A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 67 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER Randy's punishment for the boys' boating accident is stunning. "You wanted to put on a show. So put on a show for us ... and make it a hot one." Later, Bob is consumed with lust when he meets their rescuer, the pornographically beautiful black muscle stud, Zack. Finally Zack confronts Randy. "The inevitable challenge of two magnificent alpha males in a trial of strength, equally matched in power and beauty."

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 67

"What the fuck ...?" Randy squinted into the distance as he and Bob came over the dunes toward the beach. After the big reunion of all the men at the Guadalupe dunes the couple had spent the last two hours together "getting reacquainted" as Randy called it. Now they looked in alarm at the small group of figures in the distance at the water's edge.

"It's our guys," Randy said, recognizing Pablo's dog Billy running round barking frantically. The men sprinted down to the ocean, where they were horrified at the sight of their buddy Mark, the cop, lying on the ground, still coughing up water.

"What the fuck happened here? You OK, buddy? You look half drowned."

Mark managed a weak smile. "Only half. Here, guys, help me up." Randy and Bob pulled him up to his feet and he swayed slightly as he regained his balance. "Give me a few minutes," he said, "and then help me walk back to the shack."

Bob looked at the shamefaced, guilt-ridden boys. "OK, while we're waiting, will someone tell us what happened here?"

Predictably it was Darius who launched into an explanation, his words pouring out in his typical rapid-fire delivery. "Sir, it was all our fault. We took the boat out and went too far from shore. Mark told us not to and warned us of the rip tide. But we were showing off, fooling around, fighting with the oars and we lost them."

"Hey, slow down, punk," Randy said. "Lost what?"

Darius didn't pause for breath. "The oars, sir. They went overboard. We were stranded, so the officer here swam out to the rescue. He tied a line round him and swam like crazy, towing the boat along in the rip current. After a couple of miles he swam toward the shore but it was tough going, sir, and we almost didn't make it. The officer was magnificent, sir. He saved our lives. But he was exhausted and just as his feet touched bottom he passed out."

"So you carried him to the beach."

"No, sir. We couldn't. He almost drowned but then the most awesome thing happened. This black guy came out of nowhere. God, he was beautiful ... tall, handsome, incredible body, built like a brick shit-house ..."

"Darius!" Bob growled in a warning tone.

"OK, sorry sir. But it's true. This big gorgeous stud just showed up, waded out to us, picked Mark up and slung him over his shoulder. Just like that. He laid him down on the beach, slapped his face a bit, and Mark came to."

"So where is this guy now?" Randy asked dubiously.

"Dunno, sir." Soon as he knew Mark was OK he sprinted off into the distance, disappeared as suddenly as he had shown up.

Bob frowned, "Darius, if this is one of your fantasies ..."

"No, it's true Bob," Mark interrupted. "Just as I regained consciousness I saw his face. And it was stunning, black as ebony, pale gray eyes. Then he just took off." Mark took a few deep breaths. "OK, guys. I think I can make it now."

"Here, lean on me, buddy and we'll get you back." Randy pulled Mark's arm round his shoulder and supported him as they began the long walk back along the beach.

Steve had already returned to the shack after his run and was wondering where everyone was. Soon he saw the group coming slowly along the beach. Mark was walking heavily, leaning on Randy. Bob and the three boys had the rowboat hoisted up above their heads. Steve gazed at the strange procession and shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus Christ," he murmured. "These guys just don't quit."

After plenty of fluids and a short rest Mark recovered quickly. An uneasy calm settled on the group ... two groups, actually, as the four men talked in low voices and the three boys huddled together some distance away, nervously awaiting their fate that they knew would come.

Mark had filled the other men in on the details of the mishap and Randy tensed with a mix of anger and relief. "The crazy young fools. What the fuck were they thinking? You could all have been drowned. Jesus, man, if it hadn't been for you ..." His voice trailed off.

Bob gripped Mark's arm. "Buddy, we owe you a huge debt of gratitude. What you did ..."

"... what I did was what any of you would have done. I shouldn't have let them go in the first place."

"Bullshit," Randy snapped. "It's their fault and they'll pay. They have to be punished."

Typically, Bob's tone was softer. "Don't you think they've suffered enough? They've been scared shitless, and now they feel guilty as hell."

Randy looked at him, then at Mark and Steve. "Listen guys, they have to be punished, but I have an idea. That's if you agree, Mark, that Jamie should be included. He's your boy."

"Hey," Mark said, "he's a much to blame as the other two. He has to share their punishment. It's your show, big guy."

Randy raised his head, and his voice. "Hey! "Get your sorry asses over here."

The three boys ran over and stood before their masters, hanging their heads. They knew they were in for a tongue lashing. But Pablo surprised them all by speaking first.

"Sir, before you give us our punishment we all want to say how much we owe to Mark. He was incredible, sir, and he risked his life to save ours. He told us not to go too far and we disobeyed him. So we want to say sorry, and thank you, sir." Suddenly the three boys burst into an enthusiastic and prolonged round of applause. When they stopped there was an uneasy silence, but Randy's anger still simmered.

"You know damn well you have all behaved recklessly and put yourselves and Mark in danger. We could have lost you all. Hell, Pablo, you nearly drowned your dog. I thought you loved him."

Randy knew exactly what nerve to touch and tears came to Pablo's eyes. "It was all my fault, sir. We were showing off for Mark, putting on a show. I was the one who caused ..."

Randy cut him off abruptly. "No, kid, you can't pull that stunt again, taking all the blame. It was all three of you. This craziness was a team effort, a group fuck-up." He glanced at Mark and Bob and they nodded. Then he faced the boys. "OK, you say you were putting on a show. You know in our group we always make the punishment fit the crime. You wanted to put on a show, then so you will. You'll put on a show for us ... and it better be a good one.

"You son of a bitch," Bob smiled at Randy. He wasn't the boss for nothing. The boys had to be punished, even though they had already endured the terror of their experience, and their brush with disaster had scared them to death and shamed them. So Randy had come up with a punishment that would not be severe and might even dispel the gloom and despondency ... maybe even restore the festive air of their reunion.

Randy, Bob, Mark and Steve settled back into the old chairs strewn around the shack and opened a six-pack of beer. They were ready for the show. The boys were getting ready too, huddling some distance away discussing their strategy. Finally they walked over to their masters and Randy glimpsed that mischievous look in Pablo's eyes that he knew so well.

By this time they were all wearing shorts, sneakers and T-shirts. They stood together, locking eyes with their masters. Then, slowly, in unison, they began to strip. If there had been music it couldn't have been better coordinated. Off came the shirts, then they kicked off their shoes, and paused seductively. The four men waved their beer bottles and shouted ribald encouragement, with cheers and wolf whistles. "Take it off!" ... "Take it all off!"

Still in unison they boys reached down to their crotch, slowly undid their fly buttons and then eased their shorts down, first one side then the other. Finally the shorts dropped to the sand and the boys raised their arms showing off their naked bodies, to the enthusiastic applause of their masters.

Pablo waved for silence and made an announcement like a carnival barker. "We know we deserve to get our asses whipped for what we did. But as you have let us off we thought we would do the honors ourselves. And the first victim," he said, with a flourish of his hand, "is our friend Darius."

Darius stepped jauntily forward and, keeping his gaze on the men, bent over and grabbed his ankles, exposing his ass high in the air. Jamie came up behind him and looked at his master, Mark. "My turn first," Jamie said. He pushed his hard dick against the gorgeous black ass and thrust it all the way in, provoking an exaggerated scream from Darius.

"No, no, please," he yelled in mock agony. "I don't take dicks up my ass. I've never done that before." Howls of derision from the four spectators.

"Bullshit!" yelled Pablo. "Punish him, dude." And Jamie did, pumping hard on the black bubble butt. But it wasn't long before Pablo yelled. "OK, me next," and he took Jamie's place, penetrating his lover's ass with one hard thrust.

And so they alternated, first Jamie, then Pablo, yelling jubilantly as they "punished" Darius's willing ass, accompanied by Darius's mock protests and pleadings, and their masters' whoops and whistles urging them on.

Then, as Pablo was taking his turn, he looked up at Jamie and said, "Come on, dude. Help me out here." This prearranged signal prompted Jamie to get behind Pablo, push his cock against his gorgeous ass and plunge it deep inside. "Yeah!" Pablo yelled as he was pushed hard against Darius. As the black man felt the extra pressure his "protests" became more desperate.

"No ... not both of you. My ass is on fire, dudes. Please, I can't take it."

The sight of the three boys, Jamie behind Pablo, fucking his ass, as Pablo ploughed Darius, roused their masters to new, raucous shouts and applause. All three boys gazed at them, thrilled that the show they were putting on was going over so well.

Then suddenly it stopped. The boys separated, gave a slight bow to the audience and withdrew inside the shack. "Wow," said Steve. "You ordered a show, Randy and that's what we got. That was a hell of a performance."

Randy grinned, "Yeah, but I have a hunch we ain't seen nothing yet. Watch this."

There was a pause of a few minutes and then the men gaped at what emerged from the shack. Pablo and Jamie were on their hands and knees moving forward. Rope had been tied round their open mouths like bits on a horse. The ropes stretched back behind them and the other ends were held tight by Darius, walking behind them like a charioteer behind his steeds. The grinning black man was wearing his familiar cowboy hat, tilted on the back of his head.

"And now," he yelled, "the revenge of Darius." The group stopped before the masters and Darius shouted to his two stallions. "OK, let's see those asses, men." Still on their knees the boys pushed their asses higher in the air as Darius looked at the spectators. "Who's first?" he yelled.

"Pablo," Randy shouted, gazing into his boy's sparkling eyes.

"Yes, sir, you're the boss." Darius stroked his massive ten-inch dick and pressed the head between the cheeks of Pablo's perfect ass. Pablo's eyes widened in horror and he gave a muffled shout through the bit in his mouth.

"No, please. It's too big. No way, dude. I can't take that huge rod in my ass."

"Yeah," Bob said, "like you don't every night of your life," and the guys erupted in laughter.

"Here goes, kiddo," and Darius pushed his huge cock slowly inside the kneeling boy. Soon his body was like a piston, hammering the ass. Holding the ropes in one hand he took off his hat with his free hand and whirled it triumphantly in the air, whooping and hollering.

Suddenly he stopped and looked straight at Mark. "Jamie, sir?" Mark laughed, "Of course. He's gotta be punished too. So go for it, cowboy." Jamie looked at Mark and saw a smile of encouragement and affection cross his face. Then he felt Darius's huge shaft plunge into his ass and he proudly held his master's gaze as the invasion of his ass began.

And so Darius gave the boys as good as he had got from them, moving from one ass to the other, plunging his monster dick deep inside them. The howls of approval from the audience reached a crescendo and just then ... it all stopped. Darius removed the ropes and the three boys walked close up to their seated masters.

Randy frowned. "What, no cum shot? That's a fucking cop-out. Where's the big finish? You couldn't make each other shoot your load? What's with that?"

Pablo's eyes widened in mock seriousness. "No, sir. Only our masters can make us do that. We were saving our orgasms for you, sir."

The three young men grabbed their cocks and began to stroke them, in perfect coordination. They pumped faster and faster, their eyes fixed on the seated men right in front of them. Pablo gazed at Randy, Jamie at Mark, and Darius at Bob and Steve. The men were not sure what was happening but sensed that the big climax was approaching. And they were right. Pablo spoke again.

"This is our way of apologizing, sir. Our way of showing how much we love you. OK, dudes. Now!"

And simultaneously three huge streams of creamy white juice poured from the three cocks, curved high, then splashed into the faces and over the torsos of the astonished men. Darius aimed his cum at Bob and Steve; Pablo's cum poured onto Randy's sculpted face and body, and Jamie sprayed his juice all over the handsome features of the cop, Mark. The boldness of the move was breathtaking, the boys daring to shoot their loads over their masters.

Taken by complete surprise the men felt the warm juice shoot into their mouths, over their face and then stream down their bodies. They were gasping with shock, awe and ... anger maybe? When the orgasms ended there was total silence. For what seemed like minutes they all held their breath.

Finally Randy stood up, Pablo's cum still flowing down his face and body. He looked at his boy. Then suddenly he smiled, opened his arms and said, "Come here kiddo." Pablo fell into his arms and said quietly. "I'm very sorry for what we did today, sir. We were real stupid and nothing like that will happen again. I hope you can forgive us." He paused, pulled his face back and his trademark crooked grin crossed his face. "And I hope you liked our show, sir."

There was an explosion of laughter ... exhilaration mixed with relief that it was all over. Mark was holding Jamie tight, protectively, aware that he had come close to losing him. And Darius was basking in the warmth and congratulations coming from Bob and Steve.

Randy was still looking intently at Pablo. "Was that cum shot your idea?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're skating very close to the edge, young man, you know that?"

Pablo grinned again. "I do sir." Randy turned his head, trying to hide his own smile.

Then he turned to the others and shouted. "Well, what d'ya think, guys? Was that punishment enough for the trouble they caused? And, more important, can we forgive them for shooting their fucking hot loads all over their masters?" His answer was a ringing round of applause.

"OK, now for God's sake, let's clean ourselves up ... and then eat." They all sprinted down to the water and dived into the waves, washing off the torrents of cum that had been spilled that day.

A short time later the boys dragged out the old barbecue behind the shack, loaded it with charcoal that Mark and Jamie had brought with them, and soon a riotous meal ensued. In a way, the trauma of the morning, with all its potential for disaster, added to the general euphoria. It was like the celebration after a victory ... triumph, relief, and the joyful companionship of beautiful, virile men who gloried in their masculinity and their undying love for each other.

"Doesn't get much better than this, buddy," Randy sighed. The meal was over and he and Bob were alone outside the shack, lying on the sand propped up on their elbows. They were watching Pablo and Darius horsing around in the surf with Steve. Mark and Jamie had gone for a walk in the dunes.

Bob smiled. "That was all Pablo's idea, wasn't it?"

"Yup," said Randy, with more than a hint of pride. "That kid always walks right to the edge of the cliff without falling over."

"A lot like you," Bob grinned. "Hey, I've been sitting too long. I need a run. Coming?"

"Nah, a nap is what I need." He picked up Darius's cowboy hat from the ground, put it over his face and lay back in the sand. His muffled voice growled, "Work up a sweat, buddy. Turns me on."

Bob was feeling good splashing through the surf as he jogged along the beach, naked except for his shorts. He loved the sensation of being alone on this beautiful, deserted beach, feeling the wind and the spray on his near-naked body. He increased his pace and was soon running in long, easy strides. He needed the exercise and, besides, he thought to himself, there was something else he wanted to do ... if the opportunity presented itself.

And it did. Lost in the rhythm of his splashing strides he had run a long way, much farther than any of them had gone before. And then in the distance he saw a thin spiral of smoke curling in the air. As he got closer he saw that it was coming from the chimney of a small shack, set back in the dunes. He stopped and, curiosity getting the better of him, he walked toward the dunes.

The shack was much smaller than theirs, probably just one room, Bob thought. There was an old porch in front and he thought he could make out a figure moving on it. He approached cautiously and then stopped in amazement.

"Jesus," he murmured. "The guys were right." On the porch was a tall, black man with one of the most beautiful bodies Bob had ever seen. Even from here he could see the gleaming muscular physique, the absurdly handsome, sculpted face and shaved head. "Now that's pornographic," Bob thought.

Wearing just ragged shorts the man was exercising, doing pull-ups on a cross-beam, his long, lean muscles flexing and glinting in the sun. Bob felt his heart beat faster and he held his breath. Then the man dropped to the ground and began doing pushups. Bob found himself drawn to the man, found himself walking closer and closer until he was only a few feet away. Suddenly aware that the man hadn't heard him, he coughed to get his attention.

The man sprang to his feet like a panther and took a few paces toward him. His voice was deep. "Who the fuck are you? What do you want? What the hell are you doing here?"

For a second Bob thought the guy would hit him, so he backed off, embarrassed. "Hey, man, I'm real sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. You're right, I shouldn't have come. It's just that I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier today ... for my friends. You probably saved my buddy's life."

The man's aggressive stance relaxed. "Oh, you're with those guys. The big blonde one looked as if he didn't need much help. Hell of a thing he did, towing that boat through the rip tide. Guess they lost their oars. Takes a hell of a man to do that."

"Yeah, he is that ... a hell of a man. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you and shake your hand."

He held out his hand and the guy took it in a firm, almost painful grip. Bob smiled. "Like I said, I'm sorry to have intruded. I'll leave you in peace now." Bob's handsome face flashed a smile and he turned to walk away. As he walked through the sand he heard the voice again.

"You want some tea?"

Bob turned. That was the last thing he expected to hear. But he gathered his wits and stammered, "Why, yeah, sure, if it's no trouble."

A few minutes later Bob was sitting on the porch watching as the man prepared the tea. He was truly stunning, tall, broad-shouldered, perfect chest. Wearing only thin, torn shorts, he moved with an easy, animal grace, a concentrated look on his square-jawed, chiseled face, muscles rippling under his smooth ebony skin. Bob was not sure what to say as tea was placed before him.

"Green tea! I'd have pegged you for a Jack Daniels kind of guy."

"Nah. Gave that up after ... well, some time ago."

He sat down facing Bob, who said, "The name's Bob."

"Zachary. Zack to my friends, except there aren't many of those anymore." For the first time his face broke into a smile, flashing dazzling white teeth set in his handsome, black face. God, he was gorgeous.

"So you live out here alone. No friends, you say?"

"Not since my ..." he trailed off looking into the kind, deep brown eyes of this handsome new man. "Not since my wife died. Car wreck. Two months ago."

"Jeez, I'm sorry. You've been here alone ever since?"

"Yup. Keep telling myself I gotta rejoin the land of the living but it's ...complicated." His pale gray eyes moistened as he blinked back tears. He looked hard at Bob who saw intense loneliness in his eyes. The man evidently needed to talk, but hesitated. Bob's easy smile and soft, gentle gaze encouraged him and he blurted out, "Thing is, man, I feel guilty. See, a few weeks before the accident I had cheated on her ... just the once ... and it was ..." He stopped, then said quietly, "It was with a guy. Just that once, but I feel guilty as hell, and confused."

Bob smiled at him gently. "Don't beat yourself up man. Hey, maybe you could use some kind of therapy. That sometimes helps."

"A shrink, you mean. Grief counseling. Yeah I thought of that."

Another silence, and Bob changed the subject. "You work?"

"Not any more. I had a great job, as a site manager of a construction outfit not far from here. But I quit. I had some savings put by, and got a big settlement from the Life Insurance. Now I need someone to tell me what to do with it."

Bob smiled to himself. "Anything else you need?"

Zack frowned. "Yeah, I need the cops round here to stop hassling me. They see a big black guy living all alone and they think I'm a terrorist or something. I could use a friendly cop to call them off, tell them to cool it."

Bob suddenly threw his head back and started to laugh. Zack looked offended and growled. "Did I say something funny?"

"I'm sorry, Zack, but it's amazing. In telling me your troubles you just described the buddies I'm here with. There's me, of course, I'm a financial advisor. Then there's Steve, best shrink in town. There's Mark, the big blonde you rescued, he'd be your friendly cop. And then there's Randy."

"Who's he?"

He's the boss of the construction company we own. The boss of us all, really. You ever think of relocating to the city, get away from all this? L.A. for example?"

"Yeah, that did cross my mind. Maybe when I'm ready I'll ..." Suddenly he caught himself. "Hell, man, I don't know why I unloaded on you like that. I never told anyone all this. Guess I needed to get if off my chest. Must've been something in those brown eyes of yours," and for the second time he smiled. "Anyway, now ..."

"... now you'd like to be left alone. Of course." Bob stood up." Thanks for the tea. Look I'll write down our number for you, and if you ever do hit L.A. you might give a call." Bob smiled. "Make use of our multi-talented team."

They shook hands and Bob felt his knees weaken as the gray eyes held his for a long moment. "Thanks, man," Zack said softly. "You're a good guy. Thanks for listening."

Bob walked away, but at the water's edge he turned round. He saw the solitary black figure once again exercising his body on the porch, all alone with his grief and his guilt, in his shack in the dunes.

His thoughts racing, Bob couldn't bring himself to start the long run back. Instead he walked out into the surf until he was knee-deep in water. With just the sound of the wind and the surf in his ears he gazed out to the horizon. But he didn't see the sea or the sky. Instead, engraved on his mind's eye was the riveting image of the superb black man he had just left.

He saw his virile, handsome face, his magnificent physique glistening in the sun. Saw his loose-limbed, easy strides as he moved around the shack, the ragged shorts hanging round his slim, tight waist below his chiseled abs. He saw his face come close as he leaned forward to place the tea lightly on the table. There was a sad, faraway look in the gray eyes, but then he recalled how the handsome features suddenly broke into a dazzling smile. Finally the image was of the stunning muscle stud exercising, his muscles rippling as he pulled his body upward.

Bob realized that, ever since he first saw the man, and especially now as he stood in the water, he had a solid erection. Without thinking, he dropped his shorts and stroked his cock. It was rock hard and soon began to throb. He murmured to himself, "Zack, his name is Zack." Then he screamed into the wind, "Thank you, sir!" and a huge plume of white juice cum shot from his cock and splashed into the waves below."

"Well for once Darius wasn't exaggerating," Bob said as all six guys gathered round him. He had returned from his run and was describing his meeting with the extraordinary black man. The boys especially were riveted by the account, hanging on Bob's every word. Mark and Steve smiled when Bob mentioned that Zack's needs exactly matched their various skills.

But the story came to an end and it was Darius who put a lid on the subject. With a deep sigh of regret he said, "Ah, well, guess we won't be seeing him again."

But that didn't quite close the topic. Randy had been listening to Bob's tale with a slight scowl on his face as he watched the enthusiasm, elation even, on Bob's face as he described the new man. He had seen a light in his lover's eyes that was usually reserved for him alone. So when they were alone together he suddenly turned to Bob and snapped, "Did he fuck you?"

Bob was totally taken aback. "What!? What kind of a question is that? Of course he didn't. We talked, we drank tea. Green tea!"

"I don't care what color the fucking tea was. Did you want him to fuck you?"

"Randy, I don't know where this is coming from. Of course I didn't." But he didn't tell Randy about his orgasm in the waves ... or what caused it..

The next day, their last before going home, was pure relaxation. The dramas of the previous day were pushed into the background and they enjoyed the beach, the ocean, the warm sun and the joy of just being all together. It was around noon and they were all lazing around the shack, except for Randy who had gone for a long swim in the ocean.

Suddenly Jamie raised his head. "Look!" he said, pointing into the distance. They all strained their eyes and saw a speck on the horizon, growing larger as it approached. It soon became clear that it was a man, a tall black man. It had to be him. It was Zack. He was running, with long, muscular strides, an iconic vision of raw masculinity as the contours of his magnificent body came clear. He seemed to be carrying poles of some sort, one in each hand.

In a few minutes he stopped and walked tentatively up the beach toward them. They all took a sharp intake of breath as they gazed at the beautiful specimen of manhood, his perfect physique gleaming with sweat and sea-spray. He spoke as he approached.

"Hey, I found these." He held out the oars to their boat. "They must have been carried in the same rip current that carried your boat, and then they washed up on the high tide. Figured I should get them back to you before you leave."

There was a stunned silence, then Bob walked forward. "Thanks a million, Zack. But you didn't need to come all this way."

"No sweat. I needed the run anyway."

Again, another uneasy pause, then Bob remembered his manners. "Let me introduce the guys to you. Mark you've already met, the guy you rescued. He's the friendly cop I mentioned."

Mark shook Zack's hand. "Hey, buddy. Thanks for everything you did back there. And don't worry about the cops in town. When we drive through I'll have a word. They won't bother you again."

"And this," Bob said, "is Steve, best shrink in L.A." Zack and Steve shook hands.

"Now the boys ... Pablo." "Pleased to meet you sir," said Pablo. "And Jamie." "Hello, sir," said Jamie shyly. "And this is Darius."

"Hey, bro," Zack said, "how's it going?" And they bumped fists, holding each other's gaze. All the boys were awestruck, and aware of their swelling cocks.

Zack looked around. "I thought you mentioned another guy. The boss. Randy was his name?"

"Yeah, he's swimming," Bob said. "Oh, here he comes now."

Striding through the surf was the larger-than-life figure of Randy, his muscles pumped from the exertion of his swim, flexing and gleaming as he walked toward them. With the sun behind him, his naked body streaming with water, chest heaving, his tousled black hair falling over his chiseled features, the man looked magnificent.

"Hey Randy," Bob shouted. "Come and meet Zack."

Without breaking stride Randy strode up close to face the tall black man. "Randy this is Zack who helped save the boys. Zack, this is Randy who I mentioned earlier."

Everyone would swear later that they saw sparks flash between the eyes of the two men. As they shook hands Randy squeezed harder than necessary. Zack squeezed even harder, and they grasped each other's fist in a crushing grip. It was the implied challenge of two alpha males confronting each other, supremely confident, at the summit of their masculinity. They gazed at each other, with a trace of a smile on their lips, acknowledging their brief, subtle trial of strength.

There was a heavy feeling in the air like the approach of a thunderstorm. The uneasy silence was finally broken when Zack pulled his hand away, and said, "OK, guys. Good to meet you. Safe trip back."

He turned and ran back down to the water. They all gazed after him in silence and soon he was once more a speck on the horizon. Behind them Randy grabbed the back of Bob's neck and said, "Come with me." He pushed him to the shack, almost threw him through the door, and slammed it behind them.

"On the bed," Randy snarled, shoving Bob onto his back on the small bed. "OK, so he's fucking gorgeous ... a fucking stud. But this is me, now, asshole. I saw that gleam in your eye when you talked about him, and when you were with him out there. I know that look." Randy's eyes blazed down at him. "Now, tell me the truth, asshole. Something happened when you met him. Tell me! Don't lie to me."

Bob was shaking with fear. He had never seen Randy like this. He took a deep breath. "I jerked off, sir. After I left him I beat my cock thinking about him. He was so beautiful I couldn't get him out of my mind. I stood in the waves and pictured his face and his body. And the thought of him made me shoot a huge load in the water. I'm sorry, sir. Forgive me."

Randy's expression was a mix of anger, resentment ... and fear. The black stud was incredible, powerful, a supreme specimen of masculinity ... a rival. Randy gazed down at his lover. "OK, you mother-fucker. Time to remind you who you are."

He picked up an old sheet from the floor, ripped it in two and quickly, expertly tied Bob's wrists to the corner bed posts. His eyes blazed as he looked down at the startled, frightened man, and his deep voice growled. "Just so you remember who you belong to. I own you, man. That man is nothing to you. Sure he's beautiful ... he made you cum, for Christ sake." His voice raised to a shout. "But he means nothing to you. Is that clear? Is it clear!?"

"Yes, sir," Bob stammered.

"This is who owns your ass, you fucker." And the brutal assault began. In one swift move Randy pressed his rigid dick against the bound man's ass and with all the force of his massive body plunged it savagely deep inside him. Bob's screams carried out of the shack and competed with the sound of the waves.

Bob had never known Randy like this, had never felt him fuck like this. As the huge shaft pistoned deep inside him his head flew in agony, his face contorted and tears streamed down his face. He pulled frantically at his restraints, his muscles flexing and straining, trying to get free. In his agony he heard the deep voice snarl. "Remember now, man? I'm your master, always have been. That guy is nothing!"

Randy became a wild animal, an animal who felt threatened. For the first time he had met someone, a supremely handsome alpha male, who he knew instinctively could be a rival. And he needed to reassert his dominance in the way he knew best. Bob was terrified as he looked up at the wild, dark demon over him, his magnificent body crashing down on him, the huge rod shattering his ass. The pain was intense. He screamed, wanting it to end.

And then it did. He passed out momentarily, and when he came to he felt the hot, sticky liquid on his chest and in his ass. He realized that they had both shot their loads. He felt the sweating body fall onto his chest. As their heavy breathing subsided he heard the deep voice in his ear.

"Goddamit, Bob, I don't want to lose you. This ... Zack. He's dangerous. Do you want him?"

"I can't live without you, Randy, you know that. It's you I want. Let me show you. Please, sir, fuck me again. Please fuck my ass."

It was an hour or more before the two men emerged from the shack. The boys were setting up for the last meal of their stay, and they kept busy, avoiding eye contact with Randy and Bob. Of course, everyone had heard the noise from inside the shack and had a fair idea what was happening, but they knew better than to intrude. Only Mark looked up and caught Randy's eye.

"Everything OK?" he asked.

"Never better," Randy said calmly.

With this group, any residual clouds did not last long and soon the meal had become as boisterous as ever, with the boys especially talking loudly over each other. But Bob glanced frequently at Randy and knew that there was more to come.

The memory of Zack's brief, but stunning appearance among them still hung in the air. Fleeting as his presence had been, the effect was so powerful that Randy's dominance had been implicitly challenged before them all. Bob knew that Randy had to reassert his supremacy with the group, just as he had done with him in the shack.

It was when they were relaxing after the meal, and the mood was jovial, that Randy made his move. He stood up and shouted for quiet. "OK, guys, there's one more piece of business before we leave. Steve, your turn, buddy.

Steve stood up and the two nearly identical men faced each other. "Get ready guys. Watch and learn how the master initiates a new man into our fraternity."

Darius nudged Pablo and pulled out his camera phone. "Hell, dude," he whispered. "I'm gonna get a video of this!"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 68"