just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Randy was asleep in seconds, but Steve still gazed at the ceiling. A dream? Is that what it was? Jesus Christ. It was so real. Nah, couldn't have been real. Couldn't have been.

The next day, if he thought of it at all, Steve thought of his experience the night before as some weird dream. It must have been the thought of Connie that had soaked his shorts. He put it out of his mind as he worked out with Randy in the downstairs gym. And soon, over breakfast, the conversation was as lively as ever as the boys fell over themselves to serve and to please this new man. The meal was almost over when they heard car doors slam outside.

"Great," Randy beamed. "The guys are back."

Darius ran to the gate and there was the sound of animated voices approaching the house. The door opened and Jamie ran in with Darius, followed by Mark and Bob. The guys at the table stood up.

Randy clapped Mark on the shoulder and hugged Bob. "Hey guys, you're early. You must have burned rubber on the freeway. He turned to toward the table. Steve, you know Mark already of course."

"Hey, big guy," Steve said. "You're looking great as usual."

"Hi, Steve. Been a long time. Let me introduce Jamie."

"And this,' said Randy proudly, "is my buddy Bob I've talked so much about."

Bob and Steve faced each other for the first time. As their eyes met they both had a sharp, involuntary intake of breath. A deep silence fell over the room, a frozen moment. You could have heard a pin drop.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 61"