A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 150 By Rob Williams
IN THIS CHAPTER:
Mark and Bob join the boy-orgy: "The two muscular alpha males surrendered to the onslaught of youthful sexual appetites." Zack helps Randy purge his demons: "Two muscle-gods in the sun, one submitting his body to the jackhammer of the other." Randy reunites with Bob: "The handsome executive in his elegant tuxedo at the mercy of the gritty construction boss towering over him. Then the cop confronts the fireman.
A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 150 – "The Power of Man-on-Man Sex"
Darius had described the boys as a `band of brothers' and they worked hard to live up to that name when they conspired to bring Bob and Mark together again after the bitterness and anger left over from their fight. They put their heads together and devised an elaborate scheme for the two men to meet on the deserted beach in the Guadalupe Dunes.
All six boys were spending the night together in Jamie's shack, celebrating the success of their plan, while three miles up the beach Bob and Mark were alone in Zack's cabin, after their spectacular reunion of sex in the surf. After they showered together Bob called Randy. "Hey buddy, guess what. Mark's up here too ... I think the boys have been plotting to get us back together. Anyway, Mark and me, we're ... we're spending the night together in Zack's place, if that's OK with you."
"Sure," came Randy's voice. "About time you two made up. As matter of fact, Darius and Pablo asked if they could go up there and join the boys ... some kind of boy orgy, I guess. That leaves just me and Zack here. So, sure, you two have a good time together."
Bob smiled as he hung up, relieved at Randy's easy-going acceptance of the situation. What he couldn't see was Randy's clenched jaw, the glint in his eye and the tension in his body as he recalled his own words to Bob ..... "just as long as I'm always your main man, understood?"
Bob turned his attention to the exhilarating thought of spending the night with Mark As they sat on the porch over drinks, the sun sinking toward the horizon, conversation flowed easily, with no mention of recent events. That was over, in the past. So Mark wasn't ready for Bob's sudden question that came out of nowhere. "Mark, that fireman who came to the house ... what's his name? Jason? Well ... would you know how to get in touch with him again?"
Mark smiled in surprise. "Well, sure, I guess ... I know what fire station he works out of. But why in the world ...?
"Oh, nothing. Just thought of a favor you might be able to do for me."
"Anything, old buddy, you know that." Mark grinned lasciviously. "Now that you mention it I can think of a few favors we can do for each other right now. Let's go inside."
And so the sun went down on three houses ... the big house in L.A., and the two shacks on the beach, all three places charged with expectations that the night would be something special.
The L.A. house was unusually quiet and empty, with only Randy and Zack to keep each other company. The two men were working buddies, two rugged construction workers, and as they strolled down to their local restaurant for dinner they enjoyed this rare opportunity of spending some leisure time together. As they chatted amiably over dinner there arose a warmth between them, a heat even, that they never had time to feel on the construction site in the demands of a hectic workday.
When they got back to the house they were feeling mellow and bit drunk. Randy looked at Zack and shrugged. "Hey, big guy, no sense you being alone in your place across the street. Come and bunk in with me. I've got half an empty bed, what with Bob away, fucking with Mark in the dunes." Zack heard in Randy's voice a mix of regret and loneliness, tinged with resentment, so he readily agreed.
They were both tired and, once in bed, they savored the warmth and companionship, with no thought of sex ... not then at any rate. But during the night Zack was aware of the muscular body pressed close to him, his arm thrown over Zack's chest. Zack smiled to himself and thought, `dreaming of Bob, no doubt.' And so they slept, and woke the next morning ready to face the day together ... just the two of them.
In Zack's cabin in the dunes Mark and Bob lay in bed in each other's arms, feeling not so much companionship as sexual desire ... not so much warmth as heat. After their bitter falling-out and passionate reunion the exhilaration of being together found expression in the only way it could. After their separation they needed to hold each other, to be close ... to be inside each other. So they made love, endlessly, ravenously, in every way possible for two virile muscle-studs to indulge their lust.
But finally exhaustion overcame even them and they settled down to sleep, their last thought being for their boys just three miles down the beach. Pressed against Mark Bob sighed. "I can't even imagine what those guys have been getting up to in that shack, all six of them together." Mark grinned at him. "I can, buddy. Six lusty young studs no doubt celebrating their triumph of manipulating us so we would `accidentally' meet. They must be feeling pretty good about themselves right now."
Mark was dead right. When Pablo and Darius had arrived earlier that evening they had been exuberantly greeted by Jamie, Nate and the twins. True to form, Darius made them relate every detail of how well their plan had worked, ending with Mark and Bob jogging toward each other on the beach and falling into each other's arms. Darius, ever the expert with a camera said, "Dudes, if you were making a movie of that you'd have to shoot that sequence in slow motion."
They were stoked, with a sense of accomplishment they had never felt before. Up to now their masters had always taken care of them, but now, working together, they had been able to heal the breach between two masters whose anger and pride was keeping them apart. They really saw themselves as a band of brothers.
They opened beer bottles and drank many toasts to each other ... "To Jamie, for having the idea in the first place and for letting us all stay here in his shack." "To the twins, for coming back to the house and taking their punishment like good boys." "To us, the Six Musketeers!" (That last was Darius of course, and his overactive sense of fantasy.)
Nate helped the twins put dinner together and the noisy exuberance didn't abate throughout the meal, with the conversation mostly focused on Bob and Mark. At one point Darius said, "Hey, dudes, what do you think they're doing right now?"
Pablo laughed, "Maybe you should go find out ... poke your camera through the window and film it."
"Do you think so?" Darius asked wide eyed, taking the suggestion seriously.
"Darius!" they all yelled, as he dodged the barrage of food thrown at him.
The feasting and drinking continued until finally they collapsed from exhaustion and alcohol. They didn't so much fall asleep as pass out ... all over the place, on the bed, on the floor and outside on the deck. The various combinations of boys entwined with each other in twos and threes shifted several times during the night but they were so tired that, although sex was, as always, in the air, it would have to wait until tomorrow.
It was nearly ten o'clock the next morning when Mark and Bob stirred from their deep sleep, each of them with raging hard-ons that they relieved with a session of languid love-making to begin their day. Sated and happy, they lay on their backs and gazed at the play of light on the ceiling as sun streamed through the window blinds.
"Jesus, I'm hungry," said Mark. "What say we take a run down the beach and see if the boys can rustle up breakfast for us? That is if they're not too busy with each other."
Actually that last comment turned out to be prophetic. Eager for some physical activity (other than sex) the two men pulled on swim trunks and jogged steadily along the beach to Jamie's shack. But they were in for a surprise. Expecting a flurry of boisterous activity they got ... nothing. No boys, no noise, except for the incessant cry of the seagulls.
"What the fuck's going on?" said Mark, with an edge of concern to his voice. But then they both heard it, a muffled shout from way back in the dunes, then another. "Sounds like that's where the action is," grinned Bob, and they trudged silently over one dune, then up to the crest of another. And there they stopped ... eyes wide, jaws dropping. "Boy oh boy," Bob breathed.
More accurate would have been `boy on boy' because that's what lay before them in the hollow between the dunes. The boys had covered a large area with blankets and all six of them were there ... fucking like jack rabbits. When they could sort out the tangle of limbs Bob and Mark could make out the couplings ... Jamie fucking Nate, Pablo on Kevin and Darius on Kyle. It was the boy orgy Randy had predicted, in the dunes under the blazing sun.
Bob smiled, shaking his head. "That's our boys ... doing what comes naturally."
"Yeah, well don't knock it, buddy," Mark grinned, "after the night we've just had. They take after their masters."
The boys were going at it so hard they were unaware of the men on the crest of the dune watching in awe, their cocks growing like tent poles in their shorts. At last things seemed to be coming to a head and they heard Darius yell, "OK, dudes, you ready? All together ...The Six Musketeers!" That battle cry was followed by the howls of six lusty boys as they exploded in one huge group orgasm, semen flowing everywhere, onto heaving bodies, into faces and spilling over onto the hot sand.
There was a sudden silence, except for heavy breathing, followed by ... an outburst of raucous laughter as the boys fell on their backs, elated by the thrill of communal boy-sex, another group enterprise of the Band of Brothers. Through their tears of laughter they gazed up at the sky, at the dunes towering over them ... and at two near-naked muscle-studs high above them, gloriously backlit by the sunlight gleaming behind them in a halo effect. To the boys they seemed like gods on Mount Olympus.
Mark threw his arm over Bob's shoulder, a gesture that unleashed whoops, whistles and enthusiastic applause from the boys. Bob grinned at Mark. "Do you suppose God put those gorgeous cum-splattered boys down there just for our pleasure?"
"Of course, he did. So if this is the Garden of Eden let's grab a bite of the apple. Come on, buddy, let's eat ..."
With a whoop like attacking Redskins they sped down the dune kicking up clouds of sand, and fell on top of the heap of boys. But they didn't stay on top for long. The boys were still flush from the thrill of taking charge, so these two men were still fair game. And anyway, the odds were six against two. Within minutes Bob and Mark lay on their backs, resigned to being worked over by the boys. And the boys were determined to work them good.
Operating like a well-rehearsed attack team they divided the spoils of war. The twins took the faces, licking, kissing, plunging their tongues into open mouths. Jamie and Nate took on the chest, burying their faces between the bulging pecs, then licking and biting the hard nipples. Pablo and Darius, seasoned cocksuckers, pulled off the men's shorts and took charge of their rigid poles.
The two gorgeous, muscular alpha males surrendered to the onslaught of youthful sexual appetites. They submitted their bodies to every erotic pleasure ... the twins' ravenous lips pressing against theirs, tongues probing deep ...the drooling mouths of Jamie and Nate working on the nipples, taking the men to the brink of the pleasure/pain threshold ... and the hot throats of Pablo and Darius gripping the pulsing cocks as they swallowed them whole.
Never had two such powerful men been swarmed over like this, their magnificent bodies the object of so much frenzied lust. Trapped as they were, the men still managed to look down on this team of beautiful boys working on them in the ultimate group act of worship. The sight, the feel, the heat, the passion were all too much to resist. The men felt their cocks shudder just as the mouths slid off them.
In a daze they heard Darius's commanding voice. "OK, guys, this is it ... get over here." Six wide-eyed faces looked down at the two cocks as they blasted plumes of cum high in the air. The boys opened their mouths and competed with each other for a taste, licking sucking, swallowing from the fountains of cum. The scene was wild, giving a whole new meaning to the concept of gathering round the drinking fountain.
When they had drunk their fill and the masters were sated the boys stood up and formed a circle round the men lying side by side on their backs. "Sirs," said Jamie, "we are pleased you are together again and proud that we played our part. We want to show you how much we love you. You look so beautiful lying there, so incredibly hot, there's only one thing we can do. This is for your, sirs."
The boys stroked their cocks a few times and the men watched as six streams of cum blasted out of them, splashing down onto their faces and naked bodies. It was a rain forest ... sweet-smelling creamy liquid pouring down on them from the circle of boys, soaking them, blinding them, drowning them in a seemingly endless outpouring of youthful passion.
It seemed that the storm of cum would never end, but at last when their cocks were dry the six boys looked down in silent awe. They had never seen a sight like this ... two incredible muscle-gods, one blond the other dark, every inch of their perfect bodies and handsome faces smothered with the semen that had splashed down on them and was now flowing over their gleaming muscles, to be soaked up by the hot sand beneath them.
The boys fell on them, sliding over the cum-slicked bodies in a writhing tangle of muscles and limbs ... a jubilant celebration by the triumphant band of brothers.
While the eight men raced down to the water to cleanse their semen-soaked bodies in the waves, the scene at the house in L.A. could not have been more different. For starters, it was quiet. Randy and Zack had slept for eight long hours, mostly close together, with Randy's arm resting on Zack's chest. As Zack correctly guessed, Randy was dreaming of Bob, dreams that made him toss restlessly at times during the night ... dreams of Bob in bed with Mark.
That guess was certainly reinforced the next morning as the two men sat in their boxers in the kitchen over coffee and bowls of oatmeal and Randy stared broodingly down at the table. Zack understood the tough alpha male better than most, being one himself. Working with him Zack had seen all of Randy's moods ... his tireless strength and endurance, respect for his men and, not least, the fiery anger that flared up when anything went wrong.
Zack looked on Randy as the ultimate tough guy, a natural leader ... and pornographically handsome into the bargain. He truly was, as many had dubbed him, the dark-haired blue-eyed King of the Gypsies. You didn't get on the wrong side of Randy. Zack had seen him floor a man with a single blow. Randy bowed to no man, afraid of nothing and no one ... except ...
Zack knew that one thing scared Randy ... he was afraid that Bob would one day leave him. Meeting Bob had knocked Randy off balance, made him feel insecure for the first time in his life. For the first time ever he was not king of his world. As if reading Zack's thoughts Randy muttered, almost to himself. "Fuck, sometimes I wish I'd never met the guy."
Zack opened his mouth to protest but Randy went on, "Oh, shit I don't mean that. But you know me, man, I was always a loner until I met him, never submitted to anyone, and now I'm his prisoner. Love? Hell, I never knew what the word meant until I met Bob and now I'm crazy in love with him. I want to own him, body and soul, I'm jealous of any guy who even looks at him. Oh sure, we worked out that thing about him being with Mark when he wants, but now that I know that they're up there fucking their brains out I can't stand it, man. It's eating me up."
Randy stood up and paced. "Shit, why would a spectacular guy like that, ...gorgeous, brilliant, successful, loving ... stay with a roughneck like me. All I know about is manual labor and slugging guys. Hell, all you guys are in love with Bob ... he could have anyone in the world he wanted ... so why me, Zack, why me? Man, I'm scared to death that one day he's gonna wake up and ask himself the same damn question. Then he'll be gone."
Zack reached up, grabbed Randy's wrist and pulled him down to the table beside him. "You know the trouble with you, man? You have no godamn vanity. If you had you'd see yourself the way Bob does, a spectacular hunk of manhood anyone would be proud to belong to. And you'd see the way he looks at you with those big brown eyes. He's crazy about you, man. Remember all those times you went nuts and beat him up and he'd still come back for more? No way in hell he's ever gonna leave you, Randy, I'd bet my life on it."
Randy looked at Zack and smiled for the first time. "Thanks buddy. Thanks for saying that." He inhaled deeply and stretched. "You know what I need right now, Zack? Hard work. How do you feel about helping me clear some of that brush on the hillside that's such a fire hazard?"
Zack clapped him on the back and grinned. "I'm up for that. Let's go, buddy." They went back upstairs and pulled on the jeans and boots they had shed the night before. They grabbed some tools and in a few minutes they were side by side on the sun-parched hillside, hacking away ferociously at the dead brush. Randy was fueled by a need to purge his thoughts of Bob and Mark, Zack by the competitive impulse he always felt working alongside Randy.
If anyone had been there to see, it was a magnificent sight ... two rugged bodybuilders stripped to the waist ... the black man in black pants, the other in blue jeans ... their veined muscles flexing as they labored, bodies gleaming with sweat in the blazing sun. But if this were, as Zack felt, a contest of strength, Zack could not keep up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Randy at his most determined and ferocious, swinging the pick-axe again and again like a man possessed, ripping the dry brush out of the ground and flinging it contemptuously away.
Zack leaned on his pick-axe and watched, shaking his head in amazement. "Hey, old buddy, it's sagebrush you're taking a swing at not Mark or Bob. Don't take out your frustrations on the bushes, pal, they're not the enemy." Zack's voice dimly penetrated Randy's manic intensity and brought him back to reality. He stopped, breath heaving, eyes blazing, staring at Zack.
"Shit, man," Zack said, "you sure have a lot of anger boiling inside you, and it seems like hard labor's not doing the trick. I've seen you come home from work in this mood. So what do you do then to purge your demons?"
Randy's eyes still blazed. "What do I do? I fuck the shit out of Bob or Pablo, that's what I do. But right now Bob is getting his ass fucked by the cop and Pablo's getting ploughed by half a dozen boys. So where the hell does that leave me? Who the hell do I fuck?" He flung his axe down in a display of rage and frustration.
Zack didn't reply, but when Randy looked over at him he saw a black muscle-god, shirtless, standing on the dirt hillside, his arms spread wide to the sides. Zack grinned, "So what am I, buddy? Chopped liver?"
In his delirium Randy saw not Bob, not Pablo, but another beautiful man ... a man offering himself as Bob and Pablo had done so often. Randy's body flexed. He was angry, he needed to vent, he needed action ... he needed to fuck ass! With a howl he launched himself at the black stud, hurling him down onto his back in the dirt. Zack curbed his natural impulse to fight back. He was doing this for a good buddy who was hurting. So he tensed and braced for the attack.
Randy's pent-up savagery was cut loose ... he was like an enraged bull as he fell on Zack, ripping his pants down below his knees, pushing his legs high in the air with one hand, spitting in the other and rubbing the spit over his rock-hard cock. He gazed down and saw not Zack, but Mark, Bob ... any man who had ever defied him. "You fuckers," he howled and slammed his cock deep inside the man's ass, pushing into the depths of his gut.
Tough as he was Zack let out an agonized scream that echoed round the hills. He had forgotten just how brutal Randy's fuck could be when he was mad, and it was all Zack could do to control his reflex to heave Randy off him. Instead, he gritted his teeth and submitted to the torture he knew was coming.
And it was ferocious. Randy leaned forward, grabbed Zack's wrists and pinned them to the ground above his head. His body arched over his captive, paused ... and then his hips slammed down, his steel rod piercing his ass. Zack screamed again, desperately clenching his ass muscles in a futile attempt to slow the shaft ripping into him. But Randy was implacable as his pace speeded up. He was like a machine, his rod pistoning inside the man he had pinned to the ground.
Under the scorching sun the two muscle-gods stared at each other, one submitting his powerful body, his perfect ass to the agonizing jackhammer of the other. Randy was now totally out of control, all his anger now focused on Zack's hot, tight ass. "You fuckers," he screamed. "You fucking shitheads ... this is what you get when you fuck with the boss. He's mine! I own him. His ass is mine!"
While Randy's massive body still drove hard down onto the tortured man his voice became plaintive as he saw a vision of Bob. "You're mine, buddy. Don't you know that? You can't leave me ... I won't let you ..." His voice grew louder, his body moved faster. "Nobody can give you what I can ... you feel that? ... you feel my cock ripping you open? Here, let me show you ...!" Randy went wild as the piston of his cock became a weapon, proving his dominance, his right of ownership. He felt his power over Bob, heard his screams, heard him submit to him ...
But suddenly it wasn't Bob's voice ... it was Zack, his good buddy Zack. His fantasy dissolved ... he was back on the parched hillside, and beneath him he saw the beautiful black face twisting and thrashing in agony, the body arching and straining, desperate for release, the tortured muscles gleaming with sweat. Sanity returned and Randy moaned, "Buddy, I didn't ... oh shit, forgive me, buddy ... I love you, man ... here, let me show you...
His body arched back, he paused, gazing into Zack's eyes, then lowered his hips one last time, sliding his rod into the ravaged ass, deeper and deeper until it touched the inner sphincter, stopped, then eased over it and poured hot juice inside the secret chamber. Aaagh! All the pain, all the frustration and anger drained out of him with the juice that streamed into Zack.
At the same time he saw Zack's pain dissolve into pleasure, saw the face relax, incredibly, into a smile, as Zack's deep voice said, "Here it comes, man. This is for you ... aaagh! ... His huge black cock shuddered and a long ribbon of cum spurted high in the air, splashing into Randy's face looking down at him.
Randy fell forward onto Zack, sobbing with relief and shame at having subjected his friend to so much. "I'm sorry, man. I used you so bad. God, I hurt you so bad. Forgive me, man."
"Hey, hey, don't beat yourself up. That's what friends are for, sharing a buddy's pain."
Randy twisted off him and they recovered slowly, gazing up at the sparkling blue sky. Zack said, "So now we can relax ... no more work, no more angst. We can have fun, and maybe you'll let me get my own back later. Can't remember when I was last inside your hot ass."
A short while later, after a swim in the pool to clean off, they were sitting at the poolside table taking long, much-needed swigs of beer. And now that the subject of Bob was not painful at all, Zack said, "So what's this I hear that as soon as Bob gets home tomorrow he has to get all dressed up in his tux and go off to his company's fancy-shmancy annual dinner. Is it true they're giving him some kind of Man of the Year award?"
"Well of course they're making him Man of the Fucking Year, wouldn't you? Shit, I'd make him Man for Life."
Zack laughed. "He's already that for you, pal. But you're not going to the dinner with him?"
"You're kidding, right? The day ever comes I get dressed up and climb into one of those fancy monkey suits hell will freeze over, you can bet your ass on that." He grinned, "Talking of asses, I owe you one buddy. Let me take you out to eat, and when we come back you can get your revenge, OK?"
"Lead on, man ... you're the boss."
Next day Randy and Zack were sitting quietly by the pool when suddenly the calm of the late afternoon was shattered by a squeal of brakes, the slamming of car doors and the clamor of excited voices. The gate burst open and they all flooded in.
They had driven home in a convoy led by Mark driving Jamie. Mark was glowing with pride at the efficient, self-assured way his boy had conducted himself and led the effort to patch things up in the house. "I've missed being alone with you, kiddo, and when we get home I'm gonna show you how much. Your ass is grass, kid. I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." Jamie grinned in eager anticipation.
Bob had driven the twins and Nate, and Pablo and Darius followed. Now chaos descended on the house as the excited hordes took over, dragging in their gear, the boys all talking at once. "Hm," Zack said to Randy, "looks like we missed a great trip. But I'm glad we did. Spending time with you, buddy, was better than anything ... and much less noisy!"
Through the crowd, Bob came straight up to them with a beaming smile. "Hi, Zack, you been taking care of my man here?"
"Oh, yeah," Zack grinned. "I took care of him alright."
"Mind if I have him back now?" Bob laughed. He grabbed Randy's arm and pulled him to the house and upstairs to their room, where he threw his arms around him and kissed his mouth hungrily. He pulled back and gazed into his eyes. "Man I've missed those eyes. I've missed everything about you, buddy."
Randy was pleased to see the glow of happiness around his lover, though less pleased with the reason for it. Evidently his reconciliation with Mark had been intense and they no doubt loved each other more than ever. But there was no time to brood on this as Bob started to pull off his clothes ... not for sex as it would normally have been, but for a quick shower.
"Man, I wish to god I didn't have to go to this stupid dinner but I can't get out of it," he grinned, "being Man of the Year and all." Randy sprawled in a chair and watched with admiration, pride ... and a huge boner ... as Bob showered, then grabbed his evening clothes from the closet and got dressed ... pleated white shirt with gold studs and cuff-links, black dress pants and dinner jacket and black bow tie. He checked himself in the mirror then turned to Randy. "There, whad'ya think, buddy. Man of the Year?"
What did he think?! Fucking spectacular is what he thought, the gorgeous man looking like a million dollars in his black dinner suit, elegantly tailored to fit perfectly over his muscular physique. The white shirt set off his chiseled features and tousled dark black hair perfectly. Suddenly Randy caught sight of himself in the mirror, in his ragged old T-shirt, jeans and boots, the image of a gritty construction worker. The contrast was stunning and brought back all Randy's insecurities.
But Bob's energy was infectious and he pulled Randy to his feet and hugged him goodbye. "I'll get out of there as soon as I can, buddy. After all, I've got my own Man of the Year right here waiting for me." He paused, then added softly, "I promise I'll make everything right, Randy. I love you, man." A last lingering kiss and then Randy followed him back downstairs.
In the garden the mayhem was still going on, but everything stopped and there was a stunned silence as Bob appeared. "Holy shit," said Darius. "That is spectacular ... James Bond!" Bob had never looked more elegant or more beautiful, perfectly groomed, except for his shock of tousled dark hair, his handsome face glowing after his reunion with Mark and now with Randy. The boys followed him outside and watched in awe as he got into his top-of-the-line black Mercedes and lowered the window. He called out to the boys, "Catch you later, kids. Be good," and his car purred smoothly away.
The boys all crowded back into the house and Randy was about to follow when he felt a hand on his arm. "Stunning isn't he?" said Mark. Randy flinched as he looked at the man who had been fucking Bob for the last two days. "You wanna take a swing at me, don't you, Randy? I don't blame you."
Mark sighed. "Look, I won't lie to you ... we fucked like crazy up in the dunes. But there's one thing I want you to know. In the bits between fucking ... you know, the really important bits where you talk and get to know one another ... all Bob talked about was you, Randy. About the things you do and say, the way you laugh, the way you get angry and then make up. The way you walk, sit, hold him in bed, fuck him, make love to him. He's fucking crazy about you, Randy ... crazy in love with you. I envy you, man. You've got the most spectacular guy in the world." He stopped and smiled. "Just thought you should know that."
Mark turned and walked back through the gate. Randy was stunned, somehow resentful that Bob had shared all this with Mark and that Mark had repeated it to him. He had always been afraid that Mark would take Bob from him, but as he watched him through the open gate walking across the garden Randy ran to the gate and shouted after him. "Hey, Mark! Thanks, man. Thanks for telling me. I'm glad it was you he was with. You're a good man, Mark."
Suddenly alone at the gate Randy felt a strange sense of loss ... of being alone. Momentarily disoriented he turned aimlessly, and then heard a voice. "Do you want to fuck me, sir?"
He blinked, and there was Pablo, looking up at him as if he saw into his soul ... which, in a way, he did. Pablo had seen the mix of pride and tension in his eyes as Randy had watched Bob get into his car, the executive and the laborer as different in appearance as two men could be. And Pablo knew that when Randy was in this confused, insecure mood he often fucked his boy hard to reassure himself of his dominance.
Randy smiled and hugged his boy. "Nah, not this time, kiddo ... I kind of got that out of my system with Zack yesterday. But I could use some company. I'm gonna go do some work at the construction site. Wanna come with me?"
"You bet, sir," and in seconds Pablo was sitting beside Randy in the truck. The boy knew that, second only to rough sex, it was heavy work that freed Randy from his demons. And it was times like this that Pablo loved best, being close to his hero, his adoptive dad ... needed by him, supporting him. And it was times like this that he was sure of Randy's deep affection for him. Pablo felt Randy's power next to him like a force field, enfolding him protectively. Pablo was loved ... he was safe. And, as always, he had a huge boner in his shorts.
They drove in silence for a while, then Pablo said, "Bob looked sensational all dressed up like that, didn't he, sir."
"Yeah, kid, he did," said Randy in a strangely distant voice.
Another silence, then, "Don't worry, sir. Bob will make everything come right."
Randy turned to him and smiled. "Funny, that's exactly what he said just before he left."
Man and boy worked together for several hours, mostly in silence. It was a tough job, clearing rubble out of a big area for the next day's work, heaving planks, bricks and rubble over to a disused corner of the site. When Randy finally called a halt they were both sweaty, greasy and covered in dust. Randy grabbed a couple of beers from the trailer and they swigged them thirstily, sitting astride a bench in companionable silence.
As they drove home Randy said, "Thanks, kid. I needed you with me right now ... and I'm real grateful that you understand the reason why. Some of this shit I couldn't get through without you. Like I've told you before, kid, you're my rock."
"Thank you, sir."
"And by the way. That fuck you mentioned earlier ... it's just postponed, not cancelled. That sweet ass of yours is gonna feel your old man's dick pounding it real soon."
Pablo grinned up at him. "I hope so, sir."
It was late when they got back to the house and Pablo ran inside to join Darius in their room. Randy had seen Bob's Mercedes outside so he knew he was already back. He took a deep breath, climbed the stairs to their room and went in. He stood staring at Bob sprawled in a chair nursing a brandy, having just got home. He looked spectacularly handsome, still in his dinner clothes, tux jacket open, black tie hanging loose round his neck, shirt collar unbuttoned. His dark hair hung tousled over his forehead but that didn't detract from the picture-perfect image of sheer glamor.
He looked up as Randy came in and gazed at the rugged construction worker in his usual work gear of cargo pants, boots, and a grimy, frayed tank-top stretched over his chest. He was grubbier than usual, his dark, stubbled face streaked with dirt and sweat, body still coated in dust, boots caked with mud. He stood towering in the doorway, a shock of black hair falling down almost to his piercing blue eyes, the muscles of his torso rippling as he breathed deeply. If Bob was the epitome of glamor, Randy was the pornographic icon of rugged masculinity.
There was a long silence as they stared at each other and when they finally spoke they uttered the same exclamation ... "Jesus Christ!" At a loss for further words Randy took refuge in small talk. "Good party?"
Bob shrugged and nodded to a side table. "They gave me that plaque ... Man of the Year."
"Shit," Randy said, "you don't need a damn plaque to prove that. I could have told them that."
Bob stood up. "I bet you could." He came close to embrace Randy, but Randy held him at arm's length. "You'll get your fancy suit all messed up."
"I don't care."
"Oh, you don't, uh?" Randy's eyes glinted, his jaw clenched, he put his hand on Bob's chest and shoved. Bob fell heavily onto the bed, sprawling on his back. Randy got onto the bed and stood astride him, his muddy boots inches from his gleaming black tux. It was an incredible sight, the handsome executive in elegant evening clothes sprawled on his back at the mercy of the sweaty, grimy construction boss towering over him. Their eyes locked, piercing each other as a prelude, they knew, to entering the mystical world that they alone shared.
They both knew that this was the climax of a chain of events that had sorely tested their love. The last two days had been tough for Randy, knowing that his man was getting fucked by a guy Bob loved, a Greek god, a magnificent cop who rivaled Randy in strength and beauty. They both knew that Randy had to reassert himself. It was a ritual. His low voice growled, "You know I have to hurt you."
"Yes, sir."
Randy dropped to his knees, astride Bob's waist, and reached forward, taking out the gold studs from his shirtfront and pulling the shirt open, exposing the slabs of his chest. Gazing steadily into Bob's eyes Randy licked the fingers of both hands and said. "You want it, don't you?"
"More than anything, sir." Bob was trembling, totally in thrall to this hypnotic man.
Randy lowered his hands and brushed his fingers against Bob's hard nipples making him gasp. He rolled the nipples lightly between his wet finger tips and was rewarded by ragged moans as Bob felt an electric charge course through him, as if electrodes were grazing his chest. His eyes looked pleadingly up at Randy and he moaned, "Please ... please do it, man. I need it ..."
His head jerked back and he screamed as the fingers suddenly clamped tight on his nipples like a vise, squeezing, twisting, tugging, sending shafts of intense pain through his chest. Randy's eyes blazed down at him.
"You let him fuck you, eh?" ... "Yes, sir."... "A lot?" ... "Many times, sir." ... "Did it feel good?"... "Yes, sir, very good ... aaagh!" The pain was agonizing as Randy intensified the torture on his tits. "Does he love you?" ... "Yes, sir," Bob screamed. "Do you love him?" "Yes, sir." "More than me?" "No, never, sir. I love you more than anything in the world." "What do you want from me?" "I want you to fuck me, sir. Please fuck my ass. Fuck me hard, make it hurt."' Bob was sobbing now from pain and desperation. "I want to feel your strength ... I want you to own me Please, Randy ... show me you still love me."
Bob screamed as the fingers were wrenched painfully off his nipples. He was in a daze as he felt Randy get off the bed and pull off his shoes, his dress pants and shorts. Randy was looking down at him with wild eyes, gazing at the beautiful, sobbing man, a spectacular sight in just his dress shirt, loose tie and tuxedo jacket, his ass buck naked, vulnerable, clenching in anticipation of the assault they both knew was coming.
Randy fell on his knees on the bed, pushed Bob legs high and growled in his deep voice, "This time it's me fucking your ass, buddy. This is not your cop, it's me, the man who loves you more than his own life, the man who worships you. It's the man who fucks like this ..."
"Aaagh!" Bob's head flew back and his scream bounced off the walls as he felt the steel rod pierce his ass and plunge deep inside him. It pulled out, then buried itself again in the deepest recesses of his ass. In seconds it was like a piston ramming into his gut.
The onslaught was so violent that at first his ass was numb, but when feeling returned it was intense pain, unbearable pain ... until ... gradually ... it was not only bearable, it was thrilling, sending Bob flying into heights of wild ecstasy. In a wild delirium he clawed at Randy's chest, ripping his shirt to shreds, glorying in the sight of the magnificent body crashing down onto him as the huge, stallion cock ripped into his ass.
Spinning in a vortex of pain and desire Bob heard his lover's voice. "Did your cop fuck you like this?" "Never like this," Bob moaned, "never ever like this. Man, I love your cock in my ass. Please, sir, fuck me harder .... please."
As Randy hammered his ass ever more savagely, he yelled, "Now tell me ... do you love me?"
"I love you, man," Bob shouted. "I love you ... I love you ...!"
Suddenly the pounding slowed to a gentle rhythm and Bob heard Randy's low voice. "That's what I wanted to hear, buddy. I've wanted to hear those words ever since you left. Now look me in the eyes, Bob, and let me take you to our secret place. And then I'll cum inside you."
They saw themselves mirrored in each other's eyes. The light changed, the room dissolved, and they passed together into that magical world where their souls joined and became one. They were in love, the kind of love that never ends. And Randy knew at last that Bob would never, ever leave him.
Silently, gently, Randy's cock began to pour juice into Bob's ass and he smiled as he saw his lover's cock erupt with semen that smothered his chest and his shirt, and splashed onto his gorgeous face. It seemed an eternity before their orgasms ceased and at last they were still. Randy smiled down at Bob, "That fancy shirt of yours don't look so fancy any more, buddy."
Bob laughed. "Fuck the shirt. Come here," and he pulled the big construction worker down on top of him. Randy scooped Bob into his arms and breathed in his ear, "Welcome home, kiddo. I missed you."
And so that chapter in the life of the house came to a happy conclusion. It was a chapter where they had all grown a little ... where the boys had worked as a team to restore harmony; where Bob and Mark had been reunited in respect and love; where Randy had discovered in Zack the love and loyalty of a rugged, masculine partner; and where Bob had finally convinced Randy that he would never, ever leave him.
The disruption had started the day that Jason came to the house to put out the fire ... and started one of his own. The beautiful, muscular blond firefighter had unwittingly started the pendulum swinging, knocking everyone off balance, causing a chain reaction of trouble. For that reason it was a surprise to Mark when a few days later Bob returned to the subject he had mentioned briefly when they were at the beach.
"Mark, you told me that you knew how to contact that fireman ... Jason ... who came to the house ... the one in the twins' calendar. OK, I know, I know, you'll warn me against raking over hot coals. But see, it's the twins' birthday in two weeks and I want to do something real special for them. So I want to ask you a big favor ..."
Mark, of course, could deny Bob nothing, and so it was that a couple of days later at the end of his shift the cop pulled up to the fire station on his motorcycle and spoke to the duty officer. "Hey man, is Jason on duty right now?"
Huh," he laughed, "you come to arrest him, officer? What's golden boy done this time? As a matter of fact he's just gone off duty but he's upstairs working out in the gym before he cuts out of here." He grinned. "He works out a lot, keeping that perfect physique in shape. The rest of the guys are out on a training exercise so you'll find him all alone up there."
Mark went upstairs and heard grunting sounds coming from the door at the end of the passage. He pushed it open and stood watching. The fireman was stripped to the waist in his yellow firefighter work pants, doing chin lifts in front of the mirror. Oblivious of Mark's arrival he had eyes only for his own reflection in the mirror. He dropped from the bar and stood admiring himself, flexing his muscles in bodybuilder poses, admiring his spectacularly ripped body.
"Very impressive." The deep voice made Jason whirl round and he immediately recognized the handsome uniformed cop. How could he forget the man like a Greek god who had punished him that day, the first and only man ever to fuck him in the ass? "You! What the hell are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," Mark said.
There was a tense silence as they stood staring at each other, the cop and the fireman. They were both aware of the bulge growing in the other guy's pants.
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" ... Part 151
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