A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 144 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Pablo's rampage knocks Randy off-balance. He loses face and must reassert his dominance as boss. "His eyes ran over Bob's perfect face and body. `Shit, you are so fucking beautiful, man. Any man who can tame a gorgeous, alpha stud like you still deserves to be boss. On your knees, man'." Later he watches the desolate Pablo, "his beautiful boy, abandoned by everyone." He has to show him he is still loved.

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH-CHAPTER 144 –"Randy and Pablo – Like Father Like Son"

"What the fuck?" The shout bounced off the walls and rage filled the room. Pablo had just come home and stood horrified by the sight of his naked lover Darius with a boy in his arms. Darius said brightly, "Hey, dude, you're home. This is Eddie, the kid from the bar in Palm Springs I told you about. He's ..."

But he got no farther as Pablo's fist slammed into his face, making him reel backwards and collapse on the bed. Dimly he saw Pablo punch Eddie in the stomach, then drop him with a forearm smash across his back. Alarmed by all the noise Nate had run into the room, but Pablo kneed him in the stomach and banged his head against the wall. On his way out of the house Pablo also made short work of Jamie and then the twins. Leaving a trail of destruction he turned at the gate and yelled dementedly, "So long suckers!" And he was gone.

Pablo's rage had been fermenting for a long time. In recent weeks he had felt his position in the house down-shift in a subtle way. Pablo had always basked in his role as the boss's boy and adopted son ... the `senior boy'... but now he felt threatened by the rise in status of the other boys. First came the story of Darius's triumph in the desert bar, putting on a hot show with the magnificent Zack. And who was this Eddie who seemed to idolize Darius?

And now Nate was the star of the house, with his two masters, Hassan and Adam. Jamie had the gorgeous Greek-god cop, and the twins were the boys of the much-loved leader of the household, Bob. Pablo's insecurity made him imagine demons around him where none existed. His self-doubt, envy and paranoia gnawed at him, working its way through him like a malevolent worm. And the shock of seeing Darius holding the young Eddie had made all Pablo's anger and resentment erupt like a dormant volcano coming to life.

Mercifully Mark, Bob and Zack had come home from work soon after Pablo left and were shocked by the carnage that met their eyes. Mark knelt beside Jamie, crumpled in a heap on the lawn. Bob was helping the twins, and Zack was upstairs cradling Darius who had felt the full fury of Pablo's fists.

Eddie had fled, but as Mark drove home he had seen the terrified boy and brought him back to the house. Nate had also left the house. He knew he was no match for Pablo and, thinking he was still in the house, knew he had to get help. At that point the men had not yet come home from work but there was one obvious man to turn to, Nate's new master, Hassan.

Hassan had been shocked to see his boy running down to his house, sporting a black eye and a growing bump on his forehead. Nate shouted frantically, "Sir, you've gotta go down to the house. They need help. Pablo's gone crazy ... beat everyone up. Please go quick, sir."

Hassan made sure that Nate was only bruised and said, "OK, kiddo, lie down and rest. I'll take care of everything, then I'll be back." As he ran up to his jeep his rage ignited. His boy had been hurt ... Adam's boy, the boy Hassan had sworn to protect. He growled, "Randy! That fucking asshole and his crazy kid, out of control again. OK, pal, you're dealing with me now."

Soon after he left, as Nate rested in the guesthouse, another truck pulled up at the main gate of Steve and Lloyd's house. The driver pressed the buzzer and Steve's voice came through the intercom. "Who is it?" There was a long pause until the haggard voice finally answered.

"Uncle Steve. It's me, Pablo. I'm in trouble. Can I come in?"

Back at the house the men were starting to bring things under control, coming to a consensus that the boys were not injured badly enough to need medical attention, beyond ice-packs and rest. Zack had left Darius briefly and come out to take care of the dazed Eddie, putting his arm round his shoulders as they sat at the table by the pool.

Suddenly the gate opened and Randy stood there, the last one to get home from work as usual. He stopped in his tracks, stunned by the chaotic scene on the lawn. "What the fuck's going on here?" he barked.

In reply all he got was three pairs of accusing eyes glaring up at him. It was Randy's boy who had caused this mayhem, and instinctively the men blamed his master, fairly or not. They knew that Pablo always imitated Randy, and Randy was famous for solving every conflict with his fists. Like father like son.

"What?" Randy growled defensively, acutely aware of the animosity projected at him.

Bob stood up. "We're not sure of all the details but it seems that Pablo completely lost his cool and attacked all the boys here. Darius is upstairs, hurt the worst of them. Fortunately there seem to be no broken bones ... no thanks to your crazy boy."

"Where is he?" Randy looked around him, clenching his fists.

"We don't know. He split right after his rampage."

Just then they heard the screech of brakes outside. Pablo, they all assumed ... but they were wrong. The gate crashed open and Hassan stood there, still dressed in his military fatigues, his eyes blazing. His gaze settled like a laser on Randy as he strode forward to confront him. His voice was cold as ice.

"My boy has been hurt. The boy I swore to protect has been hurt." His anger exploded. "What the fuck's wrong with you, man? Don't you have any control over that train-wreck of a kid of yours? He's nothing but a young thug ... and we know where he gets that from."

Randy stepped forward menacingly and Hassan gave a sarcastic laugh. "What, you gonna take a swing at me, asshole? Just like your fucking boy. Well let me save you the trouble, pal." He hauled back and slammed his fist across Randy's face, sending him sprawling across the ground.

But it took more than a fist to subdue Randy, a street fighter all his life. He sprang to his feet, lowered his head and charged forward, slamming his shoulder into the soldier's stomach. In seconds they were rolling on the ground, trading blows, yelling obscenities at each other. Like two maddened bulls locking horns they heaved and struggled for the advantage in a savage fight, bodies smothered in dirt, their shirts soon torn to shreds.

Like a frozen tableau men and boys gazed at the two warriors writhing in the dust. But then the men sprang to life. Mark and Zack used all their strength trying to separate them and Bob yelled, "That's enough! Now you're the thugs. Guys, this is not the way. Now cool it!" A combination of Mark and Zack's physical efforts and Bob's angry shouts finally had an effect and soon the men were standing glaring at each other like raging stallions pawing the ground, held back by Mark and Zack.

Bob took command. "Jamie, take Eddie upstairs to Darius and make sure they're both OK. Stay with them until we send for you." As Jamie helped Eddie toward the house Bob looked around at the food and plates scattered over the ground. "Kyle, Kevin, if you're feeling up to it, do you think you can salvage dinner for this evening?"

"No problem, sir," said Kevin. "An hour tops," Kyle added.

"Thanks, guys ... you're the best. We'll talk later.

It was a somber group of men that gathered in the living room with beers that the twins had brought into them, Randy and Hassan nursing bruised bodies and bruised egos. It was hard to know where to start but Bob's first instincts were to defend Randy. "Hassan, I know how protective you feel toward Nate, for his sake and Adam's, but I don't think it's productive to lay all the blame on Randy. Pablo has a mind and a will of his own. He'll probably be back soon and we have to work out how to handle him."

Just then the house phone rang and again they assumed it was Pablo. Bob picked up, listened, and looked up at Randy. "It's Steve for you, buddy. I'll put him on speaker." Steve's voice was calm and authoritative. "Good, you're all there. Well, the good news is that Pablo's here at my house. The not-so-good news is that he's in a hell of a state. He's not very coherent but from what I gather from his ramblings he lost control of himself at the house and beat up all the boys. Anyone badly hurt?"

"They'll live," said Randy sullenly.

"I've given Pablo a sedative and he's resting in the guest room. Obviously it's not a good idea for him to go back down to you ... I would say not for a few days. I'll keep him here and talk to him. After all, I am technically his therapist. But I think one thing I'll insist on is that he goes back to work as soon as possible, then come back up here in the evenings. It's important to re-establish his normal routine ... give him something productive to do. One thing I ask, Randy, is that you do nothing for now. Don't interact with him at work if possible, OK bro? Right, well that has to be it for now ... I have to go and keep an eye on him. I'll call again later."

He hung up abruptly and the guys looked at each other, digesting the news. But before anyone could speak there was a cough at the door. They looked up in surprise ... it was Darius, his face bruised and his arm in a make-shift sling, but his eyes were bright and eager. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sirs, but is it alright if I say something?"

"Sure, kid," Zack said. "Go ahead."

"Well, sir, I heard what Steve said and I'm glad Pablo is with him. But I was wondering, after he's had his therapy and stuff with Steve, do you think I could handle him after that ... take care of him and sort out everything with the other guys? Lot of bruised feelings ..." he managed a grin ... "and bruised faces too. But I kind of feel it's important for the boys to work all this out for themselves. And I think we can, sirs."

The men looked at each other in surprise, impressed at this new, confident Darius. Zack spoke for them all. "Thanks for the suggestion, Darius. But, er, what do you plan to do first?"

"Well, nothing, sir. Not for a while. Kinda let the dust settle ... let all the tempers cool down."

"And later?"

"When Pablo's had time to think I'll talk to him, try to find out why he did what he did... then see if we can fix it. Pablo's my lover, sir, my best friend. I gotta help him somehow." He grinned awkwardly. "What d'ya think, sir?"

Zack looked around at the others who were giving nods of approval. "OK, kid, it's up to you, then. Now what about young Eddie?"

"I've thought about that too, sir. I feel real bad about him. He's a shy young kid and he's fallen into something here that's really scared the bejesus out of him. He looks up to me and I should protect him. If it's OK, I'd like to invite him to stay while he's in L.A. Maybe we could stay over at your house, sir, and the twins in your guest house can keep an eye on him too."

Zack smiled warmly at him. "Sounds like a plan, kiddo. You seem to have thought of everything ... I'm really impressed ... real proud of you, boy."

"I think that goes for all of us, Darius," Bob smiled. "Now, like Steve said, keeping up the normal routine is important, so if you three guys are up for it, the twins said they can have dinner ready in an hour. Go back and tell them, and take good care of Eddie. Right around now he must be feeling he's in some kind of madhouse."

"Leave it to me, sir," Darius grinned ... "and thanks for listening." As he left the room the guys could swear there was more pride and confidence in his stride than they had ever seen before.

Mark said it best. "You know, that guy came into the room a boy and went out a man."

Hassan left the meeting to go back to Nate. Randy had said little at the meeting and Bob could see he was anxious to leave too. He saw in his eyes a mix of shock, bewilderment and even embarrassment. "Hey, buddy," he said quietly, "there's nothing more we can do here so what say we go up to the room and shower before dinner, eh?"

They got up and as they left the room Bob turned and said, "Thanks guys." Mark and Zack nodded in tacit understanding that Bob had work to do. And he did. When they got to their room Randy paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. He felt he had lost control, not only of his boy but, in a way, of his position as leader of the group. He had lost face, and Hassan's words still rang in his ears ..."What's wrong with you, man? ... Don't you have any control over that train-wreck of a kid of yours?

Control? He'd show them control! Fuck Hassan ... fuck them all and their accusing looks. He was the boss, goddamit, and he would damn-well prove it. His eyes fell on Bob, who knew exactly what came next. It always did when Randy was angry or when he needed to prove his macho dominance.

At times like this Randy scared him a bit, but Bob's overwhelming sensation was lust for this wild, savage man ... the man who had tamed him all that time ago in the motel room. Despite the pain and degradation Randy had inflicted on him then Bob had never been so excited in his life and had found himself coming back for more, even if it meant crawling at the master's feet. Now their eyes locked and the same spark flashed between them as on that very first time. And just as it had been then, Bob's cock was now rock hard in his pants.

As so often before Randy was taking out all his frustrations on the man he loved. If he could make this glorious, beautiful man submit to him he could make anyone submit. "What?" he barked. "You too? You think because my kid fucked up bad that I've lost control? Well fuck the kid, and fuck you, man. I'm still the boss, and I'm still your boss. Get those fucking clothes off, man."

Bob was no longer the proud, confident business executive. He longed to surrender himself to this demon gypsy of a man. Frantically he threw off his jacket, ripped off his tie and shirt, and dropped his pants. In seconds he was naked, his cock standing out rigid as a pole. Randy gazed at him and all his confidence flooded back. Time to prove to them both who was boss.

"That's it asshole, fucking butt naked ... and you're all mine. His eyes ran over Bob's perfect face and muscular body. "Shit, you are so fucking beautiful, man. Yeah, a man who can tame a gorgeous, alpha stud like you still deserves to be boss, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you're gonna do exactly what I tell you?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK, stud, on your knees." Bob fell obediently to his knees and focused on the huge bulge in Randy's greasy cargo pants. He ripped them open and gasped as he always did when he saw the massive club rear up before his eyes. He felt Randy's hand behind his head and within seconds he was gagging on the rod crammed in his mouth. He knew this was not love ... it was savage animal lust. This was the side of Randy that turned him on most and he labored mightily to please his master, gulping hard, squeezing his throat muscles round the pulsing cock forcing its way inside him.

Randy had worked hard all day, sweating in the hot sun, and Bob now tasted, smelled, the rancid, sweaty stink of the construction worker's cock and balls. When the cock was deep inside his throat he buried his face in the damp, wiry pubic hair, relishing the musky, male taste of this rugged man.

As Randy looked down at the spectacular Superman face impaled on his iron rod he became more savage than ever, grabbing Bob's tousled black hair and pulling his face forward onto is cock again and again. He was reaffirming his macho power to himself but, more importantly, to Bob, the man whose opinion mattered most to him in the world.

By now Bob was gagging on the huge tool, gulping down the pungent taste of pre-cum that oozed from it. His throat was aching and he waited for the relief of Randy's explosion in his mouth. But that didn't happen. Now at a pitch of desire for his beautiful lover Randy suddenly yanked his cock out of his mouth, pulled him up by the shoulders and threw him bodily down onto the bed.

Bob bounced as he fell naked on his back and looked up in a daze. He had never seen anything more exciting. Towering over him was a heaving, sweating stallion of a man, eyes blazing with lust, black hair flying over his face, huge horse dick rearing up before him. This was the King of the Gypsies, the wild-eyed dark demon, the most spectacular man Bob had even known. Randy murmured to himself as he kicked off his boots and dropped his pants.

"They think I've lost control. Well think again, mother-fuckers. I'm the master of this house and I can do anything I fucking-well want." Naked now, he stared down at his lover, lying at his mercy. "And I have the most beautiful man who ever lived. Look at that face, that body ... totally fucking gorgeous ... and he's mine. He's mine! And I'm gonna fuck him in the ass!"

It all happened in seconds. Still standing Randy bent forward and grabbed Bob's ankles, pulled his legs up and held them apart. His eyes were like lasers piercing Bob's as he shouted, "This is it, man. This is your master!" In one stunning move he fell forward and the power of his fall drove his cock straight into the helpless ass of his victim. The pain of the steel shaft plunging into him was worse than Bob had ever felt.

His scream reverberated round the room, his head flew backwards and his body convulsed, writhing in a reflexive attempt to escape. But Randy fell further forward and clamped his hands on Bob's wrists pinning them to the bed above his head. His blazing eyes penetrated Bob's and instantly the men became one, joined by that magical sensation that swept away pain, rage, and savagery, leaving behind a dreamlike world of pure, indescribable passion.

Impaled on his lover's cock Bob suddenly became still and gazed up at the man he worshipped. There was no pain now ... but he wanted more ... he longed to feel the jackhammer of the brutal construction worker who had first tamed him so long ago. His eyes gleamed as he moaned, "Fuck me, man ... my ass is yours, sir. Fuck me ... hurt me ... make me beg you to cum in my ass."

"Oh, yeah. Here it comes, man." Randy pulled all the way out, paused ... and then drove his shaft into him again. It became a piston, plunging in and out, faster and faster, piercing to the depths of Bob's ravaged ass. Now the searing pain broke through Bob's euphoria and he began yelling again, his muscles flexing desperately, tears streaming from his eyes.

Randy stared manically at the beautiful face, contorted in pain, thrashing from side to side, and the sight overcame all the frustration and doubt that had gripped him earlier. He was back in control, reasserting his strength, pounding ass. He was the boss, he could do anything, even dominate a man as beautiful as this, just as his boy dominated the others. `Yeah, he's my boy alright ... tough like me ... tougher than all the rest. He does what he wants ... and I can do what I like to this gorgeous stud.'

In his delirium of power Randy lost control and entered another world. He looked down at a face that wasn't Bob's anymore. It was simply a spectacularly beautiful face that he needed to possess, to control. He was the master, he could do anything to it... own it ... use it ... hurt it. "I can do anything!" he yelled, raising his hand and slamming it across the gorgeous face. The face flew to the side, twisted in pain.

Randy blinked and shook his head. Now it was a face he knew, a face he loved. Bob's face! He had just slammed his hand across the face of the man he loved more than his own life...

There was a stunned silence. Then Randy's eyes opened wide and he screamed, "NO!" It was as if floodlights blazed on, bathing the scene in the unforgiving white light of reality. He had just hit his lover, the man he idolized! He had savaged his ass and now he had slammed his face. He reared back, his cock wrenched free and he leapt to his feet, pacing the room, his face buried in his hands. He was lost, devastated by what he had done. A minute later he looked down and saw Bob lying in a daze, an angry red mark on his cheek.

Randy fell on the bed beside him, pulled Bob into him and cradled him in his arms, talking incoherently. "Oh, man, what have I done? ... to you, of all people. Please forgive me, man ... don't leave me ... please don't leave me. I don't know, I ... I went crazy. Just like my boy did ... I'm no better than him ... that's where he gets it from ... from me. What am I gonna do, man? Help me, Bob ... please ... I can't..."

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, buddy." Randy raised a tear-stained face. Bob held it in his hands, pulled it toward him and kissed him gently, lovingly until he felt the tension drain from Randy's body. They pulled away and Randy pleaded, "What am I gonna do, man?"

Bob smiled, "I love you, Randy, you know that. Do you love me?"

"More than my life, man."

"And do you love Pablo?"

"Of course ... he's my boy."

"Then there's your answer ... the answer to everything. When did you last tell Pablo you loved him?'

"What? I dunno ... that's not something I do much."

"Then start, Randy. Tell him ... show him." Bob smiled at his lover's bewildered face."

"Here ... let me show you how that goes."

Randy allowed himself be pushed over onto his back and he looked up at Bob kneeling on the bed between his legs. In a daze he saw Bob push his legs up and he felt the tip of his cock against his ass. He heard Bob's deep, velvet voice.

"It is all about control, Randy ... but about yielding control. Stop trying so hard. Just give yourself to me and let me love you." He smiled at him as he slid his cock gently into Randy's ass. "See? See how good that feels. The man who loves you is inside you, making love to you. Forget being the boss, the master. Just let me love you, Randy."

Randy's tense muscles relaxed. He let all the anger, frustration and fear drain from him as he felt his lover's cock moving tenderly in his ass. He moaned softly, his gaze transfixed on the image of this spectacular man rising and falling above him. Again their eyes met and they were joined as one, but not as before in the heat of lust and passion. This time they were floating together in a pool of pure love, and Randy was being hypnotized by his lover's voice.

"Now it's me in control, buddy. And you're gonna do what I tell you. Look at me, man. Feel my cock in your ass, and love me. Love what you see, what you hear, what you feel. Love me so much that you can't hold back, that you have to cum. That's it, buddy. Show me..."

Tears were flowing from Randy's eyes. He uttered a low moan as he felt cum rising up through his cock and streaming over his naked chest. He looked up through his tears and pleaded, "Now you, man," and he was answered with the warm sensation of his lover's semen pouring deep inside his ass. They gazed at each other silently until their orgasms were spent.

Minutes later they lay in each other's arms. But Bob was still in control. "Now here's what happens next, buddy. Steve is taking care of Pablo right now, and later Darius will take over and square everything with the boys. Your role in all this is simply to show Pablo you still love him. In the meantime, we go down to dinner now and you have to be real nice to the boys, especially to Eddie. Only you can set the tone, show them that everything's on the mend. You got it?"

"OK, sir," Randy grinned. "You're the boss. Shit, I started out trying to tame you but it seems it worked out the other way round."

"Oh yeah, well about that." Bob's voice became more submissive "That wild gypsy who worked me over a while ago ... I, er, I don't want him to go away ... I want him back soon. Long ago in that motel room I fell in love with a rugged construction worker, a dark savage, and I still crave him. I want to kneel to the King of the Gypsies."

Randy gazed at his lover and his face broke into a dazzling smile. He reached out, grabbed Bob's head and pulled his face into his. Their lips joined and Randy kissed him ferociously, forcing his tongue inside him, grinding their mouths together savagely. Their lips were clamped so tight that as they inhaled and exhaled deeply they shared the same air back and forth. Suddenly it stopped and Randy was gazing at Bob, his eyes dancing. "That do it for you, asshole? That's just a down-payment. The rest comes later. See buddy, the wild gypsy never really left."

Randy had been floundering in the lake of self-doubt and confusion and now he had just broken the surface, thanks to Bob. But his boy was still adrift in the murky waters and had yet to see daylight. And that's where Steve came in.

After Pablo's irrational explosion he had driven around in a state of acute muddle and insecurity and found himself, almost by instinct, at Steve's gate. The man he really wanted was his master and adoptive dad, Randy, but he knew he would get a frosty reception there. He had let him down badly and now he was desperate. Steve, a near carbon copy of his brother Randy, was the obvious choice. Pablo was scared of accusation and recrimination and he knew that what he would get from Steve would be the impartial, non-judgmental help of the therapist.

Steve's reaction of giving Pablo a sedative had been an astute one, and Pablo slept soundly in the guest room all night. In the morning the handsome architect Lloyd gave him breakfast and lent him a T-shirt that hung on Pablo loosely and gave him a seductive bad-boy look. Then Steve took over, handsome and professional in slacks and a white dress shirt, his tie loose at the neck. He took Pablo into his comfortable office in the back of house and the therapy began.

Honest and direct as ever, Pablo gave Steve a clear and detailed account of the unhappy event, including, as far as he could, his own thoughts and motivation. When he was finished he looked anxiously at Steve, who frowned slightly as he wrote notes, then raised his level gaze.

"So the way I see it, Pablo, in a nutshell, is that as the other boys gradually found their footing in the house you felt your foothold slipping. Am I right?"

Pablo sighed. "I guess that's about the size of it, sir."

"Hmm... So let me ask you, how do you think we should go about dealing with this problem?"

Pablo brightened. "Well first of all, sir, I need to be punished. That's what Randy would do."

"Ah, yes ... but you forget, Randy's the wild brother and I'm the civilized one. And yet I suppose you want me to substitute for your dad and tie you up and whip your ass, is that it?"

"Yes please, sir."

Steve sighed deeply. "Ah, Pablo ... You have to see that the old cycle of misbehavior followed by physical punishment that deep down you enjoy, won't work this time."

"But, sir, I ..." He trailed off and Steve was shocked to see in his eyes not shame for what he had done, but lust for what he desired. Steve frowned deeply.

"Do you want me to fuck you. Pablo?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wrong answer, Pablo"

"You always told me there are no wrong answers, sir."

"Yeah, well that one's wrong. Jesus Christ, after all that's happened you can sit there and calmly ask me to fuck you?"

"It worked before, sir." There was a trace of Pablo's crooked grin on his face.

Steve was taken aback, remembering the couple of times in his office where Pablo had seduced him. "Well, not this time, kid!" He took a deep breath to control his anger and regain his professional poise. "Now look, we obviously have a long way to go with this, so here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna stay here for a couple of days and we'll have some intense therapy sessions until you're ready to confront the guys again."

"Will Randy be here, sir?"

"No he will not. He definitely will not. As a matter of fact I have told him to keep his distance from you, which he seemed perfectly happy to do. He is still royally pissed off at you. However ... I am prescribing that you go back to work right away. It's important for you to resume a job you're good at to regain some shreds of self-respect. You will keep yourself to yourself, have no contact with Randy, and after work you come straight back up here. Understood?"

Yes, sir," Pablo said meekly, surprised by the therapist's unusually harsh tone.

Steve stood up and looked down at him severely. "I want one thing clearly understood. I make the rules here and you will do just what I order you to. I know how you are, but you will not fuck around with me, boy. And in response to your earlier comment, the therapy will involve punishment but not the kind you're used to and seem to enjoy. No, my methods are unorthodox and this punishment will be real. And I guarantee you won't enjoy it. But you will obey me at all times. Do I make myself clear, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Pablo said meekly. But as he looked up at the stern, commanding figure of the therapist towering over him, his gorgeous face, the muscles of his superb body rippling under the white cotton shirt, Pablo could not prevent the erection that rose stiffly in his shorts. And he was sure it was not his imagination that there was a bulge in the therapist's smart dress slacks.

It was mid-morning when Pablo walked nervously onto the construction site, wearing his customary dungarees, held up by a single strap over one shoulder and with nothing underneath. He knew that Steve had called Randy to explain his late arrival and to reiterate the no-contact rule. Pablo took a deep breath and was suddenly reassured by the busy, routine activity of the crew, and the fact that Randy was working in his trailer office.

So he walked more-or-less unnoticed to the truck he had been working on the day before, opened the hood and started work. And now, as he worked alone, concentrating hard on the job, he was hit for the first time by the bleak loneliness of his situation. Randy, his master, the man he idolized, was angry to the point that he wasn't speaking to him. He had probably lost his lover, Darius, after the way he had beaten him and this new kid, Eddie. And the other boys would no doubt shun him too.

Worst of all, he had lost everyone's respect. He had always swaggered a bit as the boss's boy, the senior boy, but after what he had done his role as top-dog was shattered. He thought briefly of running away from it all ... but he knew that would be cowardly. Worst of all, he would be leaving Randy, his idol, his hero, and he could never do that. But what point was there if Randy didn't love him anymore?

And so the day dragged on and he worked hard, in stoic silence, worked harder than ever, actually, trying to prove to Randy that he was still worth something after all. But while the guys on the crew all got on with their own various tasks, Pablo did not go unnoticed. In the trailer Randy was acutely aware of everything and many times during the day he raised his eyes from the blueprints on the drawing board and looked through the window at the solitary figure of the grease-stained boy working all alone.

Sure, there were still vestiges of anger in Randy for what the boy had done, but they soon dissolved as he watched his boy and immense sadness took their place. His boy, his beautiful boy, abandoned by everyone. But he was tough ... working through it ... doing the job he loved for the man he loved. "That's my boy," Randy said to himself. He tore his eyes from the window and tried to work, but he couldn't help looking up ... and the sight was unbearable.

Randy knew from the body language that the plucky young kid was pouring every ounce of effort into the job, and he knew why. He was trying to prove himself, to redeem himself, trying to win Randy's love again. `Love!' Suddenly Randy's thoughts rang with Bob's voice ... that beautiful, kind, glorious man who had rescued him and seemed to have a solution for it all. What was it he had said? "Love ...there's your answer ... the answer to everything. When did you last tell Pablo you loved him? Then start, Randy. Tell him ... show him."

Steve had said he should have no contact with the boy. Well fuck that noise! What did his brother know anyway, him and his fancy doctor certificates hanging on the wall? So fuck Steve ... fuck them all. This was his boy, his son ... this was between the two of them. He yanked open the trailer door and spoke to Dave, an older guy who had worked for Randy from way back.

"Hey Dave, do me a favor and tell Pablo to come in here."

"Sure thing, boss," Dave said, wondering why Randy didn't just holler the way he always did.

Randy watched as Dave spoke to Pablo, who raised a startled head. He dropped his tools and walked with a nervous stoop toward the trailer Randy's heart was beating fast as the boy came in and stood before him. He locked the door behind Pablo, then stood facing him. Pablo's head was hanging down, but soon he raised it and looked directly into his master's eyes, ready to take whatever fate Randy was about to hand out.

Randy stared at his brave boy ... and didn't say a word. Slowly his hand went up to Pablo's shoulder and he brushed the strap off it. It fell dangling and the dungarees dropped round the boy's ankles. As usual he wore nothing underneath so when he stepped out of the dungarees he stood naked except for his boots, his gaze still fixed on his master's steel blue eyes.

There was a small bed in the corner that Randy sometimes used to sleep on when he worked an all-nighter. Now he pulled it out away from the wall, the scraping noise loud in the silence of the room. Randy glanced quickly down at the bed and Pablo knew what to do. He lowered himself onto the bed and lay on his back, watching as Randy unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard as a rock.

Pablo held his breath and he could actually hear his heart beating. Calmly, silently, Randy knelt on the end of the bed, grabbed Pablo's boots and pushed his legs in the air. Still holding his boy's eyes in a hypnotic gaze he eased forward and pushed his cock between the perfect globes of the ass he loved so much. Pablo stared up at his glorious master, at the slabs of his chest bulging under the greasy tank-top, and felt the huge tool slide into his ass.

There were tears in the eyes of both men as the construction boss slowly, lovingly, eased his cock past the warm membrane of the young ass. Randy bent lower, pinned Pablo's wrists to the bed and penetrated his eyes with a level gaze. Tears began to flow down the boy's cheeks. He didn't dare to think what all this meant. He just knew that his master was making love to him, pure, simple love, and he was feeling the very manhood of his hero filling his ass.

The intensity of the moment was so overwhelming that Pablo had no control. He was drowning in the pale blue eyes and only dimly aware of the heat rising up his legs, into his balls, and blasting from his cock in long ribbons of cum that splashed over his chest. Randy's eyes never wavered as his own orgasm exploded deep inside his sad, sweet boy. As their cocks drained they remained still for a long time just gazing at each other ... no words nor any hint of a smile.

Finally Randy pulled out, stood up, and pushed his cock back inside his pants. Pablo got off the bed and pulled his dungarees over his boots. Randy bent down and pulled them up to Pablo's waist. But before pulling them higher he stared at the cum still flowing down the boy's chest. He pressed two fingers against Pablo's stomach and ran them up over his chest, scooping up the semen.

Staring into his boy's eyes he pushed the cum-soaked fingers into his own mouth and swallowed hard, savoring the bitter-sweet taste of his boy's juice. Then he pulled the fingers out and drew them seductively across his lips, licking off the last drops of precious liquid.

Only then did he pull the dungarees up over Pablo's chest and hook the single strap back over his shoulder. Randy walked to the door, unlocked and opened it. There were no words, no smiles, but as Pablo walked past him Randy brushed the back of his hand lightly against the boy's cheek. And then he was gone. The whole incident had taken place without a word.

As Pablo walked back to the truck to resume his work old Dave smiled to himself. There was a spring in the boy's step, quite the opposite of his stooped nervousness when he went in. Obviously things had gone well at his interview with the boss, and Dave was glad about that.

At Steve's house that evening Pablo said nothing of the incident. It was private, just between him and Randy. In fact, he wasn't all that sure what it meant. He knew it wasn't forgiveness. That wouldn't come so easily. It certainly wasn't punishment either. Nor was it at all typical of the rough, unyielding construction boss. Pablo smiled to himself as he realized what it was. It had to be love ... just that ... love, pure and simple. Randy still loved him ... he loved him! He had never behaved quite like that before ... It was more the kind of thing Bob would do.

Randy did not mention it to anyone either. He just knew that he had done what he had to for his boy to put things right between them. Now Steve would do his therapist thing, including some sort of punishment, he supposed, and then, apparently, Darius would step in and do whatever he had in mind for his lover and the boys. Things were beginning to look up.

He didn't mention the incident even to Bob ... but he didn't have to. Bob knew every nuance of the big man's moods so well that he guessed Randy had taken his advice and given some sign to his boy.

"Well done, buddy," Bob smiled as he undressed in their room that night. As always he watched in awe as Randy pulled off his tank top and stood stripped to the waist, in his greasy cargo pants and boots.

"Yeah, yeah," growled Randy, gazing at his gorgeous naked lover. "Now ... about that wild gypsy thing..."

Bob grinned. "You read my mind, sir." And he sank slowly to his knees."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" ... Chapter 145

Hi guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com. I always reply.

ALSO, I urge you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses.

Enjoy! Rob Williams