A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 194 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Bob and Randy's break-up transforms Bob into a macho alpha-stud. Mark is thrilled to feel the full force of Bob's domination. "As the business executive gazed down at the shirtless cop his eyes blazed, adrenaline raced – he was at the peak of his manhood." But the break-up could mean the end of the tribe, and the boys prove their love for each other, "in a wild orgy, writhing together in a heaping tangle of limbs."

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 194 – "Bob's Transformation"

Bob was feeling numb as he drove out of Palm Springs along the dark sweep of Highway 111 and he was surprised to see rain on the windshield obscuring his view. He turned on the windshield-wipers but that didn't help. Then he realized, it was not rain running down the windshield... tears were streaming from his eyes. He turned off the wipers, dried his eyes and burst out laughing at his mistake. But the laughter bordered on hysteria and he took a few deep breaths. He had to get a grip.

It looked like the end of the road for Bob and Randy because of what Randy had just done. In the Palm Springs leather bar Bob's arrival had caused a sensation and he was the focus of the room. It wasn't only his stunning good looks and flawless body. It was his natural warmth and modesty that shone through ... he looked like Superman, but with the diffidence of a mild-mannered Clark Kent.

Randy was knocked off balance. They had never been in this kind of setting before, with a crowd of lusty men, and Randy saw for the first time the magnetic effect Bob had on groups like this. There wasn't a man there who would not want sex with Bob, to have a relationship with him ... to take him away from Randy as Randy thought in his crazed insecurity and – worse – his mounting anger.

"You enjoying my buddy, eh?" he shouted to the crowd. "All of you, turned on by this fucking gorgeous man here? Thing is though, he's my man, see. He's mine ... and I don't loan him out. Any guy who wants him has to come through me, and that wouldn't be pretty. Hey buddy, how about we show them, eh? Time for us to put on a show of our own, I think."

His anger consuming him Randy had shackled Bob to the wall, despite his protests, had fucked him savagely and made him beg for mercy. The crowd was stunned. The gorgeous man they had drooled over, this Superman with his easy-going charm, had been humbled before them all, hanging from the wall, submitting in degradation to the wild-man, begging him to cum in his ass.

This public humiliation and degradation was devastating for Bob and something snapped inside him. He left the bar and drove alone back to the city, checking into a bungalow of the Beverly Hills Hotel where he started to think clearly and realized he had to break with Randy. `It's no good I can't do this anymore. I can't go on with this cycle of adoration and abuse. I've got to be my own man – regain my manhood – and I can't do that living with Randy – I just can't.'

Bob called the twins and asked them to bring his clothes for him, and they spent the night with him. Back at the house, as Randy lay in bed in misery and confusion, his boy Pablo, his rock as Randy called him, crawled into bed with him. And so it was that Bob and Randy spent the night seeking solace in the loving arms of their boys. They had rarely slept a night apart since they met, but now they tried hard to dismiss each other's image from their mind.

But, of course, they both failed.

The next morning Randy moved out. Pablo got up early and Randy looked at the empty space in the bed beside him. A shaft or pain ran through him and he knew he could never spend another night in this room now that he and Bob were through. He threw a few clothes in a back-pack and went to work on the construction site. At the end of the day he checked into a motel.

It is a fact of life that when trauma strikes and men feel bereft, their instinct is to go back to their roots and seek refuge in long-familiar surroundings. Randy was contemplating a move back to Texas, where he would resume his old life of itinerant construction worker, free of personal entanglements, free to do `whatever the fuck I want' in a world where no problems arose that couldn't be solved with his fists.

Similarly, Bob was contemplating a move back to the refined world of San Francisco, as he had told the twins. "See I can easily transfer to my company's Head Office up there. They've been trying to lure me back there to take up a real senior position – a great opportunity. So maybe all this has happened for a reason. Don't worry, guys, I'll be taking you with me."

In the meantime both men sought solace in local roots. In the past Bob had often stayed in the Beverly Hills Hotel on his trips to visit the L.A. branch office – this was his world. As for Randy, almost without thinking he had moved in to the shabby, cheap motel at the ratty end of Hollywood Boulevard, in room 14 where he had spent that fateful night with Bob that began it all. This was him, the kind of guy he was – a loner, a free man, owing `nothing to nobody'.

It was symbolic of the vast difference between them – Bob, the consummate business executive, in one of the best hotels in town – Randy, the rugged gypsy construction worker shacking up in a cheap motel. And soon Bob would be driving his Mercedes back up to the rarified air of Marin County, while Randy would pile into his truck and hit the road for the hard-scrabble back streets of West Texas.

"Shit," Randy thought as he flopped down on the motel's thin bed-sheets after work, "he's out of my fucking league ... a wonder we ever got together in the first place." But they had, in this very room – this very bed! – and the vivid memories came flooding back. Randy sprang up and paced the room – "Damn, can't I ever get away from this man." He needed a drink, and robotically he walked round the corner to the run-down bar with the half-lit `Cocktails' sign flickering tentatively over the door, the place where he had spent many evenings getting drunk..

It hadn't changed – still the same dark, shabby room with a pervasive smell of desperation. For the first time he noticed its name – it actually had one – `The Last Call.' Yeah, they got that right, he thought. The bartender Sheila, his regular fuck at the time, was no longer there, replaced by another seen-better-days blond who smiled at the construction hunk seductively, but he paid no attention.

It had been a one-in-a-million chance, but this was the bar where he had first met Bob. Randy had been sitting on this very barstool when he had seen the guy come in – tall, handsome guy, built like a brick shit house, casually dressed but, even so, totally out of place in this dump as he blinked in the sudden darkness after the blinding California sun outside.

He had sat at the barstool Randy was looking at right now. They had got to talking – seemed the guy was on his way down south and had come off the freeway for a drink and a nap. Rather than sleep in his car, he had accepted Randy's offer of a lie down in his motel room. But as they slept he had ... "Shit, shit, shit..." Randy jolted back to the present and slammed his hand on the bar top. "Everything OK, sugar?" asked the barmaid. "Sure," he growled, "just give me another beer and keep `em coming."

And so later, shit faced, he staggered back to the motel, room 14 ... and passed out.

The end of Bob's work day was similarly troubled, but in much fancier surroundings – drinks came from white-gloved room-service rather than a beer slid across a grubby bar. But misery grips high and low alike and when Bob walked into his bungalow in his business suit he was overcome with a pall of loneliness. He couldn't call the twins back as he knew they had their culinary duties for all the guys at the house. No, there was only solution and he reached for his cell phone.

"Sure, buddy," said Mark's cheerful voice. "My shift just ended. Be there in twenty minutes." Bob smiled, recalling the often-stated local belief that everywhere was twenty minutes from everywhere in Los Angeles. He called room service and soon had a table set with drinks and canapés. As if to prove the old saying, in exactly twenty minutes there was a knock on the door, Bob opened it and in came Mark, straight from work in his uniform.

In the unfamiliar surroundings and tense circumstances they looked at each hesitantly, with a hint of mutual shyness. But when Mark grinned, "Hey buddy," they fell into each other's arms and held each other tight. Words may have momentarily failed them but lust did not and they both had instant erections in their pants. They gazed into each other's eyes, their lips joined and impulsively their tongues pressed together in a ravenous kiss – Bob seeking comfort and Mark eager to provide it.

But soon Bob pulled back with a trace of embarrassment and said quickly, "Drink?" Mark detected Bob's hesitancy, accepted a drink and they sat facing each other across the table. "So, buddy, how are you?" Mark asked as lightly as possibly. Bob shrugged and waved his arm round the room. "Comfortable, as you see – pampering myself." Mark reached forward, closed his hand over Bob's, and said slowly, "No, buddy, I said `how – are – you?

Bob's eyes became moist. "Lonely, Mark. Damn lonely. I can't hack it in this town, man. I associate everything in L.A. with Randy. I gotta split. Like I told the twins, I've decided to go back to San Francisco – take up an offer of a great job in my firm's Head Office. I'll take the twins with me." He stared forlornly into Mark's blue eyes. "I can't stay here, Mark. I can't."

Mark sighed deeply. "So – you and Randy – it's really over?"

"It has to be. I can't do that humiliation-apology-forgiveness thing over and over again. It's never gonna change. Randy is what he is – a wild gypsy. Funny thing is, that's what I loved about him – the thing that turned me on so much. He's the most exciting man I ever met. But it's kinda like a drug – and I've got to kick the habit so I don't entirely lose my own sense of self."

Mark stared hard at him and they each knew what the other was thinking. Almost from the moment they met Bob and Mark had been in love with each other but the most they ever did to express it was occasional bouts of passionate sex together. Randy always stood between them and Mark knew that the big construction worker always came first for Bob. Until now, apparently.

When the dust had settled, was it possible Bob and Mark had a future together? Mark squeezed Bob's hand but he pulled it away and stood up. "I can't right now, Mark. It wouldn't be ..."

"...fair to Randy?" Mark stood up and glared at him in frustration. "That's what you were gonna say, right? Man, I thought you said it was over between you two, and here you are still showing some whacko sense of loyalty. You can't have it both ways man ... either it's over and you're free ... or you're still tied to him. Let me put it this way, buddy ... if Randy and Zack were on a lunch break in the trailer and they were both pumped up and horny, you think Randy would hesitate out of loyalty to you? Hell no – he'd jump on Zack and they'd fuck. You know I'm right, man."

Mark frowned. "Or maybe you've cooled on me too." Bob was stung. He gazed at the handsome cop's earnest eyes and he knew what he said was right. Randy was gone, Bob was free ... free to... There was a long silence as they stared at each other, their cocks getting harder in their pants. Suddenly, impulsively, they threw their arms round each other in a passionate embrace, crushing their bodies together, their open mouths grinding against each other, tongues searching inside in a pent-up explosion of desire that had been building almost since the day they met. The day they met ...

"Sit down," said Mark, suddenly pulling away from him. Surprised, Bob sat down, with Mark towering over him, their faces flushed, their chests heaving. The day they met ... As they gazed at each other, both were transported to a place and time long ago, on a remote road in Griffith Park. Then, as now, Bob was wearing his business clothes – smart suit, white shirt and tie, and Mark was in his police uniform. Mark had pulled him over for doing an Illegal U-turn.

"That's exactly how you looked that day," Mark said, "the first time I saw your face as you lowered the car window. You were a bit drunk and asked if there was any way you could avoid a ticket."

Bob stood up and said, "You made me get out of the car and bend over it while you frisked me – much longer than necessary. You made me walk to a clearing in the woods. We stood facing each other and ..."

"... and I told you to strip – slowly. First I told you to take off the tie ..."

He waited expectantly but Bob said, "Not this time, officer. It's my turn – pay back." There was a tone in Bob's voice Mark didn't recognize – a look in the eye. He was tougher, somehow, liberated, a new Bob. He was the boss. "Unbutton your shirt – slowly."

"OK," Mark said. Bob's eyes flashed. "Don't police officers usually call civilians `sir'?"

"Yes, sir," said Mark, falling under the spell of this dominant man. He undid two buttons of his shirt and Bob stepped forward, pulled the open shirt wider and ran his hands over the white T-shirt underneath. "Yeah, that's good," he breathed, and stepped back. "More." Obediently the cop unbuttoned his shirt all the way down and pulled one side out of his waistband.

"Oh yeah ... raise your arms." Mark raised his arms to the sides and bent his elbows, flexing his biceps in a bodybuilder pose. Again Bob walked forward, pushed the black shirt's short sleeves higher and stroked the flexed biceps. "Shit, man, you look fucking spectacular. Huh – that first day ... you were the one in uniform so you had the authority and made me strip. But here's what you really wanted. The minute you saw that handsome business executive, the minute you frisked him and felt that muscular body, you felt challenged and you wanted to show him how beautiful you were. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir." Bob stepped back. "You were so turned on in that clearing, with the stunning businessman facing you, you wanted to show him your muscular body – to prove you were worthy of him, right?" "Yes, sir." "So show me – slowly."

It was a whole new experience for Mark to yield to the dominant stud that Bob had become. Even more erotic, Bob had framed it as the fantasy of a cop pulling over a business executive then falling under his control. In a role reversal of that first day, the cop was submitting to the executive, obeying his orders. His cock was roaring hard in his uniform pants as he pulled the other side of his shirt free of his waist, opened it up to reveal the T-shirt stretched over his chest, then slowly pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside.

Bob took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie and paced around. From the other side of the room he gazed at the cop, stripped down to his T-shirt, and said again, "Show me, officer." Mark pressed his fists into his tight waist, pushed his shoulders forward and flared his lats in another classic bodybuilding pose.

"Oh, man," Bob murmured, rubbing the bulge in his slacks. He pulled off his tie, rolled up his shirtsleeves and opened the shirt halfway down, exposing the white tank-top underneath. He rubbed his own nipples through the thin cotton and groaned, his muscles rippling. "See that? He's fucking gorgeous. Try to match it ... show him what you've got, cop."

Mark rose to the challenge. Slowly he pulled the T-shirt clear of the pants and raised the bottom far enough to show off his eight-pack abs. Then he reached behind his neck and pulled the T-shirt up slowly – over his abs, the mounds of his chest, over his shoulders and off. "Wow," Bob gasped, seeing the cop stripped to the waist, clasping his hands behind his back and flexing his pecs.

"Shit damn," Bob moaned. He undid his shirt and tossed it off, his torso flexing under the white tank. Mark gasped and rubbed one hand over the bulge in his uniform pants. Bob glared at him. "Did I say you could do that?" "No, sir." The shirtless cop again clasped his hands behind him. "Yeah," Bob said, "that's what you did that first day – rubbed your crotch and came in your pants looking at me. But not this time, officer. This time I'm in control and I've got other plans for you."

Bob pulled off his tank and held his arms out displaying his naked torso. "Remember what you did that day, office, when you first saw this?" "Aaah," Mark groaned, desperate to touch his cock. But this time he was not looking at a compliant driver obeying police orders. Now he was gazing at a superb alpha male, a handsome executive with a cop in his power ... and the cop couldn't hold back. "You are so beautiful, man," Mark groaned, "such a fucking stud, you're making me ... Aaagh!"

Still gripping his hands behind him, his body flexed, his head flew back ... and his cock erupted in his shorts. Bob watched the stain spreading over the uniform pants and saw the cop's pleading eyes. He walked up to him, gripped his head with both hands and pulled his face toward him, kissing him hungrily, their chests pressed hard together. When he pulled back he said quietly, "I know what you want, Mark."

Grabbing the back of Mark's neck he pushed him over to face the mirror, the same mirror he himself had cum on the day before, admiring himself. Mark braced himself by pressing his hands high up on the wall, on either side of the mirror. Bob gazed at the muscular back, flaring down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist cinched by the heavy black police belt, with the mounds of his ass clearly outlined in the uniform pants. "Man, that is beautiful," Bob said. "Shit, it's what I should have done that first day – pushed you against a tree, pulled down your pants and fucked that cop's ass. It's what you wanted, right? It's what you want now."

"Yes, sir," said the cop, staring into the mirror at the shirtless businessman behind him. Bob reached round, loosened Mark's belt and yanked the pants down below his butt. He ripped open his own slacks and pulled out his iron-hard cock. He spat on it and pressed the head between the cheeks, then paused. "Please, man," Mark groaned. "It's never been like this. I want it so bad. You wanna hear a cop beg? OK, I'm begging. Please, sir, fuck me in the ass."

Bob reached round to Mark's chest and twisted his nipples in his fingers. Mark groaned louder – "please, man ... I ... aaagh!" He howled as the shaft slammed into his ass and drove deep into his gut. It pulled back up the chute, then plunged in again, pinning the cop's body to the mirror. Bob stared into the blue-gray eyes in the mirror and said, "I love you, man – always have. But you've never known me like this, never felt it like this. You want it hard?"

"Oh yeah," Mark grinned. "Give it to me, stud. You're fucking spectacular." Bob wasn't brutal as Randy might have been. But he pistoned relentlessly in the cop's ass, sending him to the brink of pain but not over – keeping him suspended in a state of pure ecstasy. As his ass was pounded Mark looked at the Superman face in the mirror and pressed his lips against the reflection in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth of his lips.

His cock was pressed against the glass, grinding against it with every thrust of Bob's merciless rod. And always, over his shoulder, the stunning face, the brown eyes boring into his. The shaft jack-hammered the cop's ass endlessly and Mark knew he couldn't hold out much longer. So did Bob. He reached up high, clamped his hands over Mark's wrists against the wall and breathed in Mark's ear, "OK, officer – this is what you get for pulling over a man like me and making me strip in the woods. It's payback time, cop, and you're gonna beg me again – beg me to let you shoot that load again. You ready, officer?"

"Yes, sir – please, sir," Mark gasped. "I have to cum - you're making me so damn hot. Please let me bust my load. You win, man – I give up, you are the best – I submit, sir..."

"OK, cop – shoot that load." He felt Mark's body shudder against him, saw the eyes open wide, heard the howl as the cop came again, this time shooting a stream of juice between his stomach and the glass. As his body shuddered and his cock drained he looked into the mirror and moaned, "Oh, man, that was fucking unbelievable. It was never like that before."

"No, never like this either!" Bob yanked his cock out of his ass, pulled Mark away from the mirror and hurled him onto his back on the bed. Bob had held back his orgasm up to now, but that was about to change. As he gazed down at the shirtless cop his eyes blazed as adrenaline raced through him and he felt himself at the peak of his manhood. He leaned down and yanked off first one of Mark's boots then the other. He grabbed the bottom of the uniform pants, pulled them clear off and flung them contemptuously aside. He wrapped his fist round the cop's shorts and with one jerk ripped them off him.

Naked now Mark looked up at Bob with shock and awe. This wasn't the mild-mannered man he had always known. This was Superman, flexing his muscles and proving his supremacy. In an act of complete surrender Mark bent his knees, put his hands behind them and pulled his legs up, offering up his ass. Bob kicked off his loafers, dropped his pants and shorts and towered naked over the submissive cop.

Bob held his arms out and flexed his biceps. "You see this, man? This is me, the real me – get used to it, `cause I'm gonna fuck that ass of yours a whole lot – starting now. He dropped to his knees, pushed his cock into the thicket of soft blond round Mark's hole ... and once again rammed his cock deep into his ass. Bob raised his arms, linked his fingers behind his own head and flexed his muscles as his hips thrust forward against the cop's ass. Mark gazed in disbelief at the incredible muscle-god, his muscles rippling, the ripped, eight-pack abs, the slabs of his chest, flexing in a another bodybuilder pose.

Incredibly, after two orgasms, Mark's dick was already hard as a rock. "Take a good look," Bob said, "`cause this is the man who's gonna make you shoot another load. You know you can't resist me, stud. And you sure as hell can't resist this ..." He fell forward, pinned Mark's wrists to the bed, gazed into his eyes and smiled. "I love you, Mark." He lowered his face to Mark's and they kissed, long and passionately.

Mark felt he was floating, when Bob pulled back and gazed into his eyes, seeing his own reflection. "You're looking at a new man, Mark. And it's not only physical dominance – it's this. His cock still worked on the cop's ass as Bob's eyes pierced Mark's like a laser. It was as if Mark entered them, hypnotized by them, under their spell.

"You'll do anything for me Mark, I know that. So now you're gonna feel my juice spilling into your ass and, as you do, you're gonna shoot another load. Feel my abs pressing against your cock, rolling over it as I fuck your ass. Now look into my eyes and tell me you love me."

"I love you, man. I'll do anything for you. Please, cum in my ass. Please ..." Bob stopped moving and there was a deep silence. And then the semen started to flow – inside Mark's ass and, for the third time, from Mark's cock. There was no noise – words were superseded by the language of their eyes. It felt like a slow-motion dream as Bob finally pulled his cock out of Mark's ass and fell onto him, their open mouths clamped tightly over each other, breathing in and out, sharing the same breath.

Eventually Bob rolled off him, lay beside him and asked, "You think it would be OK with Jamie if you spent the night here, buddy?" Mark grinned. "It would if he knew I was with you. The kid's crazy about you." He pulled his cell phone from his pants' pocket on the floor and had a brief conversation with Jamie. "He's fine," Mark said. "OK," said Bob, "here's what's gonna happen. I'll call room service and order a big dinner, `cause were both starving. Then we'll spend the rest of the time in bed. OK with you, buddy?"

"Aye, aye, sir," Mark grinned. "Wouldn't dare say no to the new stud in town. Guess I'm gonna be taking orders from you from now on. I guess everyone is ... everyone.."

The night with Mark had been a catharsis for Bob, where he had flexed his muscles, physically and figuratively, as a newly minted muscle-stud, a dominant top-man, taking orders from no-one. However, he still didn't feel up to returning to the house yet, fielding questions from the guys to which he himself didn't yet have answers. During the next few days he did check at work to see if the senior position in San Francisco was still open and was told that they were holding it open for him. It was his if he wanted it. Other than that, Bob made no definite moves and went daily straight from work into the comforting arms of the Beverly Hills Hotel.

Randy was following roughly the same trajectory, though without the luxury Bob enjoyed. Oddly he found comfort in the shabby motel, though he would never have admitted to himself that it was because Room 14 reminded him so much of Bob. He went every morning from the motel to the construction site where he lustily resumed his role as boss, absolutely in charge, barking out orders and expecting them to be carried out. As for Texas, he needed to make no plans for when the time came. All he had to do was grab a few clothes, jump into his truck and go. Though, like Bob, he was not yet ready to do even that.

And just as Bob had Mark to confide in, Randy had Zack. Working together they had long ago developed a firm friendship based on mutual respect and admiration – two hard-working bosses who were on top of their game. Not that Randy really opened up too much about `the situation' as everyone was calling it. Randy had always been something of a loner and Zack respected his privacy, though he was ready to help him in whatever way he could.

His opportunity came a few days after Bob and Randy had split. Zack was in the trailer office having a sandwich and a beer when Randy stomped in and slammed the door behind him. He was in a mood and, typically, he didn't beat around the bush. "This thing with Bob," he said, opening a beer, "and what I did in the bar. I'm not sorry I hurt him – he's used to that." (Zack rolled his eyes.)

"And I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but I guess I humiliated him in public and I know he hates that. Guess I went too far – I was so damn mad that all those guys were falling over themselves to get near him and he was getting real thick with one of them. Yeah, I was wrong and I need to get punished, Zack. You're the only guy I can turn to, man."

Zack felt anger rising "Man, I'd really get off punishing you, not for what you did but for what you just said. You're not sorry you hurt Bob cause he's used to that' ... he deserved it' ... you were mad that the guys in the bar lusted for him'. Man, don't you ever learn? What is he, a beautiful, gentle man who loved you, or a fucking farm animal who deserves whatever you dish out? You're my buddy and I respect you a lot, but you can be your own worst enemy and sometimes you fucking make me see red. Yeah, I'll punish you, asshole."

Zack grabbed him and pushed him forward over the drafting table. Randy spread his arms and gripped the top of the table as Zack yanked his work pants down over his ass. Randy was, as usual, wearing his dirty old tank top and Zack, as usual, was shirtless in black jeans Zack ripped open his jeans and pulled out his long, thick black weapon. He spat on it, stroked it a couple of times, then rammed it brutally into the boss's ass.

There was no scream as Randy gritted his teeth against the searing pain. Zack usually refrained from sex when he was angry, knowing the dangers of a top man losing control. But this time his anger overcame him and he pounded Randy's ass with all his strength. Randy clenched his jaw as long as he could but the pain of the relentless jackhammer became so intense he groaned louder and louder.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw the magnificent ebony body slamming against him, muscles flexing, glistening with sweat. Randy knew Zack was a powerful son-of-a-bitch and he braced himself for a brutal pounding from his pile-driving cock.

"This is what you need, man," Zack sneered, "a taste of the crap you dish out. I'm tired of you brutalizing that beautiful guy we all love just because you claim to own him, like some dog." Zack's mounting anger made him drive his cock ever deeper into the shattered ass. "Feel that, man? That's what it feels like when you torture the ass of the man who loves you. You proud of yourself, asshole? Shit, I don't know why I'm wasting my time on your sorry ass. Here it comes, man."

The searing pain became unbearable and Randy screamed, "I can't take it, man. I give up. Cum in my ass ... please ... I submit... Aaagh!" Two screams echoed round the small space as Zack emptied his cock into the boss's gut and Randy spilled his own load on the floor."

Zack yanked his cock out of the ravaged ass, wiped it off and stuffed it back into his jeans. He stared down at Randy contemptuously, then spun round and walked out the door, leaving behind him the construction worker's muscular body slumped over the table, naked except for the work pants crumpled round his boots. It wasn't so much the physical pain as the agony of hearing Zack's scathing words that left him heaving with sobs.

And so the week dragged on at the house in a cloud of gloom and uncertainty. Bob had spoken often by phone with the twins (about the household) and with Jamie (about the office), while Randy, of course, saw Pablo, Ben, Darius and Zack on the construction site. The episode in the trailer was never mentioned, but Randy and Zack seemed closer than ever, having shared raw feelings man-to-man. Deep down Randy knew Zack had been right, though he did not admit it to himself consciously, so deep was his state of denial.

Jamie had called Mario, too, confiding in him about the unfolding drama, and Mario had responded by coming up to town and joining the group again. In the continued absence of Bob and Randy, Mark took charge of the house, trying to hold things together. To dispel the anxiety and rumors, Mark and Zack decided to convene a meeting, with everyone present including Steve, whose expertise as a therapist they felt was needed.

The men sat at the long table in the garden and all the boys sat cross-legged in the grass gazing up at them. Mark chaired the meeting and called on Steve first, though he was able to give them less comfort than they hoped for.

"There's very little you guys can decide about now until the situation between Bob and Randy resolves itself – one way or the other. All you can do is go day to day, trying to keep the routine as normal as possible. I know you you'd like me to intervene between them but I can't do that. As Randy's brother, one year younger than him, I'm the last guy he would take advice from. And as a therapist I cannot approach them – they have to come to me. It's a basic principle of my job. Right now you're in a holding pattern. Sorry I can't be more helpful than that, guys."

They all accepted the truth of Steve's words and Mark said, "OK, thanks Steve, so let's be practical. Jamie, I know Bob is in touch with you daily about the office but my guess is you're really up against it in there. You need help. The last time we were all together Randy assumed that Mario would join us and assist you. But Mario, I have to warn you that such a move would be risky right now as we don't even know what's going to happen to the company from here on."

"That's not a problem for me, sir," Mario replied confidently. "It's the slow season at my hotel and they've encouraged us to take vacation. So I have taken my two weeks and intend to spend it helping Jamie – if he wants me." The two boys grinned at each other and blushed. "After that, if things work out, I would love to make my stay permanent" .

"Excellent," Mark said. "I appreciate that and," he grinned, "I'm sure Jamie and I can find a way of thanking you later. Now the men have to talk about contingency plans for the future of the company, so I suggest we adjourn to the office, gentlemen, and continue our discussion there."

They got up and went into the house, leaving behind a group of bewildered boys in a state of anxiety and confusion

There was an uncomfortable silence at first as they all looked at each other, waiting for someone to take the lead. Suddenly Eddie surprised them by blurting out, "It's not fair ... everyone's blaming Randy `cause we all love Bob so much, but Randy is my hero. When I was gonna get beaten by that thug I heard his voice – "You touch the boy one more time, asshole, and I'll rip your fucking balls off. That's my boy you got there. He belongs to me." He had come all that way to rescue me and he took a real beating for my sake. He called me his boy and ... and I don't think we should ..." But his words trailed off and he broke down in tears.

Pablo was sitting next to him and put his arms round him and hugged him tight. Darius leapt to his feet and faced them leaning against the table, taking the lead. "OK, guys, I think Eddie speaks for all of us. It's all a fucking mess. Does anyone else have anything to say? Pablo, Ben, maybe – you're closest to him, after all, as his boy and his brother."

But Pablo and Ben were reticent. All they knew was that they would stay loyal to Randy no matter what. "I just wanna say," Pablo said, "that if Randy goes back to Texas he'll take us with him." Kyle said, "Same goes for us twins and Bob," and Kevin added, "Bob said when he goes to San Francisco he's taking us with him."

"I'll stay with Adam, of course," Nate said, "and Eddie will go and live with Hassan." Jamie added," Naturally I'll stay with Mark and you, Darius, would never leave Zack."

This prompted a buzz of conversation and Darius cut through it. "OK, OK, so us boys will never leave our masters, but..." He couldn't think what to say next, except, "Shit, this leadership thing is tougher than I thought." He looked down at the boys who were now gazing up at him expectantly. Darius found them moving and he choked up. "Yeah, guys but what about us? We were always a band of brothers, always together – we circled the wagons when there was trouble. But this time, I don't know what ..." He wiped his eyes, holding back tears.

The silence was heartbreaking but suddenly they were saved, once again, by Eddie's clear voice. "Well, guys, Doctor Steve said all we can do is take it one day at a time. So what about right now? We all know we love each other – a band of brothers, like Darius said. So let's prove it." Impulsively he turned to Pablo, who still had his arm round his shoulder, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then he leaned down, unbuttoned Pablo's shorts and pulled out his cock. It was limp but with Eddie's cock-sucking skills he soon had it hard, deep in his throat.

Nate was next to turn to the boy beside him – Ben. "Hey, mate, about time we did this. After all, we might not have much longer." Ben grinned at his Aussie directness and they kissed. They grappled for a while, ending up on their sides head to toe, facing each other's dicks.

Darius gazed in awe at what was happening. He fell to his knees and found himself facing Mario. "Hey, dude, I never did really make amends for the time I lost my mind and whipped you while you were tied to that tree. No time like the present. He pulled off his shorts and lay naked on his back, pulling up his legs and offering his ass. "Go for it stud."

Jamie and the twins had been sitting near the back of the group closest to the floor-to-ceiling window of the house. They all looked at each other shyly. Caught up in the general shedding of inhibitions Kyle said, "We never told you, Jamie, that a California surfer was one of our biggest turn-ons, and the other day when you came home from the beach barefoot in your board shorts and that old tank, your hair all tangled, we really envied Mark who got to fuck you right away . We jerked each other off thinking about it."

Jamie grinned, looking over the field of frenzied activity. Well, guys, looks like today's the day. He got on hands and his knees in front of the window and looked at his own reflection and the twins behind him. He pulled his surfer trunks down below his ass and said, "OK, guys – who's first?" The twins were mesmerized by the sight of the surfer's white globes, with tan lines above and below. And Kevin went first.

Jamie's yell as Kevin's dick drove into him was added to the howls and shouts of all the other boys as the garden became the scene of a writhing boys' orgy. Eddie who had started the ball rolling, had given Pablo the unique pleasure of getting his cock sucked by an expert, and now climbed on him, sat on his raging hard-on and was bouncing up and down while Pablo howled, "Shit, Eddie, you're fucking awesome – a real stud. Fuck my cock, boy."

Ben and Nate were going at it like young demons, feeding on each other's cock in a 69 contest, seeing who could suck the hardest and get the other guy off first. Mario was showing Darius just how macho of a top-man he was, pounding his ass while he wrapped both hands round the black boy's huge ten-inches and pumped it hard.

And Jamie on his hands and knees was backing up to the cocks of first one twin then the other. Then, when Kyle pulled out, he rolled Jamie over, bent forward and sucked his cock while Kevin took his turn at the ass, sliding his cock down the chute and deep inside. The young blond surfer was being treated to the erotic sensation of being fucked and sucked at the same time by identical twins.

The initial screams of pain had now become howls of delight (from those who didn't have their mouths full), and the joyous sounds blended together in one harmonious chorus. The frenzied, youthful activity was made all the more intense and poignant by their knowing that this could be their last time together, maybe. They were making their own music, not unlike the band playing on the sinking Titanic (no `maybe' there).

The shouts of joy reached a crescendo as they started to shoot their loads. Pablo exploded in Eddie's ass while the boy shot over his face. Ben and Nate's 69 contest was a draw as they shot in each other's mouths simultaneously. Mario stroked Darius's long black dick hard with both hands and, when he saw it erupt he came himself, deep in Darius's ass. Jamie was on his back beating his meat as the twins stood over him emptying their cocks over him.

Cum was everywhere. The young bodies, slick with hot jism, were sliding over each other, their hearts pounding, bodies heaving, their cocks already hard again. They were caught up in a wild orgy of lust, writhing together in a heap, unaware of which mouth they were fucking, what cock was fucking whose ass. All they knew was that they loved each other, a true band of brothers, taking perhaps their last chance to say a final passionate farewell in the way they knew best.

The deafening noise of course reached the men upstairs and they stared down at the astonishing scene below, at the heap of naked young bodies writhing all over each other in a tangle of limbs. "Shit damn," said Zack, "will you look at that! The kids must know all this could end soon and they're making the most of their last time." Mark gazed down and murmured, "Yeah, their last goodbye," and he turned away to hide the tears brimming in his eyes.

The mantra Steve had given them was one day at a time and that's how they played it. The next day the forced euphoria of the day before was gone, replaced by the comforting routine of work. Zack, Darius Pablo and Ben went back to the construction site and didn't attempt to talk to Randy about anything except the project at hand. Mario joined Jamie in the office and was soon being schooled in the everyday tasks of keeping the business running.

The twins, Nate and Eddie put in extra effort to keep the house in shape, with Nate keeping a keen eye on Eddie, who he knew was hurting bad. The twins were the calmest of them all, as if they had some secret knowledge that things would turn out OK. To this end they spring-cleaned the suite of Bob and Randy, leaving it pristine, with a big vase of flowers that they changed every day. It would be a warm welcome for whichever of the men returned, if they ever did.

The days dragged on and Bob came to despise the luxury of his surroundings at the hotel. He didn't deserve this, he was pampering himself selfishly when others were hurting and there was so much to be decided. He had to come out of his luxury shell and face up to reality, but he still could not bring himself to go back to the room he and Randy had shared for so long.

Randy was going through similar melancholy. He too was starting to hate his cheap motel room, because subconsciously it was his last ink with Bob and leaving it would be like cutting the cord forever. He knew he needed Bob more than ever but hated himself for needing him. So he took increasingly to drink, spending more time in the bar and staggering back nightly to the motel in drunken oblivion.

It was one evening when Mark was visiting Bob at his hotel that things finally came to a head. Mark's visits were what was keeping Bob from going crazy. The cop had come straight from work and they were sitting down to another room-service dinner when Mark's cell phone rang unexpectedly. "Hey, Joe, what's up buddy?" As he listened his expression clouded over with frustration. "Jesus Christ, when? How bad? Yeah, yeah I know him ... yeah I'll vouch for him. How long before you transfer him downtown? Heck, that soon, uh? Listen buddy, do me a favor and delay it as long as you can – I'm on my way. Thanks, Joe, you're a real pal."

Mark spoke quickly. "A pal of mine at the Hollywood Police division. They responded to a drunk and disorderly call at one of those cheap bars at the wrong end of the Boulevard. It was Randy, drunk as a skunk threatening to beat up a guy in the bar. The cops hauled his ass off to the cells at the Hollywood Police Station where he's yelling that he's gonna tear the place apart. Trouble is, in half an hour they're gonna transfer him to the Glass House in Downtown L.A. I have some pull at Hollywood, know a lot of the guys there, but once he's in the downtown jail all bets are off. I gotta get over there, do what I can. Don't move from here, Bob. I'll call you."

With a quick hug Mark ran from the room, leaving behind him a bereft man with tears in his eyes. "Stupid fucking idiot," he said, talking out loud as he did in times of trouble. "Of course he got drunk – and in the old days he'd take it out on me. But those were the old days. I have no responsibility for him now. Let him rot in jail." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he took them back. "No, no – he got drunk because of me, he's missing me."

He paced the room feeling helpless, with no idea what to do. He took a deep breath trying to stay calm. "OK, what would Randy do, even now, if he heard I was in trouble? I know damn well what he'd do. He'd come right away to help me. Remember the time those assholes ran me off the road and he carried me all the way up the sides of the ravine to the road? In the hospital he didn't leave my side while I was in a coma ... and he brought me back to life."

He rushed to the door. "I gotta go to him – he needs me like he's always needed me." He stopped. "No, Mark said to stay put here. Gotta wait for him to do his thing." He sat down and took a swig of wine, trying desperately to stay calm. "Shit, isn't that what I've always done? He beats me up, I leave, then go crawling back. I can't do that again ... but he needs me." Bob was confused and exhausted. He rested his head on his arms on the table, forced himself to clear his mind and finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

He was woken by his cell phone. How long he had slept he didn't know. He almost sobbed with relief to hear Mark's calm voice. "It's OK buddy, everything's OK. Luckily the guys on that shift know me well and owed me some favors, so we worked things out, bent a few rules and they released Randy on my recognizance. By that time he was pretty much beat, whacked out from booze. I took him to some rat-hole of a motel he's been staying in round the corner from the bar he had roughed up. I ordered him to stay put there all night until he sobered up, and he was in no shape to protest. I know he'll pass out for the night."

Mark paused. "Funny thing, though, as I left the room I looked back at him, lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and I suddenly felt real sorry for him. Such a great guy, but now he's a wreck. And you know what? As he lay there tears were running down his cheeks. Not something you see often, the big boss man, the so-called King of the Gypsies, in tears."

Bob was staring at the wall. Mark had signed off saying he had to get back to Jamie, and was Bob OK now he knew Randy was safe? Yes, Bob had said, he was just fine. But that wasn't true. Bob knew now where Randy was – "some rat-hole of a motel he's been staying in round the corner from the bar." Had to be their motel – the one where ... His eyes glazed over as he thought of that first night together when it had all started with Randy roping him to the bed and punishing him for, as he mistakenly thought, Bob's coming on to him. He saw the swarthy construction worker towering over him – he felt the pain as if it were yesterday.

Suddenly he snapped back to the present and everything was crystal clear to him. He knew what he had to do. He pulled on an old pair of jeans, heavy boots and a wide belt that he hardly ever wore. He put on an old white tank top and a frayed denim shirt, sleeveless, hanging open over his chest.

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the rugged muscle stud who had so recently dominated Mark, forced him to strip and then jack-hammered his ass. It was an alpha male he hardly recognized – the new Bob, released from his bondage of humility and subservience. "The stupid asshole motherfucker," he growled, and left the room.

As he drove along Sunset Boulevard toward Hollywood it was all déjà vu. He remembered that distant day when, after Randy had released him from his nightmare in the motel, he had checked into a luxury hotel. He remembered his restlessness, his strange inability to leave the city. Now, as he dropped down to Hollywood Boulevard and headed away from the glitz toward the shabby end he recalled his aimless wanderings that night when he had no idea what he was doing but felt himself inexorably drawn back to that motel.

He remembered bumping over a rough paving and coming to a halt ... in the small motel parking lot. And now, as his Mercedes purred to a halt – here he was again. That first time he had stayed in his car for a long time gazing at the door of Room 14 before plucking up the courage to approach it. He had been nervous, knowing he was going back to the savage domination of the man he was obsessed with.

Not this time though. Bob felt his whole body flex as power surged through him. He got out of the car and strode to door 14. As he had done before he peered through a crack in the window blinds and saw exactly the same sight as he had seen before. Randy was lying on his back on the bed, his hands linked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

Last time Bob had knocked nervously and waited. This time he grabbed the door handle, turned it ... and walked right in.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 195.

Hey 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.

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!