A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 345 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Bad boy Larry is defiant and confused, denying his own sexual urges. Randy and Bob help him find the truth. "He stared at them in awe, both equally beautiful, equally macho – Randy the muscular wild-eyed gypsy and Bob the sculpted superman. Were they gonna fuck? Who would be on top?" In the final test, the gypsy towers over Larry. "What do want from me, kid? What do you want me to do to you?"

CHAPTER 345 – "A YOUNG OUTCAST FINDS LOVE"

************ In the previous chapter *************

It was years since Jamie had first arrived at the tribe's house. Actually he had broken in with a skinhead pal Brigg and been punished by the men and boys. But over time Jamie had worked hard to rehabilitate himself and be accepted by the tribe, especially by the handsome blond cop Mark who eventually took him as his boy and they had since become devoted lovers.

Brigg, on the other hand, had chosen to go home to his mom and dad in St. Louis. But he had now suddenly reappeared, intending to hook up with Jamie and hit the road again. He was in a rebellious mood and, met by Brandon, had attacked him and thrown him out of his wheelchair.

The boys had rallied to Brandon's defense and taken revenge on Brigg who afterwards sat naked in the garden tied to a chair. But Jamie, taught by Mark to temper justice with mercy, took pity on the ragged young man. He released him and said, "Look, I've brought you some of my clothes – a polo shirt, cargo shorts and sneakers."

But Brigg, degraded and resentful, snarled, "I don't want your damn charity, big-shot."

Jamie sighed. "It's not charity, dude, and I'm no big-shot. It's just new clothes and we need to talk." With a surly look Brigg put on the clothes and sat down opposite Jamie. "Listen to me, Briggsy," using the nickname he had used in the past. "What you did to that poor kid Brandon is what got everyone so riled up. But all I want you to do is answer a few questions.

It turned out that Brigg had come from his home in St. Louis, by bus and hitch-hiking. When Jamie asked why he came here Brigg raised his head defiantly but had tears in his eyes. "I had nowhere else to go." Jamie asked about his mom and dad, and then the tears flowed.

"Mom died. She couldn't take any more from my dad, that asshole. Then he started in on me ... called me ... called me a faggot and took his belt to me, so I hightailed it out of there. Nothing left for me there after my mom went. I was scared he'd come after me so I hopped a bus headed west. I got no other friends so ... so I came here." Then he snarled through his tears, "And here you are, all high and mighty with your hotshot boyfriends ..."

"Stop it! Look, Briggsy, you gotta lose that chip off your shoulder. When did you last have a proper meal?" The boy wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and sniffed. "Dunno, days ago." Jamie sighed. "OK, here's what I can do. You can join us all for dinner and, if Mark agrees, you can stay here tonight. Then we'll take it from there, OK?"

His heart went out to his former friend, lost and beaten down by life, and his voice softened. "Briggsy, I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. Life can be weird ... all a matter of luck I guess. I landed on my feet here, made something of myself with the tribe's help and I'm totally in love with Mark, that cop you met last time. But Briggsy, fate dealt you a bad hand back in St. Louis with that brutal dad of yours. And now with your mom gone ... So I'll do everything I can for you. But I'll have to ask Mark first ..."

Mark, course, readily agreed with Jamie. "I promise no one will hurt you while you're here, boy," Mark said. "They won't forgive you for what you did `cos Brandon is a big favorite around here. But you'll find they're a decent bunch of guys and if you can lose that resentful attitude of yours things should go pretty smoothly."

As men and boys started to drift into the garden gathering for dinner, Pete's truck drew up. As a chief park ranger he had taken his boy Brandon to the ranger station to have his injury treated. He came in with an ebullient Eddie showing off his friend who was now riding in an electric power wheelchair as his left arm was in a sling. He couldn't wheel his own chair for a week or so, so Pete had borrowed this power chair from the ranger station.

When the effusive greetings were over Brandon spotted Brigg standing silently between Mark and Jamie and he wheeled up to him. "Hey, dude," he said ... "nice clothes ... looks better." He smiled shyly and held out his right hand. "Hey, no hard feelings, eh? These things happen." At a nudge from Jamie Brigg shook Brandon's hand. A silence fell over the crowd at this magnanimous gesture by Brandon which set a tone of forgiveness amid all the hostile feelings.

Shortly after that another car arrived, the gate opened and Randy yelled, "Hey, Mike you old scoundrel, so you made it." Men and boys crowded enthusiastically round Mike, the middle-aged owner of a leather bar in Palm Springs who had lately become a good and wise friend of the tribe whom they had invited to stay for the weekend.

When things eventually settled down Mike sat drinking with the men who filled him in on the events of the afternoon. After listening with growing amazement he said, "Holy shit, you guys don't mess around do you? Is that the villain of the piece over there?" He nodded to where Brigg was sitting looking lost and confused as Jamie spoke to him.

"Hmm," Mike said pensively, "the kid reminds me of someone." Bob gave him a questioning look. "Reminds me of me when I was his age ... kicked out of my home, friendless. Like him I headed west and kinda washed up in the desert with eight bucks in my pocket." Randy looked at his old friend through new eyes. "Mike, you never told us ..."

"Ah, long time ago, when you, you big lug, were still a sexy gleam in your daddy's eye." He grinned, "Same gleam you have when you look at Bob." When Jamie got up from the table, leaving Brigg looking even more abandoned, Mike said, "OK if I go over and talk to him?

"Help yourself, Mike," Bob said. Mike picked up a full beer bottle, sauntered over to Brigg and sat opposite him. Brigg looked at him through dull eyes and mumbled, "Who are you?"

"The name's Mike," he said cheerfully. "How's your beer?" Brigg shoved his empty bottle away from him. "Thought so," Mike grinned. "I run a bar and can always tell that empty-bottle look in a man's eye. Here take this one." He pushed the bottle toward him. "So what's your name?"

He mumbled "Brigg," but Mike persisted. "You got a first name?" Brigg looked up and stared at Mike curiously, trying to figure out his angle ... "They call me Briggsy." Mike smiled, "That's not what I asked." The boy sighed, "It's Larry, but nobody ever calls me that."

"Except me," Mike grinned, "if it's OK with you." The boy shrugged, "Suit yourself." Mike added, "And you can call me `sir', because I'm a lot older than you – probably about the same age as your dad, am I right?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but he's ... I mean you're not ..."

"... not mean like him, right? Yeah, once upon a time I had a dad like that." Larry squinted up at the older man as if really seeing him for the first time. "You say you run a bar?"

"Yeah, I own it – out in the desert – Palm Springs. It's mostly a leather bar ..." Mike looked him straight in the eye ... "mostly men."

"I saw signs to Palms Springs coming here on the freeway. Wondered what it was like. Pretty fancy, I've heard." Mike laughed, "Fancy uh? Well Larry, I'll tell you ..."

At the other end of the table the men were watching curiously. "What do you think they're talking about?" asked Zack.

Bob smiled knowingly, "Oh, this and that I imagine. Just two guys getting to know each other ..."

********************* Chapter 345 *********************

After most of the men had arrived and the meal got underway the noise level rose. The tribe's curiosity had naturally been focused on the strange newcomer Brigg, but gradually their attention turned back to each other as they all shared stories of their workweek and plans for the weekend. Besides, food was arriving, cooked by the twins and served by the `three amigos' – the effusive Eddie, Randy's kid brother Ben, and Brandon, victim of the attack by Brigg.

Even after his dramatic afternoon, and with one arm in a sling, Brandon, always fiercely independent, refused to be sidelined and whizzed around in his electric wheelchair, serving food almost as efficiently with one hand as he usually did with two.

And at the end of the table Mike was still talking to Brigg, whom he now called by his first name, Larry. After the boy's sullen beginning Mike had seen his interest peak at the mention of Palm Springs and now used that as a hook to draw him out. "So that's how you imagine Palm Springs – pretty fancy, uh? Well, that's only part of it. I live close to my bar in Cathedral City, the less flashy neighbor of the Springs – you know, warehouses, strip malls, that kinda stuff, though it's coming up in the world."

"And this bar," Larry asked, becoming more animated, "you say it's a leather bar? Does that mean motorcycles and stuff?"

"Oh sure. At the beer bust you can't move in the parking lot for bikes ... all kinds."

Larry's eyes showed some luster for the first time. "I used to have a bike. I rode with a group –a gang really – and we were tough. Got up to all kinds a' shit `til it all got too heavy and we got busted. Spent three months in jail and had to sell my bike to pay the fine. I asked my dad but he just laughed and ..."

Mike realized that the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn, but they were saved by Eddie arriving with a tray of food and a volley of words. "Hey, guys, surf or turf, your choice? He frowned, "I think the fish is ... something `-cock' ..."

"Haddock?" Mike volunteered with a smile, and Eddie beamed, "Yeah, that's the stuff – listen to me, I got cock on the brain. Hell, living with a Marine with a humungous dick, who wouldn't? Anyway, your choice of ... what you said ... or steak. See, some of the guys here don't eat red meat – all pretty health conscious. Me I'm a meat and potatoes kinda guy myself `cos I figure meat builds you up. I mean look at your average cow ... don't see many skinny cows, do ya ..?"

Mike grinned and quickly leapt in. "Larry, meet Eddie. He used to be my bar-back in the desert but he came here to this crowd and now he's Hassan's boy, a big hunky Marine."

"Hey, Larry." Eddie put down the tray and pumped Larry's hand vigorously. "Yeah, Hassan's gonna get here a bit late but I'll introduce you when he does. I wasn't here when you got here today and met my best buddy Brandon. Sorry if he roughed you up a bit but he's tough, he can take care of himself ... don't let that wheelchair fool you. Yeah, him and Ben and me are known round here as the three amigos. `Course Brandon's got his arm in a sling right now so ... oh, I guess that was you, wasn't it? Well as my granny used to say ..."

"Hi dude," Larry interrupted, with Eddie still pumping his hand. "You talk a lot, don't you?"

"Ah, you noticed that. Yeah, I get that a lot, but the way I figure, if you've got something on your mind ... better out than in, like they say ..."

"Eddie," Mike persisted, "I'll take the fish, please."

"Oh yeah, sorry, Uncle Mike." He put the plate in front of him and looked questioningly at Larry who said, "Steak for me." At a nudge from Mike, "Steak, please."

"Thought, so," Eddie grinned, "man after my own heart."

They were rescued from more verbal onslaught by the twins who came up discreetly and said, "Eddie, could you give us a hand in the kitchen?" The twins had earlier been part of the attack on Brigg but they now smiled at him. Kyle said, "We, er, met briefly earlier but didn't introduce ourselves. I'm Kyle." "And I'm his brother Kevin. Sorry we interrupted. Come on Eddie."

Left to themselves again Mike smiled at Larry and was rewarded by Larry's first smile of the day ... first smile in many days, in fact. "Such a great, kid," Mike chuckled. "I really miss Eddie, he was real popular in my bar when he worked there as my bar-back. Never found a good one to take his place. They come and go ... mostly go ... like the one who just went. Anyway, you were asking about the Springs ..."

But Larry's attention was now on something else ... food. As he told Jamie, he hadn't eaten a proper meal for days, and he now started to wolf down the perfectly cooked steak and gourmet trimmings expertly prepared by the twins. The culinary subtleties so appreciated by the other men were lost on Larry. For him food was food – not so easy to come by these days.

"Hey, hey, don't bolt your food, boy. If you haven't eaten in a while you'll get indigestion."

"Oh, sorry, sir," Larry said, and the compliant tone surprised Larry as much as Mike.

"I only tell you for your own good, boy. So eat slowly while I tell you about life in the desert."

At the other end of the table Randy caught sight of Bob looking intently at Mike and Brigg. "So, smart-ass, what d'ya think's going on over there? You're the one with the sensitive antennas."

"Hmm, not sure yet," Bob said. "Mike really seems to have calmed him down. But first things first. Right now we have to work out what happens tonight. Jamie, Mark, any thoughts?"

Jamie spoke first. "Sir, I'm not excusing what Briggsy did to Brandon today, but he's real vulnerable right now, kinda lost and overwhelmed by this group. He's just lost his mother and been chased out of his home by his sadistic dad. So I don't think he should sleep in a room of his own. He might even run away."

"Yeah," Mark said, "but we gotta be careful. He acted like a thug today, attacking Brandon like that, so who knows what other demons he's got burning inside him. He's probably still got a chip on his shoulder against you, Jamie, so I don't want him sleeping in our apartment."

"You're right, Mark," Bob agreed, "not a good idea. By the way, I assume we're putting Mike in Mario's old room. It's still just the way he left it when he moved to the Grady House – that European style of his, real elegant, and with that great big bed. But the boy's a problem."

"Yeah, well I got something to say about that," came the deep voice of Randy, speaking for the first time. "Anyone stays in this house even overnight has to have my OK and I don't like this kid. What he did to young Brandon ... if I'd seen it I'd have beat the shit out of him. Good thing my boy Pablo was there – slugged him good, just what he deserved. Pablo takes after me." (A statement so stunningly obvious it caused grins round the table.)

"So I wanna talk to him first, make a few things clear to him, show him who's boss. Tough that he lost his mom and all, but I don't do all that kumbaya shit, so you better be there, Bob, cause I have been known to lose my cool with dickheads like that."

"You, Randy? Never!"

"Asshole," Randy grinned. "So let's have him come to our room after dinner and we'll take it from there. I wanna show him what this group is all about – everything – so he'll know just what he's dealing with."

Mark looked at Jamie who nodded. Mark might normally have resented Randy taking over like that, but in this case protection of Jamie was his number one concern. "OK," he said, "agreed."

"That's settled," Bob said. "But go easy on him, buddy. The kid's obviously floundering."

"That so? Huh, best way to teach a kid how to swim – throw him in at the deep end."

Jamie went over to break the news gently to Brigg. Mike got up, gave the boy an encouraging smile and came over to the men. "So what's the verdict, Mike?" Bob asked.

"Dunno," Mike frowned. "There's more to the kid than meets the eye. Oh, I know you guys can't forgive him for the way he attacked young Brandon and I agree, it was inexcusable. But I can see why he's so bitter against the world."

Mike sighed deeply. "You know, I've seen young guys like him come in my bar over the years, blinking in the dark, beaten down by the world. He's one of those kids who life dealt a real bad hand – brutal dad, browbeaten mother who just gave up and died. The boy was desperately looking for acceptance – by anyone – and got mixed up with the wrong crowd, an outlaw gang of bikers that landed him in jail for ninety days."

"Yeah," Mark said, "I've seen plenty of that as a cop. All I can do is warn them or arrest them. So these guys who wind up in your bar, Mike, what do you do with them?"

"Ah, depends. I try to see some spark of good in them and work on that, nurture them, hook `em up with some of my buddies as examples to them that life can get better. I see that spark in this kid too, but ...

"Look here, guys, I don't know what your plans are for him, but I don't think he should be left alone tonight. This tribe is a lot to take in – can be intimidating – but it's also a great example of boys from the wrong side of the tracks who've had a rocky start but then made something of themselves. But he's volatile right now – could go either way – so you gotta be careful.

"So er, depending on where you're putting me tonight, I'd be willing to have him sleep in my room, `cos I really don't think he'd be a danger to me. Talking to him just now I think I established some kind of connection. By the way, the kid's name is Larry."

Bob looked encouragingly at the other men. "Well, we were just discussing that, Mike, and you're very welcome to Mario's old room. It's a big room, done out with that Italian flair Mario has. Has its own bathroom and, as well as the big king-size bed, there's also a daybed Mario bought. It's real comfortable and Brigg would sleep well there. What 'd'ya think, Randy?"

Randy grunted grudgingly, seeing himself, as always, as the ultimate protector of the tribe. "Well, I guess ... but he's still gotta come and see me first, me and you, Bob. And Mike, that room is just down the hall from ours, so at the slightest hint of trouble you just yell and ..."

A yell now interrupted Randy as Eddie shot up from the table and raced for the gate where Hassan had just come in. He had come straight from working late, still in his military fatigue pants and boots and a sleeveless denim shirt. Seeing Eddie's grinning urchin face was always a great welcome home for him and he now grabbed his boy and swung him round in his arms.

"Hey, hey, sir," Eddie said excitedly, "you gotta come and meet this new guy. He showed up this afternoon and kinda attacked Brandon but Brandon beat him up but hurt his wrist and his arm's in a sling but you should see the other guy, bruises and all, but I don't think the guy's all bad and he sure wolfed into the steak I served him `cos I don't think he's eaten lately and looks kinda scrawny ..."

"Whoa, whoa," Hassan laughed. "Why don't you let me see for myself?" So Eddie dragged Hassan across the garden, ignoring the shouted greetings from the table, and stopped in front of Jamie and Larry. Jamie looked up and smiled and Eddie said proudly, "Larry, this is Hassan ... he's a Marine and I'm his boy."

Looking up at the rugged Marine captain Larry instinctively got to his feet. The usually reticent soldier flashed a smile, stretched out his hand and said, "Good to meet you, Larry."

Larry shook hands and mumbled "Thank you, sir," intimidated by the exotically handsome Arab/Asian soldier with the muscular build under his combat clothes. With a jubilant smile Eddie then pulled Hassan over to say hi to Mike.

Larry sat down and looked at Jamie wide-eyed. "Hell, dude, lot of great looking men around here," then blushed as he caught himself. "Not that they turn me on or anything. But I'm shit scared about meeting that Randy guy again. That first time I came here he beat me up real good. Think that's what I'm in for again?"

"I doubt it, Briggsy. Randy can be real fierce and he'll yell at you for hurting Brandon ... he has a special kind of love and admiration for that kid and feels real protective of him. But Bob will be there too and he don't like rough stuff so you should be safe with him around. Bob's the only man in the world Randy gives in to, he's so crazy in love with him. You'll see."

Later that evening after the dinner party had broken up Bob and Randy were kicking back in the master bedroom drinking coffee and brandy served, as always, by the twins. They were barefoot in jeans – Bob in his usual white V-neck T-shirt and Randy in a gray tank top, a clean one this time which Bob always insisted on at dinner.

Bob could see that Randy was still steamed at the way Brandon had been injured, even more so as he had watched the plucky kid still helping with dinner even with one arm in a sling. Bob trod warily as he took a hit of brandy

"Funny, you know, how all of our boys – yours, mine, Mark's – all came from real precarious lifestyles. Jamie was running wild with Brigg; you rescued Pablo from those sadistic Baxter brothers in the desert; and my twins were homeless and tried to steal my car to live in. Good job we were all able to see the good in the boys, as bad as it looked at first."

"Look," Randy said gruffly. "I know what you're doing, man – trying to soften me up for when that young thug comes in. Well it won't work, buddy. I ain't gonna make nice with a fucking loser who beat up my Brandon."

"He's not really your Brandon, buddy, he's Pete's, and the guy didn't exactly beat him up. Besides, Pablo already gave him ..."

"That's enough! I'm the boss of this tribe – I make the decisions and I'll give the guy what he deserves."

Bob could see that his attempts at conciliation were only winding Randy up and making him angrier still. In the delicate chess game Bob so often played with the hot-headed gypsy he had managed to checkmate himself. The timing was especially bad because that was the moment they heard a tentative knock on the door. "Come in!" Randy barked and Brigg came in nervously, trying to mask his fear with a defiant expression, which didn't help matters.

There was another thing that unsettled the boy as he faced the two glorious men – the stubbled gypsy with the long black hair, muscles bulging under his tank, and his buddy with the Superman features, his T-shirt stretched over a perfect physique. As the boy stared at them his cock was getting hard in his shorts, a fact he put down to fear, not sexual arousal.

Randy stood up and loomed over the tense Larry. "OK, punk, I'll come straight to the point. I don't like you, pal. I beat you up the first time you came to this house and I should do the same again. That kid you attacked, that brave young guy in a wheelchair, I love the kid like he was my own boy. I'm told you called him a faggot and a `wheelchair boy', only good for sucking dick."

Randy poked Larry in the chest. "Well let me tell you something about that `wheelchair boy'. A while ago he saved the life of that guy you were talking to, Mike. He was floating unconscious in the pool and Brandon got out of his wheelchair, crawled on his belly, fished him out, gave him mouth-to-mouth and saved him. That's the boy you called faggot. A long time ago I swore to him I'd protect him, and you made me break that promise."

"Well if he hadn't got in my way ..."

"Quiet! You speak when I say you can. I see from the bruises on your face that my boy Pablo already gave you a licking, so I'll spare you that. But if it was up to me I'd strip you and throw you out of the house buck naked." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bob wince. "Lucky for you these guys – my buddy here, and Mark and Jamie – say I should go easy on you. Mike does too, and his opinion counts a lot with me. So here's what's gonna happen. First of all I wanna hear you apologize to me.

There was a tense silence as Brigg shifted uneasily, his usual defiance completely evaporating. He should have hated this wild gypsy with his stubbled jaw and clenched fists but, as the pale blue eyes penetrated him like lasers, he could no longer deny the boner that throbbed in his pants. He cleared his throat and heard himself say. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm really sorry I hurt that kid. I hope one day you can forgive me, sir."

Randy glanced over at Bob who said. "That was a good start, boy, but you have a long way to go. Mike tells us you name's Larry. I was sorry to hear about your mother, Larry, and things have obviously been rough for you. Jamie feels sorry for you too but Mark is still not comfortable that you won't lose your cool again."

Randy growled, "If it was up to me you'd be tied up and made to sleep alone in the basement."

Larry flinched and Bob resumed. "Fortunately it seems that won't be necessary. Our old friend Mike has offered to have you sleep in his room where he'll keep an eye on you. The large room has a king-size bed for Mike and a smaller daybed for you, where you should be comfortable."

That news seemed to make Larry relax a bit but Randy didn't let up. "I warn you, boy, the room is just down the hall and one wrong move from you, one yell from Mike and I'll be on you like a ton of bricks. It'll be my pleasure to toss you bodily out in the gutter. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Very clear, sir."

"Right, now before I let you go and report to Mike there's one other thing we gotta sort out – you and your fucked-up attitude to the guys you call faggots. My boy Pablo tells me that when they made you watch Darius fuck him you busted your load, which you claim was only because they threatened to set the dog on you. And I recall the last time you came to this house you called everyone faggot and I made you suck your buddy's dick, and it nearly made you puke.

"Well see, asshole, I don't give a shit if you never suck dick again or take one up your ass. You can fuck sheep for all I care. But as the thought of man-on-man action makes you wanna puke I've got something in mind for you. I won't give you the thrashing you deserve, but if I don't fuck your ass I can sure as hell fuck with your mind. Come here." Randy grabbed the boy's T-shirt, dragged him over to a chair and shoved him into it.

"I'm not gonna tie you down but one false move and you'll feel my fist. You'll just sit there and watch ... watch what men in this house do when their day is over and they are alone together. And if what you see makes you wanna puke ... tough shit, kid."

As Larry watched Randy turn and walk back to Bob he tried to stay motionless but his mind raced with conflicting emotions – relief that he had escaped a beating but fearful that he would make a mistake, offend Randy and get the beating anyway.

And underlying all this was another problem he was trying to suppress – the boner in his shorts. As the rugged musclehunk had loomed over him and growled threateningly, despite Larry's fear, bordering on terror, his dick had grown harder and harder. In his muddled mind he tried to dismiss this unwelcome effect as some kind of bizarre reaction to fear ... his cock grew as his fear grew.

But Randy now ignored the boy and turned his attention to Bob. As he gazed down at him, his anger replaced with lustful expectation, Bob knew just what Randy was doing. He understood the inner workings of this complex man's mind. The tough construction boss could never be described as subtle. He was a man of action not introspection – plain-speaking, quick to anger and quick with his fists.

But as fierce and untamed as he was, he was also a gypsy, a creature of the earth, and Bob knew that his gypsy instincts gave him a gut feeling about men – the way they thought, felt and reacted. And this was especially true where sex was involved. Randy could see right through this boy whose pretensions of toughness were a mask for his own insecurities and failures. Confronted with a group of self-confident, successful young men, the boy disparaged them all with the universal put-down of `faggot'.

Randy had so often seen men whose protestations of hatred for `faggots' was an act of self-delusion, a mask for their own attraction to men, a sexual desire that revolted them. Despite their verbal protestations of disgust, deep down inside their real desire was not to puke but to participate.

And above all Randy knew instantly when a man desired him, which happened often. Bob recalled the time they had gone for a weekend at the Ritz Carlton and how the arrogant young assistant manager (who later became Thomas the Golden Boy) had sneeringly condescended to the rough-hewn gypsy. But Randy had said to Bob, "I knew the instant he looked at me that he wanted my dick up his ass." He had been right then, as he was right now about Larry. Even while he had been tongue-lashing him he could see the fire of desire in his eyes.

So when Randy pulled Bob to his feet and they gazed into each other's eyes Bob smiled and mouthed the words "son of a bitch'. And as Randy pulled his face toward him and their mouths closed over each other in a passionate kiss, Larry watched spellbound. The want-to-puke part of him, the part in denial, urged him to tear his eyes away, but a much more powerful impulse kept him riveted to the whole scene as it unfolded.

As Randy had said, this was what they did every night – a ritual really – after they had eaten dinner with the tribe, come to their room, talked about their day over brandy, and then come to this moment – the moment that made their whole day, their whole life, worthwhile.

They stepped back a pace and smiled at each other as they pulled their shirts off over their heads. Stripped to the waist they reached out and traced their hands over the contours of the other's face, neck, chest and abs, ending at the other's jeans that they slowly unbuttoned, and pushed down their legs.

Stepping out of their jeans, wearing only boxer shorts now, they came together again and kissed, pressing their naked chests together and grinding the bulges in their shorts against each other in mounting desire.

Then they stepped back again and gazed into each other's eyes as they pushed down their shorts, releasing their long, hard cocks. They stroked their cocks slowly and Randy sighed, "Man, you are so fucking gorgeous. Every time I see you naked it's just like the first time – and you take my breath away."

He wasn't the only one. Mesmerized, Larry stared at the naked muscle-gods, his cock rigid in his shorts, his white-knuckled hands gripping the arms of the chair. What were they gonna do? Were they gonna fuck? They were both equally beautiful, equally macho – the powerful wild-eyed gypsy and the sculpted superman – so who would be on top?

And suddenly he knew what he wanted. He wanted to see the wild, black haired gypsy fuck, he wanted to see the stubbled face grimace, the muscles ripple in his flawless physique as he pounded ass. Only an equally gorgeous man was worthy of this stud, and that man was facing him right now. Larry wanted to see it ... he willed it ... and suddenly it happened.

Randy rested the palm of his hand on his lover's chest, pushed gently and Bob fell on his back on the bed gazing up at the naked gypsy who was going to take his ass. Randy shifted from one foot to the other like a stallion in heat pawing the ground. He took his iron-hard cock in his hand, spat on it and stroked it wet. He dropped to his knees on the bed, pushed Bob's legs back and grinned down at him. "You ready, big guy?"

Bob knew what was coming – one of Randy's classic ferocious fucks. He had to show this rebellious young guy a real fuck – a fuck between real men. And something else – Randy wanted to show off to this young punk who had attacked and injured Brandon. He wanted to make him suffer, not by beating him up but by making him see what he was missing. He knew what the guy wanted even though the boy himself wouldn't admit it. But instead of feeling it, all he would get was the frustration of having to watch.

Randy did not want to do anything Bob didn't want and gave him a questioning look. "Go for it, stud," Bob said softly. He wanted it rough too, to show the boy he could take whatever his gypsy lover dished out. So that was it. No more foreplay, straight down to business, Randy drove his thick, iron-hard shaft straight into his lover's ass and the room shook with the force of Bob's scream of pain and pleasure.

Larry watched wide-eyed, unable to believe the spectacle of the handsome Superman getting his ass speared by the gypsy's cock, his chiseled features twisting in what looked like agony, but which Larry soon realized was total ecstasy. As Randy pulled all the way back Bob stared up at him and said, "Yeah, give it to me, mother-fucker ... aaagh!"

The boy was so dazzled by the amazing scene he didn't realize his hand had gone to the bulge in his shorts and he was stroking the long shape of his cock. He watched in awe as Randy's cock pistoned into the writhing muscle-god, every sinew of the gypsy's magnificent body flexing as he ramrodded his lover's willing ass.

Just when Larry thought Bob could not possibly take any more he saw Randy smile ... and slow down. Now he was transformed from a raging bull to a gentle lover, massaging Bob's ass with his cock, smiling down at him.

And then Larry saw something else he couldn't understand. The two men were staring at each other with such intensity they seemed to be looking not only at each other's eyes but deep into them, as if they were hypnotizing each other. They seemed somehow to have left this room behind and were in a world of their own, one moving inside the other's body but both of them in deep each other's mind.

And then Larry realized what he was looking at. It must be love – a word he had heard often but never understood. In his desolate life with his abusive father, despairing mother, and no real friends other than quick unsatisfying sex with girls off the street, Larry had no experience of love – not from his parents, nor from the pitiful succession of one-night stands. On the contrary his life had been filled with fear and hostility that came to define him, right up to today's mean-spirited attack on a young kid in a wheelchair.

Jamie had talked about being in love with his cop but Larry hadn't grasped what that meant – until now. He stared in awe at these two glorious men and knew for a certainty that they were in love – they were making love. That's what this was and what made his cock pulse under the shorts he was now stroking faster and faster.

As if from some other world he heard Randy say, "I'm so fucking in love with you, man. I'll do anything for you, give you anything. Tell me what you want."

"Just one thing," Bob smiled. "I want to feel your juice inside me, buddy. Show me how much you love me, you great big gypsy. Cum inside me ... please."

"You got it, stud. I said anything you want ... so here it is." Larry watched Randy move faster, his cock sliding in and out of his lover until he tensed, his muscles flexed and he groaned, "Here it comes, man. I'm cumming inside you ... fuck yeah ... I love you man ... aaah!"

As Randy's cock sank deep into Bob's ass one last time Larry saw the Superman's body writhe, muscles rippling, his handsome face glowing with joy as his own cock blasted streams of juice up over his ripped abs, his heaving chest, all the way to his chin.

And of course, Larry's cock erupted in his shorts. What else could he do?"

The room that had so recently vibrated with anger was now suffused with love, and there was a long silence until Randy made a move. He bent down and kissed Bob, then pulled out of him, stood up and gently pulled the sheet over him up to his chest. "Wait here for me, buddy. Back in a minute."

He pulled on his shorts, walked over to the stunned Larry and took his hand. All Randy's savagery had left him, now bathed in the in the glow of passion. Ignoring the stain spreading over Larry's shorts (just what Randy had expected, naturally) he pulled him out of the chair and said softly, "Come with me, kid." He led him out of the room, down the hallway and tapped on the door of Mario's old room. Mike opened the door and Randy said, "Here he is, old buddy. Take care of him."

Randy turned and left and Mike welcomed Larry inside. The boy had a confused, shell-shocked look ... he was shivering and Mike noticed the wet stain on his shorts. "You OK, Larry? You need a drink – brandy, coffee, anything?"

"No, sir," Larry mumbled.

"That's `no thank you, sir,' but we'll let it slide. "Did, er ... did Randy hurt you?"

"No, sir."

"So what happened in there?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair enough. You probably wanna hit the sack after the day you've had. How about this great room, eh? Used to be Mario's ... you haven't met him, lives at the Grady House ... he's Italian, real elegant, great style, and he decorated this room. He bought that daybed over there where you're gonna sleep. Nate and Eddie got the room ready for us, made the beds, brought in brandy, coffee and dessert and left some clean shorts and T-shirts in the chest over there." He chuckled, "Better service here than you get at a 5-star hotel."

But there was no cheering Larry up and he still stared blankly as if he were not letting himself feel anything. Mike said, "So go over there and find yourself some shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in like I did, as you see. You want a shower first?"

"No." The boy corrected himself. "No thank you, sir. I just wanna sleep." Mike watched him as he modestly turned his back to Mike and quickly undressed. Without making eye contact he pulled boxer shorts and T-shirt out of a drawer and put them on. He pulled back the covers, got onto the day bed, facing the wall, and pulled the covers up to his neck."

Mike sighed, got into the king-size bed and turned off the light. "Goodnight, Larry."

"`Night, sir. Thank you, sir."

Mike wondered what had gone on in the master suite to leave the kid like this, almost in a state of shock. But there was nothing to do now, just sleep on it and see what he was like in the morning. Mike was starting to feel drowsy when he heard a muffled sound coming from the daybed, like a sniffing noise. It was Larry, sniffing, crying quietly to himself.

Mark's heart went out to him. He turned on the light, went over to the bed and knelt beside it. "Hey kid, what's up?" he asked gently. "Turn over and look at me." Grudgingly Larry turned over and wiped his eyes with a corner of the sheet.

Mike smiled at him. "Look kiddo, I'm a bartender. Guys always spill their guts to bartenders so I've heard it all. So what happened in there? Come on ... spill"

Larry looked through his tears at Mike's comfortable, smiling face ... and it all came out. "They made love, sir, Randy and Bob. They fucked and ... but ... it was more than that. The way they looked at each other ... it was so ... I dunno ... real intense like ..."

"Like they were in love?" Mike chuckled. "Of course they were. I've never seen two guys as much in love as those two."

"But that's just it, sir, I've never seen anyone in love before, not even my mom and dad – especially not them. I didn't know what love was and ..." Tears flowed again. "I've wasted my whole life, sir, hating the world, jealous of guys, fighting them. It's all I've ever done, just like that young kid today, throwing him out of his wheelchair. That was fucking mean. Shit I don't know why I do stuff like that. Like, when those guys spilled their loads, I fucking well ..."

"Busted a load too?" Mike smiled. "Hell, anyone would do that watching those two hunks."

"But it's never gonna change for me. I'm never gonna be like Jamie, happy, in love. Tomorrow I'll just go away and hit the road again and ..."

"Hey, hey, hey, Larry. Listen, you're confused and lost right now, and I'm not surprised after your life with that abusive dad and now losing your mom. I'll only say one thing to you tonight, something I tell a lot of kids who are feeling lost. It does get better, kiddo, believe me. And I've a feeling that's gonna happen for you real soon.

"But first thing's first. I don't think you should be alone tonight crying yourself to sleep. So why don't you bunk in with me?" Mike held up his palms. "No strings, I won't lay a hand on you, that's not what this is about. But sometimes it's good to be close to another living breathing soul ... even if they are asleep. What d'ya say?"

Larry resisted the idea at first, suspicious as ever, but as he looked at Mike's smiling face he said, "OK, sir."

And so that's how they slept – in the same big king size bed, Larry clinging to the edge of the bed with his back to Mike, but grateful to be with someone he didn't feel scared of. He felt safe, something he could never remember feeling before.

Next morning Randy and Bob woke early even though it was Saturday. Randy stirred against Bob and pressed his stiff dick against his butt. "Down, tiger," Bob mumbled without opening his eyes. "The twins will be here soon with breakfast."

"Huh, nothing they ain't seen before. They get off on it." As if on cue there was a knock at the door and Kyle and Kevin came in bearing trays. It was a kind of pre-breakfast – coffee, tea, croissants, yoghurt, berries – as the whole tribe would meet later for a full brunch."

"Thanks, guys," Bob smiled. "Any word yet from Mike's room?"

"Not yet, sir," Kevin said. "Silence reigns – so far."

But not for long, as it turned out. Down the hall Mike and Larry were still in the same bed – but not so separate from each other as before. During the night Larry had, not unexpectedly, tossed and turned a bit at first before falling into a deep dream-filled sleep. In the morning it was Mike who woke first, and was surprised to find he couldn't move. Larry had snuggled up against him in his sleep and now had his arm over him, his head resting on his chest.

Mike smiled to himself. He guessed that in his dreams the lonely boy had sought refuge in the comfort of human contact and draped himself over him. Mike carefully lifted his arm and tried to ease it off him. But the movement, however slight, made Larry wake with a start. In his confused state between sleeping and waking he was horrified to find himself entwined with this man. And he blamed Mike. He pulled away in panic, leapt off the bed and started to yell.

"You fucking pervert ... that's what you wanted all along. You're the same as all the others, all fucking slimeballs." Ignoring Mike's protests Larry yelled obscenities while frantically searching for his clothes. "I should never have trusted you, old man. I'm getting the hell out of here."

The noise of course resonated as far as the master suite where Randy and Bob leapt to their feet and raced down the hall and into Mike's room where Larry was threatening him with a heavy vase held over his head. Bob quickly grabbed him, pulled him away and held him from behind, making him drop the vase that crashed on the floor.

Larry blurted, "Fuck you ... fuck you all. He came onto me ... fucking old queen couldn't keep his hands off me. When I woke up he was on top of me ..."

"Randy, Randy," Mike protested, "it's not true, I swear it wasn't like that. In his sleep the kid must have reached out for me and when I woke up he was ..."

"Stop!" Randy's powerful voice rang round the room and brought silence. "Mike, you don't have to defend yourself to me ... we know each other better than that. Of course you didn't come on to the boy, so let's get rid of that crazy idea right now." He turned to Larry whose arms were still being held behind him by Bob. "So what's going on here, boy?"

"They're all the same," he shouted between sobs, "all fucking perverts. He said he wasn't like my dad but he is." His sobs grew more ragged, his breath heaving. "My dad used to get in my bed ... he was all over me ... sticking his dick in my face ... groping me ... trying to fuck my ass. But I never let him ... fought him off ... and when he couldn't fuck my ass he took his belt to it. That's what was gonna happen here too. I ran away from my dad and I want out of here too."

"Enough!" The sobbing boy was shocked into silence. Randy paced the room in anger – not at the boy but at the father. Randy's fiercest instinct all his life was to protect the boys, as he had always defended his younger brothers, and thrashed anyone who tried to hurt them. He clenched his fists now, yearning to demolish the prick who had made this kid's existence hell and ruined his life ... so far at least.

He faced Larry again and said quietly, "Let him go, Bob." Bob released him and Larry stared defiantly into Randy's pale blue eyes. "Larry," he said gently, "you're not going anywhere, kid." He turned to Bob and Mike. "Guys, will you leave the boy with me for a while? Bob take Mike back to our room and give him my breakfast – maybe a stiff drink too, eh Mike?" he grinned.

As the men turned to leave Bob said, "Don't hurt the kid, Randy."

"You know me better than that by now, buddy. I dealt with him yesterday, with a tongue lashing and a mind fuck. Punishment's over. Now I've gotta take care of him ... heal the wounds."

Mike smiled and said, "Thanks Randy." They left the room and Randy turned to Larry, shivering like a lost and frightened boy, cheeks wet with tears of despair. With the last shreds of bravado he said, "You're gonna take a belt to me ain't ya? I know it."

"Larry, those days are over, that's a promise. Sit down." They sat close facing each other, Randy in just his boxers, Larry in the T-shirt and shorts he had slept in. Randy picked up the boy's discarded polo shirt and said, "Here let me get that." He wiped the tears from the kid's cheeks and dabbed his eyes with the shirt. "OK, now look at me and keep looking. The only thing I need from you is the truth. So what really happened here?"

Larry frowned, confused. "I ... I thought he was ... I mean, when I woke up my arms were round him, my head on his chest and ... I mean, I thought of my dad and ... and panicked, I guess. What I said about Mike ... I think maybe I got it wrong. I'm sorry I called him a ..."

"OK, OK, that's all over. Mike's a real good guy ... knows a thing or two. He even sorted me out when I was ... well, acting up. That's something I do," he shrugged, with a grin that made Larry relax. "Him and Bob, only two guys who can put me in my place. And Mike likes you a lot, I can tell. Said you remind him of him `cos he had a rough time as a kid, like you."

"I don't know what the future holds for you, kid – I'll leave that to Mike and Bob, and Jamie too `cos he has a soft spot for you. But before anything else we gotta sort out one real basic thing. See, you're confused about yourself and that makes you defensive, suspicious and envious of the boys here. They're proud and self-confident ... and they all look hotter'n hell. As for you ... Stand up, kid, and take your shirt off."

Like so many men and boys before him Larry was already in thrall to this swarthy blue-eyed gypsy, and he did as he was told. He stood shirtless before him, blushing self-consciously."

Randy sat back and looked at him appraisingly. "Hmm ... good proportions, bit skinny though. You ever work out?"

"Wanted to, sir, but couldn't afford a gym."

"Well we got our own gym here – free of charge. We could soon get you in shape – healthy protein diet from the twins and regular gym sessions with me. That something you'd go for?"

"Very much, sir."

"OK, drop your shorts." After a moment's hesitation Larry obeyed. As his shorts fell to the floor his cock sprang out ... stiff as a rod. "Hm, thought so," Randy grinned. "And that's what we gotta sort out once and for all. Now I have a rule here ... I never make a kid to do something he really don't want. That's as bad as doing what your dad did. Thing is, though, do you know what you want?

"I know when you watched Darius fuck Pablo you jerked off, but you said they made you do that. But when you watched me and Bob make love you creamed your shorts, and I sure as hell didn't make you do that. So here's the 64-thousand dollar question for you, kid." Randy stood up, naked except for his boxers, his muscles flexed, and stared him in the eye. "The question is, what do you want from me, boy?"

Larry felt his legs go weak as he stared in awe at the rugged gypsy, at his muscular physique, square, stubbled jaw, high cheekbones and piercing laser blue eyes. "Sir," he said faintly, and cleared his throat. "Sir, I would like you to touch me."

"Touch?" Randy chuckled. "We can do better than that. Come here." Randy folded his arms round the boy and held him tight." Hesitant at first Larry put his arms tentatively round the big body, feeling the muscles ripple under his hands.

Randy pulled his face back and grinned, "You ever kiss a guy?" Larry looked startled and Randy chuckled, "I'll take that as a no." Gently he pressed their lips together, forced Larry's mouth open with his tongue, and felt the boy respond with a frantic, clumsy kiss. Soon Randy pulled away, stepped back and smiled, "That didn't hurt, did it?" Larry shook his head, eyes gleaming ... "No sir."

"OK, Larry," Randy said casually. "Now here's what I want from you." He dropped his shorts and his massive cock sprang out. "I wanna fuck your ass."

Larry gasped, his wide eyes fixed on the long, rock-hard shaft, and he stammered, "No ... I couldn't ... I've never ... no ... I can't."

"OK, kid, not a problem. Like I said, I never make a boy do what he don't want."

"But I do want ... I mean ..."

"What you mean, young Larry, is that when you watched me fuck Bob and saw that look in his eye you wanted to be him, am I right?"

"Kinda, sir, but ..."

"OK, let's stop all this bullshit and face facts. I knew you wanted me, you wanted Bob, and you've probably wanted Jamie for years but would never admit it. Hell, you probably dreamed of Mike last night which is why you ended up with your arms round him. So let's cut the crap, you get on the bed and leave everything to me."

In a daze Larry did as he was told and was soon lying naked on his back on the big bed gazing up at the naked muscle-god smiling down at him. Randy dipped his fingers in a pot of lube by the bed and stroked his cock. "I usually use spit, but I go easy on a virgin ass like yours." He knelt on the bed and pushed the boy's legs back. "Hmm, cute ass. How you feeling, kid?"

"Very scared, sir. See I've never ..."

"I know, I know. But here's the thing ... fear is all in the mind, so look me in the eyes and keep looking. Now, I am not gonna hurt you ... do you believe that?"

"Yes, sir." Larry was hypnotized by the penetrating blue eyes and was only dimly aware of the pressure on his ass. But suddenly he felt a stab of pain and suddenly his ass felt full of something sliding inside it. From far away he heard the deep voice, "I'm inside you, boy," and he panicked. "No, no ... I can't, I can't ... aaagh ..." his own cock exploded all over his chest "... take it out ... please, sir ... please ..." The cock pulled back and he relaxed with a sigh.

"I made you cum, kiddo." Larry frowned, unsure what had happened or even where he was, but he felt a sensation of something like joy that he had never felt before. He glanced down at his chest and saw pools of white liquid on it ... his own semen ... it was true ... he had cum when this beautiful man had put his cock inside him.

"And guess what, kid ... I'm still inside you ..."

"No!" Larry panicked and his ass clenched, but the blue eyes smiled, "Only the head of my cock, it won't hurt anymore. Look at me, take deep breaths and relax. Do it for me, Larry."

"Yes, sir ... oh ... oh ... it feels ... I've never felt anything as ... Are you really inside me, sir?"

"Yeah, and I'm gonna stay there until I shoot my jizz inside you. You want that, boy?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Yes please, sir. Please fuck me. I've never felt anything like this before, sir."

Larry knew Randy could be a savage fuck – he had seen him do that to Bob – but now he was slow and gentle, his big rod tenderly massaging the membrane of his ass that had never felt a man's cock before. Instinctively he reached for his own cock as he had to cum again, but Randy grabbed both his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head.

"You don't need to touch it, kid ... never do with me. I know you wanna shoot another load but try to hold back. Tell me how it feels ... tell me.

The exquisite warmth in Larry's ass was spreading all through his body, a euphoric sensation he had never experienced before. He looked up at the muscular body above him, at the powerful chest and ripped abs rising and falling over him, at the swarthy, stubbled face, the hypnotic blue eyes and said, "You're inside me, sir. It feels ... it feels so ... so good. Is this what love is, sir? I think I love you, sir. I love you ... I think I'm gonna ..."

"Wait, wait, Larry. I wanna make you cum ... want you to feel my jizz in your ass. You want that ... you wanna feel the big gypsy pour his juice inside you?"

"Yes, sir, I want that so bad ... please, sir. Please make me cum again." Pinned to the bed, at the mercy of this man, Larry was in a trance as the thick rod slid slowly in and out of his ass. He felt it get bigger, felt it shudder ... it stopped ... and suddenly his ass was bathed by warm juice, the juice of the man smiling down at him, the man making him cum again ... "Now ... now ... aaah ... aaah ... yes!"

And this time he felt his orgasm, every jolt, every spasm, all the ecstasy as his body shook, his head thrashed from side to side, and even in that moment of supreme joy, he knew beyond any doubt that this was the beginning of a brand new life.

Overwhelmed, physically and emotionally exhausted he closed his eyes and for the next few minutes heard and felt nothing. When he regained his senses the cock was gone from his ass and Randy was lying beside him, propped on his elbow and smiling down at him.

"So that's it, Larry, now you know ... you know the kind of man you are, the world you belong in ... and you're gonna love it, believe me, I know. When I first met Bob I was scared shitless, had no idea what was happening to me, but it turned out to be the start of a sensational new life.

"OK, now there's a few things I want you to do to make things come right. "That kid Brandon, the boy you injured ... do you remember how as soon as he got home from getting his arm fixed up he rolled right up to you in his wheelchair, stuck out his good arm and shook your hand. `No hard feelings' he said, giving us all a lesson in forgiveness. Now that's the kind of kid we raise here, and it's why I love the boy like crazy."

"I'm real sorry I did what I did to him, sir."

"Yeah, well you have to tell him that. There's something else you can do too. Brandon is fierce about keeping his independence but for the next week he won't be able to drive his truck with his arm in a sling. So I want you to offer to drive him wherever he wants to go. You be his good arm and do whatever he asks you to." Larry nodded eagerly.

"Now for Mike. I know Mike likes you and he'll be good for you. So when he comes back in here you apologize to him, and then you let him guide you on how to live this new life of yours. Let him show you his own life in the desert. You'll have the best teacher in the world."

"I really want that, sir. Thank you. But, er, will I see you again, sir?"

"You bet! Every evening while you're here I'll take you downstairs to the gym before dinner and put you through a workout routine. And if you work real hard I'll give you a reward at the end of each session ... I'll fuck your ass. How's that sound?"

Larry's eyes that had been so dead for so long now sparkled with life. "Sounds awesome, sir."

Just then there came a tap at the door and Mike poked his head in. "Right on cue Mike," Randy said, jumping up and pulling on his shorts. "So there he his – a brand new boy. Your turn now, Mike. Be good to him, old buddy. Under all the bullshit he's got the makings of a real good kid."

Mike smiled, "I already knew that, Randy. Thanks, man. OK, Larry, you want some breakfast?"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 346

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 invite 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. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy