A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 260 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: The tribe is back together after their three separate trips. Randy, Bob and Mark meet in the mirrored basement to renew their homoerotic passions, building to a climax where the muscular King of the Gypsies is spit roasted by the cop and the superman, his naked body impaled on the cop's nightstick. Plans are made for the eager young Brandon to enter the secret world of the leather master, Zack.

Chapter 260 – "Men & Boys Reunite"

The event-filled weekend was coming to a close, with no bruised egos or bodies despite the rivalries, challenges and contests the guys seemed to relish. For two days the tribe had split into three groups that had gone their separate ways. Each group had its own agenda, but all with the same lust for action – most of it homoerotic, not to say pornographic. In the end the friendly rivalries natural between hot-blooded males had been settled

Bob, the loved and respected co-founder of the tribe, was feeling especially happy as he lay under a tree at home, gazed up through the leaves at the cerulean sky and let his mind wander.

He and the twins had spent the weekend at home, in the company of the fireman Jason, the Aussie Adam, and their boys Ben and Nate. But Bob knew exactly what had gone on in the other groups too. Guys always confided in Bob and he had received calls from the other men with long and detailed descriptions of their adventures. Still, he thought, they had left a lot of loose ends, which made him speculate about the possible aftermath.

There was Brandon's kindness to the macho leatherman Zack, leading to Zack's promise to hang out with the boy, just the two of them, and get to know him and his wheelchair life better.

Bob recalled his own clumsy reference to the twins about leather collars and ropes, which had embarrassed them in front of the others but made their eyes gleam just the same.

And then, of course, there was Randy, boasting about the sexual leather games he had orchestrated in the remote canyon with the biker group – Mark, Pete and their boys – including the painful torments they had subjected Zack to as their naked black muscle slave. Randy had promised to give Bob a demonstration of that when he got home. Now Bob chuckled to himself, `Or maybe I'll give a demonstration to Randy – now there's a thought.'

Yeah, lots of loose ends, he mused, letting the images drift into fantasies, then blur into dreams as he closed his eyes and fell asleep under the tree.

Bob woke with a start and saw the sun getting lower in the sky. "Shit," he murmured, realizing the other two groups would be home soon. He went straight to the kitchen where he was relieved to find the twins making a start on dinner preparations with the help of Nate and Ben.

"Gee thanks, guys," Bob said. "Just as well I'm not cooking `cos I would have slept right through dinner."

"But you gotta get your beauty sleep, sir," Ben grinned slyly. "'Least, that's what Jason always says and he knows all about beauty, him being the most gorgeous man on the planet."

That provoked instant objections from the other boys, always loyal to their masters, until Bob interjected. "OK, OK, guys, cool it, and focus ... `cos this is a big one. You know how reunion dinners are, and tonight all the guys will be here. Dinner for 20, if you can cope."

The twins gave a scornful look and Kyle scoffed, "If we can cope! Sir, we could handle 200 without batting an eyelid. Hassan said he might even use us to manage the kitchen for his Marine Regimental Dinner."

"OK, sorry, guys," Bob smiled. "I know you're the best. So you're in charge, with Ben and Nate helping. Ben – best behavior or Nate will whip your ass, eh Nate?" winking at the young Aussie.

"Thank you sir," said Kevin. "Like Kyle said, you can leave it to us now," which Bob took as a strong hint for him to get out of the kitchen. As he left he heard the usually mild-mannered twins turn into drill sergeants. "OK, guys over here, at the double ..."

Outside, Adam and Jason were lounging in the pool chatting like the good buddies they were, having put behind them their narcissistic gym-jock brawling. "Hey, guys," Bob grinned, "if you can stop cruising each other for five minutes maybe you can help me put the table together."

They pulled themselves out of the pool and stood butt naked with water streaming down their flawless physiques. "Thought you'd need reinforcements, mate," said Adam in his Aussie drawl. He picked up his swim trunks and grinned at Jason. "Better put on our work clothes, eh stud?"

"Oh, naked is fine," Bob shrugged nonchalantly, then they burst out laughing at the sight of Bob's swim trunks stretched by the stiff tent pole of his dick. They went round back to the big storage area and brought out trestles and a wide wooden plank. They positioned the trestles beside the table by the pool and placed the plank on top, effectively doubling the size of the table into a square that seated five on each side.

Nate and Ben had been watching from the kitchen window (couldn't let the sight of naked muscle-jocks go to waste) and they now ran out with a huge white cloth that they threw over the table. Nate saw that one of the wooden trestles had not been used and asked, "Sir, shall I take this back to storage?"

"Yeah sure, Nate," Bob said absently, then suddenly checked himself. "No, Nate. Leave it to me – I'll take care of it." His mind flashed on the image Randy had described in his phone call from the guys' biking trip, where he had built a similar trestle and roped Zack down to it to be worked over by the rest of the group. Bob's mind raced with possibilities as he took the trestle down to the basement.

Randy had recently transformed the basement into an elaborate play room. He had removed the gym equipment up to the patio where just yesterday it had been put to spectacular use by the two rival gym-jocks Adam and Jason.

Back in the garden Bob looked with satisfaction as everything fell into place. Nate and Ben were setting the table with enough plates, utensils and glasses for twenty men. And Adam and Jason (who had finally put on swim trunks) had rustled up twenty mismatched chairs, using some from Adam's house next door. The four boys were taking a breather outside the kitchen door, with the twins still wearing their usual white bib-aprons.

"Hey," Bob laughed, "now this is what I mean when I talk about the `domestic calm' I enjoy so much." But he spoke too soon because at that moment there came a squeal of brakes outside and tires on gravel. The troops were home."

The four boys ran to the gate and Bob, Adam and Jason sauntered after them. It was Hassan, Eddie and Mario in the military jeep, followed by Steve and Lloyd in their BMW. There was an instant eruption from the boys who greeted each other with the over-the-top euphoria of two lost tribes reuniting in the desert. The men smiled indulgently and Bob said, "Hey, guys, how'd everything go up on Mulholland? You manage to keep the peace?"

"Well, restore it anyway," Steve laughed, "thanks to the Marine Captain here taking charge." Hassan blushed, reverting to the strong, silent soldier after having exerted his natural authority over the group – muscular, mental and sexual. Even now his quiet but imposing presence in their midst was enough to make several cocks stir.

The men walked into the garden, sluggishly followed by the boys in a tight group, all of them noisily gushing the CliffsNotes versions of their adventures. Darius had filmed the action in the biker group in the canyon and had made Nate do the same here in the garden with what Darius dubbed the `jock group'. Eddie especially was dying to see the videos but Bob's voice suddenly jerked them back to reality.

"Boys, could you bring out drinks and appetizers for the men here? Last time Randy called, his `biker gang' was only twenty minutes away so we might as well get started. The boys all moved toward the kitchen together like a swarm of bees buzzing about their exploits, but by some miracle the drinks and appetizers appeared and all the men – Bob and Hassan, Jason and Adam, and Steve and Lloyd – were relaxing at the table, speculating about the mood of the bikers when they got home.

Steve grinned at Bob. "Wouldn't give much for your chances, big guy. You know how Randy can be when he gets home after being away from you for a few days – a barbarian with a club aimed straight at you. Picture it – he's been having hot leather-sex all weekend with a bunch of musclehunks soaked in testosterone. And for the last two hours he's had that new Harley throbbing between his legs, thinking of you, balls ready to explode. You're in for it, man."

"OK, OK, doc, I get the picture," Bob laughed. "But don't worry, I know how to handle Randy."

"Too right, mate," Adam chuckled, "but what you really mean is you know how Randy handles you – and you love it." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "And if my ears don't deceive me you're gonna get your chance real soon."

The distant rumble of engines quickly grew into a deafening roar as four motorbikes pulled up outside. The gang had arrived.

The table was deserted as men and boys went out through the gate to stare at the amazing sight. It was like the opening scene in a porn movie – four powerful bikers astride four powerful machines, engines still throbbing, with their boys behind them, grinning with pride, knowing how totally hot they looked.

On the last bike, sitting behind Pete, Brandon took off his helmet and beamed at the welcoming committee, his face flushed with excitement, eyes blinking hard behind his black rimmed glasses. The boys mobbed him.

"Dude," Eddie gushed, "you look way cool in those leather pants ... and that leather vest. Where d'you get it?"

"Pete gave it to me as my inauguration present – my first bike run." Brandon's eyes sparkled. "You think I look good enough as Pete's leather boy?"

"Duh! You look like a real badass motherfucker on that bike. Scares the shit outa me – next thing you'll be tying me up and working me over like Zack does to Darius."

"You talking to me?" Darius growled with mock severity, swinging his leg over Zack's bike and walking up to them. "Hey, Pablo, give me a hand with this chair will ya?" Pablo swaggered up, on top of his game, and he helped Darius unbolt Brandon's wheelchair from the back of the bike. They opened it up and Ben and Eddie lifted him off the bike and sat him in the chair.

The noise was deafening as everyone got reacquainted (having been separated for all of 48 hours!). While the boys talked over each other with mounting volume, the men exchanged handshakes, fists bumps, shoulder bumps, and all the other paraphernalia of macho greetings.

In the chaotic tumult nobody noticed that the only two men who had not verbally greeted each other were Randy and Bob. They glanced at each other across the sea of men but quickly lowered their eyes as if the sight unnerved them.

Randy inhaled sharply as he glimpsed Bob's astonishing beauty as if he were seeing it for the first time. It was always that way when he came home from a trip. Bob saw a feral savagery in the gypsy's laser gaze piercing him with unmistakable animal lust. That also was usual whenever Randy came home to him, only this time the fire burned more fiercely than ever.

Steve's lighthearted remark about Randy's homecoming had been right on the mark. "You're in for it, man," he had predicted. The doc was always right, of course – the tribe's know-all shrink.

"Damn, I could murder a Scotch," Zack's deep voice boomed over the tumult. The twins snapped to attention and Kevin said, "Right this way, sir. Inside you'll find everything you need to eat and drink." The shirtless leather master grinned lasciviously at the sexy brothers. "Hm, I'm looking at what I'd like to eat right now."

Darius grabbed Zack's arm and dragged him toward the house. "Sir, please allow your boy (with extra emphasis on the `boy') to find that Scotch for you, and give you whatever else you need." He flashed a smile and winked at the twins as he pulled his master through the gate.

The boys unloaded the gear from the bikes and piled it inside the gate. The twins ran back to the kitchen, followed by Eddie, Ben and Brandon, and soon the three amigos were running a shuttle to and from the kitchen, loading the table with food. Brandon, still pumped with the excitement of his first leather/biker experience, carried food piled on his wheelchair's tray table.

The men took their places at table, along with Nate, Mario, and Darius. Darius was firmly planted next to Zack, tending to his every need as promised, so devotedly that Zack growled, "Don't worry kid, I'll attend to you later." Mario stifled a laugh and Zack added, "You too, `amico' ... if you're not careful I'll rope you up and make you watch."

The lighthearted banter spread to the rest of the men, except for Bob who sat there rather tentatively, thought Steve, who never missed nuances in the men. The only two not at table were Randy and Pablo who had lingered outside to inspect the new Harleys after their trial run.

"So how'd they perform, sir?" asked Pablo casting a professional eye over the machines.

"Great ... we'll buy them," Randy replied curtly, dispensing with his usual enthusiastic conversation with his boy, the expert mechanic, about details of the bikes' performance. Knowing Randy well Pablo felt a tension in his master whose attention was focused elsewhere. He also saw a fire in his eyes and a set to the jaw that he knew meant only one thing ... sex.

"Bob say anything to you?" Pablo was thrown by Randy's question and stammered, "N...no, sir. I've hardly spoken to him."

"OK." Randy turned to the gate and mumbled absently over his shoulder, "Thanks, kid."

When Randy strode into the garden the noisy conversation subsided as they all stared at the wild-eyed gypsy, his body tense, fists and jaw clenched. He was wearing old jeans and boots and a ragged tank top that hung loose over his bulging muscles. Bob looked up and stared straight at him. Randy jerked his head toward the house and Bob, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, got up and silently followed him.

In the bedroom they faced each other. Bob had never seen Randy this wound up and was amazed to see tears brimming in his blazing eyes – a contradictory mix of ferocity and affection. This trip Randy had missed Bob more than ever, to the point of irrational fear that he wouldn't be home waiting for him. It was a kind of home sickness – a longing for his man.

With a whimper he suddenly grabbed Bob's head and pulled him into a savage kiss, grinding their lips together, shoving his tongue deep in his mouth. He pulled back, licked his face, kissed his eyes, then attacked his mouth again in a frenzy of passion. When Randy released him at last his steel blue eyes pierced Bob's and tears ran down his cheeks. "Man, I've missed you so bad it hurt. All that macho stuff in the canyon got me stoked but all I kept thinking of was you. I wanted you so bad ... Godammit, man – you're mine."

Randy needed to prove to himself, to Bob and the whole world that this stunning man belonged to him. With an animal howl he grabbed Bob's T-shirt, ripped it clear off and tossed it aside. "Fuck ... he groaned, slapping his palms on Bob's chest, digging his fingers into his pecs like bear claws. "Man, you are so fucking beautiful ... I gotta have you, buddy."

He ripped off his own tank, turned Bob around and pressed him face-first against the floor-length mirror. He stared at the muscular V of his back, leaned forward and licked it all the way up to Bob's neck that he bit and kissed, running his tongue up into the thick dark hair curled at the nape.

Then he reached round, ripped open Bob's shorts and they dropped to the ground. He yanked open his jeans and let them fall round his boots. Pausing only to scoop a handful of lube from an open jar on the nightstand he shoved his greasy fingers into his lover's butt-hole, followed by his beer-can dick, driving it down deep in one massive thrust.

Bob's scream echoed round the garden below and Mark tensed and impulsively started to rise. But Steve pulled him back down, saying gently, "Leave them, Mark. Bob wouldn't want you to intervene – not yet. Believe me he's OK."

More than OK. Bob was used to Randy's notoriously savage fucks and had come to long for them. It was what had brought him back for more to that old motel so long ago. Intense pain radiated from his ass throughout his body and he stared desperately into the mirror reflection of the wild gypsy face over his shoulder. Randy pulled his cock clear out, then slammed it in deep again, but his physical savagery was mitigated by the softness of his deep voice. "I love you man ... I gotta show you how bad I need you."

The jackhammer intensified but the pain dissolved. Bob stared into his own eyes in the mirror, then Randy's, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was passionately loved by this magnificent wild-man. He also knew that Randy's way of showing his love was to fuck ... harder and harder and harder.

Randy reached round Bob from behind and gripped his chest as his ramrod powered into him and he said into the mirror, "Look at my eyes man and I'll take you where no one else can – or ever will." And so once again they saw themselves reflected in each other's eyes and they passed together into that private, magical world that folded round them and nurtured their love.

Pain, anguish had no place in that world and even now, as his ass was impaled on the driving piston of Randy's cock, Bob felt only the heat of his lover's body pressed against him and the euphoria of the blue eyes piercing his. Bob was consumed with lust for him and said to the face in the mirror, "Yeah, fuck me, man. I love it. Fuck that ass ... make me cum. Make me shoot for you, Randy."

His arms upstretched Bob was clawing at the mirror, every muscle flexed, his handsome Superman face writhing in ecstasy as Randy's club savaged his ass. The macho muscle-god became a slave to the demon gypsy's overpowering sexuality. He surrendered his ass and yelled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna shoot ... aaah...!" Bob felt a rush of semen blast upward from his cock between his belly and the glass, just as Randy's cock exploded in his ass with all the pent-up sperm that had been torturing his balls for so long.

Even as his cock emptied in his lover's ass, Randy pulled Bob away from the mirror and, with his cock still inside him, carried him bodily to the bed and collapsed onto it where he held him down and fucked him again, his cock still hard as steel. They rolled over and over – Bob lying on his face, his side, then kneeling astride Randy's chest and riding his cock.

Laughing now, Randy pushed Bob sideways onto his back with Randy in the classic position between his legs, leaning forward, pinning his wrists and gazing into his lover's face, breath heaving. But out of nowhere doubt suddenly consumed him. His smile clouded with concern that he had been too rough and, even in the midst of a passion such as this, his insecurity reared up. "I didn't hurt you, man, did I? Tell me you're OK ... tell me you love me ... I wanna hear it, buddy ... please..."

Bob smiled teasingly. "No, buddy, you didn't hurt me, and I still love you. But I'll love you more if you cum again." Randy grinned at him. "You think I can't? This is me you're talking to, stud. Brace yourself, big guy." Again his rod became a pile-driver as Bob grabbed his own cock and pumped it like mad. Their eyes locked, their smiles turned to laughter ... and once again their cocks erupted.

As so often before, they had expressed their mutual passion in the way they knew best – through raw, man-on-man sex. And if Bob had his way there would be more to come.

When all the shouting from upstairs died down the men below relaxed and waited with amused curiosity for Bob and Randy to emerge. And when they did, Randy had been transformed from a tense, sex-crazed animal into a mellow lover, his arm draped over Bob's shoulder and a self-satisfied smile on his face.

There was a ripple of applause from the boys and looks of admiration from the men as the lovers took their places side by side at the table. Bob and Randy grinned at Mark to reassure him as the third man in their triple partnership. Mark loved seeing the men so strongly united, knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would be joining them again. He chuckled, "OK, guys, so you've just fed one kind of appetite, but have you ever considered food?"

"Asshole," Randy grinned. "But now you mention it, officer, where the hell is it?" Instantly the twins were at his elbow with covered plates. "Ta-da!" They whisked off the covers with a flourish. "We kept it hot for you, sirs," Kevin said. Kyle added puckishly, "Although you seem to have no trouble keeping things hot yourselves, sirs."

"Watch yourself, punks, or I'll throw you over my knees and heat up those cute buns of yours," and Randy slapped their butts to show he meant business. The meal and the conversation resumed, with the men talking mostly about the performance of the new Harleys, while the boys huddled excitedly at the prospect of a boys' jerkoff fest when they watched Darius's videos after he had edited them.

When stomachs were full and throats were hoarse from talking, the energy finally began to wind down. The twins went into action clearing the remains of the meal, with the help of the three amigos. While Brandon was in the kitchen Pablo looked questioningly at Ranger Pete, who smiled, "You tell `em Pablo – it was you and Darius who hit on the idea about Brandon after all."

All eyes turned to Pablo who held the floor confidently. "Well, sirs, Darius and me were talking." A groan went round the table as the phrase "me and the guys have been talking" usually meant that they had hatched some kind of plot. This time was no exception. "No, wait, guys," Pablo protested, "let me talk." The men fell silent and looked respectfully at the boss's boy (noting his impulsive use of guys' instead of sirs').

"See, me and Darius were talking about Brandon and how he really loved the ride – you know, the bikes, the speed, his leather outfit and all. Well, we was thinking ..."

"... `were' thinking," Bob instinctively interjected, correcting his grammar, earning an impatient scowl from Randy. Bob grinned, "Sorry, Pablo ... carry on."

With as much of a glare at Bob as he dared (with Randy watching) Pablo continued, "We `were' thinking how great it would be if Brandon had a motorcycle of his own. You know I research trucks and bikes all the time, me being head mechanic and all ..." (he could never resist a little self-promotion) "... and I've seen pictures of three-wheel motorbikes adapted to take wheelchairs – even seen a few on the road. They're real snazzy looking and would be way cool for Brandon."

Pablo paused for effect. "See, the wheelchair goes up a ramp and latches into place, then the ramp comes up as a wall behind the bike." There were looks of admiration for Pablo and Darius, especially from Randy who beamed at his boy with pride.

"I know just what you're talking about," Zack said. "I knew a guy who had one ... made all the difference to his life. Would to Brandon's too, and he deserves it. You're al lucky man, Pete. Your kid is something special – I really like him, admire him. And he's real discreet – you could tell him anything and he'd keep them to himself." He paused for a moment, lost in errant thought, then snapped back to business. "'Course, those machines don't come cheap."

"We talked to Pete about that," said Pablo, "and told him that the senior boys would like to chip in part of our wages – maybe the other boys too – and Pete would come up with the rest. And sir," he said to Randy, "that motorbike dealer we use all the time could cut us a deal, you being such a good customer and all, and buying two brand new Harleys."

Randy gazed at him affectionately. "You've really thought all this through, haven't you, kid – you make me real proud of you. What's your take on all this, Pete?"

"I think it's a terrific idea," Pete enthused. "Damn, I can picture me and my boy going on bike runs together. He would get off on that so much – make all the difference. I want him to do everything the other boys can do, and I agree with Zack, he deserves it. Maybe we can check out this dealer of yours this week, Randy, cos I'd like to get started on it right away. I'll keep it a secret from Brandon right now, though, til we know it's feasible. Sshh, here he comes."

If Brandon noticed a special gleam in his master's eyes he thought it was the prospect of their spending the night together. As if to confirm it, Pete said, "Your chores done, boy? You ready to drive me up to your place in your truck?"

"Of course, sir. Place is a bit of a mess, though." Pete ruffled his hair and grinned. "Just the way I like it, kid – especially a messy bed."

That was a signal for the party to break up. With thanks and congratulations all round they paired off – Ben left with Jason, Eddie with Hassan, and Nate with Adam. Jamie and Mario went off to hang out in Mario's room.

As Pablo and Darius went up to their apartment Pablo was saying, "And dude, I don't want you messing with those videos tonight. I've got other things in mind for you." Darius squeezed his ass. "If that includes these cute buns, lead on kid. Me and my ten-inch schlong will be close behind you – real close."

The twins went up to their small apartment over the kitchen, and Steve and Lloyd took their leave. "Well," said Steve, "I gotta hand it to you guys and the trips you've been on. This tribe of yours may separate for a while but it never breaks apart. It just stretches like a rubber band and then snaps back together. And you, Randy, have done a great job with that boy of yours. He's beginning to look a lot like you – and it don't get better than that, brother."

He hugged Bob goodbye and whispered in his ear, "If that's revenge I see in your eyes, don't hurt my brother too bad, eh?"

"Hell, doc" Bob said quietly. "Do you always know what I'm thinking?"

"Pretty much," Steve laughed. "Come on, Lloyd, let's leave these horny alpha males to their own devices – whatever they may be," and he winked at Bob. As they purred away in their BMW Zack stood up and said, "Jeez, time to myself at last. That hasn't happened in a while..." adding cryptically, "... and you know how I value my solitude." He saluted – "'Night, brothers" – and walked across the street to his own house.

Randy Bob and Mark were left together sipping brandy the twins had left out for them. Mark shook his head with a smile, "That guy is the toughest, most stoic, and occasionally most mysterious leatherman I've met. Wonder what he meant – `value his solitude'? You ever wonder what he gets up to all alone in that house of his? "

"Dunno," said Bob. "Whatever it is it's something so private he doesn't even share it with his own boy, Darius. Maybe one day he'll share his secrets with someone he's not so intimate with – a man he especially likes and admires ..." a thought occurred to him "... or a boy."

"All I know," said Randy stretching his arms, "is that Zack has never looked hotter or more pornographic than in the canyon when we stripped him naked, tied him down splayed over a trestle and all the men and boys lined up and took turns fucking the ass of their naked black sex-slave. Still gets me hard thinking about it."

Actually all three men were hard as they imagined the sight. "Come to think of it," Bob said, "I never did get all the gory details. I seem to recall your promise, Randy, to give me a demonstration when you got back."

Randy's eyes gleamed. "Yeah, I did at that. And you, old buddy, are just the kind of muscle hunk to demonstrate on. A bound and naked Superman would look at least as hot as a naked black slave any day of the week. You up for it, Mark? We're a threesome, after all. This kinda stuff we gotta share. Show this arrogant son-of-a-bitch who the bosses are in this outfit."

Lead on," Mark grinned. "Downstairs, I presume?"

Randy knew what he was doing when he designed the basement playroom. A fantasist's dream, the room was black, fitted with ceiling spotlights on dimmers and wall to wall mirrors. Wherever you were you could see at least two reflections of yourself and, with parallel mirrors, see yourself reflected to infinity. Whenever Jason visited the house he always spent time down here, accompanied or alone. Actually, a man could never be alone with so many mirrors – exactly what turned Jason on.

There was all sorts of equipment, some left over from the gym such as chin bars, slant boards and gymnastic rings hanging from ropes, all of which lent themselves to sexual acts of bondage even better than they did for mere exercise. On the walls hung the many instruments the house had amassed over the years – whips, ropes, restraints – more than a man could get through in a month, no matter how horny or how frequent a visitor

Now, as the three men came in, they felt the usual surge of testosterone that all men felt when entering – a sexual charge impossible to resist. And these men had no intention of resisting – except maybe each other. They had all put on blue jeans and T-shirts as the evening turned chilly though they remained barefoot.

"Hey what's this?" Randy said. "A new addition. Shit, Bob, you really are anxious to get worked over like our black slave yesterday." He was looking at the wooden trestle that Bob had brought down here earlier (and modified for instant use). Randy was in his element here, king of his domain, flushed from brandy, swaggering as he gave instructions.

"You're gonna need some wadding on this, though ... don't want those sharp edges to bite." In the corner of the room was a pile of old clothes (mostly torn), towels and blankets, one of which he grabbed and rolled round the crossbar of the trestle.

"See ... padding to protect a naked body. And talking of naked bodies..." He reached over and pulled Bob's T-shirt off over his head. Bob was standing by the padded trestle and Randy went over to the dimmer switches and brightened the spotlight directly over him. Well lubricated by now with brandy Randy had quite a buzz going as he slung his arm over Mark's shoulder and pointed at the shirtless man, his muscles rippling under the spotlight.

"Now that, old buddy," he slurred, "is the perfect specimen of a man – Superman walks the earth. Look at that gorgeous face ... and that body just won't fucking quit. And what you're looking at now is the way I like him best, stripped down to blue jeans hugging that slim waist of his. Magnificent, don't you think? And he's gonna look spectacular tied down naked to that trestle. He'll beat your black slave hands down. Show us, big guy."

Bob looked at the trestle and leaned over it – but sideways. Randy scoffed, "Nah, not like that, asshole. Other way. Here, let me show you." Randy stripped off his shirt, shoved Bob out of the way and lay on his stomach, splayed over the bar end to end. "See that? Your ass hangs over the end of the bar so I get a clear shot at it and your hands reach down to the bottom of the trestle's front legs so ... ah, good, you've already tied the ropes round them."

"Yeah, but I'm not good at ropes like you and I'm not sure I got them right. Help me take a look, Mark." They knelt in front of Randy ... and suddenly everything changed.

Quickly, expertly they tied the ropes tight round Randy's wrists, binding him to the front legs. If he hadn't been so liquored up his reflexes would have worked faster. As it was, when he tugged at the restraints and realized what had happened it was too late – and he sobered up fast. As adrenaline coursed through his body he yelled, "What the fuck...?" and kicked.

But poised on the trestle his balance was off and he could get no traction with his feet, so it was an easy task for Bob and Mark to control him. Bob reached under him, yanked open his jeans and Mark pulled them down over his bare feet. Grabbing one of his flailing legs each it wasn't hard to secure his ankles to the back legs of the trestle.

"NO!" Randy howled, suddenly stone cold sober. "This is all wrong..."

Mark grinned at Bob, "Don't know about you, buddy, but it looks just right to me."

"Yeah," Bob said and threw his arm over Mark's shoulder. Mimicking Randy he pointed to the naked construction boss lashed down spread-eagled over the trestle and said, "Now that, old buddy, is the perfect specimen of a man – the King of the Gypsies, a prisoner. Look at that gorgeous face – square stubbled jaw, long black hair falling over his blue eyes ... and that body just won't fucking quit. Watch him struggle, officer, those muscles rippling. The big boss man is at our mercy."

"Fuck you, assholes," Randy howled. "I'll fucking kill you mother-fuckers if you fucking lay a fucking hand on me." Bob said in a stage whisper to Mark, "The more `fucks' there are the madder he is ... so he's plenty mad."

He looked at Randy in the mirror. "You should have known buddy, after that jackhammering you gave my ass, one of your most brutal fucks ever... Sure I loved it, but you knew I'd have to get my revenge. Your brother Steve knew that. That wild stallion dominating me, crushing me against the mirror, torturing my ass. I had to see that animal tamed, stripped naked, his muscular body tied down at the mercy of me and the cop here. This, old buddy, is vengeance."

"OK, OK, go ahead and fuck my ass," Randy growled. "Get it over with ... get your rocks off, set me free and I won't hurt you ... I'll give you both a pass."

"Ah," Bob smiled – "the bargaining stage." He sighed deeply. "If only it were that easy. You misunderstand `old buddy'. We tied you up not to fuck you, but to make you watch while we fuck each other.

Randy groaned as Bob knelt before him, put his hand under his chin and raised his head to face him. He stared into Randy's blue eyes and recognized the familiar mix of anger, lust and passion. "Bastard," Randy moaned.

"You don't mean that, buddy, `cos' you know I love you as much as you love me. We're two of a kind, Randy – joined at the hip – and we're perverse in our loving. Our love is dense, and part of it is to hurt each other, the way you sent shafts of pain through my body when your cock speared my ass.

"But I'm not good at causing bodily pain, partly because you're as tough as old boots and can endure any pain a man throws at you. So while you go straight for the ass, I go for the mind ... get inside it and play with it.

"You and Mark love each other too, you know that, so you're gonna have a blast watching two men you love make love to each other. Plus, you're tied down naked – like you tied Zack – and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Just remember as I torment you, tonight you'll be sleeping in my arms."

"Bastard," growled Randy. "You always win." Bob smiled, "That's because you let me, big guy." Bob pushed Randy's face higher, leaned down and kissed him on the lips, gently at first but then seducing him into a ravenous embrace. Randy had never loved Bob as much as he did now ... he was a wildly exciting man, a man whose love consumed him, gave him what no other man ever could. Randy simply worshipped him, even as he said ... with the slightest glint of admiration in his blue eyes ... "Bastard."

Bob stood up and turned his full attention to Mark. The cop pulled his own T-shirt off over his head and stood smiling at Bob, each of them stripped to the waist, barefoot in beltless blue jeans, each with flawlessly sculpted torsos.

Randy raised his head and stared at them. The image of Bob that always turned him on most was shirtless and barefoot in jeans ... and now there were two – the square-jawed Superman with tousled dark hair and deep brown eyes, the other a police officer with chiseled features, his blond hair tumbling down to his intense blue-gray eyes. Randy desperately wanted them both, but his lust was denied him. For now, the two magnificent men belonged to each other.

Silently they reached forward and ran their hands lightly over each other's chest, tracing the contours of their pecs with their fingers and stroking their nipples. Then, stretching their arms forward, they linked their hands lightly behind each other's neck and gazed at each other. "Hey there, buddy," Mark said. "We haven't really said hello yet. You miss me?"

Bob grinned, "Here's your answer, officer." He pulled Mark's face toward his and they kissed, folding their arms round each other, chest against chest, grinding the blue denim of their pants together. Bob pulled back and panted, "You're so fucking hot, man. I want you so bad." Mark glanced down at the bulge in his own jeans. ""Take it, buddy. It's all yours."

Bob kissed him again, then licked his face, his eyes, his neck and down over his chest. Slowly he bent his knees and knelt on the floor, continuing to lick the ripped abs and tight waist until he was biting the waistband of the jeans.

On his knees Bob reached behind Mark and cupped his hands round the denim bulges of his ass while his mouth tugged open the front of his jeans, one button at a time, his head yanking back again and again until the fly was wide open and Mark's long, hard cock sprang out, inches from Bob's face, pointing straight at his mouth.

"Noooo...!" It was the howl of a wounded animal as Randy's torment began. Bob's face and Mark's cock were level with his face, only a foot away. The tortured gypsy strained his neck forward and he flicked out his tongue, desperate to taste Bob's lips or Mark's cock – or both. Hypnotized by the sight of the cock approaching the open mouth he howled again as it pushed inside, deeper, deeper, until he saw Bob's eyes water and heard him gag.

Mark clamped his hands behind Bob's head and his hips moved, his cock easing in and out of the Superman's mouth with increasing speed. Randy watched in agony as his macho lover got face-fucked by the cop. His muscles flexed as his body writhed and he struggled helplessly against the ropes binding him.

Tortured by the sight Randy turned his head away but moaned in renewed agony as he saw the reflection – many reflections – in the mirrors surrounding them, of his lover on his knees before the cop, his handsome face being pounded by the long, stiff pole.

It was a vision from a pornographic nightmare, endlessly repeated. The reflections surrounded him, hundreds of them stretching to infinity, hundreds of men, all of them his lover being face fucked by all those muscular, shirtless cops, with the naked gypsy spread-eagled face down before them, humbled, degraded and helpless to prevent the agonizing spectacle.

Randy ultimately found relief in focusing on the real thing and blotting out all the reflections. His torment increased as he saw Bob pull down on the back of Mark's jeans and slide them down over his ass. He saw the perfect white globes of the cop's ass sharp against the tan lines of his bronzed flesh, and his anger, resistance and pride all dissolved in a daze of helpless lust.

"I want that ass, man ... I wanna fuck it. I gotta fuck that gorgeous face. Suck my dick, buddy." Again he stretched his neck forward, veins bulging, his tongue straining in a futile attempt to taste flesh.

Suddenly he gasped in relief as Mark's cock withdrew and Bob stood up. They both dropped their pants and faced each other butt naked, but Randy's frustration returned when Mark sank to his knees and took Bob's cock in his mouth.

Randy struggled and howled in pain. That cock he had tasted so often – had licked it, loved it, got fucked by it – was now in the mouth of the macho cop who Randy had loved, kissed, fucked. And now the powerful construction boss, bound naked, was reduced to watching the two men make love to each other right in front of him. And all he could do was beg.

Bob and Mark were becoming consumed by the fire in their cocks and Mark stood up. They faced each other again and stroked their cocks, reaching forward with the other hand to squeeze the other man's nipple. "Shit, you're good," Mark smiled at Bob. "You're gonna make me bust a load, you know that?"

"Ready when you are, officer." They stroked harder, squeezed harder, and their breath got ragged. Again their cocks were level with Randy's tortured face and as he saw them swelling he yelled in despair, "No...! Don't cum ... Please, guys ... help me ...aaah." Again he craned his neck forward and his tongue probed the air in desperation, but his pleas were ignored.

"You ready, man?" Mark smiled at Bob. "Let's do it, stud," Bob said. They pounded harder and harder, their cocks shuddered and... they turned to face Randy as their cocks exploded.

The bound gypsy was straining upward, mouth wide open, tongue sticking out, as semen slammed into his face from two cocks. The pent-up orgasms were massive, pounding the gypsy face with floods of sperm – in his hair, his eyes and into his mouth, making him swallow hard, gulp and choke. His body convulsed as he felt his own cock erupt beneath him.

He was drowning in cum. It streamed down his face onto his stubbled chin and, through a film of semen, he saw the infinite mirror reflections of the macho King of the Gypsies, naked, spread-eagled, his rugged face covered in the sperm of the men he had lusted for so hard.

All shreds of pride had been ripped away and Randy now wanted just one thing. Lying limp across the trestle the big man was moaning in a daze ... "Fuck me ... fuck my ass ... fuck me."

"Hear that, Bob?" Mark said. "I think the gypsy wants his ass fucked. Hell, don't know about you but I'm pretty much out of juice."

"Me too," Bob grinned, "but I sure wouldn't mind another go round. Getting hard again is the problem, though I think I know a way." He stood in front of Randy's head that hung down in humiliation. He grabbed the black hair, pulled his head up and stared into the dazed eyes, the gypsy face streaked with tears and jism.

"Man, me and my buddy the cop would sure like to work on that ass of yours. But see, we just busted a load and we're spent. But that mouth of yours looks like it's pretty damn hot, and god knows it's loaded with jizz. So if you can get us both hard, you'll get your ass fucked like you want. How about it, big guy?"

Randy stared up at his lover and, in reply, simply let his jaw sag open. "Hey, Mark, we're on," Bob said, easing his soft dick into Randy's mouth. "Damn, it's like a fucking furnace." He pulled back, eased in again and felt Randy's throat clamp round his cock. Staring into the dark gypsy face and blue eyes, he felt the familiar stab of lust Randy always gave him.

Within minutes his cock was almost hard and he pulled out. "Hey, Mark, it works for me. You give it a try." Mark was already semi-hard from watching Bob face-fuck the gypsy and he took Bob's place. He looked down at the rugged construction worker and said, "Man, you are such a fucking turn-on. Big guy like you begging to get fucked ... nothing like it. You are the best, big guy, and I'm crazy about you. See? I'm hard already."

The two muscle-gods took turns fucking their buddy's face, making him choke and tears spill from his eyes. "Hey Bob, I'm hard as a rock again. I wanna go for the ass." Mark pulled out of Randy's mouth and walked round to where his bare ass was hanging over the end of the trestle.

Bob went back to Randy's head, held it up by the hair and turned it to the side. "Look at that in all those mirrors, buddy, that fucking gorgeous naked cop with his rod pointing at your butt. He's gonna pound that ass. You want it?" Randy groaned, "You know I do." Bob pulled Randy's face back to look at him and flashed a dazzling smile. "You love me, buddy?"

"Fuck yeah," Randy growled. "Fuck yeah."

Mark suddenly plunged his cock in Randy's ass, his mouth opened in a scream ... and Bob shoved his cock down his lover's throat. And that's how the King of the Gypsies got spit roasted by the cop and Superman, his naked body bound and spread-eagled, his ass impaled on the cop's huge nightstick, his mouth choking on the cock driving deep down his throat.

Randy was on fire. Every muscle in his spectacular body flexed as he writhed in bondage, forced to endure the assault on his mouth and ass. He heard the cop's deep voice yell jubilantly, "Hey, Bob, this is fucking epic. You want a piece of ass here?" Bob pulled out of his mouth, took Mark's place and rammed his rod deep in Randy's ass, hearing with satisfaction the deep-throated roar of an injured bull.

Usually gentle, this time Bob gave Randy the savage fuck he had endured from him only hours before. Randy stared at him in the mirror, at his beautiful alpha-male lover pile-driving his ass. This is the man he had missed, the man he fantasized about while he was away, and the man he had come home to. He loved him like hell and screamed, "Yeah, fuck me, stud ... fuck your man's ass ... let me feel it ... make it hurt ... I fucking love you, man!"

Like the men in the canyon who had lined up to fuck Zack, Bob and Mark took turns ploughing the boss's hole as he struggled beneath them. When Bob's turn came again and he drove his cock into the fiery cauldron of Randy's ass, he knew he was at his limit. "I'm close, guys, real close," he yelled.

Mark moved quickly behind him and shoved his rod into Bob's ass. Bob howled and pushed back on it as his own cock pistoned in and out of Randy. Randy now gloried in the incredible sight all around him, the infinite reflections of three men – the helpless gypsy bound face down, the dark muscle-god pounding his ass while his own got reamed by the cop.

It was like getting fucked by both men at the same time. Randy went wild and the endless fuck, endlessly reflected, pushed him over the edge. He seized control at last and yelled triumphantly, "Yeah, pound that ass, guys. Bust your load in that ass. Do it, men ... Now...!!"

The room was filled with floodlit images of three stunning alpha males in the throes of passion, their cocks erupting in a massive triple orgasm as their screams of jubilation bounced off the mirrored walls.

It took a while for their ragged breathing and pounding hearts to subside. Finally, the two men stood back and let the spotlight shine on the undisputed leader of the tribe, now slumped in bondage, his naked body gleaming with sweat, cum flowing over his sagging jaw, out of his ass and running down his legs. The stunning visual climax was captured in the multi-dimensional reflections that went on and on forever.

When Bob and Mark released Randy at long last he collapsed on his back on the floor, the other two lying beside him, licking the semen from his face and body. "The best, guys," Randy panted... "that was definitely the best. God, I love you guys."

Just then they heard tentative footsteps on the stairs, the door opened and the twins came in. "Hope we're not interrupting, sir," Kyle said, "but we heard the noise die down and thought you might like a night-cap."

"You offering yourselves?" Randy grinned. "Now there's a thought, damn hot one." The brothers looked nervously at the collars and ropes hanging on the wall and there was a definite gleam in their eyes.

"Er, we were referring to drinks, sir," Kevin said shyly, and Bob laughed. "Randy's thought is a good one, boys, and you two and I are gonna follow it up one day soon. But for now drinks in our room sounds great – just what we need."

"You wanna stay the night with us?" Randy asked. "I feel like a little tender loving care after all that went down here." The twins beamed, "Thank you sir," and ran off the get the drinks.

Mark declined the offer to join them saying, "I gotta get back to Jamie. He'll be waiting in bed for me to fuck him." He chuckled, "Though tonight I think it'll be him fucking me. Now I come to think of it, that's about all I didn't get tonight." They walked to the door and Randy, somewhat reluctantly, turned the dimmer switches all the way down until the room faded to black.

After the many exertions of the weekend, work returned to normal the next day, with the boys working on the bungalow renovations that were nearing completion. Brandon was with them, of course, but neither the boys nor Pete told him yet about the plans afoot for getting him a motorcycle trike.

The next day Pete went with Zack to the dealership the men used, where Randy and Zack had recently bought two new Harleys. The dealer was by now a good buddy and was enthusiastic about their idea for the motor trike. He gave them a ton of information and suggested that they bring Brandon by so he could look over all the options.

Feeling good, they drove back in Zack's truck talking about the possibilities. "`Course," Pete said, "he has to take a written test first for his motorcycle permit, and then I'll take him on a few test runs. But there's been something playing on my mind and maybe you can help, Zack. In a couple of weeks I have to go to Arizona where there's a big inter-agency meeting about new fire-fighting techniques in forests. I think Jason will probably be there too.

"Thing is, if all goes to plan, Brandon will be all stoked about his new machine right around then and I was wondering – if you have the time – whether you could take care of him in that regard for me. I mean, you know everything there is to know about bikes, and Brandon seemed to get on well with you in the canyon. Seems to be real into leather and stuff."

"Sure," Zack said right away. "I have a real soft spot for that boy – everyone does – and I'd love to take him on a run. I'd take real good care of him and I would enjoy showing him things he wouldn't get to see anywhere else..." he grew pensive ... "special things no other guys ever get to see. So sure, Pete, it's a deal. It'll be fun."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 261

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!