A Trial of Strength

x A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 222 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: Eddie's new friend Brandon expected his usual solitary day. Boy was he wrong. It was like a wet dream as guys kept arriving at his house, all classic porn fantasies – a gypsy construction worker – a Greek-God cop – a shirtless black bodybuilder. "Brandon looked up and gasped, realizing that the muscular black leatherman was about to impale him on the huge horse-dick swinging above his face."

Chapter 222 – Brandon's Porn Collection Comes to Life

Eddie had met a new friend – a boy who lived at the top of the hill in a small apartment all on his own. They had spent a happy hour or two together, featuring a lot of oral sex (Eddie's specialty) and multiple orgasms. When Eddie had finally left him and come home he had interrupted Randy and Bob who were getting `reacquainted' after Randy's two-day absence at the lake.

He had burst into their room but stopped in his tracks when he saw the two men pulling out of each other's arms. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, sirs ... I should have known ... oh shit ... I'll go away and come back..."

"Hey, hey," grinned Randy. "Looks like something that can't wait. What is it, boy?"

Eddie was hopping from foot to foot like he needed to pee. "Well, it can wait, sir – but not really. See I met this guy and he's way cool but he has a problem and I wanna help him, `coz he don't have much money – he's only got Disability – and he don't have a carpenter neither so I was thinking that ..." he frowned ... "well maybe it's not such a good idea, sir, you being with Bob and all, so maybe..."

"Eddie, Eddie," Bob said gently. "Why don't you take a few deep breaths and start again from the beginning?"

Eddie stood wide-eyed, taking exaggerated breaths, then swallowed hard. "Well, sir, like I said, I met this guy, Brandon, and I gave him this great blow job and he came three times ..." Bob raised his eyebrows and Eddie said, "Sorry, sir. Too much information.

"Anyway, did I mention he's in a wheelchair? Well he is – legs paralyzed – car wreck – but he's real independent and usually he beats off to videos – he likes big muscular guys like cops, leathermen, firemen and construction workers – oh, just like you, sir," he grinned at Randy. "Oh sorry, there I go again. Anyway, the point is... (the point at last Randy sighed) ... the point is the cupboards in his house are too high for him to reach unless he has, er, puller cupboards or something..."

"Pull-down shelves," said Randy, beginning to see where this was going.

"That's the things, sir. He's got them already and he's trying to save enough money to have them put in, but he's only got his Disability money like I said. So anyway, I got some money saved up from my wages – Hassan said I should try to save – well, it's not much but I was wondering, sir, if you've got some real junior carpenter on the crew who could use a few extra bucks by installing the shelves and I'd use my savings to pay him. I mean I don't have that much, but maybe ..." He had run out of steam and fidgeted nervously.

Randy looked over at Bob and saw him gulp, his eyes moist. Randy smiled at Eddie. "Why a junior carpenter, kid? Couldn't it be someone senior, like me for instance?"

"Oh, I could never afford you, sir." Randy laughed, "Keep your money, kid, I'd do it pro bono."

Eddie frowned, "Pro boner, sir? Well, I could sure give you a boner – they say I'm like a pro ..."

Bob smiled and said gently, "Pro bono, Eddie. It's Latin, means `For the public good' ... Free of charge. You won't have to touch your savings."

"Really, sir?" Eddie said, wide-eyed. "Yeah really, kid," said Randy. "We install a lot of those things. Piece of cake. Brandon's the kid's name, right? I'll go myself before work tomorrow."

Bob smiled. "Eddie, you've given me an idea. You say this friend, Brandon, likes big hunky guys like cops and leather guys and such. Well, I think I have a plan. How would you like to be my co-conspirator?"

"Yes please, sir." Eddie wasn't sure what a co-con-thingy was but he'd like to be anything with Bob. "OK," Bob smiled, "it's a deal – we'll work on this together. Now here's my plan..."

Very early next morning Brandon was woken from a deep sleep by a banging on his door. He forced himself awake. "Who in the hell? ... must be the Welfare..." The banging was insistent so he rolled out of bed and pulled himself into his wheelchair. He always slept naked but he was too groggy to pull on clothes and he wheeled himself to the door. He unlocked it, opened it and gasped. He must still be asleep and this was a dream. He put on his glasses and gazed upward, blinking hard.

Standing on his doorstep was a fantasy – a big muscle-god construction worker with a dark, rugged face of a gypsy, more gorgeous than anything he'd ever seen in a video, or anywhere else for that matter. He had on a greasy tank-top stretched over his muscular chest, old cargo work pants with a carpenter's belt round his slim waist loaded with tools, and muddy work-boots. It was a pornographic dream and the boy wanted to go back to sleep so it wouldn't go away, when suddenly he heard the deep Texas drawl.

"You Brandon? I'm told you need help with some shelves here, boy."

Brandon was speechless as he gazed up at this homoerotic vision on his doorstep. Randy looked down at the good-looking kid with a pale, freckled face, tousled light brown hair, and big brown eyes behind his black-framed glasses. His body was slim but with well-defined muscles, a product, no doubt, of constantly wheeling his chair. The boy was naked and his cock was standing up stiff as a pole.

Randy smiled, "Yeah, I'm glad to see you too, kid. Now forget the boner and show me the shelves you want fitted. And you're gonna have to give me a hand, boy – kinda like a carpenter's assistant. You up for that?"

If this wasn't a dream, Brandon thought, he had just died and gone to heaven.

"Well come on, kid, I haven't got all day," Randy said to the boy who hadn't dared move in case the vision evaporated. He jumped back to life and said, "Sorry, sir ... er, they're under my bed."

Randy strode right into the bedroom with a dazed Brandon following in his wheelchair. Sorry, the room's a bit of a mess, sir, and the bed, but ... " He made a frantic attempt to pull his shorts and underwear off the rumpled bed but Randy stopped him. "Now listen, kid, I don't give a shit how your bed looks. Hell, I've seen worse than this – fucked a few customers on them too after I finished the job. I'm here to do a job so let's see these shelves you got."

While Brandon clumsily pulled a pair of shorts over his legs, tugged them under his butt and up to his waist, Randy reached under the bed and dragged out the shelves – and a well-used fireman's calendar with them. He grinned as he turned it over. "Yeah, this is the one the twins keep under their bed, too. August page, right?"

Brandon blushed bright red. How did he know? "Bet you jack off over him a lot. Real nice guy too – buddy of mine. Anyway, I'm not interested in your sex life, kid. Let's take a look at the shelves you got. He opened the package and examined the contents ... while Brandon examined him.

God, he was gorgeous, and rough too, with that deep voice, stubbled gypsy face and those rippling muscles under his sweaty clothes. And he fucked some of his customers?! And who were these twins who had the same calendar? And, craziest of all, he actually knew the fireman on the August page – he was his buddy! Wonder if he ever fucked him. That image made Brandon's head spin and he almost busted his load. He took a deep breath to calm himself – and suddenly thought of money. "Sir ... I'm sorry but I don't have much money – not enough to pay you, sir."

"Ah, don't sweat it kid – we'll think of something."

We'll think of something??! What did that mean?

A few minutes later they were in the small kitchen and Randy had the shelf kit spread out on the table. "Yeah, it's all here," he said, "hardware, screws, everything. I'll have this done in no time – but, like I said, you gotta help me, kid. First of all ..." he pulled a power drill from his tool belt ... "plug this in for me." Brandon couldn't help it but everything took on sexual overtones – this incredibly hot construction worker with the power tool in his fist and ... `plug it in'. He wheeled himself to the wall plug and did as instructed.

"OK. Now you come here right beside me and hand me the parts as I need them. We'll start with the slide runners, see them?"

"Yes, sir." Brandon positioned himself right next to Randy, his back to the wall so he was looking up to him. He handed him the parts he wanted and watched as he expertly positioned them in the cupboard and screwed them in. And so it continued, but Brandon had the devil of a job trying to concentrate on the various parts – he was concentrating on the construction worker's parts, his muscles flexing as he drilled, his stubbled jaw clenched in concentration.

"Shit, it's hot in here, kid, and it's still only early. Flip on the air conditioner, will you?"

"There isn't one, sir, I'm sorry. But I did buy a fan." He wheeled himself into the living room and came back with a small fan that Randy could see would have almost no effect. "Hell, this place must feel like a fucking furnace in the afternoons. These old 50's apartments were thrown up with no insulation either. We gotta get you a couple o' window air conditioners, boy. We got lots of reconditioned ones in the warehouse, I'll have one of my guys bring a couple over," he said casually. Brandon looked concerned and Randy added, "And don't worry about money, kid. That's taken care of – or will be."

The fan was pretty useless and the room was getting warmer but Brandon was used to it. He re-positioned himself with his back to the wall next to Randy. Sweat was trickling down the gypsy face, down his neck and the cleft between his pecs, spreading damp patches over his thin tank top. And Brandon could see sweat oozing from the black hair under his armpits.

As Randy reached over him drops of sweat dripped down onto the boy's face and his heart missed a beat as he inhaled the rancid smell. Impulsively he stuck out his tongue and tasted the rugged construction worker's man sweat. His cock was pounding in his shorts and he desperately tried to hold back his orgasm.

"OK, we're ready for the shelves," Randy said. "Damn it's hot in here." He reached behind his neck, pulled his tank top off over his head and used it to wipe the sweat from his face, chest and his ripped abs. He tossed the sweat-soaked tank aside and it landed on Brandon's shoulder.

It was sensory overload for the boy, and his glasses were steaming up so he took them off. Smelling the wet rag close to his cheek he gazed up at the construction worker stripped to the waist, at his broad shoulders, bulging biceps, chest and washboard abs, his flared lats narrowing down to his tight waist cinched by his tool belt. It was only Randy's next command that stopped him from creaming his shorts.

"Now I want you to hold this shelf up above your head while I secure it. Won't take a second but you gotta hold it still, OK?" Brandon obeyed, bracing his arms above him. Randy stretched up to the cupboard and leaned further forward pressing his shirtless body against Brandon.

The boy found his face pressed against the construction worker's rock hard abs. He thought he would suffocate and breathed in hard, almost choking on the stink of sweat and, he was sure, dry cum. The man must have recently jerked off over himself when he woke up, which Brandon himself did often. Randy's side-to-side movements as he inserted the shelf made him rub his eight-pack abs against the boy's face and Brandon licked between the hard ridges, sucking in the juicy essence of this pornographic muscle-god.

No way he could hold back now. His cock that had been straining for release ever since the man appeared now exploded in his shorts and he felt sticky cum flowing over his crotch. "Aaah," he moaned loudly and almost dropped the shelf.

Randy pulled back suddenly and the shelf fell. "Jesus Christ, boy, I told you to hold it steady. What the fuck made you drop it?" Brandon was shocked and scared by this sudden flash of anger, but somehow it made the shirtless gypsy even more sexy as he towered over him, his fists clenched, muscles tense with anger.

But suddenly the blue eyes softened and the look of annoyance gave way to a grin as Randy looked down at the stain spreading over Brandon's shorts and saw juice trickling down his leg. "Oh, I get it," he smiled. "Horny little punk aren't you. Now listen, I don't have much time before I go to my real job – I'm late already – so now that you've unloaded your jizz, do you think you could concentrate while I finish up here?"

"Yes, sir, sorry sir," Brandon stuttered, blushing red. There was something scary in this man as well as sexy, so he didn't want to fuck up again. All went well as Randy completed all three cupboards, and he pulled back to admire his handiwork. "Perfect job, though I say it myself," he grinned. "OK, just one last go-round of the screws to tighten them and we're done. I gotta get in the right position to reach all the way inside."

To Brandon's surprise he threw his long leg over the wheelchair and straddled it, leaning forward to reach inside the cupboards. This time it was his crotch that pressed against Brandon's face. The pants were dirty but it wasn't dirt that he smelled. It was sweat, dry cum and even stale piss, all the musky man-smells you'd associate with a macho guy like this.

Randy began drilling in each of the screws in turn to tighten them. With each short blast of the drill his crotch shuddered against the boy's face and Brandon could feel the massive bulge in the pants getting bigger. As the drill buzzed the boy felt his mouth close round the shape of the huge rod through the rough fabric. It was intoxicating and he managed to mumble, "Sir, I think I'm gonna cum again."

"The hell you are, boy." Randy pulled back and glared down at the frightened boy, his biceps flexed brandishing the drill in his fist. "Listen kid, I been sweating like a pig in this furnace fixing these shelves for you. Now my work don't come cheap ... OK, I know you don't have no money but I gotta get paid somehow. Don't you know what the fuck to do when hot, horny guy shoves his crotch in your face? Here, let me remind you."

He yanked open his pants and pulled out his long, beer-can thick cock that was dripping with pre-cum. Recognize this, boy? I'm sure you've seen one before – maybe not this big. Now I'm gonna start drilling again, in more ways than one, and you're gonna pay me, got it? Let's get to work, kid."

He leaned forward again and the head of his stiff cock pressed against Brandon's lips. Although he was intimidated by the gypsy's huge prong the boy reflexively opened his mouth wide and let the cock slide into it, filling his mouth, sliding down his throat and choking him. He gagged, tried to swallow, and felt like he was suffocating. Just as he was close to passing out the cock pulled back and relieved the pressure.

Brandon remembered Eddie fucking his face, though his cock was not as big as this monster, and he also recalled the cock-sucking tips Eddie had given him, which Brandon now applied. Breathing steadily through his nose helped to take away his feeling of panic. He managed to raise his eyes and saw right above him the ripped abs that he had licked earlier and had made him cum. He saw the chest gleaming with sweat, the stubbled gypsy face, and the bulging biceps as the construction worker gripped the drill. It was totally homoerotic ... and he, Brandon, was actually sucking this man's dick!

The drill started again in short bursts, moving from screw to screw. With each burst Randy's body tensed and he pushed forward, then pulled back a little. So Brandon felt the cock pulsing back and forth in his mouth in time to the buzz of the drill. It was the most intense sensation the boy had ever felt, hearing the rattle of the drill as the cock drilled his mouth. With each burst of sound the gypsy's hips jerked forward and his cock slammed against the back of his throat, the tools on the worker's belt brushing his cheeks.

"Almost there, kid," Randy panted, "nearly finished."

Bolder now, Brandon reached up and pressed his palms against the washboard abs, then the slabs of the man's pecs, sliding his hands over the sheen of sweat on his chest, over the hair in the cleft between his pecs. He inhaled the essence of the man as the tangle of wet pubic hair kept slamming into his face, leaving hairs in his mouth and overwhelming him with the stink of sweat, old cum and piss. Most erotic of all was the bitter taste of pre-cum dripping down the back of his throat and he swallowed hard.

Brandon was starting to hallucinate, with the sound of the drill above him, and the pulse of the other drill in his mouth as the shirtless construction worker impaled his face on his massive pole. The boy's cock was rock hard again and he knew he couldn't hold out for much longer, especially when the long shaft pulled all the way back, then proceeded to fuck his mouth in long steady strokes, almost in slow motion. "Almost there, kid." the deep voice said.

Brandon thought he would pass out but suddenly remembered a move Eddie had shown him. As the huge cock buried itself in his throat he clenched his throat muscles hard round it. He relaxed for an instant, then, squeezed again, almost like he was fucking the cock in his throat.

"Aaagh," he heard the gypsy's deep voice howl. "Fuck you, kid, you're gonna make me shoot. Shit that feels good. Here it comes, boy ... "Aaagh..."

This time it was both of them yelling – Randy blasting a massive load of jizz straight down the boy's throat, and Brandon screaming into the gag of the thick rod plugging his mouth while his cock erupted for a second time in his shorts. Brandon swallowed hard, again and again, but still the gypsy's bitter-sweet jism poured into his mouth. But at last the cock pulled out and swung over him, dripping semen onto his chest.

Brandon looked up dazed at the bare-chested construction worker who was grinning down at him in triumph. "Here," the man said, "let me get that for you." The gypsy face leaned forward and sucked up the cum that was oozing out of the boy's mouth. Brandon felt the tongue lick his lips, then push inside his mouth, cleaning round it and sucking out the last drops of cum. A few more seconds of that and Brandon would have shot another load.

But suddenly Randy was all business. He buttoned his shorts, stepped back and wiped his forearm across his mouth to clean off the jism. "Good job, kid," he said ambiguously. "Those shelves will work a treat. You make a good assistant – yeah, we should work together more often. Now let's take a look at your windows."

He inspected the windows in the living room and bedroom and said, "OK, so you need a 12,000 BTU Slider unit for this sliding window here and a smaller 6,000 regular unit for the sash window in the bedroom, right?"

"If you say so, sir," Brandon said, having no clue what he was talking about.

"We've got both those in the warehouse so I'll have one of my guys bring them over and install them for you. You gonna be in all day?"

"Ye...yes, sir." Brandon was so dazed he would have said yes to anything and in any case he intended to stay home and jerk off all day thinking about this spectacular guy. "You ... you won't be coming back yourself then, sir."

Randy laughed. "Nah, kid ... see I'm the boss of the whole outfit, got three sites to keep an eye on – you know, crack the whip now and then." Brandon's cock jerked in his shorts as he imagined this powerful construction boss stripped to the waist and wielding a whip. Another image that beat anything in his porn collection.

"OK, I'll leave you to tidy up the mess I made in the kitchen. Oh, and change those shorts – can you do that for yourself?"

"Oh yes, sir, I'm very independent." Randy grinned, "I bet you are ... you're a good kid. Great little cock-sucker too." He bent down grabbed Brandon's head and crushed their mouths together – a typical Randy goodbye. As he walked to the door he said, "Oh, by the way, that blow job you gave me covers the payment for the A/C's too. But the guy I send will be working off the clock so I think he'd appreciate getting a tip. Take care of yourself, kiddo." With that he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Brandon put his glasses back on and sat gazing at the door thinking of all the things he could have said to him but didn't. Shit, he didn't even ask his name, didn't even thank him. And the guy hadn't mentioned the wheelchair once – almost as if he hadn't noticed. He sure didn't treat him with the kid-glove, sympathetic concern that most people do, which he always hated. The checker in the grocery store yesterday had even patted his head!

But this guy didn't even spare him his anger when things went wrong and he yelled at him, which actually turned Brandon on. The construction boss had treated him like one of his crew, and the boy loved that. It empowered him – made him feel like a regular guy.

He flashed again on the image of the handsome gypsy muscle-god and cursed himself for not having taken a picture of him so he'd have something to beat off to. He dropped his head in frustration ... and saw something in his lap. It was the guy's tank top that he had thrown down when he stripped it off. He had forgotten it!

Brandon wheeled himself quickly to the door, only to catch sight of the big truck roaring down the hill. Maybe he'd come back for it! Nah, he was a busy construction chief – he'd probably forgotten him already, just a blip on his radar. Brandon knew he would probably never see him again – but at least he'd have this stinking, sweat-soaked shirt to stir his memory – and his cock. He pressed it against his face and took a deep breath.

Down the hill in the guys' compound Eddie was having the time of his life with Bob in his office working the phones. It was a thrill just to be alone with this beautiful man sitting beside him in boxer shorts and T-shirt, but even more exciting to be working on a project together.

Actually, the feeling was mutual. Bob had been moved by Eddie's bighearted attempt to help out the disabled boy he had just met, and Randy had seen Bob's moist-eyed reaction. Beneath his gruff exterior Randy too had felt a wave of affection for Eddie, though he showed it in a different way. He was a man of action and had quickly offered to go and do the job himself.

Bob knew that Randy was the perfect man to help this boy Brandon. His rough, tough, no-nonsense attitude would probably be just what the kid needed. Randy might act like a caveman sometimes but he had an unerring knack of seeing through to a man's soul. He had no time for bullshit or sentimentality and what he admired most in a man, or a boy, was toughness and courage, which is why he loved Pablo so much and had adopted him.

From what Eddie said this kid had guts, living alone without the use of his legs, and he deserved any help he could get. Added to that, Randy knew Bob wanted him to help and Randy would do anything to please Bob. And after all, how could he disappoint young Eddie, his eyes gazing up at him in eager expectation?

So, while Randy was off doing his thing Bob and Eddie were plotting together. Bob was saying into the phone. "Yeah, that's it, buddy, and I'm real grateful to you for you doing this." He listened and grinned. "Yeah, OK, I'll show you just how grateful later, stud. Now I'm gonna put Eddie on the phone and he'll give you all the details. Thanks again."

Bob passed the phone to Eddie and whispered, "No rambling, kiddo – just the facts."

"Aye, aye, sir," Eddie said and starting speaking into the phone. One thing for sure, Eddie had learned the meaning of the word `co-conspirator'.

Brandon had changed out of his cum-soaked shorts and struggled into another pair from the pile of used clothes on the bed. Time to do more laundry he thought, though getting up the laundry room's three steps was always a chore. As he set about cleaning up the sawdust and wood chips in the kitchen his thoughts were confused. Of course he was still obsessing about the construction worker who had come and gone like a dream and whose wet tank was all he had left to prove the man had actually been real.

That and the new shelves, of course, which worked a treat and he loaded them up quickly, impatient to get to his porn collection. Whenever he saw a hot guy in the street or the grocery score he came home and found a video with a porn actor who reminded him of the guy, and jerked off looking at him. Except that he knew he would never find a video that came even close to matching the big gypsy. Never mind, he thought, for once he wouldn't have to use a video. He had the gypsy's sweaty tank-top right here in his lap.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. "Jeez," he muttered, "must be the guy with the air conditioners already. That was quick. As he wheeled himself out of the bedroom there was another insistent knock and a loud, "Open up – police!"

Oh shit – what had he done? He knew what it was – yesterday when he rolled across the cross-walk against a red light. Man, don't the cops have anything better to do that track down a jaywalker? He pulled the door open and gazed up at the tall police officer on his doorstep, still wearing his motorcycle helmet. Brandon was scared, but felt a frisson of excitement as one of his fantasies had always been a cop like this, in black uniform, white triangle of T-shirt at his neck, heavy leather belt and pants with a silver stripe tucked into high, shiny motorcycle boots.

Still, he probably had one of those ugly faces with a moustache under that helmet, and anyway he couldn't afford the hundred bucks or so for a jaywalking ticket – so he started talking. "If it's about that crosswalk thing, officer, I can explain. See, there was no traffic in sight and I was weighed down with groceries in my lap so I decided to go for it" Anyway I wasn't exactly jay-walking was I? I mean, you can't get a ticket for jay-wheeling, can you, officer?" he added with a grin, hoping a little humor might help.

The cop pulled off his helmet and Brandon gasped, his eyes blinking behind his glasses. His jaw dropped as he stared into the most gorgeous blond face he had ever seen, chiseled square-jawed features, high cheek bones, blue-gray eyes and tousled blond hair falling over his brow. Brandon had several videos featuring make-believe cops but nothing at all like this. This man was like a god ... and he was smiling down at him.

"Don't worry, boy, I'm not gonna arrest you."

"You can if you like, sir." Brandon heard the words coming out of his own mouth and he blushed deeply.

More seriously the cop (Mark, of course) said, "Now, crossing against a red light, whether walking or wheeling, is an infraction but I'd have given you a warning instead of a ticket."

"Thank you very much, sir," Brandon said weakly. Hell, this man could throw him in jail provided he was the jailer. (A familiar porn video prison scene flashed through his mind and his cock stiffened).

Mark stepped inside the house and looked around him. "The reason I stopped by is that when I was driving past I saw your back door wide open and visible from the street. Now that's pretty much an open invitation to any burglar, and you're not in a position to defend yourself."

"No, sir," Brandon said humbly, but again felt a need to explain himself. "I keep the door open for a through breeze `cause it gets so hot in here." He added more assertively, "And anyway I could defend myself real good." He pulled a baseball bat from a side pocket of his chair and brandished it.

Mark grinned, looking down at the handsome, determined young face behind the black-rimmed glasses, and he understood Bob's eagerness on the phone to enlist his help for this freckle-faced kid. "Well, you got a great upper body, I'll say that for you, but a lot of guys would like to work over a good-looking young buck like you."

"Really, sir?" Brandon said, thinking of how the construction worker had ramrodded his mouth.

Mark closed the back door and said, "You're lucky I was passing by. My shift is over so I can spend a few minutes checking out your place and giving you some safety tips. First of all, you should never have opened the door like that without checking who I was. Some of the bad guys shout `Police,' the resident yanks open the door and whammo. You don't have a security peephole in your door, I see."

"No officer ... well I do have one that I bought and I tried to install it but I was no good at it. See these marks on the door here?"

"Huh, should take ten minutes to put in one of those things. Tell you what, like I said my shift's over so I'll do it for you if you've got a drill. Let me look around your place first, check out the safety features. Damn you're right, it's like an oven in here." He unbuttoned his shirt down the front and Brandon gasped as he saw the shape of his pecs pressing against his tight T-shirt.

As he watched the stunning cop walk around checking things out Brandon's cock was rock hard in his shorts and he felt an overwhelming impulse to grab it, but he had a vague idea that shooting a load of jizz in front of a cop might be a misdemeanor or something. He followed the cop into the kitchen and watched while he opened the cupboards.

"Good, at least you have pull-down shelves."

"Yes, sir, they were installed by a construction worker who left just before you came. He said he would send over one of his crew to put in some air-conditioners. Big, handsome guy he was, built like a brick shithouse, a face like a ..." He suddenly realized he had said too much.

... like a gypsy, Mark grinned to himself. He could guess who the `big, handsome construction worker' had been. Seems like Bob had been pulling all the strings. "I wish I'd got here after the A/C," the cop said. "I'm sweating like a pig." He pulled his shirttails out his waistband, shrugged off his black shirt and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair.

"Oohh!" Brandon gasped out loud, dazzled by the sight of the gorgeous cop stripped down to his T-shirt stretched tight over his big pecs, broad shoulders and V-shaped lats sloping down to the wide leather belt at his narrow waist. Fortunately the cop didn't notice his groan; he was too engrossed in his inspection as he looked up at the ceiling. "That smoke alarm looks real old, and the battery's dead." He reached up to the ceiling and rotated it, trying to pull if free.

This was finally too much for Brandon. As the cop stretched up, the short sleeves of his T-shirt pulled clear of his flexed biceps and the boy could see the sweat patches under his arms, blond armpit hair poking out of the sleeves. The rest of the shirt was getting damp too, with a big patch over this pecs, making them more visible underneath. Then, as the cop stretched higher the front of his T-shirt suddenly pulled out of his pants and rode up from his waist, revealing the hard ridges of his washboard abs.

That did it for Brandon. It was pornographic, but better than any porn he had ever seen, and all his inhibitions vanished. He thrust his hand inside his shorts and ... aaagh!" His body convulsed and his cock erupted, soaking the shorts with his spunk. Hastily he covered his crotch with his hands but there was no concealing the big wet patch spreading over his shorts and cum dripping down his leg.

"What the fuck...?" The cop dropped his arms and whirled round. "Did you just...?" Brandon stared up at the cop whose T-shirt was by now soaked and clinging to his torso. "Y- yes sir," he stammered. "It ... it's the heat sir ... always makes me horny."

Mark had a hard time stifling his laughter at the boy's lame explanation and forced himself to stay serious. "Let's just keep this business-like eh, boy? I'll take a look at your bedroom now."

Brandon wheeled himself quickly into the room ahead of the policeman and, for the second time that day, made a futile effort to cover up the dirty laundry on the bed. He realized he still had the construction worker's tank top on his lap and tried to throw it on the bed unobtrusively, a move so clumsy that it had the opposite effect and drew the cop's attention to it. Mark grinned as he recognized it as one Randy often wore.

"Shit," he said, "I don't know how you sleep in this furnace, kid. My T-shirt's fucking soaked. He pulled it off over his head and tossed it on top of Randy's. He reached up to check the room's smoke detector and Brandon would have lost another load had he not already done so a minute ago.

The sight of the heavily muscled cop, stripped to the waist, made his head swim. A muscular, shirtless cop was one of his top porn images and he had often jerked off over Tom of Finland drawings just like this. Except that this man was more beautiful than any drawing, photo or video he had ever seen. As he stretched upward his muscles flexed, gleaming with a sheen of sweat. Brandon drooled staring at the cop's ripped abs flexing above his heavy belt, hung with cop's tools like his night stick and handcuffs.

"These smoke detectors are for shit," he said, lowering his arms. "How many fire extinguishers you got? And when was your last fire inspection?" Brandon replied sheepishly, "No extinguishers, officer, and no inspections."

"Shit damn, this place is so not to code it's a death trap. OK, I'm gonna order a fire inspection pronto. I'll pull a few strings and get one of my firemen buddies to come out later today. Let's hope the A/C is installed by then or he'll probably turn his hose on you, it's so damn hot. OK, before I go I'll do the peephole in the door."

In a few minutes Brandon was sitting with his back to the wall next to the front door while the cop crouched down facing him and leaned forward. "OK, stay still and let me position the hole at your eye level." Brandon pulled off his glasses. His homoerotic fantasy had not only come to life – the shirtless cop was pressing his bare chest against his face.

Once again the boy lost control, threw caution to the winds and licked the cleft between the cop's pecs, ran his tongue over his chest ... and bit one of his big nipples. As the cop howled in pain Brandon quickly grabbed the bulge in his shorts to prevent another orgasm but it had the opposite effect and once again jism streamed from his cock, making his shorts wetter than ever.

The cop pulled back and glared down at him. "What the fuck are you doing, punk? Look, this is a drill in my hand, you could have caused a serious accident. I'm gonna finish this damn door but I've gotta get you under control first. He pulled a pair of cufflinks from his belt, yanked Brandon's arms round the back of his wheelchair and cuffed his wrists. He stood back and gazed at the boy.

"That should keep you out of my way, kid. I should damn well leave you like that when I go, so any more guys come in here they'll just line up and fuck that mouth to keep you quiet and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it. In spite of everything Brandon felt his cock jerk in his soaking shorts.

Brandon was scared – he had never been tied up before, though he had fantasized about it often enough. But his excitement conquered his fear, knowing he was completely at the mercy of this muscle-stud cop hard at work on the door. Brandon was also at the mercy of his own cock that seemed to take on a life of its own. He had no idea how many times he had cum but, as he watched the homoerotic cop his cock rose again like a pole. But now he had the exquisite frustration of being unable to touch it however much he struggled in his wheelchair.

His agony was short-lived though as the cop soon finished his work and stood back to show him the new peephole. "OK, kid, now you never let anyone in without checking this first." His eyes lowered to Brandon's crotch and the tent pole in his shorts. "Jesus Christ, boy, don't you ever quit? Let's get that thing out of those stinking shorts." He reached down and ripped open the shorts, freeing the cock in all its glory. "What you need is some fresh air to cool you down, kid."

The cop opened the door, walked outside and stretched. "Mmm, that feels better." He turned round to face Brandon and braced himself against the open door-frame, his arms stretched up to the top corners, he legs apart, boots against the bottom corners. Brandon thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than this spectacular cop, stripped to the waist, spread-eagled in the open door, back-lit by the morning sun. He wanted desperately to touch his cock and pulled helplessly at the cuffs.

"You know," Mark said, "this kinda reminds me of the time a buddy of mine, big, muscular black stud, got in a fight with me and he won. But I'd knocked him around real good in the fight, which made him plenty mad so he tied me up, spread-eagled in a door frame just like this, and ripped off my shirt. He was a bodybuilder, big into leather and bondage and he brought out his whip. God, I can still feel how he lashed my back and chest and my ass.

The memory must have been a vivid one and Brandon thought he was hallucinating as the cop moaned and writhed as if in bondage, his naked torso jerking with every lash of the whip, his handsome face wincing with pain. Brandon had always looked for a porn video that contained such a scene – a gorgeous half-naked cop getting thrashed by a sadistic black leather-master. He had never found one but he was now looking at a re-enactment of the real thing.

It was so erotic that he moaned, "Sir, I need to cum again, real bad. Please set me free, sir. I just need to touch my cock."

The cop grinned and lowered his arms. "No, I don't think you need to get free, kid. I think you can shoot another load just the way you are. Let's see now, the police motto is, "To Protect and Serve." Well I've taken care of the protection' bit ... now for the service.'

To Brandon's astonishment the cop unzipped his pants and pulled out his huge cock. He swung his leg over the wheelchair so he was astride him, facing him, just as the construction worker had done. Brandon stared up, hypnotized by the pornographic sight of the cop towering over him his cock pointing at him. "Anyone ever tell you you're a real hot kid?" the cop said. "Cops get horny too, you know." It didn't take long. The cop pounded his meat a few times and said, "See, you don't need to touch your cock to cum again, boy ... you need this ... Aaah..."

The boy stared at the cock in the cop's fist, saw it shudder and a stream of juice blast from it right into his face, then another and another, slamming onto his face, neck and chest. He gulped down the cop's juice as his own cock exploded with another ribbon of cum that rose up high, then splashed down onto him, mixing with the cop's semen streaming down his body.

A few minutes later Mark had released Brandon and pulled on his black shirt, leaving it open over his chest. "Now remember all the safety tips I gave you, boy. You're a hot young guy but vulnerable. I wouldn't want you going through what I did when my leather buddy whipped me."

"No, sir, but I wish I had a video of that."

"There's one around actually," Mark said casually, thinking of Darius's home video collection. "We're still buddies by the way. He lives just across the street from me. Right, that's it then –a productive visit, I think. Take care of yourself. Maybe I'll drop in again some time."

"Yes please, sir ... thank you, sir." In a daze he watched the cop straddle his motorcycle and put on his helmet. Just as Brandon closed the door he remembered the T-shirt the cop had left on his bed. He wheeled himself quickly to the bedroom and picked up the shirt, still soaked with the cop's sweat. He went back to the door but stopped as he heard voices outside.

The cop was laughing as he said, "I'm not surprised ... kinda thought he'd send you, buddy. Watch out for the kid though – he`s quite the gusher, might get in the way of your work. ... Yeah, drinks later would be fine. I'll come across the street around seven. See ya..." Brandon heard the bike roar into life and then silence ... until another knock on the door.

Obeying the cop Brandon put on his glasses and looked through his new spy hole. Couldn't see much but what he could see took his breath away. It was a wide leather belt round what looked like black leather pants tight round a slim waist. Above the belt he could just see the ridges of hard abs. The skin was jet black ... and the voice was deep. "Come on, kid, open up – this thing is fucking heavy."

Brandon opened the door and stared up at another homoerotic vision. Shit, he thought, this day just won't quit. The tall black bodybuilder was standing legs astride one arm stretched up wrapped over a big box on his shoulder, making his bicep bulge. He was almost naked above the waist except for a thin, ragged black sleeveless shirt that hung open over his sculpted chest. His tight pants were black leather, like his heavy work boots.

"Without any preamble the guy walked in and said, "This one's the 12,000 – goes in the living room I guess. His back and shoulders flexed hard as he swung the heavy box down on the floor under the window. "I'll get the one for the bedroom." He left and came back with another box that he took into the bedroom, followed by the stunned Brandon. The leather guy looked at the heap of clothes on the bed. "Shit, look at this mess – don't you ever do laundry, kid?"

"Yes, sir," Brandon said. "I'm doing these later – except for a couple that I won't wash," and he blushed. Zack picked up from the pile Randy's tank and Mark's T-shirt, held them to his nose and breathed in. "No, I guess not. Neither would I, kid." He flashed a dazzling smile that almost made Brandon cum all on its own. The man was spectacular, with his perfect physique, handsome, rugged face, gray eyes and – a big turn on for Brandon – his shiny shaved head."

The man was gruff now, all business. "OK, boy, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna install these two A/C units. Won't take long, but I'm on my lunch hour, got my crew waiting for me, so I want no interference from you. The guy who installed your shelves and my buddy the cop both said you keep getting in the way, keep jerking off or something."

"No, sir, I was just ..."

"Enough! Listen, I don't care what you do, blow as many loads as you want, just stay clear of me. This is heavy equipment and I want no accidents, capisce? Now I'm going to work."

Brandon watched from a safe distance as the leatherman began in the bedroom. He shrugged off his thin shirt, wiped the sweat from his face, chest and under his armpits and threw it on the bed. Brandon gazed in awe through his glasses at the black bodybuilder stripped down to leather pants and boots, his ebony body flexing as he handled the heavy air conditioner.

Despite the many times has he had cum already today, the boy's cock was raging hard again and, he couldn't help it, he pulled it out of his shorts. The man had said he didn't care and he wasn't paying attention to him anyway, so Brandon began stroking his cock

What excited Brandon the most was that, judging from the snippet of conversation he had heard through the door, this must be the same black leather-master who had fought the cop, strung him up and whipped his gorgeous body. God he'd love to see that video. It was such a huge fantasy for him that he saw the erotic spectacle in his mind – and the result was inevitable. Within seconds his cock was spurting jizz once again as he tried to stifle his moans.

This was turning out to be a very strange day. First the awesome construction worker had shown up out of the blue, installed his new shelves and fucked his face. Then the cop had noticed his open back door, had come in and given him safety instructions and a spectacular view as he had stripped off his shirt and T-shirt and ended up pouring his semen all over him. And now this hunky leather-stud – the one who had once whipped the cop – was here looking so incredibly sexy that Brandon had already cum once.

So many visitors in one day – quite unlike his usual solitary life. And from what the cop had said, there was still a fire inspection to come. Brandon sighed deeply. God had been good to him today, that was for sure.

Actually it wasn't God who had been good to him – not unless you count Bob as a god, which many guys did. He and Eddie were having a ball as they began to get reports from the field. Eddie was jumping up and down ... "How many times now, sir?" Bob laughed, "Twice with Randy, as far as he could tell, and Mark says three times with him. Now he's apparently alone with Zack, and that's no walk in the park – speaking as one who knows first-hand."

Eddie's silvery laughter rang out like bells on a sleigh. "He's gonna beat my record, I know it. Hey, come in guys," he shouted to the other boys who crowded in wanting to be part of the action. "This is way cool. This dude, my new friend, must think he's walked onto a porn set."

Eddie was pretty close to the truth. The leather guy had installed the bedroom unit and was finishing up in the living room. Brandon had just jerked off again watching him, thinking this was his last chance before the guy left and he'd never see him again. But he hadn't reckoned on one more piece of business that Zack had in mind.

He turned on the A/C and said, "That's it, son, hear that noise, feel that breeze?" The hum of the air conditioner began and cold air flooded the burning hot room. Brandon smiled with relief. "Thank you, sir, it'll change my life. I'm real grateful to you, sir."

"Yeah, well about that. My buddy who came here said I was gonna get a tip. See, I'm not getting paid for this and..."

"Oh," Brandon stammered, "sir, I don't have much money sir, just a couple a dollars is all."

"Nah, I wasn't thinking about cash." He took off Brandon's glasses. "The other guy said you paid him, er, another way."

Brandon's heart was beating fast and his mind was reeling. "Oh ... oh ...yes, sir, I can do that. Let me just lock the wheels of my chair, sir."

"Fuck the wheelchair," Zack said. "You don't belong in that, kid." He bent down, wrapped his arms round the boy and lifted him bodily out of the chair in a bear hug, face to face, their chests pressed together, Brandon's legs dangling in the air. "If we're gonna do this we're gonna do it the right way. Hey open your mouth."

Confused, Brandon opened his mouth wide and Zack said, "Yeah, big enough for even my cock. Let's see here." Holding him tight he pressed his mouth against the boy's and probed inside with his tongue. Brandon almost passed out with excitement as he smelled the black man's breath and tasted his spit. Zack pulled back and said, "Yeah, that'll do fine." He carried Brandon bodily into the bedroom and laid him on his back on the pile of clothes on the bed.

He knelt astride him, unzipped his leather pants and pulled out his long black horse-dick. The boy's eyes opened wide as he gasped, "Oh, sir, that's so huge I don't think I can take it, sir."

"What?" the man barked. "They told me you were a good cock-sucker. Here, maybe this'll get you in the mood." Rummaging beneath the boy he pulled out several shirts and pressed a tank top into Brandon's face. "This was the first guy's. Breathe deeply, boy." Brandon obeyed and the smell transported him back to his scene with the construction boss.

"Now the cop's. Jeez his T-shirt's still soaked with his sweat." The boys head swam as he felt the cop's sweat ooze into his mouth. "OK, now this ... this is my filthy old work shirt, stinks of sweat and cum. He held up the sleeveless shirt he had taken off earlier, then ground it into Brandon's face. "Breathe in good, boy, `cause this is what you're gonna taste when I ram my cock in your mouth."

Brandon's cock was raging now ... and then came the clincher. Zack sat back on Brandon's dick, pressing it against the boy's stomach. Brandon felt the leather pants grinding against his cock and heard the deep voice. "One day you're gonna fuck that black ass, boy, just like that. The leatherman's gonna drop his pants, sink down on your pole and you're gonna shoot your load in his ass. You feel it boy? You feel that ass on your prick?"

"Aaagh!" It was a muffled scream into the gag of the shirt as Brandon gushed a load of cum against the ass of the leather pants. Zack fell forward, spread his arms up and pressed his armpit against the boy's face. Brandon was drowning in sex, still shooting cum as the black armpit ground into his face and he licked the stinking mass of wet, wiry hair.

Suddenly Zack pulled back onto his knees astride the boy and wrapped both hands round his own long pole. "You ready for this now, boy? You ready to swallow this big black club?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir. Give it to me ... please."

Zack leaned forward, braced his hands at the top of the bed, pressed his boots on the bottom and raised his hips up so his body was arched over the boy, his cock pointing down at his face. As Brandon watched the big hunk of meat come closer he opened his mouth wide. He felt the cock easing its way into his mouth, down into his throat, down deeper, deeper until his gag reflexes kicked in and he almost choked.

Zack quickly pulled back and began expertly to push gently in and out, helping him relax, which Brandon finally did, remembering all the tricks Eddie had taught him. He looked up, saw the body rise and lower over him and could hardly believe that this muscle-god black leatherman was fucking his face with his monster dick.

After a long, easy fuck Zack's soothing voice said, "You're a great cock-sucker, kid, and you're gonna make me cum. This is where it gets a bit rough, though."

The easy rhythm of the fuck changed as it got faster and faster until the thick rod was driving into the boy's mouth like a piston, and Brandon felt stinking pubic hair smashing into his face. He had never experienced anything like this and it scared and excited him as he saw the massive black body arched over him, the massive cock jack-hammering his face. He felt the cock swell in his mouth, choking him. At last he felt it spasm inside him and heard the man howl as warm liquid poured down his throat. And everything went black.

Seconds later when he opened his eyes he saw the handsome face staring down at him with a dazzling smile. "That was awesome, kiddo, you're a terrific cock-sucker. Are you OK?" Brandon nodded. "You sure?"

"Yes, sir, thank you sir. It was incredible," and he smiled. There was cum in his mouth and he felt a pool of cum on his chest. "Sir, did I ...again?"

"You sure did, kid ... I got your jizz all over my pants – and I'm not gonna wipe it off. Now I gotta go and you should get some rest – you've had quite a morning. I've turned the A/C on low and it's nice and cool in here." He pulled a blanket over the boy and kissed him on the lips. "You're a great kid, Brandon, and I've a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon. Sleep tight," he grinned, "and don't jack off thinking about me."

He left the bedroom, Brandon heard the front door close behind him and in seconds he was asleep –and dreaming.

Brandon had slept for several hours when he slowly became conscious of a knocking at the door. After his earlier visitors he didn't know what to expect this time, but as his mind cleared he remembered – must be the fire inspection the cop had set up. He put on his glasses, pulled himself off the bed into his wheelchair and wheeled himself to the door. Remembering the cop's order he looked through the peephole – and sure enough saw a fireman outside in his uniform.

`Man, what is it about today?' he asked himself in amazement. The guy was out of a wet dream – a spectacular blond with a flawless body and gorgeous face. Brandon thought he must still be dreaming because the man looked a whole lot like the fireman in his calendar – the August guy. No way ... couldn't be ... couldn't possibly ... could it?

Brandon took a deep breath and opened the door ...

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 223

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!