A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 101 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The reunion of Mark and Hassan is intense. "What the fuck am I doing?" Mark thinks. "Years ago he wanted to chain me in his house in the desert, fuck me, torture me. Now here I am going to him in another remote house in a different desert." And, as before, one muscle-god will be chained, at the mercy of the other. Then Hassan meets Jamie. "Their eyes met ... the exotic soldier and the young blonde surfer."

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH -- CHAPTER 101 "MARK & HASSAN -- REUNION"

Inside the truck travelling East on Interstate-10, headed for Palm Springs, man and boy sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, each of them wrapped in thoughts that were a mix of nervous anticipation and exhilaration. They each sensed the other's unease and Mark closed his hand tight over Jamie's on the armrest between them.

"You doing OK, kid."

"Of course, sir. I'm always fine when I'm with you."

Mark smiled to himself in spite of the tension he felt. The cop was usually in total control of himself and whatever situation he confronted. But this time was different. His eyes focused on the road but his thoughts travelled back to the years of his military service in the Middle East. Vividly he saw again the cell where he was being interrogated and tortured by his enemy, the stunningly beautiful Hassan.

Harrowing as that experience had been, he could still feel the sexual lust he had experienced at the time. He saw again the young soldier, shirtless in military fatigue pants, muscular physique with exotic olive-skinned features, high cheekbones, slanted dark eyes and jet black hair. Despite their adversarial situation he recalled how they both had an instinctive mutual respect for each other's beauty ... and much more than just respect.

They were, after all, both beautiful men, Mark a Scandinavian blonde, Hassan with his Asian looks and perfectly sculpted body. As Hassan tortured his captive their hunger for each other had intensified, ending in spectacular orgasms, blasting cum over each other's naked chests as Mark hung helplessly chained to the wall.

As if reading his master's thoughts Jamie suddenly broke the silence, saying quietly. "He must really like you, sir. He came halfway round the world to find you. And now you're finally gonna meet again."

Mark sighed. "Yeah, and I have to level with you Jamie. Even as he worked me over I couldn't help feeling a strong desire for him. You'll see why when you meet him."

Again there was silence as Jamie nursed his own anxiety. He had been terrified of Mark's reunion with Hassan and had blurted out earlier, "I know how you feel about him, sir, and I know you want him. So that's it for me, I guess. You won't have two guys at once so you'll get rid of me. I always knew you would ..."

This insecurity had angered Mark, so in the last week he had gone to great lengths to prove to Jamie that, whatever happened, nothing could diminish the love he felt for his boy. The tool he used was sexual domination. Every evening and morning Mark had fucked Jamie roughly as he was handcuffed to the bed.

Jamie had been in heaven and had promised never again to doubt Mark. He loved the soreness in his ass that he was still feeling after his week-long serial fucking by the handsome cop. And now that his confidence was restored, even though he was still nervous about the future, his fears were mixed with excitement about meeting Hassan. He had said to Bob, "I'm not afraid of him anymore, sir. And Darius says that Hassan is a really spectacular guy ... `with a face and body that won't quit.' So now I can't wait to meet him. I just hope he likes me."

And so now here they were, Mark and Jamie, driving east toward the desert, each man enveloped in memories of a troubled past and thoughts of an even more uncertain future.

The resort Mark had booked them into was a handsome, sprawling complex with lush landscaping, comfortable bungalows and several pools. As soon as they checked in and got into their bungalow Mark took Jamie by the shoulders and smiled at him. "Well, here we are, kid. You ready for a little adventure?"

"As long as it's with you, sir," Jamie said, his cock already hard as he gazed into the blue-gray eyes.

`Your ass still sore from all that drilling I gave it?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie grinned.

"Well, sorry about that but it's about to get a bit sorer. You know what to do, boy.

Jamie eagerly kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his T-shirt, dropped his shorts and lay on his back on the bed, naked. Mark took a sharp intake of breath as he looked down at the beautiful young blonde surfer gazing up at him. Jesus, he was beautiful. Mark ripped open the fly of his jeans and knelt on the edge of the bed. He grabbed Jamie's ankles pushed his legs high and rested his rigid cock against his hole.

"Guess I was pretty rough on your ass all week, uh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, let's try it a bit differently this time. Like this ..." Gently, almost imperceptibly, he increased the pressure until Jamie felt his master's rod slide tenderly into his ass, moving slowly deeper and deeper until it came to rest softly against the muscle at the back of his ass. His eyes opened wide, he waited, and then the head of the cock slid over the inner sphincter and sent jolts of exquisite pleasure through his body.

"Oh, sir," he gasped. "That feels incredible. I love you, sir. I love how you make me feel."

Mark gave his dazzling white-teethed smile. "The feeling's mutual, kiddo. Now here's what I mean when I say I love you." He pulled his cock slowly all the way out, then eased it back into the warm depths of the boy's ass. He did this again ... and again ... increasing the rhythm each time.

Jamie's body was glowing and he moaned with the bliss of feeling his body totally overwhelmed by the most beautiful man he had ever known. He reached up and pressed his palms against Mark's chest, feeling his hard, flexing pecks under his shirt. Mark's tight, thin white T-shirt showed every contour of his perfect physique, his broad shoulders, hard biceps and V-shaped torso.

Without slowing the rhythm of his fucking Mark gently grasped Jamie's wrists and pushed his hands away from his chest. Then leaning back a little he reached behind his own neck, grabbed the neck of his T-shirt and slowly, very slowly, pulled it upward. Jamie gasped as the shirt rose and he saw first the slim waist, then the ridges of Mark's eight-pack abs, then the perfect, square-cut pecs and finally the hard, round deltoids as the shirt came off and was tossed aside.

"Oh, man," he moaned, as he saw the magnificent naked torso moving slowly back and forth, and felt the cock of this spectacular man massage his ass. Jamie narrowed his eyes and saw a god-like vision. He pushed his hips forward, inviting the thick shaft even deeper inside him. He clenched his ass muscles around it and watched in awe as the handsome blonde face was thrown back in an ecstatic jolt of pleasure.

This was making love! Man and boy joined in a perfect union ... the lithe young surfer being fucked by the muscular, shirtless cop. It went on and on and Jamie was flying. But finally he knew that his body could not hold out much longer ... he could not hold back his release.

"Sir ... you feel so perfect sir ... I can't stop, sir ... you're pushing it out of me ... I have to, sir ... " his words ended in a scream as he felt his body spasm. He saw Mark smile down at him and felt the cop's hot juice pour deep inside him. Jamie felt fire race up his legs into his groin and rise through his cock, ending in a spectacular eruption of white cream that shot high in the air and splashed onto the gleaming chest and face of the muscle-god fucking him. A second blast soaked his own face and body.

For long minutes the men gazed at each other as their bodies slowly came to rest, their heart-beats slowed and their breathing subsided. Then, his cock still inside the ass he owned, Mark fell forward onto Jamie, their naked chests sliding over each other on a creamy sea of cum. They kissed, softly, gently, building into a passionate embrace.

Finally Mark pulled his head back and he gazed into his boy's eyes. "Now you see, Jamie. You see how much I love you. We're perfect together. And here's my promise. No matter what happens tomorrow with Hassan or anyone else, you will always be my boy and I'll never leave you. Do you believe that now?"

"I do, sir. Thank you."

The rest of the day drifted by in a timeless haze of pure pleasure. They sunned themselves by the pool, made love in their bungalow, then went back out to the pool. Somewhere in there they had lunch, and after they watched the sun go down they showered together and had dinner served in their room. They went to bed early, made love again, then slept, with Mark's strong arms wrapped around his boy.

They were holding each other almost as if it was their last night together, as if they were afraid of separation. And that was not surprising as they both knew that tomorrow would surely be a test of their love and maybe begin a new chapter in their lives.

The next morning they had an early breakfast and Mark was much more businesslike. He knew what he had to do and wanted to get it over as soon as possible.

There was a knock on their door and Mark opened it and welcomed in two smiling men. They were older guys, still handsome, and clearly a couple of long standing, whom they had met by the pool the day before. They had enjoyed their company and Mark had cultivated them deliberately as potential friends for Jamie during his unavoidable absence."

"Hi, guys," said Joe, the older of the two. "Up early, I see, like us. Brady and I were wondering if you'd like to come jogging with us before the sun gets too hot."

"Thanks for the offer, guys," Mark said, "but I have to go out and take care of some business for a few hours. But maybe Jamie ..."

"Sure," grinned Jamie. He liked the guys a lot, felt safe with them, somehow. And he would welcome their company during the tense hours he would spend while Mark was away. He needed to take his mind off Hassan.

"Think you can put up with a cheeky young punk like this for a while?" Mark smiled.

"Sure," said Brady. "Be our pleasure ... just as long as he runs slow enough for us to keep up with him. We've got a few more years on us than he does, after all."

So it was arranged. As the two men left Mark said to them softly, "Take care of my boy, guys. He's real precious to me. He'll be with you in a minute."

He turned back to hug Jamie. "OK, kid. I'll be gone a couple of hours ... make my peace with Hassan. You stay with Joe and Brady. Then I'll come back to get you and take you out to meet Hassan in his house. And remember what I said last night. I meant every word."

"OK, sir. I'll be waiting for you."

"What the fuck am I doing?" Mark thought to himself as he drove, leaving the town behind and heading into the featureless sand and scrub of the open desert. He looked down at the clothes he was wearing, clothes he had put on instinctively, but now realized their significance ... boots, beige cargo pants, brown T-shirt ... similar to the uniform he had been wearing that day in a different desert when he had been captured and put in chains.

That day! Again vivid images crowded into his mind of the cell and the man who had inflicted so much pain. He recalled how Hassan had been sexually aroused by such a magnificent soldier chained to the wall. And as he tortured him Hassan had wanted to keep him forever, to own him. Mark heard again Hassan's horrifying proposition ... he remembered every word.

"Yes, Mark, I will tie you up, throw you in my truck and smuggle you out of this prison. It will be a long drive as I live far out in the desert. I live alone in a house that is so remote nobody can get away. They would never survive on foot. And you and I, my beautiful Mark, will live alone, pleasuring each other day after day. You will always be naked, and mostly you will be chained as you look so magnificent in chains. You will be ... my English deserts me ... ah yes, you will be my sex slave."

Mark shuddered at the recollection. Thank God he had escaped in time. But then his memory flashed forward to Hassan's voice on the phone a week earlier. "Mark, I rented a small place out on the desert, beyond Indio, somewhere I can get away from Camp Pendleton on my days off."

"The desert? Indio?" Mark had said. "That sounds remote."

"It is. I chose it deliberately. We could talk there. Get things ... sorted out."

So once again Mark thought, "What the fuck am I doing? He wanted to take me to an isolated house in the desert, chain me, fuck me, torture me. And now here I am driving to another remote house in a different desert where the guy is waiting for me. The Arabian desert, the Mojave ... what's the difference? He still lusts for me." He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "And God dammit I still want him. That's why I'm here now, driving God knows where. Like putting my head in a noose. I must be insane."

He drove for mile after mile, leaving all traces of civilization far behind. It was over half an hour before he saw the house. Hassan's directions had been very precise, but what the hell was a house doing in this god-forsaken place? Must have been a ranger station in the distant past, and at least there was still a phone hookup as Mark had called to tell Hassan he was on his way.

He almost missed the sandy track off the road, it was so indistinct. Lucky his truck was a four-wheel drive as he was bumping over rough sand and scrub. As he approached the small, desolate house he saw a military jeep parked in back. So Hassan was here. "Of course he is," Mark muttered ... "waiting for me."

He parked a short distance from the house and closed the truck door quietly. Why the hell was he being so stealthy? What did he expect? What was he afraid of? All he knew was that all his senses were on high alert. He half expected to be jumped from behind and dragged into the house.

But instead there was silence. What passed for the front door was as faded as the house, peeling paint blistered by the scorching sun. He paused, reluctant to knock. He pushed the door and it creaked open. Tentatively, cautiously, Mark walked into a small, sparsely furnished room. He saw through open doors a small kitchen and what must be the bedroom.

But there was no sound. Where the hell was he? Then he heard it, a low moan coming from ... somewhere below? He went into the kitchen and saw another door, smaller than the others. It opened onto stairs ... leading downward, obviously to a cellar. Every nerve in Mark's body told him to leave this god-forsaken place, get the hell out fast, forget this whole insane idea ... forget Hassan.

Forget him? He knew he could never do that. He had to go on, face whatever Hassan had in store for him. Slowly he descended the stairs ... and stopped suddenly at the bottom. So that's where the moaning sound came from. Mark opened his eyes wide in disbelief. "Jesus Christ!"

The cellar was large. Its high ceiling consisted of the structural beams of the house floor and three of the walls were bare brick. The whole space glowed red from the overhead lights, and, incongruously, the fourth wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. And it was the reflection in that mirror that had Mark rooted to the spot.

It was the image of a man, a soldier, stripped to the waist, wearing military fatigue pants and heavy boots. In the stifling heat his muscular torso glistened with sweat as it flexed and strained ... in bondage. The arms were stretched upward, chains running from wrist shackles up to a heavy beam high in the ceiling. The head hung forward and the man moaned almost as if he were in a trance.

Mark shuddered. The stunning tableau was almost a replica of his own captivity years ago, when he too had hung shirtless in chains. The image flashed vividly before his eyes and he again felt the pain and fear of that terrible time. But now there was a difference ... the roles were reversed. This time his captor was the prisoner.

Mark walked across the soft-sand floor and faced the chained captive. He took a sharp intake of breath as he saw for the first time the heavy, black, braided bullwhip hanging loosely round the man's neck. Slowly the head began to rise and Mark found himself staring into the beautiful slanted eyes of the face he could never forget. Hassan!

His heart beating wildly Mark took a step back and gazed in awe. In all his many recollections of the man, he had forgotten just how spectacularly beautiful he was. His straight black hair hung over his high forehead. The olive skin set off the finely etched features, prominent cheekbones, full lips, a strong, square jaw. And that body ... the stunning physique a tribute to many hours honing it to perfection.

The shoulders and biceps bulged as they were stretched by the chains. The lats flared down to a slim waist, cinched by the belt of the fatigues, and the ridges of the eight-pack abs gleamed under the red lights. The chest, the magnificent chest, with its hard nipples, begged to be caressed.

Mark felt his cock grow rigid under his cargo pants. The man was stupendous, a true muscle-god. And he was in chains ... with a whip round his neck. The dark brown eyes gleamed with a look that was, at the same time, plaintive, euphoric, and filled with carnal desire ... an improbable mix of submission and triumph. A trace of a smile brushed his face, his lips parted, and he moaned one word ... "Mark!" Then his face fell forward.

Mark move forward robotically, put his hand under Hassan's chin, lifted the face and pressed his lips against his mouth. They kissed hungrily for long, long seconds, until Mark snapped back to reality and pulled away. He stared into the dark eyes and asked softly, "Why, Hassan? Why?"

"Mark," Hassan breathed, and once again Mark heard that soft, accented, musical voice. "My Mark. My memory served me well ... you truly have the beauty of a god." He paused, struggling to control himself, and resumed hesitantly. "It has to be this way, Mark. I ... in all these years I never forgot you ... or what I did to you. I have been racked with guilt. I chained you, whipped you, tortured you ... a man I desired above all others ... and I planned to have you as my prisoner forever. My shame haunts me, and now I must make amends."

"How?"

"By giving myself to you, Mark, for you to punish me as I did to you. It is why I have chained myself like this and waited for you. You must whip me, hurt me, as I once hurt you. I want you to look at my naked body ... I know you admire it ... and I want you to curl the whip around it with all your strength. It is the only way you will ever forgive me ... the only way I can atone ... the only way we can ever be friends. You have to do this for me. And you will do it ... because your cock is hard for me right now. I know it is. As is mine for you."

Mark was breathing heavily, and Hassan was right. His cock was raging in his pants, already damp with pre-cum. His mind spun with the same conflicting blend of emotions he had felt long ago ... a need to take revenge on a man he lusted for with every fiber of his being. But he didn't stop to think. This was not a time for logic or reason. It wasn't just that Hassan was begging to be tortured. Mark's body was on fire with the desire to do it.

Mark pulled his T-shirt over his head and Hassan gasped as he saw him for the first time stripped to the waist. He pulled the whip from around Hassan's neck and stepped back. The two men gazed at each, their eyes speaking far more eloquently than words ever could. It was a confrontation of two stunningly beautiful muscle-gods, alpha males, one a Nordic blonde the other dark-skinned Asian. And they were about to join in an erotic trial of strength, to resume the physical contest they had abandoned all those years ago. One was about to torture the other in an act of retribution.

And so it began. Riveted by the gleaming muscles of Hassan's naked torso Mark raised the whip, it whistled through the air, and he watched in awe as it curled round the chained man's back until the tip stung his gleaming chest. Hassan flinched in pain, but did not scream. Not yet. Instead the smile returned to his lips and he whispered, "Thank you, sir."

Again Mark's biceps flexed, again the whip coiled round the magnificent body ... again and again. Mark moved from side to side, aiming each blow at a different angle of the naked torso as he watched Hassan's expression change from euphoria to agony. The tortured muscles were soon striped with each lash of the whip. The superb body jerked and twisted against the chains, in a reflexive attempt to avoid the blows.

Mark was spellbound by the sight of this beautiful bodybuilder, stripped to the waist, being brutally lashed, his body writhing desperately, muscles gleaming with sweat under the red lights. And the erotic image served only to intensify Mark's desire to cause more pain. Hassan had wanted Mark to take revenge ... but this was not simply revenge. Mark was driven by raw lust ... lust for this superb specimen of male perfection in helpless bondage. Mark had always admired beautiful men, and that's what drove him now, gave him added strength.

Mark too was pouring with sweat, streaming down his face and over his body, muscles bulging now from the extreme physical effort. By this time Hassan had endured long minutes under the lash and tears were running down his face. No more the stoical macho gaze. Now his face was twisting from side to side, black hair flying ... and he was screaming. His piercing cries echoed round the basement walls ... and both men knew that in this desolate, lonely place there was no one to hear but themselves.

But despite his agony Hassan did not beg ... did not plead for release. As he saw the shirtless blonde muscle-god raining blow after blow down on him, he begged for more. "Thank you, sir," he screamed. "Punish me, sir. Rip my body. Whip me harder. Make me suffer, as you suffered."

There was a sudden momentary respite as Mark moved forward, unbuckled Hassan's belt, ripped open his pants so they felt round his feet. He was naked underneath and his huge, dark cock sprang out rigid as a pole.

The punishment resumed as the whip lashed Hassan's magnificent chest, slashing across the pecs as they flexed desperately to absorb the blows. Then came the ass. Mark was behind him now and he gasped as he saw the white mounds of Hassan's perfect ass. He had an almost demonic look in his eyes as he raised the whip and slammed it across the ass, riveted by the sight of the globes bouncing under the fury of the lash.

The ass twisted and flexed, trying desperately to lessen the agony of the cutting whip, but soon it was ablaze, criss-crossed by savage red stripes. Mark moved round to face Hassan again and gazed at his cock, standing straight out like a long, thick rod. That was his next target. With careful aim he curled the whip round the cock. It wound mercilessly around the shaft, then Mark yanked it back and it spun off causing agonizing pain.

That was it. That was the breaking point. Again Mark coiled the whip round the shuddering cock and again it pulled off, unwinding in a shattering burst of pain. Their eyes met in an intense union of torturer and victim. "This is it, Hassan," Mark breathed. "Show me, man. Show me why you came back."

One last time the whip curled round the cock and spun off. The huge shaft shuddered and Hassan threw his head back and screamed in pain and ecstasy, "I love you, Mark. I love you!" A huge plume of white semen blasted from his cock, rising high in the air and plashing on Mark's face and chest. Mark didn't flinch. He waited, and a second stream of warm juice poured over him ... the ultimate offering of abject submission by the man chained before his master.

Mark stopped. He stood motionless feeling Hassan's juice flowing down his face. He felt his pants soaked with his own spontaneous orgasm that had exploded as he watched Hassan suffer.

And then suddenly everything changed. It was as if a bright light flashed on, as if reality, reason, flooded back into Mark's mind ... the calm, logical mind of a cop. He stared at the naked man hanging in chains and was horrified by the vicious red stripes covering every inch of the muscular body. The man was a shattered wreck ... and Mark had caused it. He had lost all self-control and had brutally whipped the man whose glorious body and face had haunted him all these years.

He was appalled by what he had done. He, who avoided violence at all costs, had perpetrated an extreme act of violence against this helpless, chained man. His eyes opened wide and he screamed, "NO!" He staggered forward and folded the man in his arms, caressing the bruised flesh, kissing the face in a frenzy of atonement. He was whimpering. "Oh god, what have I done to you, man. This is not how it should be."

"It is," Hassan moaned. "I am the guilty one. It is I who tortured your perfect body all those years ago."

"But that was war," Mark pleaded. "You were carrying out orders. But the war is over. We are civilized now. Man, you are spectacular, I desire you, lust for you. I should have made love to you, not tortured you."

His voice trailed off and Hassan managed a weak smile. "Then show me Mark. Now you have ravaged my body, heal it. Do to me what I have dreamed of all this time, what has been the cause of many solitary orgasms over the years as I masturbated thinking of you. Please Mark. Do it now."

Mark looked into his eyes and smiled. He moved behind him, ripped open his pants and pressed his groin against the tender, burning ass. Instantly his cock grew hard again. He pushed the tip against the hole, wrapped his arms round Hassan's naked chest and looked over his shoulder into the mirror at the incredible image of the chained muscle god.

"Here it is then, man. This is what you dreamed of." He pushed his hips forward and felt the head of his cock enter the burning ass. He heard Hassan moan in ecstasy, felt the ass push back against him, inviting his cock to pierce deep inside him. It was an iconic image that fantasies are made of ... two spectacular muscle-gods joined in an act of love and lust that had been years in the making. Their bodies rocked together in perfect harmony as the shaft of one man pistoned deep inside the body of the other.

They were on fire. Hassan clenched the muscles of his ass round the hard rod piercing him and gloried in the effect on Mark's shuddering body. Mark lowered his hands and wrapped them round Hassan's cock that was dripping with pre-cum. It didn't have to take long ... it couldn't take long, the sensation was so intensely erotic. They were united, joined in a crucible of pain and torture, in the ultimate trial of strength. Mark gazed at Hassan's exotic face in the mirror and said softly, "Now it's time, man. This is why you returned, and this is why I came here to you. It's this ..."

He felt his cock pulse deep inside the ass of this stunning man and he moaned as his cock erupted for the second time. In his clenched hands he felt Hassan's cock shudder and once again explode with a stream of cum that splashed down onto the floor and was absorbed by the warm sand at his feet.

Mark reached up and unbuckled the shackles. Hassan's body slumped limply into his arms and together they sank to their knees in the sand. In a few seconds they were lying together, holding each other, rolling in the hot sand as body pressed against body in a physical manifestation of the intense intimacy they felt ... a passion forged in acts of retribution, submission, and raw masculine lust.

Half an hour later they stepped out of the rudimentary shower in the spartan bathroom. They toweled off, pulled on their pants and sat at the kitchen table, staring at each other wordlessly. They were at a loss how to proceed now after the intensity of their reunion. Their unease was resolved by Hassan making the simplest of offerings. "Beer?"

The mere companionable act of drinking helped them to relax, and Mark raised the subject that had been on his mind since the moment his thoughts had cleared as they lay together in the sand. "I have a boy, Hassan."

"Yes I know. Bob told me. He must be a very special boy to have been chosen by a man such as you."

"He is, very special ... and I love him. If you and I are to be friends you have to meet him. I brought him with me. He is in Palm Springs now waiting for me to go to him and bring him here."

"Does he know about me?"

"He knows everything. At first he saw you as a threat, but then I calmed him down by demonstrating to him just how much I loved him."

Hassan smiled. "I bet you did. I would like to have seen that."

"Yeah," Mark grinned. "It was... it was wonderful. So now I have to leave you. I'll be gone a little more than an hour and I'll bring him to meet you. He's looking forward to it."

"So am I," Hassan said. "Very much."

Jamie was edgy, full of nervous excitement as he sat next to Mark in the truck and watched the city slip away, to be replaced first by scrub and then by endless, empty expanses of sand. He spoke as much to calm his nerves as to seek information.

"Did you ... er ... did you settle things with Hassan, sir, if you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind, Jamie. I want you to know everything. And yes, we did. Hassan had been carrying guilt all these years, a burden of shame for what he had done to me, and the only way he could atone, to make things right between us, was for me to punish him ... physically. He had chained himself up and I whipped him, savagely ... his back, his chest, his ass and finally his cock, until he shot a huge load of cum.

"Then it was my turn to feel ashamed. I wasn't proud of what I had done so I did what he pleaded for next. I fucked him ... and it felt wonderful. But my next thought was for you. Hassan and I have a strong attraction for each other, you have to know that, but I want you to be part of our friendship. You are my number one boy and always will be. And if you find it too difficult, if you dislike Hassan, I will leave him and never see him again."

"Oh no, sir. That mustn't happen. If you like Hassan, admire him, then so shall I. Just so long as you love me I don't care how ... well ... how hot you find him."

Mark laughed. "Well, he is hot, as you say. Extremely. You'll see for yourself. Look, over there in the distance ... in the sand dunes. That's the house."

When they went into the house Hassan was not there. They walked through the main room into the kitchen, where the door leading out to the back yard was open. They went outside and saw the back of a man bending over what looked like an ancient barbecue. Jamie gasped as he saw the broad, naked back, striped with the angry red welts of the whip.

As he heard them Hassan stood up straight, turned to face them and flashed a gleaming smile. Jamie's knees went weak and he grabbed Mark's arm. He had not expected this. He had expected a handsome man, but assumed that Darius had exaggerated as usual. But he had expected nothing like this. The exotic face, the spectacular body, stripped down to loose fatigues, barefoot, shirtless. He was pornographically beautiful.

"Hey, you must be Jamie," Hassan said and held out his hand. Jamie grasped it and could have sworn that a jolt of electricity shot through him. He was stunned into silence and looked away, as if he had been blinded by looking straight into the sun. His eyes adjusted and he stared back at Hassan and felt his cock grown stiff in his shorts. He could think of nothing to say except, "Hello, sir."

Hassan smiled at him. Well, he thought, Mark deserves nothing but the best and he's found it. This boy is gorgeous, in his surfer shorts and loose blue tank top. A blonde surfer type, an icon of Southern California youth, tanned, beautiful body and a wide-eyed innocent look that would melt ice. Hassan's cock too was hard as iron.

Mark smiled. He sensed their admiration for each other, though he was unaware of their raging hard-ons. "Well, you two seemed to have hit it off. Guess I don't have to worry about you liking each other. That's a relief. How about a beer?

At the table Mark and Hassan now felt liberated and chatted amiably, all the heavy action behind them and Jamie sitting between them. Jamie was mostly silent, though he and Hassan exchanged glances and smiles while the men talked. Finally Mark stood up and said, "Was that a barbecue I saw you tinkering with outside?"

"Yeah," said Hassan, "but it's an antique. Hasn't been used for years. Not sure it still works. And I don't have much in the way of supplies out here either."

They went outside and Jamie, becoming more confident, said, "I could make this work, sir. Piece of cake. I used to have one like this when I was a kid. Just needs fixing up, a good clean, then some charcoal ... and meat, of course," he grinned.

"That's it, then," said Mark. "Barbecued steak it is. Why don't you get the barbecue into shape, kid, and I'll take a run into Palm Springs and get supplies ... charcoal, three steaks and all the trimmings. Give you two a chance to get to know each other a bit. Shouldn't take me much more than an hour there and back ... and then we eat like kings. OK?"

"Fine with me," said Hassan.

Jamie too was enthusiastic, eager to play a part in pulling the meal together. "Won't take me long to spruce up that old contraption out there, sir. It'll be all ready by the time you get back."

"That's my boy," smiled Mark and ruffled his hair. "You take care of the barbecue, and you Hassan, take care of my boy, OK? He's real precious."

He hugged Jamie and looked earnestly into his eyes. "You OK with this, kid? I'll be right back. Hassan's a good guy. You'll be safe with him."

"I'll be fine, sir. Don't worry about me. I'm having a great time."

Mark leapt into his truck and took off. Jamie watched the truck disappearing across the desert and turned back into the house. Suddenly alone with Hassan he felt a bit intimidated, but elated just the same. He really was one of the hottest men he had ever seen. He and Mark were such different types ... the one a blonde god and the other an exotic, dark Asian ... that there was no comparison, no competition. But Hassan really was a knock-out.

Jamie took a deep breath and got to work. He leaned over the barbecue and began scraping away at the grime. Hassan came up behind him and said, "Hey, Jamie, you're gonna get filthy like that. You'll really mess up those neat surfer shorts you're wearing. Come inside and I'll find you something old of mine that you can wear and not worry about getting dirty.

In the bedroom Hassan rummaged in a drawer and pulled out an old pair of shorts that were already grimy and threadbare from wear. "Here, kid, put these on."

"OK, sir," Jamie grinned. If he felt just a little nervous about being alone, changing clothes in the bedroom of this hot, muscular man, he didn't really notice. There was something about Hassan's easy-going nature that made him feel comfortable. He knew they were going to be friends ... and anyway, Mark liked and trusted him. So everything was fine.

Jamie pulled off his T-shirt, dropped his shorts and bent down to pick up the shorts Hassan had thrown onto the bed. Hassan watched as Jamie undressed and he gasped as he saw the beautiful, young, tanned body, naked now ... the perfection of youth. His gazed fixed on the tan line at his waist, setting off the rounded white globes of his stunning young ass.

Holding the shorts Jamie turned round and smiled at Hassan. Their eyes locked, they took a deep breath, and the smiles faded. All other thoughts went from their head as they gazed at pure male beauty ... the spectacular dark muscle-stud and the youthful blonde surfer. Their cocks were rock hard.

Hassan said softly, "Don't put the shorts on yet, Jamie. Come here...

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 102."