A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 393 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 393 – "JAMIE'S RBELLION ENRAGES THE COP"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

"Fuck this job! Fuck Randy. And fuck you Bob. I'm done, I quit." The hot blond surfer Jamie rebels against his office job and enrages his master, the macho cop Mark. "I'm so fucking mad at you, boy, you're gonna pay for this." But first Mark does penance to Bob, the handsome boss his boy has insulted. And the surfer seeks consolation in the flawless ass of the gymnast Tommy – "You sexy mother fucker." _____________________________________________________________________

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

It was turning out to be a festive weekend-long gathering of the tribe at the Grady House, the large estate owned by the movie star (and new film Tarzan) Grady and his lover Mario. There was a heavy emphasis on sex games, which came naturally to this group of two dozen lusty men and boys.

Saturday had included hard-core sexual challenges between the senior men, which had been filmed and replayed in the viewing room, courtesy of the senior boy Darius. Everyone had such a good time that Mario had invited them all to stay the night and enjoy a restful Sunday together.

The large house fortunately had enough guest rooms to accommodate the whole group, though it meant some doubling up in rooms – in every sense of the phrase – and the hallway connecting the rooms saw more traffic than the Hollywood Freeway at rush hour.

However, all was not perfect in paradise and the next morning, in the otherwise sunny skies, a small cloud was floating over one of the two guys having breakfast together by the pool – two senior boys who had long been good friends. One of them, Nate, was a happy-go-lucky young Aussie, the tribe's house manager; and the other, Jamie, was in charge of the construction company's business office, under the supervision of the tribe's leader and founder Bob.

Jamie, the much-loved boy of the ruggedly handsome cop Mark, was the iconic beautiful blond California surfer who, before he met Mark, had once been pretty much a beach bum, and he still spent as much time as he could at the beach. These days, however, he was unable to get away often, owing to the pressure of work as office manager – a pressure that was building, as his pal Nate suspected.

As they heard triumphant shouts coming from upstairs Nate laughed, "Sounds like some of the guys are still at it."

"Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun," Jamie said distractedly.

Nate gave his buddy a searching look and said in his Aussie drawl, "Is everything OK, mate? You've seemed kinda tense all morning. Something on your mind?"

"Nah," Jamie laughed. "This ain't me tense, it's me relaxed. You want tense you should see me in the office."

Nate frowned. "You know, Jamie, that's something I always thought was odd – you the avid California surfer, an outdoors guy, and yet the job you do as office manager keeps you cooped up in front of a computer all day. The two things don't go together, somehow."

"Tell me about it. Oh don't get me wrong, it's a great job, and Bob's a wonderful boss, but ... I dunno, just lately it's been getting to me, like I wanna ... break out, run away and go back to being a beach bum like I used to be."

"Sounds like you need a vacation, mate."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm having a blast up here relaxing with all the guys, but come Monday morning I know I'll be back in the same old chair in front of the same old computer. It gets kinda suffocating and I can almost hear the sound of the surf in my ears like a siren song. Hell, maybe I'll surprise them all by just busting out of there – you know, the old take-this-job-and-shove-it revolt, and go do my own thing.'

"Ooh, steady on, mate. You don't wanna do anything rash like that. I don't think Bob would approve, and if you upset Bob you upset Mark, you know that."

Jamie sighed, but Nate proved to be right. Jamie, who was always considered the most stable and reliable of the senior boys, still had an old rebellious streak buried in him, left over from his early days when he ran wild at the beach with his buddy Larry. He had long since been domesticated, with a responsible job, a great boss, good buddies and, above all, a lover he worshipped, the gorgeous cop Mark.

But burnout creeps up on a guy in a stressful job. He can be unaware of the tension until suddenly something snaps – and the results can be disastrous.

Even when the guy has a boss like Bob and a lover like Mark – especially then. He has more to lose.

********************** CHAPTER 393 **********************

Jamie was uneasy discussing his personal problems with Nate even though they were close friends, so he steered the conversation in a safer direction, swapping stories of the night before and all the goings on in, and between, the numerous guest rooms. By now most of the tribe had gathered for the informal buffet breakfast by the pool and the noise and laughter got louder.

"Hey, Nate said, "we should give a hand to the junior boys like we promised. It's a big job serving this crowd, and an even bigger job preparing for the major Sunday brunch coming up."

The houseboy Brian was in the thick of those preparations, trying to resist the urging of the other boys to "spill the beans" of the night he had just spent in the bed of their hosts Grady and Mario.

"My lips are sealed, guys," Brian protested. "You know stuff that happens in the Grady House is private."

"That was greeted with noisy derision by the boys, and Darius said, "Dude, by now everyone knows everything about what went down last night except what happened in the master suite."

"And that, mi amici, is just as it should be," came the gentle, Italian-accented voice of Mario who had just arrived with Grady. The two hosts were usually the last to arrive as everyone knew they usually spent the first hour or two on morning sex. "Thank you for your discretion, Brian," Mario said. "Guys, you can see Brian is busy so leave him alone ..." "... or you'll get tied up and fucked by Tarzan," Grady laughed.

That inviting prospect only increased the ruckus as everyone clamored to be the victim. Brian eased himself away and wheeled himself up to his lover Brandon and whispered, "I'll tell you everything later, dude." Grady smiled affectionately as the two boys in wheelchairs rolled away chatting conspiratorially.

The big brunch was predictably festive – the tribe at its best – and it set the tone for the rest of the afternoon. The previous day had been one for letting off steam sexually, which they did with gusto, and by comparison Sunday was pretty much a day of rest. And there was no finer place to relax than the Grady House, in the genial and generous company of Grady and Mario.

By early evening the party was beginning to break up as those with an early start the next day said goodbye to their hosts with effusive thanks and tight hugs. But Pete, the forest ranger, had Monday off so Mario invited him and his boy Brandon to spend another night there. That was mostly to give Brian and Brandon more time together, as the two young lovers had spent much of the weekend working the party.

So after everyone else had gone that left the small group of Grady and Mario, Brian and Brandon, and Pete, sipping coffee and after-dinner drinks by the pool. The sudden silence and stillness was a marked contrast to the clamor of the day. Under a full moon in a cloudless sky the only sound was the breeze rustling the trees and the occasional distant howl of a coyote.

Grady leaned back in his chair and heaved a deep sigh of contentment. "Boy, I needed this weekend. My life outside this place gets so crazy and unreal – all that movie star bullshit – that I don't think I could cope without the support and friendship of the tribe. It's such a private world in here, and they're such great guys, aren't they?" He put his arm round Mario and kissed his cheek. "I ... I am so fucking happy right now, guys. Thank you so much."

Mario leaned closer and licked the tear running down his lover's cheek.

Mark and Jamie had been among the first to leave the Grady House as they both had to work early next morning, Monday. Jamie was rather subdued on the short ride home but Mark put that down to the effects of such a hectic weekend and they were content to ride in silence.

At the tribe's house they went straight into their large ground-floor apartment and got ready for bed. Mark watched Jamie kick off his sneakers, pull off his T-shirt and drop the surfer trunks he habitually wore. He watched him walk naked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then come back and throw himself on the bed.

By this time Mark's cock was rock hard in his cargo shorts. He dropped the shorts, his cock sprang out and Mark grinned down at the gorgeous young blond. "Not too tired to help your old man take care of this are you, buddy?"

"No, sir, of course not," Jamie said with a faint smile. Mark put the wan smile down to tiredness, although Jamie's use of `sir' surprised him. Some time ago Mark and Jamie had progressed from master/boy to adult lovers and best buddies. Jamie had grown into a lusty young man, a transition that turned Mark on even more than ever, and he encouraged Jamie to no longer call him sir, at least in private.

But Mark ignored this lapse into `sir' as he was more interested now in the white globes of the surfer's ass, contrasting with the golden tan of his body. Jamie assumed the position he did every time the motorcycle cop came home from his shift and stripped off his uniform. He lay on his back and pulled his legs back, offering his ass to his Greek-God lover.

This time there was no uniform, of course, and by now Mark was wearing only his black tank top that he knew Jamie always found so sexy. He knelt on the bed, spat on his cock and pushed the head in the light fuzz of blond hair round his ass. You ready, dude?" Mark grinned.

"Yes please, sir." This time Mark didn't even notice the `sir' or Jamie's meek tone. He eased his cock past the sphincter and sighed loudly as he pushed deep inside. "Damn, I love fucking you, Jamie. You look so perfect lying there, my beautiful blond surfer taking my dick in his ass."

Mark reached behind his own neck and pulled off his tank top. Jamie's normal reaction was to reach up and press his hands on the cop's bulging pecs, dig his fingers in, then tweak his nipples. But now he kept his hands by his sides on the bed and smiled automatically up at Mark as he increased the speed of his shaft driving in Jamie's ass like a piston.

It was Jamie's favorite thing to get butt-fucked by Mark, and this time too the sight of the naked cop rising and falling over him, and the sensation of his cock hammering his ass, gave him pleasure. But he was unable to respond with the same surge of joy as usual. He lay there passively, providing the stimulus for Mark but feeling less stimulated than usual himself.

If Mark sensed this lack of response in Jamie it was only subconsciously, as all his focus was on the fire in his cock. When he panted, "You OK, buddy?" Jamie smiled, "I feel great, sir."

"Shit," Mark groaned, "I am so stoked, man. I built up such a head of steam at Grady's place and your ass feels so hot I'm real close. I know you like a long fuck, but ..."

"It's OK, sir. I'm close too. I'll cum for you ... look." Jamie often climaxed without touching himself but now he grabbed his own cock and stroked it hard until his breathing became heavy and he said, "I'm gonna cum ... fuck me sir ... please cum inside me ..."

"Yeah!" Mark yelled, driving his cock in deep and feeling it erupt against the warm membrane of the young jock's ass, as Jamie spurted jizz over his own naked body.

After only a short pause to recover his breath Mark pulled out and lay face down beside Jamie, his arm thrown across his chest. Jamie was feeling ... what? He couldn't tell, didn't have the energy to figure it out. He felt numb, especially when his mind wandered to the office and what he would find there the next morning ... switching the light on as usual, sitting at his desk as usual, turning on his computer and staring at the screen ... as usual.

Now that Mark had cum and his adrenaline had slowed he became more aware of his boy's strange mood. He lay on his side facing him, his face propped up on his elbow. "You OK, Jamie? You're kinda quiet, seem a bit down. Anything you wanna talk about?"

Yes there was ... a million things ... but Jamie wasn't sure what. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, just a kind of weariness, a vague depression. Mark had raised him to be tough in body and spirit, so he didn't know how to talk about this ... to confess his weakness to a macho cop.

He was on the verge of blurting out something when Mark said, "You should be feeling pretty good about yourself, Jamie. Bob tells me you're working real well in the office, real hard. Says the construction company's fiscal year ends soon so you've got all that tax stuff to get together. That's a shit load of work, so you better get a good night's sleep. You're probably tired is all."

"Yeah prob'ly," Jamie murmured.

"I'm real proud of you, Jamie, all your hard work and stamina. It's what I admire about you – your dedication to your job, your ability to stand the pressure. I love that you're so tough, but if there's ever a problem you just let me know, `cos I'm always here for you, you know that."

By praising Jamie's toughness and determination Mark had unknowingly made it impossible for Jamie to tell him about the fatigue and depression he was feeling. So whatever Jamie had previously intended to say he now buried, along with all his other feelings.

Instead he just mumbled, "Yes sir ... thank you sir," then put his arm over Mark and fell asleep.

Next morning Mark had one of those crack-of-dawn shifts so when Jamie stirred and instinctively reached out for him Mark's side of the bed was empty. A wave of near panic briefly swept over him and he felt more alone than ever.

He cursed himself for not confiding his state of mind to Mark, but he had been scared to show weakness to a tough cop who valued strength in a man above all else. He tried to shake off his melancholy by focusing on work and the day ahead, but that only plunged him back in a deeper funk.

No, he had to be strong. He got up and took a hot shower, then pulled on a loose tank and the surfer trunks he always wore. The feel of these clothes made his heart leap as he fantasized about the beach and riding the waves. His confusion was getting deeper as he went across the garden to the kitchen to grab some fruit and coffee from the twins, who greeted him in their usual upbeat way.

He grunted something inaudible as if he had hardly noticed them and stomped out. The twins frowned at each other in alarm. They had inherited the sensitive antennae of their master Bob and knew instantly that something was seriously wrong. Kyle said to Kevin, "Dude, we gotta say something to Bob as soon as he comes in for breakfast."

Jamie went across to the office, unlocked the door, switched on the light and sat at his desk, all of which he did mechanically as he had done hundreds of times before. Usually Brandon was working with him but today was his day up at the Grady House to work on the books in their office. Jamie saw the pile of folders beside his computer as he switched it on and clicked on the spreadsheets with all the tax data he had to get in order by the end of the month, which was approaching fast.

He took a deep breath and began, looking numbly at the columns of figures and shuffling them around aimlessly. They blurred into each other and he looked up from the screen, seeing on the wall a framed picture of himself surfing that Mark had taken of him. He stared at it longingly, just as the door opened and Bob came in looking agitated.

"Morning, Jamie. Look, I just got off the phone with Randy after a ... heated discussion. Work is slowing down on the main construction site so he wants to bring the new site online right away, which means he needs that cost analysis we had put on the back burner ... wants it by noon. I know you're already running behind on the taxes but I'm afraid that'll have to wait. I've already called Brandon to get back down here and it'll mean all of us working late, I'm afraid. So can you pull that file up right away?"

"No." Jamie hardly recognized his own voice as he stared blankly at the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." Jamie stood up and faced Bob, his voice getting louder. "I said fucking no ... no ... I can't. Fuck the file, fuck Randy, and fuck you. I've had it ... up to here with the fucking taxes and the figures and the demands. I'm done ... done with everything."

Startled, Bob saw a crazed look in Jamie's eyes that he had never seen before and he knew instantly that something had snapped. "Jamie," he said calmly, "what's happened? Tell me. Let's go and get some breakfast and talk about this."

"What part of `no' don't you understand, man? I'm not gonna talk, I'm not gonna get any fucking breakfast, or do the taxes, or do Randy's bullshit work. I'm done ... finished ... I quit. Get out of my way."

Bob stood barring the door. "Jamie, you can't leave like this. Take a deep breath and calm down and we'll ..."

"I said get out of my fucking way!" Jamie yelled. He grabbed Bob's arm and yanked him away from the door. Bob was surprised by Jamie's manic strength but he held on and there was a short scuffle that ended in Jamie hurling Bob against the wall. In a blind fury Jamie crashed out of the office, sprinted across the garden and out to his truck, leaving Bob stunned and dazed, crumpled on the floor.

Brandon had left the Grady House as soon as he received Bob's phone call to get back to the office. As he drove his handicap-modified truck down the hill a truck sped past him in the opposite direction. Despite the quick glimpse Brandon saw the surfboard in the back so knew it was Jamie and instantly sensed that something was very wrong.

At the gate of the house he lowered his wheelchair from the car, unfolded it and eased himself in. Quickly he wheeled into the garden and up the ramp to the office door that swung wide open. His heart missed a beat as he saw Bob on the floor in the corner trying to pull himself to his feet.

Brandon wheeled up to him and said, "Please, sir, stay where you are. There's a cut on your forehead." He pulled a towel out of his saddle-bag and pressed it on the bleeding wound. I'll go get the twins and call Randy.

Bob reached up and grabbed his wrist. "No, Brandon, don't call Randy. There's a problem with Jamie and Randy would go ballistic. Call Mark and see if he can get off work."

Brandon found the twins cleaning out the pantry, which is why they had not seen or heard anything of the scuffle in the office. They rushed to the office to tend to Bob while Brandon called Mark's private cell phone. He was on a coffee break and Brandon said, "Sir, there's a problem with Jamie and Bob. Far as I can tell they had a disagreement and I think Jamie hurt Bob and then took off. Can you come, sir?"

"Bob's hurt? OK, kid, I'm on my way."

The twins helped a dazed Bob to the kitchen where they cleaned the cut on his forehead while Brandon poured him a brandy. In an amazingly short time they heard Mark's motorcycle pull up outside and the uniformed cop rushed in and knelt by Bob.

"Jesus, man, what happened. How bad are you hurt? Let me take a look." He removed the gauze pad the twins had put on it and inspected the wound. "Not a deep cut. No stitches needed. Guys, get some antiseptic, fresh gauze and a Band-Aid. OK, buddy, are you up to telling me what happened?"

"Mark, it wasn't Jamie's fault. If anyone's to blame it was me for piling so much work on him and not recognizing the signs of burnout. He was up to his eyes in tax stuff and then Randy demanded something else right away. I guess Jamie snapped and ... and he left."

"But what about this, man, this cut? Did he do that?"

Bob sighed, "There was a scuffle ... I handled it badly, he shoved me and I fell awkwardly is all."

"Don't sugarcoat this, man. My boy attacked you and injured you. He's not gonna get away with that. Brandon, have you any idea where's he's gone?"

Brandon looked uncomfortably from Mark to Bob to the twins. "It's OK, Brandon," Bob said. "You won't be betraying your friend's confidence. You'll be helping him in the long run."

"Well, OK sir." Just as I got here he drove past me like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction. And, er, his surfboard was in the back of his truck. Looks like he was going to the beach."

Mark glared at Brandon. "OK, you guys work together all day so you must know what route he takes. Come on, boy," Mark barked, "tell me, dammit, and it better be the truth."

Brandon winced and Bob sprang to his defense. "Mark please. Leave Brandon alone, this is not his fault." Mark's eyes blazed and Bob said gently, "OK, tell him, Brandon."

Brandon knew Jamie's route well. "He basically takes Mulholland all the way to the 405, sir."

Mark spun round prepared to leave but, for the second time that morning, Bob tried to bar the door. "Mark, this was not Jamie's fault. Please go easy on him."

Mark's anger was mounting and he prodded Bob in the chest. "Don't tell me how to treat my own boy. I trained him to be tough and I won't tolerate a fucking pussy-face tantrum like this. You may be a softy, too scared to punish a boy who needs it, but I'm a cop, I know how to treat a kid like him. Dammit, he's lucky I don't cuff him and throw his ass in jail on assault charges. Now get the hell out of my way."

"Mark, please, you're in no mood to go off and ..."

"I said get out of my way, asshole!" Mark yanked Bob away from the door, threw him against the wall and strode out of the room, ignoring Bob's cry of pain behind him as he strode out to his bike and roared away.

The twins ran up to Bob and Kyle said, "Are you OK, sir?"

Bob rubbed his shoulder, "Hurts a bit, probably bruised but that's all." He grinned ruefully. "Kind of goes with the cut on my face. Hell, first the boy then the master. I must have a target on my back today. What a fucking mess."

Brandon tried to be practical. "Sir, I know all that stuff Jamie was putting together for the taxes. We worked on it together. Shall we go and take a look?"

Bob smiled at him. Brandon, I love your calm common sense, kiddo, just what we need. You're a good boy ... sorry Mark was rude to you."

"Oh, he was just anxious about Jamie, sir. I don't take it personally."

"OK, let's go take a look at the tax stuff and I'll tell Randy he'll just have to wait for his cost analysis. That won't please him any. Shit, I'll have to explain all this to him too. Leave that to me, boys. I'll have to downplay it or he'll go apeshit, blaming Jamie, Mark and everyone in sight. Ah well," he grinned, "just another perfect day in paradise."

Jamie drove blindly up to the crest of the Hollywood Hills and turned right on Mulholland Drive headed west toward the ocean. As his panic eased a little he took a deep breath and remembered Mark's advice never to drive when angry. He realized he was driving dangerously and slowed to a normal pace. The scenic drive along the spine of the hills helped calm him, with its panoramic views of the city on one side and the valley on the other.

As his adrenaline stopped racing, replaced by a semblance of common sense, the memory of what he had done came haltingly back – the mass of figures on his computer swirling before him ... standing up and yelling at Bob ... insulting him and Randy ... scuffling with the man he loved and admired ... throwing him against the wall and rushing blindly from the office.

"What the hell had he done, and why had he done it? What had he been thinking? Truth was, he hadn't been thinking, he had lost his mind. And he wasn't thinking straight now. He focused on the beach, the waves, the freedom.

Then, almost immediately, he flashed on the image of the man he loved, worshipped. Mark ... what would Mark think? Jamie remembered the night before when Mark had made love to him, and praised him. His exact words now rang in his mind – "I'm real proud of you, Jamie, all your hard work and stamina. It's what I admire about you – your dedication to your job, your ability to stand the pressure. I love that you're so tough."

But that's just what Jamie had not been – he had not been tough, he had crapped out, caved under pressure, and he knew how Mark would react. Mark thought like a cop, and in the past when Jamie had misbehaved, the cop had come down heavily on him. Mark was a law and order man – and Jamie had broken the laws and disobeyed the orders.

And worst of all, Jamie had hurt Bob, the man Mark loved. How badly? Was he unconscious, was he dead? Hey, get a grip. Jamie felt the panic returning and stifled it by focusing on the beach and the waves.

It was about ten miles along Mulholland Drive to the 405 Freeway and he was almost there, concentrating so hard on the goal ahead that he was unaware of the motorcycle closing on him from behind. What shocked him out of his singular focus was the red light flashing in his rear-view mirror and the wail of the police siren.

Startled, he looked up at the mirror and saw the motorcycle cop behind him. What? Was he driving so erratically? Exceeding the speed limit? And then he knew. It was Mark chasing him. He had a sudden impulse to floor it and outrun him, but instantly knew that was stupid and he mechanically did what any driver would do – slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road.

Scared as he was, there was a part of Jamie that felt relief ... relief that Mark had followed him, relieved simply that Mark was here with him, even though it was certainly to punish him. He braced himself and was surprised to see Mark open the tailgate of his truck, pull down the ramp, wheel his bike up it and secure it on the flatbed.

He came round to the driver's side and said curtly, "Move over." Jamie slid over to the passenger seat, Mark got behind the wheel, did a U-turn and drove back along Mulholland.

There was a heavy silence at first that made Jamie even more nervous as he thought desperately of something to say ... explain? ... apologize? ... beg for forgiveness? He was confused, exhausted and remained silent. But finally Mark spoke.

"You know by rights I should arrest you for assault and battery after what you did to Bob."

"Yes, sir," Jamie said meekly. "Sir, how is Bob?"

"Lucky for you it's just a cut on the head – headache probably, maybe a mild concussion."

Another silence, then, "Look, I'm not gonna even get into what happened. Right now I'm so fucking mad and you've let me down so bad I just can't look at you. You hurt Bob for Chrissake, and when I got there and he tried to protect you I fucking hit him too, and it's all your fault."

The injustice of that last statement registered only fleetingly on Jamie and he remained silent. "Right," Mark continued, "we're on Mulholland and Steve's house is a few miles up ahead so I'm taking you there. He's our shrink and you sure need to have your head examined, so maybe he can make some sense of all this."

Jamie felt relieved. He instinctively knew that what he needed right now was someone calm, a professional who has seen it all and would react without emotion. He liked and respected Doctor Steve and knew he would be safe there, for now."

They arrived at the gate to his large house, Mark pressed the button and they heard Tommy's voice on the intercom. "Hey, Tommy, it's Mark. I got Jamie with me. Open the gate."

"Yes, sir. We hoped you would come."

As the gate swung open Jamie wondered what that meant, then remembered how quickly news spread on the tribe's grapevine. At the end of the drive Steve and Tommy met them as they got out of the truck and Steve smiled. "No need to explain, Mark. Bob called and told me everything that happened. He said you were both headed for Mulholland so I hoped you would think to come here. Tommy, why don't you take Jamie out to the pool and give him a drink?"

Tommy knew the code of the boys of the tribe – that they all supported each other no matter what – so he smiled, put his arm round Jamie and guided him into the house.

"Tough day, eh, Mark?" Steve said gently. "You know, I watched Jamie yesterday up at Grady's place and I detected a kind of tension in him. I just never realized it had gone this far. From what Bob says it sounds very much to me like pressure of work ... burnout ... what we call nervous exhaustion. Creeps up on a guy and erupts with no warning."

"I don't care what you call it, doc, no boy of mine is gonna lose his cool like that and fucking hurt a man like Bob. "I'm gonna fucking ..."

"You're gonna `fucking' do nothing, Mark," Steve smiled gently, "not until you've calmed down. Would you like to come in for a drink?"

"Nah. Sorry I spoke to you like that, buddy. I gotta get back to the house to check on Bob. Did he tell you I hit him and ...?"

Steve chuckled. "I got that bit from Brandon via Tommy. You know how news travels in this clan. Apparently Bob bruised his shoulder and the twins, in an overabundance of caution, put his arm in a makeshift sling. He must look like he's been in a train wreck, with a bandage on his face and a sling on his arm. So yeah, I think it would be a good idea for you to go and make your peace with him. We'll take care of Jamie here for as long as he likes. I know Tommy likes him a lot and looks up to him, so he'll be in good hands."

"Thanks, Steve. Man, you sure are the go-to guy in a crisis. And you're right, I gotta get back to Bob and ... well, you know ..." They hugged briefly, Mark went back to the truck, drove his bike down the ramp and roared up the drive and out through the still-open gate. Steve sighed, went through the house and out to the pool where Jamie and Tommy were sitting drinking beers.

"Good, good," Steve said. "Er, Jamie, Mark has left to check on Bob and my suggestion is that you stay here with us overnight, longer if necessary. At some point you and I can talk this out if you want to, but right now I want you to relax and not to worry. The dust will settle on this as it does on all things. But this is all voluntary, of course, and your truck is still here so you're free to leave whenever you want."

"Thank you, sir, but I'd like to stick around here like you say."

"Excellent." Then Steve gave a meaningful look at Tommy. "Tommy, I have patients this afternoon and Lloyd won't be home till later, so I wonder if you could keep an eye on Jamie and make sure he has all he needs. I don't want you to be alone too much, Jamie, do too much thinking. So, er, tonight, Tommy, I was wondering if Jamie could share your room. There is the spare guestroom, of course, but ..."

"No ... I mean sure, yes, of course," Tommy said hastily. "Jamie and I should definitely share my room ... that's if you don't mind, Jamie."

Jamie looked at the eager face of the handsome blond athlete whose gymnast's physique was outlined under his gray T-shirt, and he smiled for the first time that day. "I think it's a great idea, doc. I ... I'm glad I'm here, sir."

"Perfect," Steve grinned, "then I'll leave you guys alone and go and prepare for my first patient. Enjoy each other's company.

When Mark had driven up the hill from the house his only thought had been how his boy Jamie had hurt Bob. But now, as he raced back down on his motorcycle, that thought had ironically been replaced by the shameful irony of how he, Mark, had similarly injured Bob in a fit of rage. How could he have done that to the man he loved, had always loved, and would have protected against all threats?

He now recalled Bob's cry of pain that had rung in his ears as he raced out of the kitchen after throwing Bob out of his way. He must have been as crazy as his boy Jamie. It was as if master and boy had ganged up on the man they both loved and admired.

When he arrived he rushed into the kitchen where the twins were working. Bob's boys gave him a cool, accusatory look and Kyle said, "If you're looking for Bob, sir, he's in the office with Brandon."

Without a word Mark ran across the garden to the office and burst in. Brandon was seated in his wheelchair at Jamie's computer, with Bob standing behind him looking over his shoulder at the screen. His face still bore the Band Aid over the cut on his forehead and his arm was resting in the sling that twins had improvised out of a kitchen towel.

Bob looked up and asked with genuine concern, "Did you find Jamie? How is he?"

Breathlessly Mark said, "Yeah, I found him. He's up at Steve's, probably stay the night."

"Good, best place for him. Steve will know what to do. I'm glad you thought to take him there."

"Bob, I ..." Mark reached forward to touch him but pulled back, almost as if he were afraid to hurt him again."

Brandon looked up at them and rolled back from the computer. "Sir, maybe I should make myself scarce and come back when ..."

"No, Brandon, it's OK. Stay here and work on those numbers if you don't mind."

"Oh I don't mind at all, sir. I know exactly how to pull these figures together." He grinned playfully. "Someone has to do the taxes. And you should definitely rest awhile, lie down. You know – delayed shock, concussion, all that good stuff."

Bob smiled, "Brandon, you're a rock, you know that? What's that famous Rudyard Kipling line ... `you can keep your head while those about you are losing theirs'?"

"Good one, sir. I don't always understand everything you say – like this Rude Yard guy – but it sure sounds good."

Bob chuckled. "You need to brush up on your English Lit, kiddo. I'll make sure Pete hears what a help you've been here. He'll be so proud of you – he's a lucky man. But now I will go across to Mark's apartment and relax for a while. Call me on my cell if you need anything."

As they walked across the lawn to Mark's ground-floor apartment Mark noticed that Bob was limping slightly and put his arm round his waist to support him. In Mark's bedroom Bob caught sight of himself in the mirror and laughed. "Man, I look like I survived a car wreck. I really don't think I need this sling the twins made ... bit over the top." He pulled it off. "And the Band Aid can go soon too. Just a scratch as they say in the movies."

Mark was shifting uncomfortably. "Man, I ... I don't know where to begin ..."

"Then don't begin, Mark. You were understandably upset because of Jamie and I was wrong in trying to stop you going after him. But please believe me that Jamie is not to blame in all this. If anyone's to blame it's me for piling so much work on the boy. I was thoughtless and should have noticed the stress building up in him."

"Man, there you go again, taking the blame for everything and giving everyone else a free pass." Mark choked up. "Shit, you are so fucking ... so good, and I yelled at you and hurt you. Can I ... I mean is there anything I can do to make amends, buddy?"

"Well ..." Bob grinned.

"Here," Mark said, "let me help you get into bed, you can rest up here for a while." He reached forward and pulled Bob's T-shirt off over his head, then knelt down, took off his loafers and pulled down his jeans. "Now get on the bed, dude, and rest."

"Thank you Mark," Bob smiled, "but you're over-compensating. You don't have to care for me like I'm an invalid, which I assure you I'm not. Huh, next thing you know you'll be making love to me – not that there's anything wrong with that. But I do know what you need."

"You do?"

"Mark, I know you so well, and you'll never be able to shed that cop thing. Law and order, crime and punishment. In your world a guy commits an offense, he gets arrested and punished. Well, in this case you claim you're the offender who should be arrested and punished. We just have to find an arresting officer, judge and jury."

"Yeah, I sure need to do penance, you're right there. But if this is going where I think it is, you are in no shape to take on the roles of arrester, judge and jury."

"I'll be the judge of that, buddy. Here's how I see it. So far you have been the macho cop throwing his weight around, so I think you should be knocked off the power trip – I believe you need that, am I right?"

"I sure need to make amends to you, buddy, but you're not ..."

"Oh stop it, I'm just fine. Except that, after being knocked around by you and your boy, I need to make sure that all the moving parts are in working order. And there's one sure way to do that. First of all, we need to switch positions. You think you're so big and tough, but what you need, officer, is to be topped."

Bob jumped up off the bed in just his white boxer shorts, and he pushed the uniformed cop down on the bed. Mark gazed up at the near-naked muscle-god with his dark, superman looks. "Now let's see here," Bob said, running his hand over the bulge in his shorts. "Hmm, no permanent damage there it seems. What do you think?"

He dropped his shorts and his cock sprang out hard and proud. "Oh shit," Mark groaned.

"OK," Bob smiled, "I know you're a working cop and you have to get back to your interrupted shift, so we'll skip the details. I happen to know you look great naked but there's no time for that. Let's cut right to the chase, uh? You need to get punished, officer."

Bob reached down to the cop lying on the bed, unbuckled his heavy belt and pulled his uniform pants down just below his ass. He knelt on the bed, grabbed the cop's long shiny boots and pushed his legs up high. "And seeing as how you hurt me, I think a dry fuck is in order. No time for pussyfooting around with lube anyway.

He pressed his cock against Mark's ass and said, "Brace yourself, officer. This is the price you pay for police brutality."

"Aaagh!" The cop gasped as the long, dry cock speared him, pulled back and plunged deep again. Mark groaned, "Yeah, fuck me, man. Fuck me hard, hurt me, I deserve it."

Bob slammed in hard several more times – and then suddenly he was still, his cock buried deep, and he laughed. "You tough guys are something else ... the cop, the construction boss, the Marine. You can all be so primitive with your fights, your rivalries, retaliations and macho posturing. Do you really think I want to hurt you as payback for losing your temper with me?

"I love you, Mark, plain and simple – warts and all. Not that you have any warts," Bob chuckled. "I understand your pain about Jamie and the way you reacted. So why on earth would I make it worse by taking some weird kind of revenge? I don't want to add to your pain, Mark."

"Does that mean you're not gonna fuck me?" Mark asked plaintively.

"Mark, look in the mirror on that wall. You'll see a gorgeous cop in full inform, and a naked man with his cock in the cop's ass. Greek God statues are usually naked, maybe a fig leaf, and I seriously doubt that any Greek God ever wore a cop uniform, but if he did that's exactly what it would look like. And the naked man fucking him bears a passing resemblance to Superman, don't you think?"

"The spitting image," Mark grinned.

"The optics are spectacular, Mark, and I'm damned if I'll let that go to waste. So, sure you're gonna get fucked, officer. You're gonna get fucked good."

And so Bob made love to Mark. He leaned forward, pressed his palms on Mark's black shirt and felt his pecs flex under the rough serge. Mark reached up and ran his hands over Bob's sculpted torso, his shoulders, arms, chest and down the cleft between his pecs to the ridges of his washboard abs, while Bob's cock slid in and out of his ass.

"Man," he groaned, "you are so fucking beautiful, inside and out. I can't believe I hurt you, Bob. I am so sorry."

"Enough of that, Mark. I just want to hear one thing while I'm fucking you – that you love me."

"Of course I do, buddy. I love you ... I love you ..." And Mark kept repeating it as the soft brown eyes smiled down at him and he surrendered his ass to the exquisite feeling of the man's shaft driving inside him."

"You in that uniform," Bob smiled. "First time I ever laid eyes on you you looked like that, the stern cop, and here you are, in your uniform, lying beneath me and I'm fucking your ass. You look so fucking hot and I'm so fucking close.

"So here's your punishment, officer. When you go back on your shift, patrolling the city astride that throbbing bike, heads will turn and look at the gorgeous cop as they always do. But only you will know that your pants are wet with your own jizz, and your ass is full of the semen of the man you love. You ready, officer?"

"Damn, my nuts are bursting, man." Mark stroked the bulge in his pants. "Cum inside me, buddy. I wanna feel your juice in my ass for the rest of the day. God, I love you, man. Here it comes ... fuck ... oh fuck ... yeah ..."

Staring into each other's eyes they climaxed together, Mark blasting cum in his pants and Bob pouring his into the cop's hot ass, the balm of forgiveness between two men in love.

For long minutes they smiled at each other in silence, then Bob said, "Time you got back on the beat, officer."

He pulled out and they got off the bed. As Mark pulled up his pants, zipped up and buckled his belt Bob said, "Just one thing, Mark. As I've said before, Jamie was not at fault here. He was in a lot of pain, and still is emotionally, wondering what you'll do to him. So before you see him tomorrow, speak to Steve first."

"I will, buddy. I'm glad he's with Tommy, a guy his own age. They kinda go well together." Mark hugged Bob tight – "I love you, man" – then smoothed his uniform and checked himself in the mirror before leaving the room.

As Bob heard his motorbike roar to life he sighed. And now, he thought, to break all this to Randy. Better tiptoe through that one. No knowing how he'll react.

So, in the overheated drama of Mark and Jamie, at least the cop had been calmed down, thanks to Bob's diplomacy and sexual persuasion. And meanwhile, the anxieties of the other party in the dispute, Jamie, were being soothed by Tommy at Steve's house.

Lying by the pool on adjoining chaises they had chatted for a while but Tommy knew that his words could have little effect. Talk was Doctor Steve's area of expertise. So instead he diverted Jamie from his troubles by physical distractions, much as Bob had used on Mark. And it was not hard for Tommy to distract.

Tommy had a dual image in the house. The formal image was as the poised house manager, in his casual uniform of tight black pants and gray T-shirt, designed by Steve's lover Lloyd to show off his musculature and especially his flawless ass, a product of his years as an ice-skater. The second image, much less formal, was as Tommy the blond gymnast, with his flawless physique and classically handsome face.

And Tommy now proceeded to transition from the formal to the informal. He stood up and said, "This sun is hot. I gotta jump in the pool, dude." Tommy stretched his arms, cracked his neck, then reached back over his shoulders and pulled off his T-shirt. From his chaise Jamie watched as the shirt pulled free of the pants, cleared the gymnast's razor sharp abs, then the perfect mounds of his pecs.

Stripped to the waist in his tight black pants Tommy stretched again and Jamie grinned, "No doubt about it, dude, when it comes to perfect bodies gymnasts have everyone else beat hands down. So fucking sexy."

Tommy smiled seductively as he kicked off his black loafers, unzipped his pants and pulled them off. In just black briefs he stood at the edge of the pool, his back to Jamie. Quickly he pulled down his briefs, giving Jamie a fleeting glimpse of his ass before he dived into the pool.

When he surfaced he was grinning broadly, water streaming from his long blond hair down his face. "This feels perfect, buddy. Come on in." He rested his arms on the side of the pool and watched Jamie pull off his loose tank and drop his surfer trunks. Tommy looked up admiringly at the naked surfer jock with his muscular body, broad shoulders, long slim waist, and beautiful face, all tanned golden.

Tommy laughed, "What you said about gymnasts may be true, Jamie, but if it is, the blond California surfer is right up there with them ... stunning. Only thing is, I've never known a surfer to be afraid of the water. Scared to get your hair wet, dude?" Tommy reached up, grabbed Jamie's leg and pulled him in the pool with a huge splash.

From then on it was all physical as they grappled, wrestled, pulled each other under the water and resurfaced laughing between deep breaths. There was a natural friendly rivalry between the two athletes, with no holds barred, even crotch grabbing – especially crotch grabbing. But even these lusty young jocks tired eventually and Tommy pulled himself smoothly from the pool and flopped face down on his chaise.

Jamie got out of the pool too, with water flowing over his eyes and clouding his vision. When he wiped his eyes dry he the first thing he saw was Tommy's ass in all its glory. The long muscular back sloped down from broad shoulders, over the flared lats that tapered down to the tight waist. And there, starting at the tan line the white globes began, arching gracefully up in perfect mounds, then sloping under to the tan line at the top of his thighs.

Jamie shook his head. "Jesus, man, I've seen some bubble butts in my time but ... wow. This tribe seems to specialize in great butts but yours is in a class by itself, dude. "

Tommy turned his head sideways and grinned up at him. Jamie realized his own cock was standing out stiff as a poker and he reflexively put his hands over it. "Dude," Tommy chuckled, "you shouldn't be embarrassed by a beautiful schlong like that. You're a hot fucking stud, man."

Tommy grinned. "You know, there's a story about how Darius, with his ten-inch rod, first met Pablo and his bubble butt. Well, you know Darius. Apparently he said, `Kiddo, my dick and your ass, a match made in heaven.' Well I second that sentiment, right now."

Jamie's heart beat faster. "You mean ...? Yeah of course you do ... fucking yeah." Jamie pushed Tommy's legs apart and knelt on the chaise between them. He pressed his palms on the firm white globes and pulled them slightly apart. "Wet cock enough or do you want lube?"

"Man, if you don't fuck my ass right now I'm gonna heave you off me and hammer yours."

"Can't have that," Jamie grinned. "OK, buddy." Jamie launched a cob of spit in the crack of his ass, then braced his hands on the small of Tommy's back and raised up on his feet. Arched over him, his cock pointing straight down at his ass, he said, "Here it comes, dude."

Jamie's hips fell suddenly, his cock plunged in between the ass cheeks and drove down to the fiery depths of the gymnast's ass. "Oh fuck," Tommy gasped. "Yeah, fuck that feels good. Oh man, fuck that ass ... give it to me, dude."

"You got it, stud." Jamie ploughed the ass long and hard, leaving all his troubles behind as he entered a fantasy world where athletes fucked, where a muscular blond California surfer held a beautiful gymnast trapped beneath him and ramrodded his ass.

In his office Steve was writing up his notes on a patient who had just left. He looked up and, through a side window, saw the action by the pool. He watched as Jamie went to town on Tommy's ass and the doc smiled to himself with satisfaction. Evidently his plan to use Tommy to distract Jamie was working out even better than he expected.

By now Jamie had shifted his hands from Tommy's waist and had curled them over his shoulders from behind as he jackhammered his ass. "Man, your ass is fucking beautiful," he yelled, "I wanna better shot at it, dude." He pulled back on Tommy's shoulders making him arch his back and heaved him up until he was on all fours.

Tommy looked back over his shoulder at the young jock, his muscles rippling as he fucked, his tangled blond hair whipping over his tanned, handsome face. "So damn sexy. I wanna look at you, Jamie ... I wanna watch you fuck my ass. You look so fucking hot, man."

In this new position Jamie was able to drive in deeper, so deep that the head off his cock passed over the inner sphincter, making the young athlete howl. "Yeah that's it, dude. Fuck me like that." Jamie teased the inner sphincter with the head of his cock, driving Tommy wild, then pulled all the way back and plunged in deep to tease him again.

All the muscles in Tommy's perfect physique were flexing hard, and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. "Damn that feels ... it's gonna make me cum. Please, Jamie, cum in my ass ... let me feel it ..."

"Ready when you are, stud. Your ass is a fucking furnace. OK, here it comes, dude. You ready?" Jamie pulled all the way back, paused, then gave one last massive thrust and blasted his juice in the deepest chamber of the fiery ass. Tommy bucked, his muscles tensed and he looked over his shoulder at Jamie and yelled, "You sexy mother fucker! Yeaahh!" and his cock erupted all over the chaise beneath him.

There was a stunned silence ... and then they started to laugh, like schoolkids who've just discovered sex for the first time. Jamie fell back on his own chaise and they lay on their sides gazing at each other. "Un-fucking-believable, Jamie. Man you're good."

"Hey listen, dude," Jamie frowned. "How about your lover Danny? Is he gonna be mad?"

"Are you kidding?" Tommy laughed. "He'll jerk off when I tell him about it. And right now he's probably fucking Grady ... that guy can't get enough. And someday soon you, me and Danny will get together, after you and Mark have sorted out ..." Tommy winced and bit his tongue.

Jamie's face clouded over as he came down to earth and said. "I'm scared, Tommy. What do you think Mark will do to me?"

"Sorry, dude, I was stupid to bring that up. But while we're on the subject there is one thing I know. That cop is crazy in love with you, dude, so he's never gonna hurt you. Oh, he'll be pissed for a while ... he is a cop after all ... but Steve knows you're not to blame and Mark will listen to him. Those two go back a long way to when the cop first came to the doc for anger management therapy.

"But enough about that. What say later this afternoon we work out together downstairs in the gym? I could show you a few of my gymnastic moves."

"Only if you let me show you some of my moves," Jamie grinned lasciviously. "And you still want me to sleep with you tonight?"

"Dude, you are gonna be in my bed all night if I have to tie you down to it."

"Hmm, now there's a thought."

Their boisterous laughter reached as far as Steve still working in his office. He looked through the window again and smiled. Just then his lover Lloyd sauntered into the office and said, "Hey, buddy, what's up? You sorted out that whole Jamie rebellion mess yet?

Steve sighed. "Well, let's see where we are in all this? Bob has no doubt made his peace with Mark in the time-honored way, but he still has to explain the whole thing to Randy"

Lloyd grinned, "And that won't exactly be a walk in the park if I know that hot-blooded gypsy brother of yours."

"Anyway," Steve continued, "Jamie seems to be temporarily distracted from his problems by Tommy – just look out the window. But he still can't avoid the confrontation with Mark. I'll explain to Mark that this is not Jamie's fault ... it was an impulsive reaction to workplace stress – burnout, nervous exhaustion. But Mark being Mark ... Jesus, what is it with cops? They're all so rigid – so crime and punishment – and Mark will think he has to punish Jamie in some way."

Lloyd ran his finger though Steve's hair and grinned, "Yeah, but you'll come up with something, buddy, you always do. I bet you've hit on a suitable punishment already."

"Well ..." Steve grinned slyly, "I'm working on it, dude, I'm working on it. See, Mark's default impulse is always to take it out on the boy physically – you know, slap his ass, a real savage fuck, that kinda stuff. But I don't want Jamie to be hurt, he doesn't deserve it. So ..."

"So ...? Lloyd smiled.

"So, I was thinking ... instead of a lot of physical rough-stuff, why not the opposite?"

"I don't get it."

"You ever hear of a dame called Lysistrata?"

"Can't say I have."

"Google it."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Part 394

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

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