A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 376 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 376 – "BOB & RANDY FACE OFF"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Alone on a remote beach Bob and Randy try to rekindle the spark of passion that has deserted them. Raw lust is still alive, as Bob watches Randy row their boat. "Every muscle in the rugged gypsy's body flexed, spray flecked his chiseled physique and stubbled face, his long black hair blew into his steel blue eyes." But where was the love? Maybe the flame really was gone. Then a crisis changes everything. _____________________________________________________________________

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

The saga of Bob's breakup with his long-time lover Randy had reached a pivotal point.

The hothead construction boss Randy had become infatuated with the newcomer, the macho Hispanic Miguel. They had gone on a fishing trip together having more-or-less nonstop sex, ignoring any adverse effect they might have on the rest of tribe. Much worse was the fact that when they came back to the house Randy couldn't keep his hands off Miguel, demeaning Bob in front of the tribe.

As Bob had later said bitterly to Randy, "This is not like the other times, Randy. This time you met another man and ... fell in love, lust, infatuation, whatever ... and ignored and humiliated me. It looked to the whole tribe as if I had been kicked to the curb like yesterday's trash. I'm not sure things can ever be the same, but let's at least try to be civil to each other, even though I am still too mad at you even to share a bed with you.

So they slept in separate beds and their conversation barely rose above the `pass-the-salt' level at mealtimes.

The effect on the whole tribe was harrowing and, unknown to Bob or Randy, three of the senior men hatched a plot to start them on the road to reconciliation. The macho Aussie Adam said, "Look, mates, I think it's about time some of us guys nudged things along a bit."

So Adam, with the fireman Jason and the Forest Ranger Pete, staged a friendly arm wrestling tournament where the prize for the final winner was the loser's ass. Bob made up the fourth participant and the contest was viewed by their boys and a reluctant Randy who had been ambushed into attending.

The guys manipulated the results so that the final match was between Adam and Bob. It dawned on Bob what was really going on and his suspicions were confirmed when Adam won the match and panted, "Sorry, mate – it's the only way we could think of."

And so, following the rules, Adam buckled a leather collar round the loser's neck and Bob knelt on all fours. But, as the three conspirators had expected, Randy was not about to let that happen. Fists clenched, he strode over to Adam and snarled, "Take that fucking thing off him."

"No Randy," Adam said, "no can do. You know the rules, mate – this is the game we play – we run a contest and the winner takes the loser's ass. Tribe's rules, eh, guys?"

Randy's anger mounted. "I don't give a shit about your damn rules, there is no way in hell you are gonna fuck that man." But shouts of objection came from the other men and Randy's eyes blazed. "OK, you wanna fuck ass, stud? The winner gets to fuck ass? So fuck mine, not his. Fuck me instead."

It was agreed that Randy would take Bob's place and endure getting fucked by Adam, who said, "OK, big guy, you asked for this. Matter of fact you've been asking for this for some time." With an icy stare he held up the collar, which Randy snatched from him and defiantly buckled round his own neck. He stripped naked and Adam growled, "On all fours, man."

Randy assumed the position on hands and knees that Bob had been in only moments before and Adam dropped to his knees and grabbed Randy's hips from behind. "See, me and all the guys love Bob and when he gets hurt we get hurt. So this is from all of us," and he drove his dry cock deep in the gypsy's ass. It was immediately clear to everyone that this would be a brutal, merciless fuck, inflicted on the tough construction boss by Adam on behalf of the whole tribe as punishment for the way Randy had mistreated Bob.

The other men and their boys watched spellbound, with varying feelings ranging from satisfaction at the deserved retribution, to a desire for the assault to be over quickly. While Bob was in no mood to forgive Randy, it was hard for him to watch the man he had loved so deeply get punished so savagely.

Randy's tortured eyes were fixed on Bob who gasped as he saw tears begin to pour down the man's cheeks. The silent tears became sobs and the group looked on in stunned silence at the spectacle of the tough gypsy boss weeping as Adam's cock pistoned in his ass.

They all knew that a jack-hammering like this could never break Randy to the point of tears. He had withstood worse pain without a whimper. No, these were not tears of pain, they were tears of contrition, tears of shame as he gazed at the man he loved and had hurt so badly.

Adam knew he had to end it. "You've had enough, mate. You deserved this, and I had to do it, but you're still one hell of a man and I admire you. Here it comes, big guy." His cock erupted in a flood of semen that filled the ravaged gypsy, oozing out of his ass and down his legs.

Randy slumped forward on his stomach, a broken man. He raised his head and through his tears saw Bob staring at him. Exhausted as he was, Randy began to crawl, dragging his tortured body painfully over the grass, tears streaming down his face. He reached forward, grabbed Bob's leg and pulled himself the last yard until his tear-stained face was pressed against his leg and he sobbed, "I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry."

Bob reached down and unbuckled the collar from around Randy's neck. A first symbolic step on the long road to forgiveness, the spectators all hoped. Young Ben – Randy's kid brother and Jason's boy – came up to Bob and said timidly, "Sir, this morning Jason and me fixed up the bed in the guest room. If you would like to ..." He trailed off with a shrug.

Bob smiled up at the young gypsy face. "Thank you, Ben, that would be great. Could you give me a hand?" Together they helped the naked man to his feet and supported him into the house. In the guestroom Randy sank onto the bed, and Ben said, "Sir, would you like some water or something else to drink?"

Randy managed a grin. "A Scotch would be great, kiddo, straight up." Ben scampered away and Randy sank back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Ben returned with a bottle and poured a glass. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said, "Sir, I just wanna say that I love you – you're my hero. You were awesome out there, sir, and made me proud to be your brother." The gypsy boy blushed, fearing he had said too much.

"Thanks kid," Randy said, reaching over to ruffle Ben's hair. "I needed to hear that. You're the best, and I'll make all this up to you one day soon, little brother, I promise. He downed the Scotch in one gulp, then lay back and closed his eyes again, exhausted. Bob hugged Ben, kissed him on the forehead and the boy left the room.

Bob sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Randy who, eyes still closed, was taking deep breaths. He had seen Randy do this before, after a beating. He had a knack of self-healing, restoring his bodily strength quickly, though his self-confidence took a bit longer.

After a long silence Bob said softly, "Randy, look at me." Randy opened his eyes but couldn't bring himself to make eye contact.

"I said look at me, Randy."

Finally their eyes met. "Randy, we have a long way to go to put things right, and the first thing I'm gonna do is take you away for a few days. I'll ask Jamie to let us use his cabin in the dunes up the coast. We'll be all alone up there on a deserted beach, just us two, no-one else – like the way we were when we first met. Sound OK?"

"Whatever you say, buddy," Randy said meekly but with a trace of a smile

"But before that," Bob continued, "there's something you have to do for me. It's important, and you have to do it right here and now."

******************** CHAPTER 376 *********************

"Randy, I want you to fuck me."

Randy stared at Bob with a mix of surprise, some relief ... and the stirrings of lust. "Are you ... are you sure?"

Yes, Bob was sure. But his request came from a motive other than desire. He knew that after the public beating and humiliation Randy had just endured it wasn't only his body that had been hurt – it was his pride. His body would heal quickly, he was used to that, but there was only one quick way to heal his wounded pride and restore his self-confidence. Randy was never so dominant, never so on top of his game, as when he fucked.

Not that Bob was entirely sacrificing himself on the altar of Randy's almighty club. After jerking off so often thinking about Randy, actually getting the real thing would feel good. But still, the main reason for his suggestion was out of concern for Randy's shattered ego, which needed to be rebuilt before anything like reconciliation could happen.

"Yes, Randy, I'm sure. Are you turning me down?"

"Man, when did I ever turn down an opportunity to fuck your ass?" he asked with his roguish grin that was part arrogance, part seduction. His machismo was stirring – so were his loins.

He pulled himself off the bed and stood facing Bob, using his eyes as usual as a weapon of seduction. Bob felt his dick stir – but not his heart, not this time. He dutifully pulled off his T-shirt, dropped his shorts and lay on his back on the bed. He couldn't help feeling a bit like a paid hustler – doing a job without emotion.

Randy stood over him stroking his cock and Bob saw his stature visibly grow as he re-inhabited the skin of a powerful top-man, a man who had been fucked and degraded but was now assuming his rightful dominant place. For an instant Bob felt that familiar frisson when looking up at the naked gypsy – but only for an instant. This time it was just something he had to do."

Within seconds Randy was kneeling on the bed pushing Bob's legs up. He didn't go in for foreplay, just aimed straight for the bullseye, a caveman habit that Bob usually found sexy – but not this time. There was a difference in Randy too.

Usually he would have plunged his shaft right in at the start of a fierce fuck. But he was now walking on eggshells with Bob after the way he had treated him and especially after the pounding he had endured in front of him. So he slid his big, thick cock in slowly, not sure exactly how Bob wanted it this time. And Bob's eyes, whose sparkle usually told him exactly what he wanted, were now unusually expressionless, which confused Randy even more.

Despite the hesitancy of both men, pure lust took the place of passion and their dicks got hard. As Bob knew well, lust had a will of its own and didn't need emotion to drive it. And so as Randy eased his cock all the way into the ass he knew and loved so well their blood raced, their heartbeats quickened and they moaned with the pleasure of being reunited, if only physically, after so many times jerking off thinking of this moment.

"Oh, man, I've missed this so much," Randy groaned. "But I never forgot how great my cock feels inside you. There's no other feeling like this." He smiled boyishly. "Truth is, I jerked off thinking about it."

"Me too," Bob said, but even this exchange of intimacies did not spark the depth of passion of old. Bob reached up and ran his hands over the rock-hard mounds of Randy's pecs and stared up at the wild gypsy face – at the square stubbled jaw, the high cheekbones, the brow with long black hair falling over it. Usually it was the pale blue eyes that mesmerized him, hypnotized him, but now that mysterious union of souls that usually joined the two lovers was absent.

But the physical excitement was enough to get them off. Randy pushed Bob's legs up high and pounded his ass, gazing down at the stunning superman face and body. Bob grabbed his own cock and stroked it to rock hardness – and that was another change. Most other times Randy could make Bob shoot his load without touching his cock, but now he beat it in his fist as Randy approached his climax.

"Man, your ass feels so good," Randy groaned. "Shit damn, I love that ass ... it's gonna make me cum. Oh yeah, here it is, buddy. Fuck ... I'm gonna cum ... I'm gonna cum ... fuuuck!"

Bob saw the muscular construction worker shudder, his eyes flashed and with one last deep thrust his cock erupted in Bob's ass. Bob jerked his cock harder and faster and moaned, "Here it comes ... aaah." With a deep sigh he looked down and watched his cock pour semen over his own ripped abs and heaving chest.

They had fucked, they had cum, and Bob was gratified to see the gleam of confidence return to Randy's gaze. The physical sensation had been terrific, but the extraordinary passion that usually existed between the two men was reduced to a flicker.

As always, Randy fell forward on top of Bob, then rolled off him and lay on his back beside him. They hadn't kissed. Once again Bob had the fleeting impression of being an emotionless paid hustler. Or at best, they were fuck buddies – like two guys who met periodically to get their rocks off.

"Thanks, buddy," Randy panted. "You know I needed that after all that shit Adam put me through. More like the old Randy, eh?" But they both knew that wasn't true. The old Randy would be holding him in his arms smothering his face with kisses, not gazing up at the ceiling side by side as they both were now.

Randy reached over and had another hit of Scotch. "Let's get out of here, man," he said and Bob readily agreed. They dressed quickly and went outside where Adam, Pete and Jason and their boys were round the table eating dinner with the twins. The festive atmosphere became muted as Pete asked, "Coming to join us, guys?"

"Nah, thanks, guys," Bob said, "thanks for the offer but we got stuff to sort out. We've decided to take a run up the coast tomorrow for a few days. Maybe use Jamie's cabin in the dunes. So raincheck on the dinner, if that's OK."

There was a quick round of hugs, with Randy squeezing his brother Ben especially tight and Bob kneeling to hug Brandon. "Thanks for persuading Randy to stay, Brandon. And Pete, I guess your little conspiracy worked out, eh? You kinda got the ball rolling, but now the ball's in our court, Randy and me."

"Good luck with that, guys," Pete smiled. "We'll be rooting for you."

As the men left, walking a few feet apart, Pete turned to Adam and Jason and said, "Wow, not exactly brimming over with passion. So what d'ya think, guys, what are their chances?"

"About 50-50 I'd say at this point," Jason guessed, but Brandon squeezed Ben's hand and grinned at the twins. "We think they'll be just fine," Brandon said. "They have to be," Ben added boldly. "Wouldn't be a tribe without Randy and Bob at the top."

When the two men got back to the tribe's house Mark and Jamie were sitting at a table by the pool sipping wine. Mark walked up to them and hugged them in turn. "Come sit with us a while, guys," Mark said. "We're all alone in the house."

The men joined them and as Jamie poured the wine Mark said with a grin, "As you would probably guess we already know what went down at Jason's house. Brandon called Jamie, then his pal Eddie and ... it's on the grapevine."

"Yeah, I thought it would be," Bob said, managing a watery smile.

"Look, guys," Mark said, "you know I love you both – I'm in love with you. Hell, we're kind of a threesome. So I want you to know where I stand. Actually a little apart is where I stand right now, letting you guys sort things out. This is the kind of stuff only you two can resolve, but you know that I'm here to help however I can."

"Thanks, buddy," Randy said, "that means a lot. However this turns out you will always be our best buddy, Mark."

"Actually," Bob said, "there is one thing you could do. Randy and I are getting out of town for a few days and, Jamie, we wondered if we could use the shack in the dunes that Mark gave you."

Jamie smiled warmly. "Guys, you know you don't have to ask a question like that. Of course it's yours for as long as you want it."

"Actually I think that's a great idea," Mark said. "That place has a way of working its magic. Remember, Jamie, all those years ago? That's where I rescued you from the waves and gave you the kiss of life. And when you opened your eyes we were in love."

"Well, we're gonna hit the sack," Bob said. "We wanna make an early start in the morning."

They went into the house together and Mark heaved a big sigh. "There's still a lot wrong there, Jaimie. They may have fucked before they left Jason's but that vibe they always had is not there anymore. Did you feel the chill?"

"I sure did. But like you said, it's something only they can work out – if it's still possible." Jamie smiled, "At least the twins are convinced everything's gonna be OK. You know how those two are ... I swear they've got second sight sometimes. 'Course, they're totally in love with Bob so they can't even imagine him staying unhappy for long."

Mark was gazing at him with a longing, lustful look that Jamie knew only too well. "Hey," Mark said, "you wanna go for a swim?"

"Do I have a choice?" Jamie grinned.

"No." Mark stood up, pulled off Jamie's swim trunks and tank top, grabbed the naked young surfer jock and tossed him bodily into the pool. Mark stripped off his own clothes and dived in after him. They swam a few competitive laps, then suddenly Mark pushed Jamie under the water and held him as he struggled for several seconds before releasing him.

Jamie shot to the surface, sputtering and laughing, and Mark simulated alarm. "Oh Jesus. Just relax boy ... I'll take care of you." He scooped Jamie up in his arms, walked up the steps out of the pool and laid him on the grass. He knelt over him and Jamie stared up excitedly at the muscular cop, realizing the act he was putting on.

"Remember when I pulled you out of the sea and did this?" Mark lowered his head and clamped his open mouth over Jamie's, breathing in and out slowly and deeply in a simulated kiss of life. Jamie's body shuddered and his dick grew rock hard as he felt the warmth of Mark's body over him and breathed the same air.

Finally Mark pulled away and smiled. "When your eyes opened you looked into mine and we saw something new ... something we still see today. We didn't know it at the time but we were in love. I picked you up, carried you into the shack and laid you on the bed. You stared up at me and you knew that from then on you were the cop's boy. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Jamie smiled, then his voice grew harder. "But that was then, buddy. Over the years I grew up and now ..." His muscles flexed, he reached up, grabbed Mark's shoulders and heaved him off him, over onto his back on the grass.

Their positions reversed, Jamie knelt over him and gazed down at the surprised cop. "I was a nervous young guy back then but your surfer boy grew up, and now it's you on your back, officer. And your `boy' is gonna fuck your ass." Jamie pushed one of Mark's legs up, pressed his hard wet cock against his ass and slowly drove it in.

"Oh shit," Mark sighed. "Yeah you have grown up, buddy ... and I love it. You look so fucking beautiful and, damn, your cock feels good inside me. Fuck me, man."

Mark stretched his arms out to the sides and Jamie leaned forward and braced his hands on his biceps. Their faces were close, close enough for Jamie to bend down and kiss while he massaged Mark's ass with his cock.

Lost in each other's euphoria they were unaware they were being observed from an upstairs window. While Randy was in the shower Bob was standing at the window of the master bedroom gazing down at the two beautiful blonds – the Greek God cop and his muscular surfer boy. It was an iconic scene of two men in love, the intense kind of love that Bob feared he had lost ... and he mourned its passing.

He could hear them too, moaning in ecstasy, talking of love as they gazed into each other's eyes just as Bob and Randy used to do. It was bitter-sweet for Bob to watch but he couldn't tear himself away. He, Randy and Mark had been a unique threesome but now the difference between Mark and Randy was stark for Bob. Mark loved Bob, as much as he loved Jamie, while Randy had become reduced to the status of fuck buddy.

So Bob watched, stroking his cock, as the two gorgeous men made love and approached their climax. These were no fuck buddies – they were lovers, two men in the grip of passion, making love as much with their eyes as their cocks. He saw their lips touch, heard their sighs, heard the exhilaration in their cries, "I'm gonna cum ... I'm real close ... cum with me, buddy ... now!"

Bob tensed as he saw their bodies flex, heard their shouts of ecstasy as Mark's cock erupted all over his magnificent body and Jamie obviously was pouring his semen into his lover's ass. Jamie pulled out, kneeled up straight and stroked the last jets cum from his cock, aiming it at Mark's rugged face. Then they laughed, joyous laughter, as Jamie fell onto Mark and they rolled over the grass in each other's arms, blissfully in love.

Bob turned away from the window with tears in his eyes. He heard the shower turn off and quickly wiped his eyes dry as Randy came out of the bathroom toweling off. Randy hesitated, looking from one bed to the other. "Do you, er, do you want ..."

"Yeah, kinda stupid to sleep apart. I'll have Darius and the boys remove the extra bed. We can sleep together but I'm real bushed so ..."

His meaning was clear and when they got into bed Bob turned on his side away from Randy. Randy sighed and lay on his side too, back to back – their backs not even touching.

Their backs were only inches apart, but the real gulf between them was as wide as ever.

In the morning they woke early but, as always, not earlier than the twins who knocked on the door and came in with breakfast trays, which they arranged on the table by the window.

"Sir," Kyle said, "we've made lots of food and packed it up for you to snack on during the drive up the coast, and it should keep you going while you're up there." Kevin added, "That way you won't have to cook in the shack's little kitchen and won't have to always eat out in that old Mexican joint in the village."

Bob smiled, "You two are the best, you know that? I'll miss your smiling faces, but at least our absence will lighten your workload a bit."

"Oh no, sir, we have a lot of planning to do," Kyle said, with a conspiratorial grin to his brother.

Bob frowned, not clear what they meant, but the twins left and Randy and Bob sat facing each other by the window. Breakfast was mostly a silent affair, with Bob glancing frequently out of the window. Randy couldn't know why Bob was staring down at the lawn, empty now, but he was still seeing the image of Mark and Jamie making love. Randy also couldn't understand that the deep sigh Bob heaved was a sigh of regret for love lost.

They got dressed and packed the few things they would need at the dunes, then went down to where the twins were already loading supplies in Randy's truck. Pablo was there too to lend encouragement and support to the man he idolized, and helped Randy load the rowboat into the truck. While they were doing that Bob puled the twins aside for a few final instructions.

"Oh, and by the way guys, what did you mean earlier about having a lot of planning to do?"

"Well, the feast, sir," Kyle said, as if surprised that Bob hadn't understood. "When you guys get back there'll be a lot to celebrate and the whole tribe will expect one of those big feasts, so we're already planning the menus."

Bob smiled affectionately. "You two seem pretty sure of yourselves. What makes you think there'll be lots to celebrate?"

"Oh sir," Kevin said with a hint of exasperation. "Of course there will be. We were not born yesterday and we know exactly how things will turn out. Trust us, sir, it'll be a big celebration, so why don't you hit the road and leave us alone to plan it?"

Bob hugged them both tight. "God, I love you guys. OK, I'll trust your instincts. Just keep your fingers crossed."

"No need, sir," Kevin smiled. "Good thing too `cos it's tricky to cook with your fingers crossed."

While Bob chuckled, Randy was giving Pablo a man-size hug. "Don't worry, sir," Pablo said. "Darius and me will make sure everything runs OK while you're gone. And you know I'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

"I know you will, buddy. Like I always say, you're my rock."

Randy and Bob got in the truck and it peeled away down the hill with loving eyes watching it go. Pablo grinned at the twins and raised two pairs of firmly crossed fingers.

And so they were on their way – they knew where to, but were not sure why or what they expected at the other end.

They were in Randy's big truck and he was driving of course. Whatever else happened certain habits were unchangeable, one being that when they went anywhere Randy drove in his truck. The atmosphere in the cab was predictably tense for the first half hour or so, but as they sped north on the 101 Freeway and buildings gave way to hilly countryside the pressures of the city eased and they breathed easier.

Their minds that had been crowded with raw and conflicting emotions began to clear, leaving room to evaluate. It was a bit like meditation as the miles slipped by under them and they were better able to confront the tangled issues before them.

Randy spoke first and typically went straight to the heart of the matter. "Is it gone, buddy?"

They both knew he was referring to the special passion, the magic that had sparked between them right from the first day they met. Circumstances then had been wildly different and since then they had been on a wild ride, a journey fraught with lust, love, anger, recrimination, forgiveness – the whole repertoire of human emotions, especially acute because they were two strong-willed, equally dominant alpha males.

But underneath it all was the unexplainable union of souls that had bound them together and was seemingly unbreakable. Until recently. Maybe it was the very weight of emotion that made it buckle ... maybe the flame had burned so hot that, at some point, it had to flicker and cool. Or maybe, more likely, it was simply that one of them had broken the mold and had, however briefly, fallen in love with another man. The unbreakable had broken.

"So, buddy ... is it gone?" Randy asked again, dreading the reply.

But Bob was non-committal. "I don't know Randy. That's what we've come up here to find out."

At least it wasn't a definite answer. At least it gave Randy breathing space, and his shoulders relaxed.

As he usually did on the highway he steered with his left hand and let his other arm drop to the armrest between them. He inadvertently touched Bob's hand and instantly pulled away as if he had been scalded by a hot iron. It had been the same during the night when their backs had touched and they reflexively recoiled, even in their sleep.

Bob sighed. "Randy, this is ridiculous. Surely we're not afraid to touch each other. Hell, yesterday you were fucking my ass. OK, I know that was, well ... what is was ... but surely we can touch at least. No matter where we go from here, we can still be friends can't we?"

"Shit, man, you sound like a guy breaking up with a lover who comes out with those killing words, `I hope we can still be friends."

They managed a grin and Bob said, "I know, that word `friends' can be one of the warmest words in the English language but sometimes sound the most pathetic. But we can touch, can't we? Please, Randy, please touch my hand."

If this is what it was to be – progress in tiny increments – so be it. Randy rested his hand on Bob's on the armrest and kept it there for the whole of the rest of the journey, except when he needed both hands to drive. And that contact, slight as it was, was reassuring, as if they could feel the blood flowing through each other's veins. They were alive, at least ... and together.

And that minimal contact somehow rendered words unnecessary, so most of the rest of the ride was in silence – no words, just tangled thoughts. And that silence became more comfortable as the miles sped by – sitting wordlessly side by side as they used to in the old days.

Over two hours later Randy at last swung off the 101 Freeway and took the small dusty road into the small town of Guadalupe, then turned left on Main Street all the way until it dead-ended at the dunes. Even then he didn't stop but turned onto the sandy track that ran behind the dunes and finally pulled to a halt behind the small, remote shack that was Jamie's.

After so long in the roar of the freeway they wallowed for a moment in the silence and stillness of the dunes. Randy turned to Bob and said, "Well, buddy, we're here." He leaned over and kissed Bob lightly on the cheek – another small increment.

Together they unloaded their gear from the truck, including the rowboat that they carried round to the front of the shack. Using the key Jamie had given him, Bob unlocked the door and they went in. "Phew," Bob said, "looks like Mark and Jamie left in a hurry last time they were here."

He straightened the bedcovers and picked up several strewn items of clothing – including Mark's black tank top that always looked so good stretched over his muscular torso. Instinctively Bob raised the shirt to his nose and inhaled deeply, then instantly tossed it aside, regretting his impulsive action as he saw Randy's pained look.

It was like walking through a minefield, where every small step could accidently trigger some quirk of memory that caused pain. The room was heavily redolent of Mark, which troubled Randy. He reacted by asking, "You hungry, buddy?"

"Actually, yeah, I am."

"What say we go get some lunch in that little Mexican place in the village?"

"Sure. The twins packed a lot of food but we can save that for later. OK, let's go."

As they tramped through the sand back to the village the atmosphere between them was tense again. It had been the reminder of Mark, recalling how great he looked in that tank, even breathing in his scent in the room that had not been aired for weeks.

In the past, when their relationship had been solid, Mark had declared his love for both of them and they had become a threesome, hanging out together, indulging in exotic three-way sex. But now Randy was fearful that Bob might easily transfer his affections away from him altogether and onto Mark.

The same prospect had occurred to Bob when he mechanically smelled Mark's shirt and got an instant hard-on, which had eluded him sitting next to Randy on the drive here.

After all, it was Mark that Bob had gone to automatically when Randy's lust for Miguel became known. They had spent nights together and Bob sought solace in loving sex with the handsome cop. That was the tipping point where Bob could easily have deserted Randy for Mark, but something had pulled him back from that precipice. But now, as they walked to the village, Mark loomed large in both their minds, with all the attendant dangers the memory stirred up.

It was a relief to suddenly be in the company of others as they walked into the small, rustic Mexican restaurant, where they were instantly greeted by the owner, a plump, motherly woman who recognized them instantly from their previous visits. "Ah, mis hombres favoritos," she said with a big gold-toothed smile. Randy y Bob, hermosos com siempre."

"Esmeralda, you temptress," Randy beamed, "come give your favorite man a hug." He wrapped his strong arms around her, lifted her off the ground and swung her round. "I swear, one of these days I'm gonna snatch you away from your husband and carry you off into the dunes." As she blushed and giggled Bob gave her a more modest hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Esmeralda seated them and presented them with menus. Randy was now in his element and took charge. "OK," he said to her, "chicken fajitas with all the trimmings for both of us, and a pitcher of your excellent margaritas."

"Cuervo Gold, senor?"

Randy shot her another dazzling smile. "What else, patrona?"

She blushed again and hurried away. Bob looked at Randy ... and his heart leapt. Randy was now taking charge, but what Bob saw in him was the eager young boy who always made him melt – this time a young man eager to impress his date by ordering confidently from the menu. It was that odd mix of confidence and vulnerability that he had fallen in love with.

And it confused him, one more element thrown into the cauldron of disappointment, resentment, physical lust and now, fleetingly, affection. As Randy glanced at him Bob saw in the blue eyes not so much the usual sexual charisma, as a need to be loved.

The food arrived and, with help from the margaritas, the prior coolness between them melted just a fraction. Their previous silence was replaced by a run-of-the-mill conversation about the construction company, the boys, Pablo's growing maturity, the twins' fraternal love. But they were still walking on eggshells, careful to avoid any topics that referred even remotely to the problem between them.

So there was no real depth to their conversation. They were still being just buddies, like two friends or colleagues lunching together and talking business. Bob's fleeting glimpse of the old Randy had not been enough to overcome the bitterness that still lingered.

Still, their walk back over the dunes to the shack was an improvement over the walk in the other direction, overshadowed as it had been by thoughts of Mark and the uncertainty he caused. At least their friendship was being repaired, though the greater challenge of restoring their love still seemed like a distant possibility.

When they reached the shack Bob suggested they work off the meal with a run along the beach. Zack had an old shack a couple of miles down the beach, and it was customary when any of the tribe visited one of the shacks that they checked in on the other cabin, as they often remained empty for months at a time. So Bob said, "We should drop in on Zack's place – make sure it hasn't washed away or burned to the ground or something."

"I've got a better idea," Randy said. "Given a choice of going by land or sea, I prefer the water. Let's take the boat out and row down there."

They certainly were not about to argue about mundane details like that, so they stripped down to their swim trunks and carried the boat down to the surf. "Get in," Randy said. Bob jumped in and Randy's body flexed as he pushed the boat out, then leapt in and grabbed the oars. Bob sat in the stern with the tiller, facing Randy who rowed strongly.

Being out on the ocean somehow removed them even farther from the scene of their recent troubles, distancing them from the land, the truck, the shack, memories of Mark. Bob sighed and, with the course set, closed his eyes for a while.

As he daydreamed his mind wandered to the image of Randy greeting Esmeralda, then ordering their food with all the eager confidence of a teenager on a date. He even felt a stirring of his cock at the thought, but that didn't last. Until he opened his eyes."

The sea was quite choppy, calling for greater effort on the part of the rower, and Bob now stared at the stunning sight of the big, muscular gypsy, naked except for his shorts, putting all his strength into the effort. As he pulled on the oars it seemed that every muscle in the construction worker's body was bulging with the strain. Spray flecked his chiseled physique with foam, his face was set with a clenched stubbled jaw, his long black hair flying over his intense blue eyes.

How many times in the past had Bob gazed at this superb specimen of rugged manhood? How many times had he cum just staring at him, how many times jerked off fantasizing about him? As he stared at him now Bob's mind flew back to when they first met, of Randy in the motel, blazing with anger at him, tying him up and punishing him with all his raw caveman ferocity.

It was as if his whole life with Randy flashed before his eyes as he gazed at the object of his dreams and fantasies. All the homoerotic images of this iconic male, one after another, culminated in this moment where they were alone, on the sea, and Bob was staring at the powerful muscle-god, at his rock hard shoulders, bulging biceps, sculpted chest and ripped abs as he strained to keep the boat on an even course.

Randy was totally focused on his task, often closing his eyes with the physical effort, so he didn't notice the intensity in Bob's eyes, didn't notice the tension in his body, didn't see it jolt and, over the sound of the waves, didn't hear Bob's low gasp as his cock erupted in his shorts.

He had cum ... he had shot his load just looking at this man who had, for so many years, lusted for him, protected him, frustrated him and, above all, had loved him with a passion neither of them understood. Bob struggled to stay calm – physically so Randy wouldn't notice, and mentally so he could adjust to this new element that crowded into his already conflicted mind.

When they came level with Zack's shack they waded ashore, pulling the boat, and Bob was relieved to see the water wash away all traces of the cum stains from his orgasm. They went up to the shack and Bob unlocked the door with the key Zack had given him, which he had on the same chain as Jamie's key. Everything was intact and Randy spent several minutes going round inside and outside with the practiced eye of a construction expert.

Bob stayed on the terrace, gazing out to sea, wrestling with his chaotic thoughts. He was so distracted that he jumped when Randy said, "Everything's cool. Let's get back." As Bob went down the steps from the patio Randy shouted, "Hey, watch that middle step, don't put any weight on it. The wood's rotted, it's about to give."

Randy's protective instincts – they never wavered, and Bob had come to depend on them. He had even found it sexy that the big man was watching over him, one more reason he had loved and admired him. He avoided the step as instructed and as they walked down to the water Randy muttered, "I'll come down here tomorrow and fix it. It's dangerous."

Bob rowed part of the way back but after a while Randy grinned, "Hey, at this rate we won't get back before dark. Better let an expert take over. So he rowed the rest of the way and soon they were pulling the boat up to Jamie's shack. Randy went inside for beers and they both sank into the Adirondack chairs of the patio.

They were not sure what came next as they sat silently, both of them wrapped in thought.

Randy felt they had made progress, with the easing of tension in the restaurant and the conversation which, although lacking their past intimacy, was at least friendly. Randy knew what he wanted, he wanted Bob back. He had behaved badly and would do anything to undo the damage he had caused. But he had to admit that the old magic was missing. He had never understood where it came from and now didn't understand where it had gone. But it had gone.

Bob was much more confused, his previous anger so deeply ingrained in him that he could see nothing, no event or feeling, that could drive it away. Sure, there had been glimpses – his fleeting affection for that little boy image he had always loved so much; then that sudden surge of lust in the boat where the sight of Randy had made him cum without even touching himself. But that was not enough. It seemed there was no bridge between this sterile friendship and the intense passion of the past.

"I would say penny for your thoughts, buddy," Randy said, "except I'm not sure I want to know."

"And they would cost much more than a penny," Bob smiled weakly, `cos I'm not even sure what they are."

Randy's very presence made it hard for Bob to think. He needed space, time alone to try to make sense of it all. Maybe he should even spend the night alone in Zack's shack. He tapped the pocket of his shorts and suddenly jumped up. "Dammit, I've lost the keys. Jamie's and Zack's on the same key-ring."

"Must've dropped out in the boat," Randy said and they went to search but found nothing.

"Shit, I know what happened. I left them on the table on Zack's patio. Fuck."

"No problem, we'll run back down there and get them."

Bob hesitated, then said, "No Randy, it was my mistake so I'll go. Actually, I need a little time to myself, so a run will do me good ... clear the mind maybe. I won't be long."

And with that brief word he was gone, leaving Randy more concerned than ever. No hug, no smile, no warmth. Bob wanted to be alone ... now, and maybe forever?" He watched the figure of his former lover getting smaller in the distance as he ran further away ... away from him. And when the small figure faded and disappeared in the distant spray mist Randy felt more bereft than he had ever felt in his life.

Contrary to his hopes Bob's run solved nothing. Still the same churn of conflicting thoughts that he tried, and failed, to analyze.

The truth dawned on him that this was not a matter of intellectual reasoning, but depth of feeling, feelings that defied analysis. Just as their first spark of love had been incomprehensible so was its flickering out. Bob knew that you can't force feelings, can't argue your way in and out of them. So there was nothing either of them could do. Maybe the flame was really gone, and it would take nothing less than divine intervention to rekindle it.

Engrossed in thought Bob was surprised to find himself approaching Zack's shack. He slowed down to a walk and went up onto the patio. Sure enough, there were the keys on the table where he had absent-mindedly left them, distracted as he had been by his muddled mind.

He put them in his pocket, sat down and gazed out to sea. So here he was, alone, feeling totally empty. Was this the way it was going to be from here on? Maybe he should, after all, sleep the night in Zack's shack to get a feel of what loneliness was like. No, that would be cruel to Randy. If he was to make the final break it would be face to face, agonizing as that would be.

He stood up, sighed deeply, then walked down the steps. There was a sharp crack, the broken middle step collapsed, and his leg fell through. He lost his balance and wrenched himself round as his foot hit the sand under the stairs. "Aaagh." The pain was agonizing as he lay sprawled on the steps, his right foot twisted underneath him.

Despite the pain he forced himself to lean down and feel his ankle. No protruding bones, no fracture, just a badly twisted ankle – hopefully not too bad to walk on. He pulled himself up on the supporting pole of the patio and put his foot tentatively on the ground. Pain shot right up to his thigh and he fell to the sand.

He tried to stand again but the pain was even worse. He knew he couldn't walk. Instinctively he looked up for Randy – and the truth dawned on him. He was alone, it was what he had wanted. Randy was two miles away, waiting for him. And when he didn't show up Randy would assume that he was staying the night at Zack's, that it was all over.

It was all over? "No!" he yelled to the wind. He wanted Randy here, he needed him ... he needed him, suddenly more than ever before. On his knees Bob clung to the pole, feeling that his world had crashed in on him. That world where he had been happier than ever before in his life, a world where he loved and was loved, with the kind of love that `passeth all understanding'.

That world had been in Technicolor – his current existence was a washed out sepia. What had he been thinking? He started to sob at the hopelessness of it all. He needed Randy, he had to get to him. He had no cell phone so there was only one way to reach him.

Slowly, painfully he dragged himself down to the sea and let the cold water wash over his damaged ankle, bringing slight relief. Then he gazed into the distance, the interminable distance, and started to crawl ... along the wet sand, on his belly – his eyes searching the mist for the invisible spot where Randy was waiting for him.

Randy had taken a nap, a shallow sleep bedeviled with dreams of frustration and abandonment. Something woke him with a start but when he opened his eyes he saw only the seagulls wheeling over them. Must of have been their screeching. He looked at the time. Bob must be back – maybe behind the shack at the truck. But there was no sound from there.

Randy pulled himself to his feet, shaded his eyes and looked along the length of the beach. Nothing. An immense sadness swept over him. That was it. Bob must have decided to call it quits and spend the night alone at the shack. That was the only explanation, otherwise he would have been back by now. Unless ...

Suddenly another feeling consumed him. Trouble ... Bob could be in trouble. Was it just his paranoia, his overly protective impulse, or wishful thinking that Bob had not deliberately left him? No ... his sense of foreboding intensified, it was not imagined – it was real. He could almost hear Bob's voice, an eerie sort of telepathy he had experienced in the good old days.

The good old days. He wanted them back ... he loved Bob, and somehow he knew that, despite all the bullshit, Bob loved him too. The real kind of love, not the watered-down `buddy' crap they had been going through the last few days. What if Bob needed him, needed his protection? His mind raced. He could take the truck, but driving behind the dunes he would not see along the length of the beach. Only one thing to do. "Hang in there, buddy – I'm coming."

Bob was struggling. His arms were already tired from dragging himself forward. He had tried the dry sand but that was even harder so he returned to the wet sand at water's edge. Even so he had managed to go barely a hundred yards. Two miles to go. He paused to catch his breath and yelled in desperation "Randy," but only the seagulls replied with their callous screech.

In the past Randy had always protected him, had always folded his arms round him, made him feel safe, never threatened. He had always come when he was in trouble ... and he was in trouble now. He imagined his arms round him now, imagined his deep soothing voice, imagined his eyes, those loving blue eyes that he longed to look into again.

The hopelessness of his predicament sapped his energy and he dropped his head on the sand. He was not sure how long he lay there, but then something made him look up. His eyes peered into the distant mist ... and he saw it ... a small speck almost lost in the spray. He fixed his eyes on it, fearing that if he looked away it would disappear. But instead it grew larger ... it was a man running ... Randy.

In his sob of relief there was confusion too. He had been so cold to Randy, so distant. How would Randy react? Just a mercy rescue that he would do for anyone? No matter ... he was coming ... Randy was coming. With his last reserves of adrenaline he crawled forward again frantically, trying to lessen the distance. But his ankle was throbbing, his strength failed and he again fell exhausted on his face in the sand.

He must have passed out for a few seconds because the next thing he heard was, "Buddy, what happened? Don't move ... let me ..." He felt hands hold him and gently push him over on his back. Bob opened his eyes and found himself staring into those mesmerizing blue eyes ... eyes he loved ... eyes in which he could see his own reflection ... at last.

"Randy," he stammered. "I'm sorry ... the things I said ... the way I ... I didn't mean ..."

"Buddy," came the calm, resonant voice. "I love you, I always have. I never stopped. Now tell me what happened."

Bob swallowed hard and came to his senses. "That step, the broken one. It broke, I fell. Twisted my ankle ... bad sprain, can't walk. Please, leave me here, go get the truck and come back for me."

"And leave you here alone? Hell no." Randy had been kneeling beside him and now got up on one knee, slid his arms under Bob's back and lifted him, pulling himself up on his feet with Bob lying in his arms. "I'll never leave you again, Bob. You're coming with me."

"You can't, Randy. You can't carry me ... it's two miles."

"I don't care if it's twenty fucking miles. You're my man and I'm taking you home."

Bob sighed with infinite relief and allowed himself to relax in Randy's strong arms. He gazed up at the resolute face, at the strong, stubbled jaw clenched in determination. Mostly Randy stared steadily ahead, but when he dropped his gaze to Bob there was a smile in his pale blue eyes.

Bob was a big man, packed with solid muscle, but never once did Randy falter, never once gave in to fatigue. He didn't even feel the weight ... `he ain't heavy, he's my lover'.

In what seemed like no time to Bob, Randy was carrying him up the steps of Jamie's shack and laid him gently on the bed. "Now let's take a look at that foot." He prodded it, Bob groaned, and Randy said, "Yeah, nasty sprain like you said. It'll be sore for a few days is all. I'll care of it."

He grabbed one of his own T-shirts from the bed and tore it into strips that he ran under the cold tap, squeezed out and wound carefully and expertly round Bob's foot and ankle. "That's better, a cold compress. Now for your medicine." From a box on the floor he pulled out the brandy bottle the twins had loaded in their supplies. He poured a large one for Bob, and for himself, and they clinked glasses. "Many Happy Returns, Bob," Randy grinned and they drank deeply.

When they had drained their glasses Bob began, "Randy, I ..."

"No, buddy, be quiet. No more talk, no more bullshit. I'm in charge now and – first things first – I'm gonna make love to you ... I mean really make love. It's about time."

"But ..."

"But nothing. I won't hurt you. Matter of fact I won't ever hurt you again. Well," he grinned, "I'll do my level best. And don't worry about the foot. It should be raised up anyway ... so I'll raise it."

In fact he raised both of them, carefully, and hooked Bob's legs over his shoulders. Then he reached in his backpack for a jar of lube. "Yeah, me and lube," he grinned. "Not something you see every day of the week. But this is a special occasion ... and I'm doing my best not to hurt you – like I promised."

He dipped his fingers in the lube and greased up his cock. "See, hard already. It was hard all the way along the beach. The thought of pushing it on your ass is what kept me going."

The man was amazing. It was as if the shackles of shame that had restrained him these last days had fallen away and he was free to be Randy, with that self-confidence bordering on arrogance that Bob had come to love. "OK, buddy, we'll forget that bullshit mercy fuck you asked me to give you last night. The real thing's been a while, but you remember the drill. Look into my eyes."

Bob already was ... staring into the hypnotic blue eyes set in the chiseled gypsy features that radiated sex appeal. Suddenly Bob's sepia world turned to Technicolor, like Dorothy stepping out of her monochrome house into the dazzling colors of Oz, he thought to himself. His own sense of humor and whimsy had returned.

The full enormity of his obstinate pride hit him and he said, "Randy, I'm so sorry that I ...

"Hey, that'll be enough of that. No more sorry, no more regrets, no more fuckin bullshit. I love you man – can't live without you. And you can't live without me. Look at the mess you just got yourself into. So you're gonna stay with me even if I have to chain you to the wall."

"Promise, promises ..."

"Yeah, well that'll have to wait. Right now I'm gonna make love to you, win you back. And it goes something like this." He pushed his cock between Bob's ass cheeks and slowly, gently, eased it inside him. Bob breathed deeply and his heart beat faster as he felt his lover's thick shaft sliding inside him, deeper and deeper until it came to rest and he felt Randy's wiry pubic hair pressing against his butt.

"Back where it belongs," Randy smiled, keeping his cock buried deep "Let me look at you, you gorgeous hunk."

And they did look, barely blinking, staring deep into each other's eyes. And it was back – the magic was back. They saw themselves reflected in each other's eyes, reflected endlessly like infinity mirrors as they gazed into each other, soul-deep.

"Stuff like this don't go away, buddy," Randy said in his deep, gentle voice. "You can't kill this ever ... even if I sometimes do a damn good job of trying," he grinned. "Man, you and me, when we found each other all those years ago, that was it, forever. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but this ... this will never go away. Nor will this ..."

He pulled his cock slowly all the way back, paused, then eased it in again gently so Bob felt it filling his ass, inch by inch by inch. Randy leaned forward and Bob reached up and touched the dark gypsy face, from the neck, over the stubbled chin, the high cheekbones, the eyes, forehead, and then ran his hands through the long black hair.

"I love you Randy, of course I do. How could I ever think it had stopped? All that other stuff is in a different world. This is our world, the real world, and we're gonna live here always. Kiss me, Randy. Kiss me like you always did."

Randy lowered his face and their lips met. With his tongue, Randy opened Bob's mouth and sealed it with his, so they were breathing the same air, back and forth, a kiss of life. And all the time Randy's cock moved in and out, caressing the tender membrane of the ass he worshipped.

At last Randy pulled his mouth back and smiled again into his lover's eyes. "This is all it takes, buddy. Just this. He stopped still, his cock buried deep, and said again, "This is all it takes, Bob. Look at me ... make me cum in your ass ... make me cum." He gazed into the soft brown eyes ... and he was right, that's all it took. "I'm gonna cum ... here it is, buddy ..."

Bob pressed his palms on Randy's chest and said simply, "I love you, Randy." It was like a still life, two beautiful men staring into each other's eyes, the only movement a slight blink as Randy poured his semen inside Bob, and Bob's juice spurted upward and splashed onto Randy's heaving chest.

And still it poured out, as if the love they had been suppressing finally came alive in the stillness of this small room where the only sounds were their deep sighs, and the distant hiss of waves breaking on the shore.

They lay in each other's arms for a long time, and no words were spoken. They didn't want to break the spell. But they both knew now that the spell was unbreakable, no matter how often their human frailties made them stumble.

Finally Bob stirred and smiled at Randy. "You know the only guys who were sure it would end like this were the twins. In fact they were so sure they are planning a big celebration. They're probably working on the menus right now. I hope you're ready, `cos it'll be a big one. Probably have to hold it at the Grady House to coincide with the premiere of Grady's movie."

"Well, let them do their thing," Randy grinned. "I'd be just as happy to stay right here forever, just the two of us."

"Me too, but we've gotta rejoin the land of the living at some point," Bob chuckled. "And one of the first things we have to do is make our peace with Zack and Miguel."

"Yeah, you're right. I almost fucked things up real good between those two. Hey, maybe the four of us should take our boys on a weekend trip to see Uncle Mike and his boy Larry out in Palm Springs. Haven't seen or heard from them in a long time."

"Great idea, Randy."

"But right now," Randy continued, "job one is for me to take care of you and that bad ankle. You won't be too mobile for a while so you'll have to depend on me. You ready for some tender loving care?"

"Well, loving sure. But don't go overboard on the tender. Maybe it's time that caveman crawled out of his hole."

"You are such an asshole," Randy grinned. "God I've missed you. Welcome home, buddy."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial of Strength" – Chapter 377

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.

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