A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 361 By Rob Williams
CHAPTER 361 – "OF LUST, LOVE & LAUGHTER"
IN THIS CHAPTER:
The tough construction bosses, Randy and Zack, were like brothers. Proudly flaunting their strength and dominance they laugh dismissively at the idea of two such rugged men making love. But then one weakens – "Do it bro, I need it." Later, the surfer jock Jamie teases young Eddie, "You know what happens to a junior boy who disobeys a senior?" Eddie winces, "He takes it up the butt? Just a guess, sir." _____________________________________________________________________
************ In the previous chapter *************
After the trauma of Zack's personal meltdown and group punishment by all the senior men of the tribe, the swinging pendulum of collective anguish had slowed and peace was restored. The founders of the tribe, Randy and Bob, each in his own way, had given their final seal of approval for the macho black leather-master's rehabilitation as one of the tribe's leaders.
The rugged gypsy Randy loved Zack like a brother and this whole experience had been painful for him, watching his super-confident buddy give way to self-doubt and anger and then pay an agonizing price. In forgiving Zack in a visually dramatic way Randy had earned the admiration and respect of the whole tribe and reinforced his own already unassailable status as leader of the tribe.
As for the gentler Bob, he invited Zack to spend the night with him and Randy, and sex became the great healer as Bob offered himself to Zack, who later willingly subjected himself to a spit-roasting by the two alpha-male lovers.
So trials and tribulation gave way to recreational fun as two out-of-town trips were planned. The cop Mark and the Marine Hassan took their boys, Jamie and Eddie, out to the desert to visit their good friends Uncle Mike and his boy Larry, leaving Bob to the peace and contentment of being alone in the house with his twins, Kyle and Kevin.
Randy and Zack took their boys Pablo and Darius fishing at the lake in the Angeles National Forest (accompanied, as always, by Pablo's faithful dog Billy). This group of four lusty assertive men was bound to indulge in sex, which began in the truck on the drive up to the lake.
In the back seat the two boys groped each other until an impatient Randy growled at Pablo, "For god's sake, kid, why don't you give us all a break and go the fuck down on the man? Suck the fucker, or is ten inches of horsemeat too much for your cute little mouth to take? Scared it'll make your jaws ache, are ya?"
An indignant Pablo rose to the challenge and ended up with his black lover's jizz down his throat and dipping down his face.
In the front seat the men howled with laughter. "I take it all back, kid," Randy said. "You are one master cocksucker. Hell, ten inches ain't enough. What d'ya say Zack? When we're at the lake how about we team up and see if the young stud can take both our schlongs?"
"One at a time or both together?" Zack laughed.
"Whatever floats your boat, man. My boy can do anything I ask him to – that's why he's my boy."
Pablo took that as the ultimate compliment from the macho gypsy and beamed with pride. And it set the tone for the rest of the drive up the winding Angeles Crest Highway high in the San Gabriel Mountains, with an excited Billy in the space behind the back seats leaning forward over Pablo's shoulder, his head out the window rediscovering familiar scents from previous trips.
Eventually they turned off the highway onto an inconspicuous, almost hidden dirt trail that Randy had discovered years ago. For a couple of miles the track wound through the dense forest and ended at a clearing in the trees and a small remote beach by the placid waters of the lake shimmering in the midday sun. It was deserted as always, their own private place.
They got out of the truck, stretched, breathed deeply and turned their faces to the sun. "Hm, this is the life, eh, guys?" As Billy galloped around getting in everyone's way, they unloaded the fishing gear and all the food the twins had packed up for them. Next came blankets and tarps, which is all they would need for sleeping under the stars. They lifted the small barbecue grill to the ground and manhandled the rowboat off the truck and down to the water's edge.
Randy pulled off his T-shirt and said, "OK, Zack, how about we take the boat out and catch some fish, while the guys fire up the grill. Finally we'll get some peace and quiet – no gabbing from these guys, no cock-sucking, no barking Billy, just you and me – two men in a boat. Oh, and talking of cock-sucking, you two sex addicts can clean the cab of the truck. All that jizz all over the place, smells like a fucking whorehouse.
The two men stripped down to their boxer shorts, smiled admiringly at each other's muscular near-naked body, then pushed the boat into the water. They jumped in and as Randy grabbed the oars he said, "OK, guys, no fooling around – no face-fucking, butt-fucking, or anything-else fucking. You save that for your men when we get back hot and horny."
As they floated away from shore and their voices faded in the distance, the last the boys heard was, "Hey, Zack, how d'you feel about a boy swap when we get back. You fancy a crack at my boy's primo ass?" They heard Zack laugh, "Hell yes, and how d'you feel about my boy's club up yours, big guy?"
As their laughter faded away across the lake Darius grinned at Pablo. "So, do you think those guys will follow their own no-fuck rule?" They looked at each other, sputtered with mirth and said in unison, "Nah!"
"Better get the truck cleaned up, though – boss's orders." They got some rags, soaked them in the lake and set to work wiping down the back seats of the truck. Billy tried to help with his slobbering tongue but Pablo pushed him aside, wincing, "Ugh, disgusting pooch," which Darius said was hypocritical, "seeing as how you drank gallons of the stuff yourself, dude."
As they worked Pablo said, "How do you think the other guys' trip to the desert will turn out?"
Darius stopped work and frowned in thought, a roguish look in his eyes. "Well now, let's see what we got. There's the most gorgeous cop ever to straddle a Harley. The muscle-stud Arab/Asian Marine everyone drools over and who has a history with the cop that has something to do with uniforms, chains and dungeons.
"Then there's the hot blond surfer-jock who worships the cop, and the Marine's boy Eddie who idolizes the surfer and, on the rare occasions he's not talking, is the best cocksucker in town. And their hosts are the leather-bar owner Uncle Mike, respected by all, and his boy Larry who by now must be blooming into full stud-dom."
Darius grinned, "So, kiddo, you take all those ingredients, throw them in the blender, mix well, and you're bound to end up with something real tasty, I'd say."
Pablo sighed, "Yeah, you're right, buddy. OK, now like the man said, let's finish cleaning the damn truck and get your mind off sex for a change."
"Huh, easy for you to say, stud," said Darius, ogling his lover's ass.
********************** CHAPTER 361 **********************
In the middle of the lake Zack threw the anchor over the side of the boat and Randy stowed the oars. The men baited the fish hooks and threw the lines over the side, content to let them simply trail in the water while they stretched back in their seats, facing each other from opposite ends of the small boat.
Randy stretched his arms, then linked his hands behind his head and sighed deeply. "See, the thing about fishing, Zack, is that it takes care of itself, leaving us to do sweet nothing, just kick back and let the boat rock us to sleep. He turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes.
As Zack looked at the brawny gypsy a wave of affection swept over him. "You know, buddy, I've been a loner most of my life – no other guys seemed to measure up to my expectations. You're the first guy I've met who really does. Never thought I'd find a buddy like you – tough, a mean son-of-a-bitch, but generous too, protective of the things you love best – your brothers, Bob, your boy Pablo. You're a helluva guy and I feel honored to have your friendship, man."
"Feeling's mutual, sir," Randy said, keeping his eyes closed. "I love you, man, you know that."
Zack closed his eyes too and there was silence for a while except for the lapping of the water against the boat. Zack was slowly dozing off when he heard Randy's deep, wistful voice. "Do you ever wonder if it's all worth it, buddy?"
"Worth it? What d'ya mean?"
"Ah, all the bullshit – owning and running the company – the responsibility to the guys who depend on you for a paycheck. Not to mention the fucking tribe that's grown up like a big goddamn family – keeping them in line, protecting the boys."
Another long silence as Zack let that sink in. Randy kept his eyes closed as he mused about the past. "Sometimes I feel I wanna go back – back to the time I was just a casual laborer, going from one construction job to another, living in cheap motels, drinking in the bar after work, fucking the barmaid when I felt like it. That was freedom, buddy."
"Freedom? You had construction site bosses over you then. What about them?"
"Ah," Randy growled, "they were all a sack of shit ... fucking morons."
"So you slugged them and they fired you."
Randy chuckled, "Pretty much, I guess – I was a troublemaker, got fired a lot. That's why I went from job to job."
"And now you're your own boss – everyone's boss – with your own big company."
"Yeah, with all the responsibility. Hell, Zack, back in Texas me and my boys were a wandering band of gypsies, always moving on. Footloose, that was me, never wanted to put down roots."
Zack grinned. "And then Bob happened."
At last Randy opened his eyes, and smiled. "Yeah, then Bob happened."
"And ever since then you couldn't live without him. You'd be lost if he ever left."
"Whad'ya mean?" Randy frowned, his voice rising. "He ain't gonna leave me! He'd never ..."
"Hey, hey, cool it, buddy, don't be so touchy. I didn't mean anything. The guy loves you. `Course he'd never leave you."
Randy calmed down, settled back in his seat and gazed up at the sky. "Everything changed that day, Zack – my whole life. It had been a bitch of a day – I had been fighting with everyone. Well you know me and my anger."
"Kind've," Zack grinned.
"The boss had `put me on probation', he said. Fuck him. So I was drowning my sorrows in the bar – probably gonna fuck the barmaid later to show her, and me, who's really the boss. Then I saw this guy come into the bar, blinking, kinda bewildered. I can see him now, wearing jeans and a denim shirt over a white tank, but you could tell he was kind of a classy guy, out of his element in that crummy bar. His shirt was wet with sweat from the California heat so he took it off and slung it over his shoulder.
"Man, he was built like a brick shithouse, tall, muscular, dark-haired with a face straight out of one of those Superman movies. He sat at the bar two stools down from me and I had the weird feeling of being, I dunno ... like, inferior to him – a big lug laborer in sweaty black T-shirt, filthy work pants and boots. Even his accent was more classy than mine when he introduced himself.
"Anyway, seems he had driven straight down from San Francisco to get away from the wife and now he was exhausted ... and getting drunk. I said he could bunk down for a few hours in my motel room round the corner. But while he slept next to me I guess he was dreaming of fucking the barmaid `cos when I woke up he had his head on my chest and his arm and a leg slung over me. I fucking freaked out, man ... thought he was coming on to me. So I damn well ..." He stopped suddenly. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Let me finish it for you, buddy," Zack said. "The story of how you two met is the stuff of legend in the tribe. So, you freaked out, thought he was coming on to you, so you punished him real bad – bondage, gut punching, the works. He just wanted to get the hell out but you kept him prisoner in that room all night. And we all know why now. Wasn't juts `cos you hated him. Something else that you couldn't understand."
"Yeah," Randy took up the story. "And after I finally let him go I was a wreck. Tried to calm down by fucking the barmaid but ... couldn't get it up ... me, the big, steel-rod gypsy got a limp dick. Couple of days later there was a knock on the door ... and it was him ... Bob was back, couldn't stay away. After that I still treated him bad `cos I wanted to own him, make him my property. I always took what I wanted."
"But then," Zack grinned, "you ended up making love."
"Oh no, not for weeks after that. Hell, me make love to a guy? No way. It was your boy Darius who caused that ... long before he was your boy, of course. Bob and me stayed together in that motel but we needed money so we went to this group of rich guys who paid good money to get off watching two hot, muscular guys put on a show – you know, wrestling, bondage and stuff.
"We were so good they paid us double and we ended up sleeping in a room with a two-way mirror where we could see ourselves and they could watch us through it from the other side. They had a young assistant, Darius, who asked if we had ever made love, `cos that's what the guys really wanted to watch.
"Hell, we weren't even sure what the kid meant but we soon found out. We looked into each other's eyes and ... and something real weird happened ... kind like we could see deep inside each other. Still happens to this day. Anyway, we made love so good we forgot about all those guys watching from behind the mirror.
"From then on there was no looking back. We were a couple – and still are. `Course I fuck around with the other guys in the tribe but Bob's the only guy I really make love to. I mean ..."
He shrugged and Zack grinned. "Yeah, I know what you mean, dude. Guys like us ... well, I guess I make love to my boy, you probably do too, but guys like us? Nah," he winced. "I mean, take you and me. We're real good buddies and I love you like a brother man. Sure we've fucked around, butt-fucked each other on occasion, usually we fight and winner fucks loser. Well you're a hot guy and, like I told you, sometimes I jerk off looking at you, the big boss strutting around the worksite. You're a sexy looking stud, bro."
"Back at ya, buddy. I've jerked off in my office watching you too, but hell, I'm not gonna ... you know ... make fucking love to you. I mean, we're big stud sons-of-bitches ... we're competitive ... we rant and rave sometimes and beat each other up when we're good and mad. And Bob and me even just got through spit roasting you. But hell bro, I ain't never gonna go all Kumbaya on you."
They laughed scornfully at the idea, feeling the blood of machismo pulsing through them more than ever as they shared this testosterone moment of pumped virility, man to man.
Then all of a sudden their attention was diverted to one of the fishing lines tugging strongly. "Hey, we got a bite," Randy yelled, jumping up on his knees and hauling in the line.
"Wow, he's a beaut," Zack said as the fish broke the surfaced and thrashed around on the end of the line. "Here, let me get it, dude." He stood up behind Randy, reached over him, stretched out and grabbed the fish. "Hold still while I get the hook out," he yelled. "No, don't move ... I got it ... I got it... stop tugging the line, man ... I'm gonna lose my grip ... fucking shit!" As the hook came out Zack almost lost his balance and the fish wriggled free, fell back in the water and swam to freedom.
Zack jerked back to avoid falling over the side, grabbed Randy's shoulders for support and they fell together in the bottom of the boat side by side. "Asshole," Zack said, "I told you not to tug the line."
"Fuck you, man, you're the asshole ... you're the one who lost the damn fish." They glared at each other – then grinned and roared with laughter. "Man," Zack chortled, "when it comes to catching fish we should stick to construction work. Like they say, don't quit your day job."
As their laughter died down they lay panting on their backs side by side in the bottom of the boat staring up at the blue sky. "You know," Randy said, "I'm glad it got away. That fish was so beautiful and one thing I've learned is that you don't hurt beautiful things."
"Like Bob, you mean."
"Yeah, like Bob, definitely Bob," Randy smiled, his tone softer. "I learned my lesson there."
There was a long silence, the men lost in their own thoughts. Finally Zack broke the silence. "So, buddy ... er, what's it like when you make love to Bob? I mean, sure I've fucked him and that's incredible ... but when you make love to him, what's the difference? What's it like?"
"Ah, it's ... it's not something you can describe in words."
"Try, buddy. I wanna know. Like ... what do you do?"
Still looking up at the sky Randy's rugged face was bathed in a serene smile. "Well, like ... when we're lying in bed side by side, like you and me are now ... we're dozing off but I can sense his body next to mine – I mean really sense it, not just the heat, I can feel the whole man, I can almost hear his heartbeat ... I dunno, it's like ... I can feel his soul." He stopped and winced. "Nah, that sounds dumb. I said I wasn't gonna do Kumbaya."
"No, it's not dumb, buddy. Carry on ... what next?"
"Well sometimes the feeling's so strong that I can't fall asleep, so I open my eyes, turn my head and look at him. And there he is, that gorgeous face, so beautiful it's always a shock seeing it. He's sleeping with a faint smile on his lips, his bare chest rising and falling with deep breaths. My cock instantly gets hard and I wanna fuck him – own him! And in the old days I would have, only now I let him sleep ... I don't wanna wake him."
"So what do you do?" Zack turned his head and looked at Randy who was still smiling, his eyes closed as he remembered. The expression on his face was one Zack had never seen before – still the same swarthy, rugged features, but the usual fierceness had melted into a tranquility, a look of utter contentment that bestowed on the gypsy face a kind of beauty that was new to Zack. No, not entirely new. He had seen it before ... on Bob.
Again Zack said, "So what do you do next, buddy?"
"I hold my breath for fear of waking him and slowly lean toward him. Inches from his face I lick it, lightly, just with the tip of my tongue."
"Like this?" Zack inched toward him and poked out his tongue till the tip touched Randy's cheek.
"Yeah," Randy moaned, day dreaming, "just like that. And Bob stirs slightly, moans a little in his sleep and the smile widens. So I can't stop and I move to his eyes, breathe warm breath on them and then, ever so gently, kiss them."
"Like this?" Zack breathed on Randy's closed eyes, then touched them with his lips."
"Yeah, just like that. I brush his dark hair off his face and kiss his brow ..."
Zack did the same to Randy who didn't seem to feel it, almost as if, like Bob, he too were sleeping, dreaming. "Then I look at those lips, those gorgeous full lips, half open as if he's waiting for it. He's so beautiful I feel nervous, like I don't deserve it, but then I remember he's Bob, my Bob, my lover, and ..."
"And then you kiss him," Zack said softly, just like this. And he closed his lips over the half open mouth of the man he loved like a brother.
Silence again, a stillness as if the breeze were holding its breath, just the lapping of the water against the gently rocking boat. It was not a hard kiss, really just a brushing of the lips before Zack pulled off.
Randy said, "Bob stirs again and I'm not sure if he's still asleep. Maybe he's dreaming that I'm making love to him – which I am. I lick his stubbled chin – I love to feel the roughness of his chin chafing my tongue ..."
Zack licked the thick stubble on Randy's jaw and said softly, "And then you go down further and suck in the drop of sweat from the cleft of his neck, like this." Zack pushed his tongue into the cleft of Randy's neck and licked the sweat from it."
"Yeah, exactly like that. How did you know?" Randy opened his eyes for the first time and was surprised to find himself gazing into the smiling gray eyes." It was Zack ... his buddy Zack, and Randy moaned, "Oh shit."
"Sssh, let me take it from here, bro. Just relax. Let me guess. Your eyes travel down his gorgeous body and you can't resist licking, kissing it." As Zack did now, kissing the mounds of Randy's pecs, licking the nipples and brushing his cheek against his chest hair. Then he moved lower and ran his tongue along the grooves of Randy's chiseled abs.
"But it's the face you want again, that sexy face. You have an overwhelming urge to kiss him again, properly this time, not just a brush on the lips. And this time Bob does wake up ... and joins in."
Zack looked down at the dark gypsy face, the face of a street fighter often tense with anger, but now the face of a lover. Zack bent down and this time their mouths locked in an open-mouthed kiss that quickly grew in intensity, each man sensing the other's inner passions for the first time.
Often they had fought, two alpha males constantly challenging each other in a fraternal test of strength and endurance. That had always been the basis of their mutual admiration and respect. But this time was different. This was no contest, no rivalry. It was love, pure and simple, where two self-willed macho men shed all the trappings and concepts of what it takes to be a `real' man.
Until now they had bought into the cliché that men had to prove themselves to each other through muscle power and dominance, like stallions in heat challenging each other. There was no room for weakness or tears. But all that now went overboard as surely as the flailing fish had, finding a freedom from the tyranny of expectations that had kept them from exploring the tenderness that had been locked inside them all along.
Their mouths were locked air-tight in an ardent kiss where their tongues pressed against each other and they inhaled and exhaled in unison, each trusting the other to share the same air, the breath of life.
Randy reached up and curled his hand round the back of Zack's neck, pulling his mouth harder against his. Zack ran his fingers through the gypsy's long black hair, caressed his nape then held it tight as they kissed. This was the same two rugged construction workers who had proudly flaunted their dominance and muscular power and had laughed dismissively about the absurd idea of two such rugged men making love.
But that's what it was – making love. Zack finally pulled back and gazed at Randy. And in those hypnotic blue eyes he saw what Bob always saw – his own reflection, infinitely repeated as in a hall of mirrors. He was drowning in Randy's eyes, seeing into his very soul.
Randy, tough and stubborn to the last, was confused, but his resistance to this new phenomenon was fading fast. He panted, "Zack, I ... I don't ... this is ..."
"Relax, dude. You love me don't you?"
"Hell yes," growled Randy, seizing the moment with the fierce determination that defined all his actions. He grinned, "Come here you motherfucker." Again he pulled the sculpted black face to him and again they kissed, this time rolling over in the bottom of the boat, licking kissing, pressing their near-naked bodies together in a frenzy of man-on-man passion.
"Shit, man," Zack said, "I never knew that I ... that you ... man you are so fucking gorgeous. Make love to me, bro. I want it so bad." They rolled over in each other's arms, groping, grabbing ass, sliding their hand down each other's shorts and grabbing the other man's iron hard dick, working it hard until the shorts ripped and were hanging in shreds round their waist.
In truth, as they made love there was still an element of that raw masculinity that had made these men compete and fight in the past – the muscular black leather-master and the powerful construction boss. It was that sense of equal domination, a man who had met his match, that had cemented their friendship and that now made their love-making so fierce and physical.
"Fuck man," Randy growled, "I never knew how good this would be. Just the feel of you, the taste of your mouth makes me ..." Randy was on top of Zack smiling down at him and pinning his wrists to the floor of the boat. "Remember this, buddy, when we used to fight and I had you pinned?"
"Or vice versa," Zack grinned.
"Yeah, you could always do that to me, man. But Bob never approved. He always saw something else in those fights – said we should make love not war. And man, as always he was right. Zack, I love you, man. Tell me you love me ... I need to hear it."
"You know the answer to that, buddy. But let me show you." Zack flexed and pushed Randy off him and they were back in each other's arms, reveling in the feel of the other man's flesh, his scent, his taste, as they kissed and writhed against each other.
High overhead kestrels soared round and round as if their hawk-eyes were riveted by the spectacle below, a row boat rocking in the middle of the lake with two men locked in a firm embrace, one black, one dusky white, muscular limbs entwined, mouths locked together, naked except for the torn shreds of fabric clinging to their loins.
But the men were unaware of their audience, unaware of everything except the man in their arms. Zack was on top now, pressing down on Randy face to face, chest to chest, cock to cock, their bodies sliding together, up and down, lubricated by their sweat. Randy felt Zack's cock sliding against his groin, his own shaft pressed against it.
Zack pulled his face back and looked longingly into Randy's blue eyes. "Man, you feel so fucking hot under me. I don't think I can hold out much longer."
"Me neither, buddy."
They locked eyes one last time, then Zack fell on him, their mouths churning together, bodies sliding against each other, cocks grinding together in a welter of warm, wet flesh. Their bodies shuddered, they uttered muffled moans as they became one – body and soul ... and their cocks erupted between, streams of sperm that blasted up to their chests.
Zack collapsed on top of Randy and their mouths separated at last. They stared at each other in jubilation, threw their heads back and howled like triumphant animals. Which in a very real sense they were.
Suddenly Randy wriggled free and looked at the fishing lines. "Hell, buddy, we forgot to bait the line again after you dropped the fish."
"I dropped it? Like hell ... you knocked it out of my hand."
"Oh yeah?" Randy grinned. "You looking to pick a fight, asshole?
"Not me," Zack said. "I'm a changed man. From now on it's strictly `make love not war', remember? Talking of which, big guy, you wanna go again?"
Their lusty laughter rang out over the otherwise placid lake and reached the ears of their boys, lazing in the shallow water at the beach with Billy paddling around them. "Huh, sounds like they caught a fish," Pablo said. "Wonder what they've been doing all this time."
"Making love, maybe?" Darius suggested.
Pablo laughed, "No way, dude, you're way off target. Fucking maybe, but men like Randy and Zack are too macho to actually make love to each other. They're like brothers – they fight, fuck and fool around, for sure. But make love? Nah, not them, never."
"Whatever," Darius chuckled. "Those guys may never make love, but they sure know how to catch fish so we better fire up the grill."
Actually neither of those statements was true, as evidenced by the one that got away, the `beaut' that was right now swimming in the lake in blissful freedom.
Meanwhile, at about the time the boys were firing up the grill in anticipation of the arrival of today's catch (not any time soon, though, as it was still swimming free), the other group of men and boys leaving town was still on the freeway going in the opposite direction, headed east to the desert and Palm Springs.
There was a lighthearted mood in the cab of Mark's truck. The men up front, Mark and Hassan, were enjoying the mere proximity of each other, men who had met so long ago in the tortured world of war where the chained captive (Mark) and the enemy interrogator (Hassan) had, against all odds, fallen in love.
Now, a world away in distance and years, they sat shoulder to shoulder in easy conversation, with the prospect of spending a weekend together in the home of their good friend Uncle Mike and his boy Larry. They knew that a few hours of that weekend would be spent re-living that first wartime meeting, in the basement of Hassan's small house out in the desert, which was a pretty close replica of the desert dungeon they remembered so vividly, chains and all."
Their boys in the back seat, Jamie and Eddie, were of course aware of those intentions. The graphic story of Mark and Hassan's military epic was by now woven into the fabric of the tribe, repeatedly passed around and becoming more graphic with each telling. But that reenactment was for later, and for now the boys sat in the back seat as contentedly as their men up front.
The cute, cheeky Eddie was Hassan's boy, an unlikely match of man and boy as the lively young Eddie was as different as he could be from the strong silent Marine captain of mixed Arab and Asian blood. But that was precisely why Hassan loved the boy so much – a welcome change from the macho-posing, disciplinarian world of the Marine Corps.
Eddie idolized the sexy jock sitting next to him – the cop's boy Jamie, the striking blond surfer and one of the most senior boys of the tribe. Mark had groomed Jamie well and now regarded him more as his buddy than his boy. Under his guidance Jamie had matured into a confident, kind, level-headed young man, respected by the other boys, not least by Eddie.
On this trip Jamie had taken Eddie under his wing, looking on him with affection, guidance and considerable amusement. Eddie was given to, as Hassan always put it, `running off at the mouth'. (The other boys, less tactfully, called it verbal diarrhea.) The boy's lively mind was so full of scrambled thoughts and ideas that he impulsively needed to share them, but he was unable to edit himself and no thought went unexpressed.
Right from the start, as soon as they were in the truck, Eddie had been rattling away with machine-gun delivery and had been gently admonished by Jamie.
"Dude, this is so cool," Eddie had gushed. "Can't wait to see how Larry's getting on in Mike's bar. It's where I used to work, you know. `Course I was just the bar-back, and Larry's tending bar, I hear. Bet he's not doing what I used to do in the back room, though. Did you know that's where I learned to suck dick so good? And I'll tell you something else ..."
"Eddie, old buddy," Jamie had smiled. "It's a two-hour drive to Mike's house. Probably best to pace yourself with the talking thing. Ration it out or you may run out of things to say before we get there."
"Are you kidding, dude? Me run out of things to say? I could go on gabbing and gabbing all day ..." Jamie glared at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh, sorry, dude, you're serious. OK, gotcha, my lips are sealed." And he demonstrated it in the time-honored, wide-eyed Eddie way, running his fingertips across his pursed lips and twisting them at the corner of his mouth like turning a key.
But Jamie and the other two men knew very well that this theatrical display of contrition was no guarantee that Eddie's silence would last long. Sure enough, half an hour later he was rattling off another story that was bubbling over in his fertile mind but of little interest to others. Part of Eddie's verbal compulsion was that he respected Jamie so much – with more than a dash of lust for the handsome surfer thrown in – that he wanted to impress him.
"You know, dude, in that back room in Mike's bar I used to get the customers' dicks hard, but I myself never had any problem in that area. I mean, I guess it's an age thing, but I have a boner most of the time."
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "And when I'm with Hassan, I kid you not, I am rock hard all the time. I can sit in our house and watch him get home from work and take off his uniform – his shirt, boots, belt, and by the time he drops his pants I cum in my shorts – and he doesn't even know it. But that's never a problem cos I can cum again and again. My little gusher', Hassan calls me. He just has to snap his fingers and I can bust another load, just like that. Sometimes I even ..."
"Eddie, Eddie. What did I tell you before about pacing yourself? Kiddo, you could talk the hind legs off a donkey."
"See, I've never known what that means, dude. I mean, have you ever seen a donkey with no back legs? No ... neither has anyone. That means one of two things – either nobody ever talks enough to make it happen, or the whole thing's a crock of shit. In my opinion ..."
"Eddie ... please ... zip it!"
"OK, sir." Eddie raised his fingers to his lips ready to zip them, but Jamie said, "No, not that. Please don't do that again, kid." He sighed and smiled at him. "Eddie, I don't mean to be unkind but, when you talk so much, other guys can't get a word in sideways. I mean, what if I wanted to say something?"
"Well do you? ... Wanna say something?"
"Er not really, not right now."
"OK, there you are then," Eddie said triumphantly. "Told you so." Smugly he folded his arms across his chest, convinced he had won the argument.
Jamie shook his head in confusion, then looked into the rear-view mirror at Mark and rolled his eyes, defeated. Mark grinned back, his eyes sparkling as he and Hassan tried desperately to stifle their laughter.
From then on there was silence and Jamie thought he had at last muzzled his young friend. But he was wrong. Eddie's mind was still buzzing and he was merely building up another head of steam.
Jamie was gazing out the window at the endless landscape of desert scrub and he recognized the place coming up where, on previous trips, the horny Mark had suddenly pulled off the road, driven far into the brush and taken care of his hard-on by throwing Jamie on the tailboard of the truck and fucking him. Jamie knew that wouldn't happen this trip, with Hassan along, but he smiled to himself as he gazed out of the window and remembered the scene.
Suddenly his reminiscences were interrupted. Out of the blue, as if there had been no break in the conversation, Eddie began again where he had left off.
"I just wanna say, dude, that it's the same when I'm with you with – like right now fr'instance. Dick as stiff as a poker. I mean, you are so damn gorgeous, dude, that I get hard every time you walk into a room. I kid you not ... like, just the other day ..."
"OK, that does it," Jamie interrupted and looked at Mark in the mirror, silently appealing for help.
"Er, Jamie," Mark grinned, "you recognize this part of the road? It's where we've pulled off in the past for a, er, rest stop. I think that's what's needed now."
"Great idea, sir," Jamie smiled, knowing from the sparkle in Mark's eyes just what he meant. Mark leaned close to Hassan and whispered something in his ear, to which Hassan smiled and nodded in agreement.
Eddie was agog. Of course it was another well-known legend of the tribe that when Mark and Jamie went on a trip somewhere they usually got so horny that Mark pulled way off the road to an isolated spot where the cop butt-fucked the surfer. Eddie had heard about this often, even adding his own embellishments to the story, but he had never actually witnessed it – until now!
Naturally, he couldn't hold back. "Dude, do you think Mark is gonna ..." But Jamie clapped his hand over the boy's mouth. "Eddie," he said sternly, "there's a time for talk and a time for action. This is the action part."
Eddie pursed his lips, for once controlling his verbal impulses, though his imagination was racing. He knew that when they stopped Mark would yank Jamie roughly out of the truck, pull him round to the back, flip down the tailgate, lift Jamie onto it, pull down his surfer trunks and fuck his ass.
Whenever the story was repeated among the boys it was guaranteed to rouse their libidos so much it was usually a prelude to sex. Eddie had even once reenacted the scene with his young pal Ben, Randy's kid brother. They had been running an errand together and Eddie, with his permanent hard-on, had driven off the road, pulled the gypsy boy out of the truck and subjected him to the same treatment. Fucking Ben had boosted Eddie's opinion of himself as a superstud.
Mark's truck had been bouncing over the faint dirt track weaving among the sagebrush and eventually came to a halt in an isolated group of stunted trees. An excited Eddie settled in for the show, already exaggerating it in his mind for when he would breathlessly describe it to his buddies.
But Eddie was in for a surprise.
It was Jamie who got out of the truck first and yanked Eddie out after him. Gripping his wrist he pulled him round to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate, just as Eddie had envisaged Mark doing it all those times. Jamie reached forward, dragged one of the tarps from the flatbed and draped it over the metal tailgate. Then he clenched his hands round Eddie's waist, lifted him up and deposited him in a sitting position on the tailgate.
It had all happened so quickly that Eddie was stunned ... although not into silence, naturally. "Dude, what you doing? What's happening? I thought when we pulled off the highway ..."
"Well stop thinking, boy, and for god's sake stop talking." Jamie had become uncharacteristically stern as Mark always did with him. "Eddie, I'm a senior boy and you're a junior, right?''
"Right, sir," Eddie stammered wide-eyed.
"And do you respect me and my seniority?"
"Yeah, very much, sir. Like I always say ..." But he stopped abruptly on Jamie's fierce glare.
"Ever since we left home I've been trying to coach you on how to behave in company, how to curb your tongue, but you apparently weren't listening. In short you disobeyed me. You disobeyed me, a senior boy and the cop's boy. Up to now I've been kind and forgiving. But that's over – no more mister nice guy."
Jamie reached behind his neck, pulled his loose tank up over his head and tossed it in the truck, just as Mark had always pulled off his shirt in this same situation.
Mark and Hassan had got out of the truck and were now standing together, watching a short distance away. Hassan knew that Mark's goal these days was to encourage Jamie's growth into maturity, into a confident authoritative young jock. No longer a boy, Jamie had taken his place alongside Pablo and Darius, somewhere just below the level of master. And this, Hassan knew, was one of Mark's ways to display his boy's authority.
In their whispered conversation in the truck Mark had cleared this with Hassan, of course, as Eddie was his boy. Hassan had agreed willingly. It was not that he wanted Eddie used as a pawn in Jamie's education. Always protective of his boy Hassan knew very well that Eddie idolized the sexy surfer and lusted for him. So this `lesson' was something that would thrill Eddie ... and no doubt give him fodder for future garrulous descriptions to his buddies.
Jamie had grabbed his backpack and pulled out a tube of lube. Eddie was sitting on the tailgate, his legs dangling over the end, and was leaning back propped up on his elbows, staring in awe at the shirtless muscle-jock.
He was even slightly nervous at Jamie's abrupt change of tone from good buddy to harsh authoritarian. `No more mister nice guy!' What did that mean? He was pretty sure Jamie would never hurt him ... and anyway, Hassan would never let him. He glanced over at Hassan who had a hint of a smile, seemingly quite content to let things take their course. Jamie too glanced at Hassan and Mark, reassuring himself that both men approved of what he was about to do.
Jamie spoke again. "Like I said, boy, you disobeyed me, and you know what happens to a junior boy who disobeys a senior?"
"He ... he gets punished, sir."
"Damn straight. And you know how the boy gets punished?"
Eddie winced, "He gets fucked up the butt? Just a guess, sir," he shrugged.
The irrepressible Eddie! Jamie had a hard time maintaining his stern demeanor. He loved this kid and understood what a turn-on this was for him. Jamie unlaced his board shorts, pulled out his cock and stroked it slowly, spreading lube on it.
Eddie stared up at the vision of the muscular surfer jock, at his broad shoulders and bulging biceps, shaped by many hours paddling through the waves in his board. His body was tanned golden, tangled blond hair falling over the fine features of his handsome face, and his muscles flexed as he stroked his cock.
Eddie was never slow to lapse into fantasy whenever the opportunity arose, which it certainly did now. The scene had a startling clarity – the searing desert sun, the startlingly blue sky and the silence broken only by the hot dry wind and the insistent chirping of the invisible cicadas that could drive a man crazy. And here he was, in this unforgiving place, helpless before the shirtless blond jock towering over him stroking his cock. It was a boy's wet dream.
But his dream was interrupted by Jamie's stern voice. "You see this, boy? See this cock? Real hard, hard like a piston rod. And you know where it's going?"
"In my ass, sir?"
"Damn right." Jamie leaned forward, ripped open Eddie's shorts, yanked them down over his sneakers and tossed them in the truck. "I don't think your gonna need this either. He grabbed Eddie's thin T-shirt and ripped it off. He stared down at him and said, "Yeah, that's how I want you, boy – buck naked, at my mercy. You've been a disobedient boy and you've gotta pay. You've gotta surrender your ass to me. Do it, boy."
Naked except for his sneakers Eddie lack back on the flatbed, curled his hands behind his knees and pulled his legs back, offering his ass to the man he idolized. Jamie walked forward, grabbed Eddie's sneakered feet high in the air and pressed the head of his cock against his hole. "You ready for this, boy?"
"Yes, sir. I've been ready ever since I realized that you ..." Again he stopped and grimaced as Jamie glared at him. "And still you talk, you little fucker. Don't you ever learn? Maybe this'll teach you." Jamie drove his cock straight into the boy's ass, pulled all the way back and plunged it in again, then a third time pulled all the way out and slammed it in again.
Eddie looked up at the hot muscle jock, felt his cock bury itself in the most sensitive depths of his ass, he opened his eyes wide and howled, "No!" His body shuddered and his cock exploded in jets of cum that splashed down on his abs, his chest and neck."
Jamie feigned fury. "Did I say you could do that, boy? Did I say you could cum?"
"No, sir, I'm sorry sir. You're so gorgeous I couldn't hold back. But don't worry, don't stop. I can cum again. I can always cum ... that's why they call me the little gusher, `cos I ..." He stopped and winced. "Oh, I'm doing it again aren't I ... talking ... I always talk when I'm nervous and when I fuck up, and I guess I just fucked up big time."
Jamie lost it – and burst out laughing. "Eddie, you talk when you're nervous, when you're happy, when you're breathing ... every hour you're awake and probably when you're asleep too, but only Hassan would know that. I love the hell out of you, Eddie. You're a crazy kid and I love you."
"But you're not gonna stop are you, Jamie?"
"Hell no. We've come this far and I think I deserve a good long fuck in that sweet ass of yours. So brace yourself kiddo."
Mark smiled proudly and murmured, "That's my boy. You still OK with this Hassan?"
Hassan nodded. "Eddie's having the time of his life – I know that look in his eye. I gotta say, your boy is amazing ... he's playing Eddie like a flute."
Hassan was right. Eddie was gazing up at Jamie, mesmerized by the vision of the handsome blond jock backlit golden by the sun as his cock eased in and out of his ass. Jamie leaned forward and tweaked the boy's nipples lightly, his blue eyes smiling down at him. In total ecstasy Eddie stammered, "I ... I don't ... I don't ..."
"You don't know what to say?" Jamie laughed. "Speechless at last ... I knew I could do it."
Eddie grinned, "I love you Jamie. Don't stop ... fuck me for a long time, dude. I won't cum again till you tell me to." He reached up and ran his hands lovingly over Jamie's chest, his muscles rippling as his body rose and fell over him.
Mark raised his eyebrows at Hassan who grinned and nodded. "OK, guys," Mark said, "we're gonna go sit in the truck and leave you to it. "Let us know when you're done here."
They got into the truck and turned their focus firmly on each other, talking softly of the day they first met, in anticipation of their upcoming re-enactment of the scene. And even though they were engrossed in each other, they eventually didn't need the boys to tell them when they were finished. The howls that rang out across the desert told them all they needed to know.
Jamie had given Eddie the full treatment, sliding his cock in gently at first then building to a pile-driving thrust that made Eddie drift back into the fantasy of a helpless, naked boy in the remote desert being punished by the angry young jock.
Eddie had desperately held back his orgasm but finally gasped, "I gotta cum, dude. Please let me cum. Finish me off, dude ... fuck, I'm gonna cum ... I'm cumming ... aaagh! His howls of ecstasy were matched by Jamie as he blasted jism deep inside Eddie and the boy sprayed cum all over himself for the second time.
In the truck Hassan grinned at Mark. "Guess that means we can finally get out of this god-forsaken place, officer." And as the boys tumbled panting into the back seat, Jamie shirtless, Eddie still naked, Mark gunned the engine and they took off in a cloud of dust.
As they drove back onto the freeway the sexual tension of before had faded into something between euphoria and contentment. A lot of glances were exchanged – conspiratorial between Eddie and Jamie; proudly between Jamie and Mark; amused satisfaction between Mark and Hassan; and tentative from Eddie to his master Hassan.
Always careful to please the Marine Eddie said, "Did I do OK, sir? I mean, was it OK with you that I let Jamie fuck me? I'm sorry if I got kinda carried away, but ..."
Hassan turned and smiled at him. "Eddie, did you have a good time?"
"Oh yes, sir. It was awesome sir."
"Good, then if it was good for you it's good for me. I love you Eddie, you're my boy, and I always want you to be happy."
Eddie grinned at Jamie with tears in his eyes and Jamie threw his arm over his shoulder and pulled him close. And that's how they stayed all the way to Palm Springs.
When they arrived at Mike's house Mike and Larry were outside the gate to meet them, beaming with pleasure. "Hey, guys," Mike said, "did you have a good trip?"
The boys fell out of the back, Jamie shirtless and Eddie naked except for his sneakers, with obvious cum streaks on his chest. Mike chuckled, "OK, strike that last question. We should all have such a good trip." He hugged the men, then stepped back and let Larry take over.
Mike's boy had changed from the insecure young rebel they had first known, and he impressed them with his cheerful ease and self-confidence. Mike was obviously letting Larry play host. "Great to see you guys. You probably want to relax and, er, clean up," he grinned playfully at Eddie. "Let me show you to your rooms."
They followed him to the guest rooms and he said, "If you need anything just holler, guys. And when you've freshened up there'll be cocktails by the pool before lunch."
When Mark and Jamie were alone at last in their room Mark smiled at him and took him in his arms. "I'm mighty proud of you Jamie. The way you handled Eddie out there was perfect, first the punishment fantasy, then backing off just at the right time and making him laugh. One thing I'm sure of is that Eddie is now totally in love with you – even more than before.
"And me too. You have grown into such a stud, and so damn sexy I'm proud to call you my best buddy and my lover. And I think you're ready for what I have in mind for you now. Sometime later Hassan will take off for his little house way out there in the desert and he'll expect me to follow him. You know the scene we play out there in that basement dungeon of his. It's a kind of catharsis for us to help us deal with those painful memories.
"Up to now it's always been just the two of us, re-living that harrowing time when we first met during the war as enemy soldiers. But today will be different. Though Hassan doesn't know it yet, today I'm taking you with me, Jamie. I have plans for you."
Jamie looked at Mark in surprise, but before he could respond Mark said, "But right now there's some business we have to attend to. Watching you dominate that kid the way you did ... well," Mark grinned, "it turned me the hell on. But you know I can't let you get away with that in case you get carried away with all that top-man shit. You may be a tough young jock, but I'm still your man and still a cop. So I think you know what you have to do, big guy."
"Yes, sir," Jamie said, slipping back into the role of cop's boy. He kicked off his sneakers, dropped his surfer trunks and fell back naked on the bed, gazing up at Mark just as he did every day when the officer came home from work.
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 362
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
AND DON'T FORGET – if you enjoy these stories PLEASE DONATE to this site. Nifty needs your donations to provide these wonderful stories. So please go to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html and give what you can. I and all the other authors thank you. ... Rob