A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 223 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: The fireman in Brandon's calendar was, unbelievably, kneeling over him, shirtless, in the flesh. "How often he had jerked off over the muscle-god's picture, imagining what his cock looked like. And now here it was ... in his mouth! The fireman was fucking his face!" Bob visits. "When he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off the boy gasped. Clark Kent had just ripped open his shirt and become Superman."

Chapter 223 – "Lessons In Love & Lust"

When Eddie met a new friend, Brandon, he had helped push his wheelchair up the hill to his small apartment. Brandon had invited him in to see – well, not his etchings exactly, but the modern equivalent – his big collection of porn videos. Eddie was hugely impressed.

They had examined the collection together and Brandon said his favorites were videos featuring big, handsome muscular guys – "you know, Tom of Finland types, especially guys in work clothes or uniforms – like construction workers, leathermen, cops, firemen, that kind of thing. I got a fireman's calendar that I jack off to a lot. Here it is, open it to August. Eddie found himself staring at his fireman friend Jason, but he didn't let on.

Brandon prided himself on living independently and tried to ignore his disability, but the other side of that coin could be loneliness and he admitted that he led a pretty solitary life. "I don't get too many visitors here, and even if I do occasionally ... well, you know ... bit squeamish ... the wheelchair and all. Not the sexiest thing in the world. But my videos keep me happy." He held out his right hand, curving it in a semi fist. "See this, dude? A guy's best friend, especially if his legs don't work. I got the strongest wrist in town."

Eddie's heart went out to the good-looking kid with a pale, freckled face, tousled light brown hair, and big brown eyes behind his black-framed glasses. He had a slim build but with well-defined muscles in his upper body, a result, no doubt, of constantly wheeling his chair.

Eddie was sexually attracted to him and, being the free-spirited kid he was, he didn't let the wheelchair get in the way. Turned out they were both what Eddie's buddies called `gushers'. "I can cum over and over," Eddie boasted. "So can I," Brandon laughed. So they ended up trading blow-jobs and multiple orgasms in a playful competition to see who could cum most often.

Later, when Eddie got home, he was determined to do more for Brandon than just suck his cock. He told Randy and Bob that he wanted to help him install the pull-down shelves he needed, and Eddie would use his own meager savings to pay for it. His enthusiastic generosity was infectious and Randy offered to go and do the job himself – free of charge, of course.

Bob had the ingenious idea of going one better – actually three or four better. Working the phones with the irrepressible young Eddie they enlisted the participation of their buddies – the cop Mark and leather-stud Zack to start with – to dramatic effect.

Earle next morning Brandon was dozing in bed, anticipating his usual solitary day in the company of his videos. Instead it turned out to be the most extraordinary day of his life. It was like a dream where his porn collection comes to life, with a succession of all his most homoerotic fantasies. But this was no dream – it was a reality he could touch, smell and taste. And Brandon did all three, with one orgasm after another.

First a rugged gypsy construction worker had shown up out of the blue, installed his new shelves and fucked his face. Then the most gorgeous cop in the world had noticed his open back door, had come in and given Brandon safety instructions and a stunningly erotic view as he stripped off his shirt and T-shirt and ended up pouring his semen all over him. The cop was followed by a shirtless black leather-master who had installed two much-needed air-conditioners and then taken as payment Brandon's mouth, which he had impaled on his massive horse-dick.

A `real gusher' indeed, Brandon lost count of the innumerable loads he had blasted and he now lay exhausted on his bed. Having poured a bucket-load of jizz down his throat the leatherman said gently, "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."

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 said he would arrange. He put on his glasses (but nothing else), pulled himself off the bed into his wheelchair and wheeled himself naked to the door. Remembering the cop's order he looked through the peephole the cop had installed – and sure enough he saw a fireman outside in his work gear.

`Man, what is it about today?' Brandon asked himself, still half dazed. The guy was out of a wet dream – a spectacular blond fireman with perfectly chiseled features. 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? He took a deep breath and opened the door ...

The fireman smiled. "Hey, kid – you Brandon? I'm here `cause the police department reported that you need a fire inspection urgently as your place is way out of compliance."

Brandon stared slack-jawed at the fire-fighter. He looked as if he had come straight from work as he was still wearing those bulky yellow pants, big boots and a heavy fireproof jacket.

"Well," the fireman grinned, "I can hardly do an inspection standing out here. You gonna let me in or do you need a search warrant?"

Brandon snapped back to life. "Oh, no, sir ... I mean yes, sir, please come in." He wheeled himself backward into the room and the fireman followed him.

"Like a damn furnace out there today in this heatwave. Thank god you got air-conditioning in here." He undid his jacket and shrugged it off. Underneath he wore the regulation dark blue T-shirt, which was soaked with sweat and clung to his obviously muscular body. The suspenders of his pants hung down his legs from his waist. "Gotta get out of this stinking shirt," he muttered. He pulled off the T-shirt, wiped his face and chest with it and flung it on a chair. Then he pulled the red suspenders up and over his bare shoulders. "Good, now let's take a look at this place."

Brandon was staring in disbelief at the ripped body and handsome face. "It's him..." he mumbled seeing the exact calendar picture come to life in front of him. Without a word he wheeled himself quickly into the bedroom, reached under the bed, pulled out his fireman's calendar and went back to where the fireman was already reaching up to inspect the defunct smoke detector. Brandon flipped open the calendar to the August page and gulped hard, looking back and forth from the fireman to the calendar.

"Sir," he asked timidly. "Is your name Jason?"

Jason whirled round and grinned when he saw the calendar in Branson's lap. "That damn calendar again," he laughed. "Can't get away from it or that question – Are you the August guy?' I'm beginning to wish I'd never done it, but me and the guys agreed coz it was in aid of kids' charities. Here, let me see it."

He took the well-thumbed calendar from Brandon and tried to flick through the pages but many stuck together, especially the August page. "Huh," he smiled, "looks like someone really got off on these pictures."

"I did, sir." Brandon decided to go for broke. "The truth is, sir, I jack off over the August page almost every day and the page sometimes gets splashed with my ... " He blushed deeply."

Jason laughed. "So it's your jizz gluing these pages together. Maybe I better send you over a few new copies – we got a whole stack at the station house. But hey, you don't need a picture right now, boy. You've got the real thing ... so feel free while I work. You're already naked, so go for it. I don't mind when guys jack off looking at me ... take it as a compliment. Right, so I'm gonna replace these useless smoke detectors with new ones I brought."

As Jason went back to work Brandon could swear that he was doing more than working – he was showing off his body. After all, Brandon thought, he said he likes it when guys jack off looking at him! No wonder that this guy's a bit narcissistic. I would flaunt it too if I had the face and body of a Greek God.

It was as if the fireman was displaying his gorgeous body in a series of classic bodybuilder poses in a competition. As he reached up to unscrew the fire alarm he turned it not just with his wrists but with his whole body, twisting at the waist to show off his perfect lats and obliques. When he lowered his arms he paused halfway down, flexing his biceps and clenching his fists.

And when he examined the smoke alarm in both hands in front of his waist, Brandon could swear that he was clenching his hands together, pushing his shoulders forward and flaring his lats as Brandon had seen bodybuilders do in competition.

Brandon looked down at the calendar in his lap opened to the picture of Jason. How often he had jerked off over it ... hell, the calendar was so popular, a classic almost, that there must be thousands of guys all over the world who had got their rocks off gazing at the same picture. And now here was the actual man himself, in his living room, showing off the perfect definition of his rock hard muscles.

Brandon had so often tried to image what the guy looked like when he moved, how his muscles must ripple, especially when he was pumped, working at his job. And now he could see for himself! He could see the body twisting and flexing, that long torso tapering down from his broad shoulders, over the slabs of his pecs, his ripped eight-pack abs and his slim waist disappearing into his fireman's pants.

It was unbelievably homoerotic and the boy just had to make the most of it. He knew he would never get the chance to watch this spectacular fireman again – not in real life. He could have just sat here and gushed semen over and over again, but he wanted to control it as much as he could. Not easy, though, as Jason was reaching up again and screwing on the new smoke alarm, the golden tan of his perfect physique gleaming in the rays of the afternoon sun shining through the window.

No, Brandon couldn't control this. He took his cock gently in his hand, like an eggshell he was afraid to break. Staring spellbound through his glasses at the half-naked fireman he began to stroke his cock – and that's all it took. "Sir," he shouted, "you're making me cum. You're so beautiful ... I gotta shoot sir ... I ... aaagh!!"

His scream echoed round the small room as his cock exploded, shooting a stream of jism that blasted high in the air and splashed onto the fireman's boots, paying homage to this god-like man who had emerged out of the boy's recurring dream and come to life.

Jason flashed a gleaming smile at him. "Thanks for the compliment kid. Now, let's fix the one in the bedroom."

It was pretty much the same scene in the bedroom. Brandon was determined to indulge his lust for this man by shooting as many loads as possible – which wasn't difficult at all. This time he concentrated on the face with its chiseled features, high cheekbones and a square lantern jaw, blue eyes and short blond hair. Jason was focused on his task but it was obvious that he was still putting on a show, totally aware of how incredibly hot he looked. Brandon was turned on by the fireman's vanity and exhibitionism, resulting in copious amounts of semen spurting from Brandon's permanently hard dick.

"Good, that's done," Jason said, smiling down at the boy who was panting heavily after his most recent orgasm. "Now, see that small red light up there? Means the battery's good. When it starts blinking, time for a new one. OK, let's go back to the other room and I'll show you the fire extinguishers I brought. He pulled up a chair next to Brandon's wheelchair and put one of the small extinguishers in his lap. "Hell, not much room here with that pole sticking straight up. Doesn't it ever go down?"

"Not while you're here, sir," Brandon grinned, relaxing a little for the first time. But he tensed again as Jason casually threw an arm over his shoulder and he felt the hair of his armpit touch his neck. He was afraid he would shoot a load over the fire extinguisher but Jason's voice calmed him as he patiently explained how to use it.

"I'll put one in this room and one in the bedroom. Now, if ever you wake up and there's smoke in the room you should crawl to the door, keeping as low to the ground as possible where the smoke's not so thick." He frowned suddenly but Brandon forestalled his next question. "Oh I can crawl sir. I got real strong arms. Sometimes I crawl around the apartment when I get tired of the wheelchair. It's good exercise."

Jason looked at the earnest eyes blinking behind the glasses and his heart went out to this brave young kid. The thought of him living alone and dragging himself around the floor for exercise was an image that brought a lump to the fireman's throat. Suddenly he felt humbled and a little ashamed. Up to now he had shown off his body to the kid, indulging his own vanity as much as anything. The boy seemed to have enjoyed it, but Jason now had an urge to do something special for him, something that was about the boy rather than his own narcissism.

But business first. "Good, so try to stay low if there's smoke. With smoke inhalation we use oxygen masks on the victim, but it's a different story when we fish someone out of a swollen river.

"You use the kiss of life, sir?"

"Yeah, that's what the layman calls it. We call it rescue breathing. Actually everyone should know how to do it. You start out by... Hey, it's easier to show you than to describe it. Let's say you're the victim and I've just fished you out of the river."

He leaned forward and scooped Brandon from his chair so the boy was lying in his arms gazing up at him. Brandon really did almost stop breathing as he felt the strong arms under him, felt the fireman's bare chest press against him and saw the magnificent shoulders and biceps flex. Gazing up into the rugged face smiling down at him he wanted to stay here forever, in the protective arms of this muscle-god whose picture had made him cum so often.

"Then I would carry you to a flat piece of land," Jason said, pacing the room with the boy in his arms. Finally he lowered him gently onto his back on the floor and took off Brandon's glasses. "OK, I would kneel beside you like this, check for a pulse and listen for sounds of breathing. He pressed his fingers lightly on his throat, leaned forward and held his ear close to Brandon's mouth.

Brandon's heart was beating wildly and his cock was once again rock hard as he felt, smelled, almost tasted the beautiful fireman so close to him. "OK, so assuming you're not breathing I would lift your chin, then pinch your nose shut and begin rescue breathing like this ..."

Brandon felt he must be dreaming as Jason pinched his nose closed, pressed their mouths together making a seal and breathed deeply into his mouth. The fireman from his fantasies, the man from the cum-splattered picture, was actually here, his gorgeous face pressed to his, their mouths sealed together as Brandon inhaled his breath. He was close to passing out when Jason said, "Now I would do that several times until I saw your chest rise." But it wasn't his chest that rose – his cock was stiff as a pole.

Jason's blue eyes were smiling down at him. "But here's the part that's not regulation – not at all." He put his hand behind the boy's head, lifted it a little and once again pressed their mouths together. But this time, after he exhaled into Brandon he didn't release his mouth – he inhaled. So their mouths were sealed together, sharing the same breath back and forth. This truly was the kiss of life as Brandon felt himself being kept alive by the fireman's breath.

The intense intimacy made Brandon hallucinate that the two of them were floating together in a never-ending embrace, just the two of them, joined forever. He touched Jason's lips with his fingers, feeling them press against his, so he knew it was real. He didn't care about orgasms anymore – this was beyond that, beyond everything as Jason pulled his lips off his mouth and began kissing every other part of his face – his cheeks, his forehead ... and his eyes.

It became an ethereal, out-of-body experience and Brandon was only dimly aware of his body reacting with yet another load. At last Jason pulled back and Brandon found himself gazing up at the exquisite, tanned face with its startling blue eyes and blond hair. It was backlit by the sun streaming through the window behind him, forming a kind of halo round the god-like face.

The voice he heard seemed to be coming from far away. "You're a great looking kid, Brandon. You got me all fired up. Is it OK with you if I bust a load here?"

Brandon gulped and stammered, "Y-yes, sir. Very much, sir." Jason pulled himself up and knelt over him, his heavy yellow pants straddling his waist. He pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and let them hang from his waist. Then he ripped open his pants and Brandon saw the long, already-hard cock rearing straight up out of a tangle of blond pubic hair.

"Come on, kiddo, give me a start here." He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, and lowered his crotch onto the boy's face. "Make me feel good, boy."

He didn't need telling twice. The big, pumped balls with their light fuzz of blond hair were right over his mouth and he licked them, sucked them in, made love to them. Then he buried his face in the mass of damp pubic hair and breathed in, smelling, tasting the very essence of this beautiful man.

Jason pressed his cock against Brandon's mouth and slid it slowly across his lips lengthwise from the pubic hair all the way up the long shaft until the boy was licking the hard, round head. He opened his mouth wide and sucked in the cock, gulping it down – all the way down his throat. The fireman was face-fucking him! The fireman was fucking his mouth – the man whose picture he had drooled over, trying to imagine what was under this pants, wondering again and again what his cock looked like. And now here it was ... in his mouth!

Brandon wasn't sure if his own cock was cumming again. It didn't matter – this was all like one never-ending orgasm and he never wanted it to stop. He tasted the musky pre-cum dripping down the back of his throat, felt the fireman's cock swelling inside him, filling his mouth. And just when he thought it was about to explode ... suddenly it wasn't there. Jason had pulled out, straightened up and was smiling down at him, still kneeling over him.

"I wanted to get another good look at you before I cum," he said reaching forward and twisting Brandon's nipples gently in his fingertips. Brandon gasped and instinctively reached up to run his hands over the flexed mounds of Jason's chest, down the cleft between them, over the ridges of his washboard abs and round his waist. Then he reached higher and clenched his hands over the rock-hard bulge of his shoulders. Finally he could not resist stroking the fireman's nipples and squeezing them in his fingers."

"Oh, yeah," Jason moaned, "feels good. You doing OK?" Brandon swallowed hard but couldn't speak ... his sparkling eyes spoke for him. "I can't hold out much longer, kid, and when I cum I'm gonna give you the climax of your life. You ever drink a fireman's juice?"

"N-n-no, sir."

"Do you want to?"

Y-yes, sir ... very much, sir."

It all happened suddenly in a blaze of light. Jason reared up on his knees, pulled his pants down below his ass and slowly lowered his hips until he felt the tip of Brandon's rigid cock touch his ass. He paused and said, "Here it comes, boy – like nothing you've ever felt before." A second passed ... two ... three ... and then ... "Aaagh!" In one sudden move he sat down hard on Brandon's cock, letting it slide all the way into his ass and come to rest deep inside. The fireman threw his head back and screamed in pain and passion. He pointed his cock at Brandon's face and it erupted in a long ribbon of semen.

Brandon screamed, opened his mouth wide and tasted the fireman's warm juice streaming into it. His own cock erupted deep in the fireman's hot ass as he gulped frantically, again and again, tasting the bitter-sweet semen pouring down his throat. He saw the fireman's muscular body shudder over him, his face thrashing from side to side and realized that the muscle-god fireman he had worshipped for so long was at this moment impaled on his cock.

Jason pulled his ass up right to the head of Brandon's cock, paused, then again sank right down onto the boy's pubic hair. Again he howled, again Brandon's cock erupted and again the fireman blasted a stream of jism into his face and over his chest.

Brandon was lost in a fantasy world of sex and semen ... but his screams of passion slowly morphed into sobs, deep racking sobs as tears poured from his eyes. Jason gently pulled himself off his cock and fell on top of him, licking the cum from his face and his eyes, and closing his mouth over Brandon's to muffle his sobs, his body still heaving beneath him.

When the boy started to calm down Jason pulled his face back and said, "Hey, hey, kiddo, where's all this coming from? Where's the brave young kid the cop told me about?"

"I – I'm sorry sir. It's just that you've just given me the most awesome experience of my life. I mean..." He had to explain his feelings and fought for the words. "It – it's like going from black and white into a Technicolor world. It's like a dream – but it's a dream I'm gonna wake up from and then I'll be alone again. You've shown me how wonderful life could be – if only I could walk. I know I'll never see you again, sir. Why would a spectacular man like you, who could have anyone in the world, show any interest in a boy in a wheelchair?"

Jason started to protest but Brandon cut him off. "Sir, please tell me the truth sir ... was that a mercy fuck, sir?"

Jason's eyes blazed. "Boy, I never want to hear those words from you again. I don't do mercy fucks. To me, a mercy fuck means the kind where I give a man a pile-driving fuck that makes him beg for mercy. I'll give you one of those one day if you don't cut the bullshit." He took a deep breath to calm down, and gazed directly into Brandon's tear stained eyes.

"OK, kid, I'll admit that I did feel sorry for you, thinking of you living alone and dragging yourself over the floor like you said. But that was natural compassion and, sure, I wanted to do something special for you. I enjoyed showing off my body to you, but that was me and my vanity. When I focused instead on you I realized you're a hot young buck and, boy, when you started sucking my dick you turned me on so bad that I wanted you inside me kid. When I found myself sitting on your cock, looking down at you made me bust a huge load all over you. No, that was no mercy fuck, kid. That was a real honest-to-god boy-fucks-fireman fuck."

That made Brandon smile. "And as for being alone," Jason continued, "don't you have, like, a best buddy, a special friend?"

"No, sir," he grinned. "Guys don't exactly line up for a kid in a wheelchair." He looked pensive. "Just the other day I thought I had met a guy who was different, a real hot young guy, and we had a great time. But I haven't seen or heard from him since, so I guess it was a one-time thing, just another bubble bursting."

Jason grinned. "Well I wouldn't give up on that if I were you, kid. I have a strong feeling you'll be seeing him again soon. I also have a feeling you'll soon be finding out that, as you put it, life can be wonderful, wheelchair be damned. Talking of which, let's get you back in the fucking thing." He pulled up his pants, took Brandon into his arms and settled him into his chair.

"Now listen kid, I gotta go now but I'll drop by in a couple of days with those calendars I promised. And if there's ever anything you need, like the batteries being replaced in the smoke detectors, call me direct. Here's my card." He pulled on his big jacket, took Brandon's head in both hands and pressed their mouths together real hard. "Take it from me, kiddo, you're gonna find out real soon just how wonderful life can be. Take care of yourself, Brandon – you're one hell of a guy."

After he had gone the room suddenly felt very empty. Brandon sat for a long while just thinking. Then he smiled and picked up the T-shirt Jason had left behind. "Well," he said to himself, "I'll always have his shirt." He knew we would never have the nerve to call Jason unless he had a good reason. He wondered how long the batteries in a smoke alarm were meant to last.

As soon as Jason got into his truck he punched a button on his cell phone. Bob put the call on speaker phone so he and Eddie could both hear the fireman's story. "Wow," Bob said, "sounds like you did a whole number, buddy. That's gonna be a hard act to follow. I'm so grateful to you, man – you're a real trooper."

"It was a real pleasure," Jason said, "and I mean that."

Bob shut off the phone and said, "OK, Eddie my man, time for us to put in an appearance. Me first, I think, then you." Eddie grinned mischievously. The conspiracy was going real well.

Even though he had napped for a couple of hours Brandon felt tired. Not physically so much, as Jason had energized him, but mentally – emotionally. This had been an extraordinary day and he couldn't possibly imagine where it had all come from.

First the construction boss had installed his shelves and fucked his face. Later he sent his co-worker with the air-conditioners, the incredible black leatherman who had demanded exactly the same payment. The godlike police officer had happened to drop in and give him safety tips – and multiple orgasms. And the cop had arranged for the fire inspection by the very same fireman whose calendar picture Brandon had jerked off over so many times.

He was elated, of course, but that was offset by a vague feeling of depression and frustration. This day was like a sparkling oasis in a lonely desert. After today he would go back to the solitary world he was building for himself where he strived to be independent. These men had been a frustrating glimpse into what his world might have been if only his legs worked.

Ah well, he'd better get back to that world and tidy his apartment. At least now he had air-conditioning and pull-down shelves. He tugged his shorts on and, to prolong the memory, gathered up the four shirts the guys had left. He impulsively pulled on over his head the construction worker's tank that was dry now but still smelled of sweat and cum. He sighed. No more visitors today, that's for sure. Just as well. Neither he nor his overworked cock could take any more.

Then came the knock at the door.

He jerked his head up and frowned ... who? Maybe one of the guys had come back to claim his shirt. He wheeled himself to the door, looked through the peep hole and was disappointed to see a dark blue suit close to the door. Must be a welfare worker, he thought, then with a stab of panic wondered if they'd come about all the stuff he'd been given today. Maybe it wasn't allowed.

He opened the door and even before looking up he said "You must be from the Welfare..." His voice trailed off as he looked up at the square jawed face with the dark hair. It was Clark Kent and, as this was a day for fantasy, any minute he'd take off his suit, put on a cape and become Superman. Brandon gulped, "I guess you're not from the Welfare, sir."

"Not exactly Bob smiled, but I have come to check on your welfare. A young man named Eddie told me you lived here alone so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing."

"Eddie, sir? Yeah, that's the guy I met the other day and we had such a good time I thought maybe he ... anyway, I haven't heard from him since. But you say he actually mentioned me? Is he doing OK?"

"As far as I know, yeah. But it's you I've come to talk about. Man, what's been going on here? This place smells a lot like semen, and is that dried cum all over your face? Those smelly shirts on your lap don't help, either, nor the tank-top you're wearing. Bob suppressed a smile, recognizing Randy's tank that now hung loosely over Brandon's slender frame.

"Oh, sorry, sir – it's just that I've had a lot of visitors today and they, well, they ..."

"Never mind, Brandon – that is you name, right? You don't have to explain or apologize to me. I'm not here to judge. Like I said, I'm not from the welfare. At least it's cool in here – you have air-conditioning. It's an oven outside. Mind if I look around?"

Without waiting for a reply Bob walked round the living room, checking on the newly installed air-conditioner, the smoke detectors and the peephole in the front door. For the umpteenth time that day Brandon got an instant hard-on. The man was tall and obviously well-built, wearing a smart dark-blue suit with a white shirt, no tie, with the top three buttons open. And the face – he couldn't stop gazing at the chiseled Superman features.

But it was more than that. It was the way he moved, elegant but very sexy, and the way he looked at him with those soft brown eyes, like the man knew everything he was thinking. Suddenly the man shrugged off his jacket and hung it round a chair ... and Brandon almost came. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, giving a teasing glimpse of his rounded pecs, and the short sleeves hugged his biceps. He had broad shoulders and his torso tapered down to a slim waist with an elegant black belt round it.

As Brandon put on his glasses to see him better the man turned to face him and gave him a dazzling smile. "I apologize, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Bob. Very pleased to meet you, Brandon." He put out his hand and Brandon shook it, feeling his cock pulse as he touched him for the first time and felt the firm handshake.

Brandon was confused, overwhelmed. All he knew was that he wanted the man to stay. He gulped and stammered, "Would ... would you ... like a cup of tea, sir?"

"Excellent idea," Bob smiled. "Four o'clock in the afternoon. Perfect time for tea."

Finally Brandon had something definite to do. He sprang to life and rapidly wheeled his chair into the kitchen. Bob was surprised by his agility as he filled the kettle with water, then pulled down the shelves to get a teapot and cups.

"Great idea those pull-down shelves, eh, Brandon?"

"I'll say. They were only installed today by this construction worker who came real early and used me as his assistant. He even ended up by ..." Brandon coughed in embarrassment. "Anyway, then this big blond cop came and told me all about safety and he installed that peephole and then he ..." Again he caught himself in time, instinctively rubbing the dry cum on his face where the cop had splashed his load over him.

Brandon was in full flood now as he set the table for tea. The enthusiastic way he talked reminded Bob of Eddie and as he looked down at the eager, handsome, freckled face behind the black-rimmed glasses he could see why Eddie had been so intent on helping him.

"Anyway," Brandon was saying, "next thing was that construction worker's buddy came by with the air-conditioners – he was a big black bodybuilder-type and he put me on the bed and he had this huge ... well, anyway ... The cop had said he would send someone from the fire department and it turned out to be this guy..." He pulled the calendar from a pouch on his wheelchair, opened it at the August page and showed it to Bob who looked down at the familiar face of Jason.

"He was more incredible even than his picture, sir," Brandon said, loosening up now, inspired by the genuine interest in Bob's reassuring expression. "So he put in the smoke alarms and stuff and kinda, well, flaunted his body, I think." (That's our Jason, Bob grinned to himself) "And when he'd finished he laid me on the floor and showed me the kiss of life. Then he put his cock in my mouth, and then – guess what? – he pulled his pants down and sat down on my dick and made me shoot inside him while he busted a load in my mouth and all over my face."

Suddenly Brandon gasped as he realized what he had done. He had been dying to tell someone about his day and now he had spilled everything to this complete stranger. There was just something about him. "I'm sorry I said all that, sir. Too much information as my friend Eddie said ... well, he was my friend for a little while anyway. Do you still want tea, sir?"

"More than ever," Bob laughed. "You've made me good and thirsty."

They sat at the kitchen table, Brandon poured the tea and Bob asked, "So what happened next?" Brandon hesitated, blushing deeply. "Oh, come on, kid, you've just told me the fireman fucked your face and you fucked his ass, couldn't be anything more intimate than that."

"Well, sir, I kinda ... I ended up sobbing in his arms."

"Really? OK, let me guess. You'd had a remarkable day full of great sex, climaxing with your dick in the ass of the man of your dreams ... and then it had to end and now you go back to your normal life. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir," said a surprised Brandon – the man really could read his mind. "But you see, sir, it's not a normal life. I'm confined to a wheelchair and I tell myself I'm independent but I'm really not and never will be. After all that stuff today I realized what my life could have been if my dad hadn't crashed the car that day. I'm not bad looking, I could have met lots of guys. I even went to a beer bar a couple of times but felt stupid wheeling myself around, my face level with guys' crotches." He chuckled. "Although I guess that ain't so bad – never seen so many close-up bulges in my life.

"Thing is, though, I've never fucked a guy or been fucked, except in the mouth by Eddy and those guys today, and then when the fireman sat on my dick for a minute or so. Sir, do you, er, know anyone who's been fucked in the butt? Do you know what it feels like?"

"Oh yeah," Bob grinned broadly. "But it's not something you can describe – it's something you have to feel – and I have a hunch you may real soon. Thing is, it depends on the guy, so you have to choose carefully the first man who's gonna fuck you."

"Huh, like I'll have a choice, sir."

"Oh, I have a strong feeling you will, Brandon."

"Most guys don't even want to touch me, as if what I have is catching or something. Until I was ten I was running around with the other kids, and now here I am living alone and beating off to porn videos – and calendars," he added with a grin. "Oh, I know I sound like a whiner, don't I sir, but I'm really not. I'm happy with my life and glad that the only thing that doesn't work is my legs. Everything else works fine, as you can see, sir," grinning down at the boner in his shorts. "It's just that sometimes, like today, I get to feeling sorry for myself, but I always snap out of it. I'm sorry, sir, I don't know why I'm unloading all this on you."

The thing that impressed Bob was that there wasn't an ounce of self-pity in Brandon's voice. He was simply stating the facts. His bravery moved Bob almost to tears and he gulped, thanking fate that Eddie had helped him to meet this gutsy young guy.

He thought for a minute and said, "You know, Brandon, that construction worker who came today. He has a brother – looks just like him except that he wears a suite and tie. His name's Steve and he's a great psychotherapist – a shrink as the guys call him. He's gonna be real helpful to you whenever you feel down in the dumps like this."

"Thank you, sir," Brandon said, wondering how in the world Bob knew so much about the construction guy, how he knew Eddie ... and who were these guys he kept mentioning?

Bob changed the subject. "Brandon, what do you do all day – do you have a job?"

"No, sir, but not for want of trying. See, I took a community college course in office management – oh just basic things, you know, like book-keeping and payroll kinda stuff" – he laughed – "something I can do sitting down. I got good grades too, so when I graduated I went on job interviews, but I saw their smiles fade when they saw me rolling in in a wheelchair. I know I interviewed well, but always the rejection letter said they'd found someone with better qualifications. I was pretty sure what they meant was they'd found someone who wasn't in a wheelchair. Oh, god, there I go, whining again."

"Hmm," Bob said, "I might be able to help there, too. I know a young guy who runs a business office and he's really good but he's kind of overwhelmed with work and I happen to know he's looking for an assistant. Now I can't promise anything `cause it would be up to him, he's doing the hiring. But at least I could get you a job interview if you would like."

"Absolutely, sir." Brandon's eyes were shining. "But, like, if I got lucky and he became my boss, are you sure he wouldn't be put off by my being in a wheelchair?"

"This guy?" Bob laughed. "Never, not him – he's a cop's boy and a great guy. Nah, if he likes a guy there's nothing he won't do for him." A cop's boy, Brandon thought. This day's really getting strange. He was emboldened to ask one more thing. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "before you go, there is one thing you could do ..." His confidence failed. "No sorry, forget it, bad idea."

"Come on kid, you've shared everything else with me. Might as well go for broke."

Well, sir, it's just that you're, well, so totally gorgeous, sir and my ..." He looked down at the tent pole under his shorts. "Could you just stand there a minute and let me, like, jerk off?"

Bob laughed heartily. "So that's it. Of course I could do that but I think we could go one better. See, I know a man who's always telling me he can make any guy shoot his load without touching his cock. And he can – he's done it to me often. So why don't we give it a try too?" Bob stood up, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He towered over Brandon stripped to the waist and the boy gasped.

The body was spectacular, a beautifully defined V-shaped torso, broad shoulders, bulging pecs and eight-pack abs. It was like Clark Kent had just ripped open his shirt and become Superman. Instinctively Brandon grabbed his cock but Bob said, "No, no – you heard what I said. Hands-free." He bent down, wound his arms round Brandon's back, scooped him out of his wheelchair and pressed the boy against him, holding him tight, chest to chest. "Now, I'm gonna kiss you, Brandon, and you're gonna cum for me ... just for me."

Brandon felt the solid muscles pressed against him, saw the face getting closer and closer and smelt the faint scent of a musky cologne as the man's lips touch his lightly, then harder and harder until their mouths opened and he felt the tongue lick inside his mouth. The kiss went on and on, and when the mouth did finally pull off him the boy was mesmerized by the steady brown eyes. The hypnotic voice said, "Now, you're gonna cum for me, Brandon, and you're such a hot young guy you're gonna make me cum too. Do what I tell you, boy ... come on... cum for me ... now."

"Aaah ... Aaah ... Aaah ... Brandon gasped as he creamed his shorts, his cock pressing hard against the bulge in the man's pants. "Good boy," Bob smiled. He lowered one arm round his waist and pulled it close, pressing their crotches tightly together. "My turn," he grinned ... "oh yeah..." He kissed Brandon again, his body shuddered and Brandon felt him cum in his pants.

"Yeah," Bob shouted triumphantly, walking round the room with the boy in his arms, both of them pumping semen against each other. They were both laughing like crazy and Brandon was swept with the feeling of absolute safety in the arms of this spectacular man, and the absolute certainty that he would never be lonely again.

A short while later Brandon was sitting in his specially equipped shower. He was an old hand at this and when he used the phrase `gonna jump in the shower' it was not so far from the truth. After Bob had left he had decided to clean up – wash off all those guys' sweat and cum. He didn't need it any more to help him cling to the memories. He felt light-hearted after Bob's visit, a feeling that his life was about to change, what with the job interview he would be getting and the therapy session with the look-alike brother of the construction worker.

He would go out and celebrate. He sometimes went down the hill and had dinner alone in a small restaurant where they knew him and gave him a discount on food and drink. He would probably push the boat out and order himself a big martini. Hey, it was his birthday next week wasn't it? He'd celebrate early and drink a quiet toast to himself.

For a second that solitary image brought a lump to his throat and he glimpsed depression again, but he shook it off and thought of Bob instead. He dried off, pulled on long pants (that was always the hardest part) and a Polo shirt, his last clean one. (Really gotta do laundry tomorrow.)

He grabbed his wallet, opened the front door ... and almost fainted from shock. Looming in the doorway, about to knock, was a soldier. But not just any soldier, one drawn by Tom of Finland – tall, muscular with an exotic dark face, square features and almond shaped eyes – Arab or Asian, Brandon guessed. He was wearing military fatigues – khaki pants with laced-up combat boots, a sleeveless olive-green shirt over a khaki tank top stretched over his muscular chest. His dog tags hung loosely in the cleft between his pecs.

He smiled and when he spoke it was with a soft, lilting accent. But his question floored Brandon. "Hi, there. Is Eddie here?"

For the sixth time that day Brandon was staring mutely at a homoerotic figure in his doorway. He fought his way through his daze and croaked, "Er, Eddie, sir? No, I only met Eddie once and I don't think ..."

"Do you think I could come in and wait for him?" As if on autopilot Brandon backed up his wheelchair and the soldier strode into his house There was a slightly uncomfortable silence until the solider explained, "See I usually take Eddie out to dinner around this time – just down the hill, walking distance, and today he asked me to meet him here. You are Brandon aren't you?" Brandon nodded. "And he didn't tell you?" He sighed in mock frustration. "Typical Eddie – wonder why he didn't mention it."

"Because I wanted it to be a surprise!" Eddie poked his grinning face round the door and bounced in, panting hard after running up the hill. "Hey, dude, I figured you might be having a lonely day so I thought me and Hassan could take you out to dinner. This here is Hassan," Eddie said proudly. "He's a Marine and I'm his boy."

The world was spinning so fast that Brandon thought he would fall off. He was totally stunned, though thrilled to see Eddie again. "Would you like to join us, Brandon?" Hassan asked.

"Well, if it's really OK, sir. I was about to go and eat on my own anyway, so ..."

"So of course he'll come," Eddie laughed. "And you're all dressed up, too. So let's go, dude."

A few minutes later Eddie was walking down the hill beside Brandon. Hassan, walking behind them, was impressed to see that Eddie let Brandon wheel himself. The boy was instinctively respecting Brandon's independence ... it never occurred to him to push his buddy's wheelchair – unless he asked for help, of course. Just how it should be, thought Hassan.

Hassan was listening to them talking over each other. They both had the gift of the gab, that was for sure, something Hassan loved about Eddie, his free-wheeling spirit. But he noticed that Eddie didn't talk about the tribe as they passed by the house. Seemed he was keeping all that under wraps for now.

In the restaurant Hassan was happy to just listen to the boys' spirited conversation which didn't let up. And it wasn't long before it took on sexual undertones ... obviously the hormones of both young boys were racing. Brandon asked Hassan a question about the Marines and he was glad to oblige. As he talked about the life of a Marine, describing his buddies, sex hovered thick in the air and the two boys gazed at the hunky Marine with lustful expressions.

They were sitting side by side opposite him, stealing quick glances at each other, and even as he spoke, Hassan could see that something was going on between them, their hands invisible under the table cloth. As they stared at him their bodies were trembling and suddenly they both jerked with a small gasp and Hassan stifled a smile knowing what they had just done. They had jerked each other off under the table looking at him.

They tried to keep their breathing steady and looked at him demurely across the table, Eddie smiling calmly and Brandon blinking behind his glasses. Hassan said with a sigh, "You know, boys, there are certain things you just don't do in polite society. Now both of you, go wash your hands before you eat.

For the rest of the meal Hassan did most of the talking, responding to eager questions from Brandon about the Marines, though the boys occasionally exchanged mischievous glances between them. It was all a lot of fun – until near the end when Eddie happened to say, "Hey dude, I forgot to tell you. It's my birthday tomorrow, Saturday, and ...' Brandon cut him off. "No way, dude ... and it's mine in a week. I'll be 19."

"Me too! That is so cool. It means I'm a week older than you, buddy, so make sure you respect your elders." They laughed at the happy discovery but Hassan frowned. "You're 19, Eddie? You always told me you were 21.

Eddie gasped, realizing that he had, once again, said too much. Desperately he tried to explain. "Oh shit. See, sir, when I first met Zack and Darius in that bar I told them I was 21 `coz I was working in the bar and I didn't want them to think I was underage. And I guess I never changed my story – even when I met you."

"So all this time you've been lying to me about your age, is that it?"

"I guess so, sir," said Eddie miserably."

"Well have you or haven't you been lying to me?" Eddie replied in a very small voice, "Yes, sir."

"You do know that the worst thing a boy can do is lie to his master, and if ever it happens the boy has to be punished?"

"Yes, sir."

Hassan clenched his jaw. "OK, here's what's gonna happen. You know the rule – it has to be a ritual punishment in front of the whole group. And since you lied about your age your birthday is an appropriate time to do it. We'll say no more about it now as I don't want to embarrass Brandon. You'll spend the night with me and tomorrow we'll go down to the house when everyone's gathered and that's where I'll punish you. That's all I have to say on the subject."

Brandon squeezed Eddie's hand under the table and Eddie looked at him mournfully. "Sorry, dude, I was gonna take you to meet some guys tomorrow. I got a whole lot of stuff to explain to you – stuff I'd been keeping under wraps, but it'll have to wait. I don't want you to see me get punished. But when it's all over I'll come and see you again, OK? You're still my friend, right?"

"Of course I am, dude," Brandon grinned. "Best friend forever."

That night Brandon found it hard to sleep. His head was whirling with memories of the most extraordinary day in his life. There was so much he didn't understand and he tried to piece it all together. All those incredibly hot men, fantasies straight out of his porn collection, had come and gone and he'd most likely never see them again. Except for the one called Bob. He had made promises to him and he knew he'd keep them.

And where did Eddie and his incredible Marine master fit into it all? And who were these guys they kept talking about? In front of the whole group? ... Everyone would be gathered?' What did that mean? He was sorry Eddie was going to get punished and wished he could be there to support him. Ah well, guess he'd just have to wait til Eddie came to see him as he had promised. And this time he was sure he would.

Meanwhile Hassan was being unexpectedly affectionate to Eddie, almost as if nothing bad had happened. He fucked him as usual and Eddie felt he was more loving than ever as he held him in his arms all night. But Eddie was ashamed of his lie and next morning he felt increasingly nervous about his public punishment. Hassan made a few private phone calls and then, at noon, they set out for the house.

There were a lot of cars and trucks outside and Eddie knew all the guys would be gathered inside. He felt like a lamb gong to the slaughter. They went through the gate and there, sure enough, was the whole tribe, men and boys, standing in a row facing him solemnly. His courage failed him and he thought his legs would give way.

And then it happened. The whole group suddenly raised their arms and yelled "SURPRISE!!" Someone pulled a cord and a banner unfurled from a tree saying "Happy Birthday Eddie!" There was an eruption of cheers and applause and shouts of "Ed-die, Ed-die." Hassan pulled him into his arms and whispered, "Happy Nineteenth Birthday, Eddie. I love you, boy."

Eddie looked up at Hassan with tears running down his face. "Thank you, sir." But then he pulled away and gazed at the crowd, at all the laughing faces. He shouted, "Hold that thought, guys. I gotta go – but I'll be right back." He turned and raced out of the gate.

"Well that was weird," said Darius. "Do you know where he's going, sir?"

Hassan grinned broadly. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."

Eddie was speeding up the hill and was soon pounding on Brandon's door. It opened and Brandon gazed up at him in amazement. Eddie got behind his wheelchair and pushed him out the door. With a peal of laughter he said, "Come on, dude. We're going to a party!"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 224

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!