A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 417 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 417 – "THE BOSS TAMES THE YOUNG MECHANIC"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy rules! The gypsy construction boss carries his lover Bob over the threshold of their new house and takes ownership of his ass. Then he finds the new motorcycle mechanic Larry about to get high at work. Enraged, Randy ties the naked young jock to the bike and savagely pounds his ass. "You wanna get high? I'll give you the biggest high you ever had, boy." He takes Larry for a spectacular ride where they "fuck the bike".

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

The cop Mark had taken his boy Jamie out to visit their old friend Uncle Mike and his boy Larry in Palm Springs. The visit came just in time to help Larry shake his harmful drug dependency.

Jamie's immediate solution was to subject his pal Larry, a motorcycle mechanic, to tough love in the form of hard core sex – chaining him up and working him over in his own garage workplace. It was what Jamie called exchanging one euphoria for another and it was highly effective in the short-term, waking Larry up to the harm the drugs were doing to himself, his relationship with Mike, and his repair business.

Larry apologized profusely to Mike, saying tearfully "I never stopped loving you, sir." At the same time the young mechanic acknowledged that he still had a long way to go to really kick the habit. Mark and Mike both agreed that the next step was to remove Larry from the triggers that sparked his urges – the places, people and rituals he associated with getting high.

Mark came up with a solution – inviting Mike and Larry to come back with them to the city and spend a couple of weeks with the tribe. "Sounds great, sir," Jamie said, "but I was planning for Larry to find refuge from his drug habit in hard work. Wouldn't it be dangerous for him to have all that idle time on his hands?"

Mark smiled conspiratorially. "He wouldn't. See, I've been speaking to Bob on the phone. He was a bit stressed because that big move they've all been talking about has already started. Bob and Randy will be moving this week into the house they bought next door.

"Next, their old apartment and the whole of the main house's second floor, above us, will be remodeled for Zack and his family – Zack and Darius, Miguel and Finn, Pablo and Tyler too. At the same time Pete and Brandon, Hassan and Eddie will team up to take over Zack's old house across the street, which has already been divided into two separate apartments – a duplex.

"It's a lot of work, which is why Bob's so stressed. Typically Randy is going at it like a bull in a china shop and it's all shoulders to the wheel. Luckily work at the construction site is kinda slow for the next few weeks, so Randy and Zack have pulled their boys off their regular jobs to work on the house. But that means certain maintenance jobs are being neglected. One in particular.

"Seems Randy has been complaining to Bob that the motorbikes the guys use, all need urgent tune-ups. The regular mechanics Pablo and Ben will be too busy. So where to find a mechanic to fill in for a few weeks and work on the bikes? The guy would be working under Randy and that tough son-of-a-bitch don't let any of his crew slack off. He don't allow any time for distractions – except for sex after work and on the lunch hour," Mark grinned.

"Randy himself likes a beer or two but, man, the slightest hint of drug use and he'd go totally apeshit. And if a guy needed to stifle his craving for drugs by getting high on rough sex as Larry did with you, Jamie, Randy would be right there to oblige – and the guy wouldn't forget a manhandling by that savage gypsy in a hurry."

Everyone went for the idea and, after their week in Palm Springs, the foursome set off for L.A. And when they arrived at the tribe's compound, despite all of Bob's prior descriptions, they were not ready for the scene of (barely) controlled chaos that met their eyes.

It was raucous activity everywhere. Trucks were unloading supplies for the three remodeling sites; men and boys were working flat out; Pablo's dog Billy and Tyler's dog Millie, firm friends, caught up in the general excitement, were running round getting under everyone's feet. And in the middle of it all, like a towering gypsy ringmaster, was Randy shouting orders.

Bob came out to meet Mark, Mike and the boys and smiled. "Gives a whole new meaning to that old phrase `excuse our mess,' don't it? Welcome to bedlam, guys. Here comes the boss"

Randy spotted them and broke free of the turmoil. He cut a striking figure with his muscular physique, long black hair, rugged gypsy features, stubbled jaw, and wearing his usual sweaty tank top, filthy jeans and muddy boots. "Good, you're here, we can use all the help we can get."

He shook Mike's hand warmly, gave Mark a sweaty hug, and looked at the boys. "We've been hearing all kinds of crazy stuff about what you two have been getting up to. You can tell us more at dinner tonight. But right now ... hey Eddie, get your ass over here." Young Eddie had been hovering nearby and now came running over, his eyes sparkling.

"Kid, help Larry and Jamie carry all their gear to the guest room in Mark's apartment. Then soon as you can, Jamie, get your ass in the office. Brandon is swamped in there trying to budget out all this stuff and do inventory control. Mike and Mark, go with Bob to our new house next door. He wants to fill you in on everything that's going on.

"And Larry, when you've stowed your gear go find Pablo who'll show you the bikes and you can see what needs doing. Ton of work, but you won't be working for Pablo, he's busy on the construction. You'll report directly to me, like everyone else round here." Then, out of the blue, Randy suddenly flashed that gleaming smile that made men go weak at the knees. "I'm sure glad you're here, guys. Mike, Larry, a real pleasure to see you again."

Then he turned away and yelled, "Hey, careful with that damn pole over there or you'll smash it through the fucking window. It needs two of you." Then to the young gardeners, "Finn, Tyler, I want that hedge between the houses torn down pronto to give us access between them."

He strode away, back into the fray. Bob smiled at Mark and Mike and shrugged, "Told you so." He put his arms round their shoulders and led them next door. Jamie looked at Larry and laughed. "I guess we got our marching orders dude."

********************* CHAPTER 417 ***********************

An excited Eddie helped Jamie and Larry unload their gear from the truck and as they carried it to the house he said, "Dudes, I have sooo much to tell you. You will ... not ... believe ... It has been total crazy time around here.

"Course, Randy's the ringleader – or do I mean ringmaster? Same difference. Anyway, during the slow period at the construction site he's got the guys working on the remodeling here and says we got a two-week window to finish it. He's assigned jobs to all the guys."

"And what's your job, Eddie?" Jamie grinned when Eddie took a rare pause for breath.

"Oh me." Eddie preened with self-importance. "Well I am Randy's lesion."

"Liaison, Eddie."

"Yeah, that's the one, dude – like, his go-between. He chose me as his coordinator between all the guys, cos I'm friends with everyone here. So I run errands back and forth among the guys and if anyone has a beef with Randy or anyone else I sort it out. It's a real important job."

"I'll say," said Larry grinning playfully. "Plus it keeps you in the know on everything that's going on eh? All the little dramas and secrets? Suits you down to the ground."

"Damn straight, dude." Eddie grinned impishly. "Hey you're no slouch at understanding the way things work around here, Larry. You've been talking to Jamie ain't you?"

"But talking no more, Eddie," Jamie said. "Randy has already given Larry and me our assignments. And anyway, shouldn't you be liaising?"

"Damn, yeah. I was supposed to get the latest estimates from Brandon and take them to Randy. I gotta go. I gotta go." He ran to the door and called back over his shoulder, "Welcome to the fun-house, dudes."

Larry laughed, "He's having the time of his life, ain't he?"

"Sure is. It looks like everyone else is too. They love group efforts like this when the whole tribe is working together with Randy calling the shots. I mean, come here to the window and look at that out there. Where in the world would you ever see a sight like that? A bunch of shirtless muscle-hunk construction guys – like a scene from a porn movie. Even Jason and Adam are in on the act, and they're not even involved in the move."

Larry gazed in awe at the group standing on the lawn having a quick meeting – the gypsy boss Randy and his son, the mechanic Pablo; the black hunks Zack and his boy Darius; the Hispanic stud Miguel; the handsome Aussie Adam; and the fireman Jason, straight out of the fireman's calendar. All of them stripped down to jeans and boots, bodies streaked with dirt and sweat.

"OK, dude," Jamie said, "we better get our asses out there too. We'll just dump our gear in here, sort it out later. Mark and I won't be moving out of our apartment that takes up all the ground floor and has two guestrooms." Jamie smiled, "Will you and Mike be needing one room or two?"

"Asshole," Larry grinned. "All we need is one bed and each other."

"I thought so. You better go and check in with Pablo, and I gotta go and help poor Brandon in the office coping with the paperwork for all this on his own."

"Give him my love," said Larry. "He don't know it but his words were a lifesaver for me – that thing he told you that when the going gets rough just look for the love in others. Sure worked for me." They left the house and went their separate ways

On the other side of the compound, through the gap in the hedge that Finn and Tyler had hacked away, things were quieter as Bob showed Mark and Mike over the new house he and Randy had bought.

"I love it," Bob said. "It's so light and airy and it has a garden of its own with big mature trees. But when Finn and Tyler have removed the whole hedge it will be part of the compound, real close to the kitchen, which I like `cos I'll be close enough to keep an eye on the twins. They work too hard and I want them to hire a young assistant."

"Hm, working for those gorgeous twins a kid would think he'd died and gone to heaven," Mike said. "So this will be the new inner sanctum, eh Bob, home of the tribe's founders?"

"Guess you could say that, Mike, but we aren't gonna isolate here. We'll entertain a lot and the house has several guest rooms so next time you and Larry come visit you'll stay with us. And, er ... Bob blushed slightly, we hope that you'll be spending a lot of time here, Mark."

"Try keeping me away, big guy."

Mike said, "I'm just amazed Randy and the guys fixed this place up so fast."

"Well, he always maintained it well for the old couple who lived here – they loved him like a son – so there wasn't much to do except a few modifications and painting. Randy worked hard on it all last week while you were in the desert. Nate, our house manager, supervised the move-in of furniture. There's still boxes to unpack, but as you see it's pretty much habitable already and tonight will be our first night sleeping here. Ah, there's the boss now."

They looked over to the gap in the hedge where Randy was talking to Miguel's boy Finn and Pablo's boy Tyler, the young gardeners for the whole compound. He was apparently talking about the removal of the rest of the hedge and the junior boys looked up to him with wide-eyed attention. "You're doing a great job, kids," Randy said ruffling their hair. "I'm proud of you."

Praise like this from the boss was a big deal and as he left they exchanged beaming smiles. "What a guy," Mike said as Randy approached.

"So, Mike, what do you think of the house I've remodeled for my man here?" It was quite obvious to Mike that Randy was doing all this proudly for the man he loved.

"Terrific," Mike smiled. "A real love nest, and a fitting home for the tribe's two bosses. You guys deserve it after all you've done over the years putting together this big family of yours."

Randy was smiling at Bob with the little-boy glow of a kid who had just given his dad a birthday present he made himself. The look was not lost on Mark and Mike, and Mark said, "OK, Mike, time we went out there and check on what we can do to help this happy band of laborers, eh?"

"Right there with you, officer." Mike grinned at Randy and Bob – "Later, guys" – and they left the couple alone staring at each other."

"So here we are, buddy," Randy said with a hint of shyness. "You know I did all this for you, don't you?"

"For us I hope, Randy. And who would ever have guessed that there would be an `us' all these years after we first met?"

"Huh," Randy scoffed, "I made sure there would be, even if it meant tying you up."

"Which it often did, as I recall."

"Yeah," Randy grinned. "Problem was I didn't understand at first what the fuck was happening to me when you showed up. It was all brand new. All I knew was I didn't want to lose you and the only way to do that was to tie you up in that old motel room."

"The act of a real caveman," Bob grinned. "The irony is that you never did have to tie me down even in that motel. I wanted to stay as much as you wanted me to."

"Yeah but when I untied you next morning and went to work you were gone when I came back."

"I tried to stay away from the crazy gypsy construction worker, but I drove around Hollywood in a daze and found myself back in the motel parking lot. I was devastated to see you come back drunk with that barmaid Sheila and go into the room. So it hadn't meant anything to him, I thought, and I sat there in my car feeling blank, not sure what to do.

"But then Sheila came storming out of your room complaining that you seemed miles away and couldn't even get it up. I waited, then went up to the window and saw through the blinds the big fierce gypsy lying on his back in his boxers staring at the opposite wall. I knocked at the door and you wrenched it open angrily thinking Shelia had come back. When you saw me we didn't speak, but you opened the door, I went in and ..."

"And the rest is history," Randy said. "Do you realize this is the first proper house we've ever had to ourselves? After the motel we got the building here that we turned into separate apartments when the other guys started to show up. But this place, this house, is ours, buddy."

Bob smiled. The gleam in Randy's eye now was no longer the little-boy glow of a kid giving his dad a birthday present. Far from it. This was a look Bob knew well – the roguish look of a construction worker in filthy work pants, muddy boots, and a tank top over his muscular torso. He had been working hard, under pressure, giving orders, and he now needed to let off steam in the way he knew best.

Bob looked at the dark gypsy face with its chiseled features, stubbled jaw and shaggy black hair, mesmerized by the pale blue eyes that always made Bob go weak at the knees. He knew exactly what Randy needed – and what he would claim as his right.

"It's a tradition," Randy said "that when a guy gets a new house, the day he moves in he carries his bride over the threshold. Well god knows you ain't no bride, big guy, but you're not too big to be carried." Randy lowered his head, pushed his shoulder against Bob's stomach and heaved him up over his shoulder like a sack of coal – the caveman version of a fireman's lift.

He kicked open the front door, carried his load through the jumble of furniture in the living room, kicked open the bedroom door and heaved Bob off his shoulder and onto the bed. Bob bounced on his back, regained his breath and smiled up at Randy. "I guess that's the gypsy version of romantic ritual, eh buddy? But I've always wondered, when the happy couple gets inside and the door closes behind them, what happens next?"

"What the hell do you think happens, asshole? They fuck."

"Hmm, dumb question," Bob murmured as Randy stared down at him with a look that could only mean one thing. Bob knew how to turn the horny construction worker on even more than he already was. Lying on the bed he pulled off his white V-neck T-shirt, kicked off his loafers, arched his back and pulled down his jeans.

Randy stared down at the naked dark-haired man with his handsome features, dark brown eyes, and flawlessly muscled body. Normally after a hot sweaty day on the construction site he would have focused on one thing – the gorgeous man he was about to fuck – and he would have thrown himself on him. But now, looking down at his naked lover on the bare mattress of the unmade bed it was different. And the view overwhelmed him.

This was Bob, the man he loved, and the bed was in their new house. It was a new chapter in their lives and suddenly the whole scope of their past and their future opened up for Randy. He blinked, hardly able to believe that this beautiful, kind, alpha-male, loved by everyone, was the man he lived with, the man he loved – worshipped – and the man who loved him. As always when a wave of happiness swept over Randy it brought a stab of fear that it wouldn't last.

Bob was his life – his whole life – and it threw Randy for a loop, the same as it had that first day in the old motel room. The man had few insecurities, but he had always been nervous that Bob might leave him. By now he knew deep down that wouldn't happen, but he still needed reassurance from the gorgeous man lying naked on the bed.

"You do like the house, don't you, buddy? If there's anything you don't like I can change it. I just wanna make you happy. You think you can be happy here?"

"Randy, I love our new house, it's perfect. As for being happy, I could be happy anywhere, even in that shabby motel, as long as you are there with me. Don't you get it? This is us, dude – me, you, this house, our family hard at work outside. This is our life."

"Fuck, man. I've never wanted you as much as I do right this minute." Randy yanked off his tank top, ripped open his work pants and pulled out his huge cock, hard as a hammer. And now he threw himself on top of his lover, kissing him ferociously, licking, biting, pinning him down.

Bob felt the whole weight of the muscular body almost crushing him and inhaled the sweaty, greasy smell of hard labor. This was what Bob lived for, being totally overwhelmed by this extraordinary man.

Finally Randy pulled back and Bob gasped as those hypnotic pale blue eyes pierced his. "You're mine, you sexy mother-fucker," he growled. "And your ass is mine ... it belongs to me." This time Randy didn't even pause to spit on his dick. He knelt between Bob's legs, pushed them up ... and plunged his dry cock in his ass."

"Aaagh!" Bob's head jolted back and his body reflexively jerked upward, his ass impaled on the massive shaft. As always that first searing jolt of pain radiated from his plundered ass throughout his body. It would have been unbearable but for the blue eyes staring down at him, mesmerizing him. The pain became a wave of ecstasy that engulfed him as he fell under the spell and the domination of the wild gypsy.

"Fuck, me, Randy. Please, man, I need you so bad. Yeah, that's it, buddy. Pound my ass ... it belongs to you." While Bob drifted into a parallel world where pain was pleasure and lust became love, Randy too was transformed. The civilized man desperate to please his lover and not lose him now morphed into the feral caveman who dominated his prey with physical force.

His massive shaft pistoned in Bob's ass, pile-driving deeper and deeper, faster and harder. Bob reached up and clamped his hands over Randy's rock hard pecs, clawing at them, digging his fingers into the solid flesh in a futile ritual attempt to push him off. Randy smiled down at him. "No, buddy, you can't get free from me. You can't ever get free. `Cos you're always gonna need this – and you can't get it anywhere else."

The savage gypsy's shaft became a ramrod, pounding the ass of the muscle-god writhing beneath him with increasing force, bringing him to his pain threshold and the edge of orgasm again and again. He would back off and slowly massage his raw ass with his cock, staring into his eyes and sending Bob into a welter of desire. "Do it again, man. Fuck me harder ... I love your cock in my ass. Let me feel it ..."

Randy stared down at his lover's sculpted, square-jawed face and increased the pressure again, but this time when he reached the edge of Bob's pain tolerance and his orgasm he didn't pull back. Instead he teased him, fucking him with short deep stabs that kept him on the knife-edge of frustrated desire and denied climax, driving him wild, begging for release.

As sweat dripped down on him Bob desperately pounded Randy's chest with his fists, which had no effect on the muscular gypsy who grinned, "You know that's not gonna work, dude. Only makes me up the ante. Like this."

He grabbed Bob's wrists, pushed his arms back and pinned them to the bed. Then he leaned down and clamped his mouth over Bob's in an airtight kiss where they shared the same breath back and forth. The tantalizing edge-of-orgasm fuck continued while Bob depended on his lover for the breath of life. He lost touch with reality, drifting in a trance where conscious and subconscious melded into one, totally dominated by the powerful gypsy, totally in his power.

But at last Randy pulled off Bob's mouth and smiled into his eyes. "See what I can do to you, man? That's why you'll always come back for more. You want me to have mercy on you? Let me hear it. I wanna hear you surrender your ass to me. I wanna hear Superman beg for mercy."

Hypnotized by the deep voice and steel blue eyes Bob did as ordered. "Please, sir, I can't take anymore ...I submit ... I gotta cum ... I want it so bad. My ass is yours ... belongs to you. Fill it with your juice. Please, sir, I beg you."

"That's better," Randy growled. "That's how I want my man – I gotta own him. Sure, I'll let you cum, but I don't have to fuck it out of you, dude. We don't need that, not you and me. This is enough ..."

Randy stopped moving, his cock buried deep and motionless in his ass. And he stared down at Bob, their eyes locked, seeing their own reflection in each other. This was the climax, that magical moment where they entered the secret world they alone shared. Reflected in their lover's eyes like infinity mirrors they became one, body and soul, drifting together.

From somewhere far away Bob heard the deep, soft voice say, "Now I'm gonna make you cum, man, while I pour my sperm in your ass. Do it now, buddy. Do it for me."

Even Bob's orgasm was an out of body experience. Seeing only the smiling blue eyes, feeling only the warmth, Bob was aware of his lover's juice flooding his ass and his own cock spurting cum over his own trapped body. With no sense of time or place it was impossible to know how long the orgasm lasted. Forever maybe.

Bob didn't re-enter the real world and regain his senses until he once again felt the weight of his lover on him, felt his arms round him, inhaled the bitter-sweet smell of his sweat and heard his heavy breathing in his ear.

There was a knock at the door. They weren't sure how much time had passed. "Come in," Randy shouted. The door opened and Eddie stood there, his jaw dropping. "Ooh, sorry, sirs, you're busy. I'll come back." But he showed no sign of retreating and Randy grinned, "You spying on us kiddo?"

"Who me, sir?" Eddie protested wide-eyed pointing at his blameless self.

"Just kidding," Randy laughed. "I don't care if you were, Eddie. You should have come earlier. You'd have seen something you could really go blab about to the other boys."

"Me, blab, sir?" I don't gossip. I know you guys say that I talk a lot, which may be true once in a while. `Course, I see a lot in my rounds cleaning guys' bedrooms, like that time that I ... well never mind about that. But I never breathe a word to the other guys, no sir. I am – what do they say? – the very soul of derision, sir."

"Discretion, Eddie," Bob smiled, holding back laughter. But what was it you came to tell us?"

"Oh, yeah ... that, sir. Well, you know my job is the lesion ... liaison, sirs, so the twins asked me to come and tell you that they've set up a buffet lunch in the garden. It's yuge, sirs, so all the guys can nibble when they feel like it. Oh, and by the way, sir, someone put a pole through a window – smashed it real good."

"Shit damn, I knew that would fucking happen – I warned them." Randy sprang off the bed, shoved his cock back in his pants and buttoned them up. He flung his tank top over his shoulder and strode toward the door with a thunderous look on his face. .

"Er, so that was just a slam-bam-thank-you-man, eh?" Bob grinned.

Randy turned and the thunder on his face turned to sunshine. "I ain't finished with you yet, asshole. Tonight we're gonna sleep in this house for the first time and I want it to be a night to remember. Maybe time for you to get your own back, eh? Eddie, go tell everyone to break for lunch and get some food. After that I want you and Nate, if he's got time, to help Bob arrange the furniture in here."

"You want us to make up the bed you guys are gonna share tonight, sirs? It'll be an honor."

Randy left and went back to the main house to inspect the damage. "Fucking mess," he growled but that was his only reprimand. He still felt Bob's glow, he knew the guys were working flat out and anyway, stuff like this happened all the time in construction. He headed for the office.

When Jamie had got home earlier and walked into the office Brandon looked up from his computer with a huge smile and opened his arms. "You're home, dude! Cavalry to the rescue."

Jamie bent down to his wheelchair and gave him a tight hug. "Do you need rescuing, buddy?"

"Well, I do have a feeling I'm going down for the third time." He grinned at the eye-level bulge in Jamie's board shorts. "Not that kind of going down, stud. I mean going down as in drowning."

Jamie pulled up a chair and Brandon said, "I got the budgets mostly squared away but I've still gotta log the invoices and do the inventory."

"OK, kiddo, let's get down to it. Trouble with a project like this, once you're in the weeds it's hard to get out of them."

They worked as a team for quite a while and when Randy finally came in to the office (post housewarming) they had their heads down over their computers. "Hey, guys, how's it goin'?"

"We're getting there, sir," Brandon smiled. "Keeping our heads above water."

"I appreciate the work you're doing here, guys. I don't get in here to tell you that often enough. Brandon could you call the warehouse and tell them to bring over a four-foot square pane of tempered glass? Some clown out there put a rod through the window. And when you've done that I want you guys to take a lunch break. The twins have set up acres of food out there." As he left Randy ruffled Brandon's hair affectionately, which he always did whenever he saw him.

Outside on the lawn the men and boys were massing round the buffet table taking a breather, then splitting into informal groups with heaping plates of food. When Randy came out from the office he saw the twins bringing out yet more food and called out, "Hey, thanks a million you guys. Whatever happens around here we sure ain't gonna starve."

Kyle grinned, "Well you know what they say about the military and construction crews, sir – an army marches on its stomach." Kevin added, "Bon appétit, sir."

The men sat round a table together and took the opportunity to plan what came next. Bob came out and joined them and the glances exchanged between him and Randy left little doubt among the others what they had been up to. "So how did the christening go, fellas?" Zack grinned.

"Well let's just say it wasn't your average baptism, Zack," Randy said. "Whatever sounds you heard it sure wasn't a kid crying. OK, guys, now let's take stock. Our new house is pretty much done. Just a question of arranging stuff inside and I've asked Nate and Eddie to take care of that. How about upstairs Zack?

"We got a ways to go yet, buddy – Darius, Pablo, Miguel and me – but the heavy lifting is done and it's mostly paint and refinishing now, so us four can handle the rest. My old place across the street is pretty well done too, don't you think? We had already divided it into a duplex for two couples so it should be perfect for Pete and Brandon, Hassan and Eddie."

Bob expressed some misgivings about Hassan, wondering if he would be able to adjust to life so close to the noisy clamor of the tribe after his quiet life in the hills.

"Yeah, well, that's up to him to work out," Randy said impatiently. "We still got work to do on their house. I want the place to be totally wheelchair accessible. It's already got ramps in most places and it's a piece of cake to add the rest. But yesterday I noticed two doors that are not wide enough. The kid won't be able to get through them, so we gotta widen them. It's not hard to do and I'd like your help with that Adam, Jason and your boy Ben." They readily agreed.

"There's one other thing. I don't want Brandon to be told what we're doing for him. The kid's real independent and he mustn't feel he's giving us extra work because he's in a wheelchair. He hates to be reminded of that and I don't want him hurt, so let's low-key it, OK guys?"

The men exchanged looks, all thinking the same thing. Randy never ceased to surprise them. Most of the time he was the big tough gypsy boss, throwing around obscenity-laced orders, pushing guys to their limit. But when it came to the boys, especially Brandon – for whom he had a special affection and admiration for his courage and independent spirt – Randy was as generous and loving as a man could be for a handicapped kid.

"Also, I want you guys to be careful not to trample the garden more than necessary. Those young kids, Finn and Tyler, have worked hard on it so far and now they're hacking away at that hedge between the buildings, tearing it down so this will be one big property. I want them to know how much we respect the work they're doing.

"Mike, old buddy, Pablo tells me he's already met with your boy Larry and talked about what the bikes need. He's out back in the garages working on them now, so I'll check in on him later. Right now I want a fucking beer."

As Randy had said, Pablo had put Larry to work almost as soon as he and Mike had arrived that morning from Palm Springs.

Of course, like everyone else, Pablo had heard via the grapevine every detail of the events in Palm Springs – Larry's problems with crystal meth, Mike's despair and Mark's anger at Larry for attacking his boy Jamie in a drug-fueled rage.

But Jamie had taken his old pal Larry under his wing and his immediate remedy was to distract him with work, cleaning up his motorbike repair shop where Jamie had replaced Larry's drug high with a different high – raw hard-core sex. And it had worked, at least for now.

But Larry, Mike and everyone else knew that there was still a long way to go in Larry's recovery, which began with removing him from the triggers that enticed him to get loaded. Hence these two weeks in town with Mike and the guys, where he would use his mechanic's skills working on the tribe's many motorcycles.

Pablo, like all the boys, was sympathetic to Larry's problems. The boys were famous for circling the wagons when any one of them was hurt or damaged, so Pablo expressed his enthusiasm for Larry as he took him to the garage in back where the motorbikes were stored.

"It's a godsend having you here, dude. With all the construction going on right now here I sure don't have time to work on these bikes like I usually do. But they are kind of an obsession for Randy. After Bob, his Harley is the thing Randy loves most. When he's been working hard he lets off steam by fucking Bob then taking off on his bike for a fast run in the hills.

"But his bike always has to be running perfectly, which is why I would like you to work on Randy's Harley first. Most guys wouldn't notice there was anything wrong with it, but Randy does. You'll probably find the timing is off by a bit. Check the chain tension, the cables, plugs – you know the kind of thing. You'll know any problem when you see it, guy with your experience. You'll find all the tools here you'll ever need. I gotta get back to work, so I'll leave you to it, dude. Holler if you need anything, OK?"

After all the hubbub of their arrival in the middle of the noisy construction Larry suddenly found himself alone in the quiet garage behind the house. It was really the first time he had spent time alone since Jamie and Mark visited them, and the silence felt peaceful but ... kind of weird.

And when he looked down at Randy's gleaming Harley it made him nervous. He didn't doubt his own mechanical skills – god knows he had worked on enough bikes in his time – but this was Randy's machine, the thing he loved second only to Bob as Pablo had said.

Still, he threw his leg over it, got the feel of the saddle and kick-started it. He listened and heard something that didn't sound quite right. He switched the engine off and got down beside the bike on kneepads. Yeah, it would take a while but he could fix it.

He concentrated on his task and worked for some time, but after a while the silence got to him and he became more nervous about working on the powerful machine, Randy's pride and joy. He started to lose focus and became distracted, thinking about what Pablo had said to him. Pablo and the other guys had been kind to him – but were they being overly kind, faking it because they knew of his problem?

His familiar old paranoia kicked in, one of the aftereffects of meth use. He could imagine the guys talking about him right now, being all superior talking about the drugger in their midst and how they should all be nice to him. Stop this, he told himself, he had to get a grip. But his concentration was shot and when he dropped a spanner on the floor the clang startled him.

He was jumpy and his hand was shaking. This is just the way he had felt so often working in his garage back home. And that was always when he reached for the remedy. God, he wished he could do a bump now. But his stash was long gone and he ... wait ... wait a minute. Like most users Larry kept a small emergency stash hidden away for just such a moment as this.

He frowned, thought hard ... and yes, that's where it was. He had forgotten about a small backpack he had brought from home and left in Mark's truck that they came in. It was parked right outside the garage. He walked outside thinking `just one bump would do it'. That couldn't do any harm – just enough to help him concentrate on Randy's bike. Meth sharpened his focus and he always worked better that way.

He fished around in Mark's truck and felt his backpack. He took it into the garage, unzipped a hidden pocket inside and ... yeah, there it was. He felt better already – just one quick bump. He pulled out a small, two-inch-square plastic baggie and ... he needed a surface to cut it? He looked at the big shiny expanse of the gas tank on the Harley. Ah, the perfect place.

He sat astride the bike, the gas tank just in front of him, and poured a generous helping of crystal on it. There was a razor blade in his bag that he always used to chop it, which he did now. He divided the power carefully in two lines, took a dollar bill out of his wallet and rolled it into a tube. As he lowered his head he saw his own face reflected in the shiny black gas tank, getting larger and larger as he bent closer to the lines. Just one bump ... that's all he needed.

Then suddenly ..."What the fuck?!!

Larry jerked his head up in time to see the ferocious look on the gypsy's face, his eyes blazing. "What the fuck is this, boy?" Randy stared down in disbelief at the two lines of powder on the gas tank of his precious bike. He swept his hand over it and the powder and razor blade flew across the room.

"You asshole ... you shit for brains mother-fucker!" he roared. "Bringing this fucking shit into my house! I can't fucking believe it. You're in here getting loaded while that beautiful man of yours is out there telling me how happy he is you're back together. That man is a friend of mine, you son-of-a-bitch, a good friend, and anyone insults him insults me. Fuck you, boy. Fuck you!"

Terrified, his heart beating wildly Larry looked up at the towering gypsy, fierce as a raging stallion. He felt himself being shoved forward over the gas tank then his legs being pulled back so his ass was hanging over the back of the saddle. He felt his jeans being ripped open and pulled down clear of his ass, held his breath and ... Aaagh!!"

He almost passed out as his ass erupted in pain, impaled on Randy's massive dry shaft piercing him down to the gut. Desperately he reached forward and clawed at the handlebars, as strong hands pressed into the small of his back pinning him to the bike, his face pressed against the shiny gas tank where only moments before he had chopped the powder – just one bump.

"Aaagh!!" He screamed again as the weapon plunged in again, then again. Randy's savage fucks were legendary but he never lost control – or rarely. This time was different. All he could think of was Mike, that kind, generous man who was reaching for happiness with this boy, this fucking asswipe who was betraying him. Mike was like a father to Randy, the father he had never known, and now his anger was out of control.

"I'm gonna rip you open, boy, I'm gonna make you wish you'd never seen that fucking stuff, let alone used it my house – in my house!" Terrified, racked with pain radiating from his ass, Larry sobbed as he gripped the handlebars hard and tensed to withstand the ferocious attack, pinned down on the bike by the brutal construction boss pile-driving his ass with his massive rod.

It was a savage fuck and Larry was close to passing out, willing the pain to stop. But the young mechanic's screams had no effect on Randy and he could have done permanent damage to his ass as he reamed his ass.

But the image of Uncle Mike was still before him, smiling and talking about the boy he loved ... the boy he loved ... In the depths of his anger something in Randy knew he could not hurt the older man by ruining his boy. Still raging he yanked his cock brutally out of the boy's ass, making his scream even louder.

"Fuck you, boy ... fuck you," he kept yelling as he stormed round the garage picking up lengths of rope from the floor and staring down at the shuddering body stretched out on the bike. He grabbed him and flipped him over on his back, ass on the saddle, his back on the gas tank. He pulled the jock's arms up and expertly tied his wrists to the grips on the handlebar.

His head resting on the front of the gas tank the petrified young mechanic stared up at Randy pacing the room, his muscles flexing under the lights in the garage roof. Randy pulled off his tank top and flung it aside as the boy begged, "Please, sir ... please ...I."

"Not a word! Don't you say a fucking word, asshole or I'll ..." Randy still held a length of rope that he lashed across his chest. "I am this close to injuring you, boy, so keep your fucking mouth shut." He grabbed Larry's T-shirt and ripped it clear off. Then he pulled off his boots and hurled them across the garage. He pulled his jeans down, tossed them aside too and glared with satisfaction at the muscular mechanic now tied down naked to the Harley, at his mercy.

Larry had never in his life felt so helpless as he stared up at the swarthy giant, his muscles flexed, stubbled jaw clenched, his laser blue eyes piercing him. He wanted to beg for mercy but had been forbidden to speak. He winced and tensed as Randy lashed his chest and his abs with the rope. "Fuck you, boy – only one thing assholes like you understand."

Not again, Larry thought, terrified of that gypsy's rod piercing him again. Desperately he yanked at his wrists roped to the handlebars and tried to twist off the bike, but Randy had already raised his legs and pressed his back down on the gas tank. Larry moaned, then howled as the cock plunged in deep again. As the shaft pistoned inside him he closed his eyes, trying to withstand the pain ... but in his daze it hurt slightly less than before.

Randy was a complex man and his mind was crowded with conflicting thoughts. First the fury that this young idiot was actually using drugs in his house, then the thought of the anguish he would see on his old friend Mike's face when he learned that his boy was using again.

But Randy was always protective of the tribe's boys and as he looked down at this terrified boy those old instincts kicked in and he saw a troubled young man fighting demons. He recalled Mark's account of how Jamie had forgiven Larry and focused all his energy on helping his old buddy. He thought of Brandon, the kid who had fought his own handicaps with courage and determination. His problems were physical and this boy's were psychological, but no less real.

None of these thoughts came into sharp focus for Randy, but they tumbled around in his subconscious mind until his raw caveman savagery gave way to some kind of restraint, or at least thoughts of mere reprisal. Whatever, he had to punish this kid, make him see that he was the boss, never to be defied. And there was one way to show the boy that – the quality he had that made him the dominant force and unquestioned leader of the tribe.

And so he fucked – as only Randy could. The ferocious jackhammering slowed to a steady, driving penetration of the boy's ass, repeatedly pulling back, then pushing in deep, massaging the sensitive inner sphincter, pulling back and driving in again. Fucking was second nature to the feral gypsy – it was what he used to dominate rivals, exact revenge on enemies, punish wrongdoers, ... and make men fall in lust with him – and then in love. Either way, his domination was total and a man would never forget being fucked in the ass by the King of the Gypsies.

And that's the transition Larry was going through now as he opened his eyes and stared at the rugged construction boss bending over him, pinning him to the Harley and pounding his ass. Randy had ravaged his ass, tenderized it, but raw as it was, the feeling of the huge dick pushing inside him had become almost exhilarating. The pain had lessened, or at least was ignored, replaced by an ecstasy, a euphoria as he stared up at the muscular body driving into him, at the fierce, swarthy face, square stubbled jaw and long black hair swirling round his head.

But most of all it was the eyes, those pale blue eyes piercing him like lasers. And then the voice, the deep hypnotic voice. "Look at me boy and feel my dick in your ass. I could rip you wide open but there is a fine man out there who loves you so I'm doing this for him. I know you love him too, even though you behave like a total asshole, but I will be watching you and the slightest sign that you do anything to hurt that guy I will personally destroy you. Is that clear?!"

"Yes, sir," Larry sobbed.

"Think of me as the master you obey at all times. You will love and honor Mike, and you will never go near drugs again. Or you'll answer to me. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir. I promise, sir."

"Right. But you gotta prove it. You've gotta surrender to me, and you know how to do that."

Randy leaned forward and pressed his palms on Larry's chest, pushing his back hard on the gas tank, his raised ass even more vulnerable to the merciless cock driving relentlessly inside him. "Look at me, boy. You know what you have to do."

Larry gazed up at the hypnotic blue eyes set in the dark, macho face ... and he was lost, as so many men had been lost before him, drawn inexorably into the force field of the gypsy's sexual magnetism. It wasn't just fear that made Larry submit to him. It was awe ... and desire. The feeling of being completely in his power thrilled him.

This incredible man had dominated him, tied him down to his motorcycle, had whipped him and fucked him – was still fucking him. He could feel the piston in his ass, feel his sweat dripping down on him. And he could see those eyes, couldn't look away. His body was on fire ... he shuddered, tensed ...his cock reared up and ... "Aaagh".

He blasted jets of semen onto his chest and all the way to his face. Cumming again and again his climax seemed endless, as if the massive cock was pushing his juice out of him. He yelled and spurted more when the jolt of pain came as the long shaft suddenly pulled out of his ass.

Randy threw his leg over the bike and stood straddling him like a colossus, pounding his cock in his fist until Larry saw the muscles flex and heard the triumphant roar as a flood of semen slammed in his face, in his mouth, over his neck and chest until he felt he was drowning in the gypsy's sperm. He sobbed with relief that his torment was over, and with the joy of total surrender to this spectacular man as he gulped down his bitter-sweet sperm.

His breath heaving, dripping sweat, the shirtless construction boss said, "Now you know kid. You do not mess with me or my friends or I will destroy your ass." He swung his leg back off the bike and untied his wrists. He picked the defeated young jock up bodily and threw him naked across the saddle face down, head and arms hanging down one side, bare ass over the other.

Randy growled, "Just so you'll remember this day, punk ..." He lashed the rope across the ass half a dozen times making Larry howl. Then he tossed it away, walked round the other side of the bike, grabbed Larry's hair, pulled his head up and stared down at the tearful face.

"Now here's what's gonna happen, kid. I'm gonna go and tell Mike I fucked your ass. I won't tell him why, I'll leave that to you. And you're gonna get back to work on this bike. I know you're hurting and your ass is real sore, but that's a good thing. I want you to feel it. And I wanna find the bike in perfect condition when I come back to check on you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Randy let the head drop, then picked up the small plastic bag that had fallen on the floor. He walked over to the sink in the corner, emptied the remaining contents of powder in the sink and turned the tap on full. "And that's the end of that story," he growled.

In the garden Eddie had been hovering, dying to know what was happening in the garage. His eyes opened wide as he saw the boss come striding round the corner, shirtless, his eyes gleaming as they always did when he had fucked. "Where's Mike?"

"He's in the office with Bob and the boys, sir."

"Right." He jabbed a finger at Eddie. "Now listen up, kid. I want that boy in the garage left alone. So don't even think of going round there, get it?"

"No, sir. I mean yes, sir." It took every ounce of self-control for Eddie to do as ordered.

When Randy burst into the office Mike, Bob, Jamie and Brandon all looked up startled. "Mike," Randy said, "I just got through butt-fucking your boy. I won't say why, I'll leave that to him. I'll just say that he deserved it, and you'll agree."

A look of anger crossed Mike's face and he started to stand up but Bob pulled him down and said gently, "Is Larry OK, Randy?"

"Sure he is – his ass is real sore is all. He's working on my Harley and I want him to finish it `cos I'm gonna take it for a run. Best that he's left alone to do it. Mike, just so you know, you'll have no more trouble with any of that shit that's been going on recently, I guarantee it. That's all been flushed away, in more ways than one."

Randy left as abruptly as he came in and they heard him shout, "OK, guys, I want that window replaced as soon as the glass gets here. Adam, Jason, Ben, I'm gonna go check on Finn and Tyler, then let's make a start across the street, OK?"

"In the office Mike shook his head. "The man is fucking amazing."

Bob gripped his arm tight. "Don't worry Mike, Randy always does what has to be done. If he says Larry's OK I'm sure he is. He would never really injure a boy of yours."

Mike managed a grin. "I believe you, buddy. I would trust that man with my life – my boy's life too. OK, let's get back to these fucking figures here."

When Randy had left the garage Larry lay across the bike for a few minutes catching his breath. He slowly, painfully, pulled himself up and stood up unsteadily, his ass aching. He pulled on his jeans and boots and, as he bent down, saw Randy's old tank top he had tossed on the floor. He picked it up, used it to wipe Randy's cum off his face and body, then held it to his face, bit into it and inhaled the pungent smell and taste of man-sweat and semen. His cock stirred in his jeans.

He stuffed the tank in his back pocket, got down on his kneepads and looked at the bike. Earlier his focus had wavered and he had sought refuge in meth. Now he shuddered at the thought of that and found that Randy had made his focus sharper than ever. He wanted to please the man more than anything, which meant getting the bike just right.

He knew just what needed doing and got to work. Even the stiff boner he had in his jeans didn't distract him from the work, although he did wonder what was going on. That fuck had been ... rough, agonizing ... wonderful, exhilarating. He recalled the image of the handsome gypsy towering over him, fucking him, jerking off all over him. Was he in lust, in love with Randy?

His eagerness to please the man made him work fast and accurately until he leaned back on his haunches and looked at the machine with pride. He had done it. But when a few minutes later he heard Randy's unmistakable footsteps approaching he got nervous. Would the boss be satisfied, would he be pleased? Would he be angry again if Larry had fucked up?

He would soon know. "All done, boy?" Randy asked.

"I ... I think so, sir."

Randy slung his leg over the saddle and kick-started the engine. As it roared into life he frowned, cocked his head and listened. Then a gleaming smile spread over his swarthy face as he said, "Pitch perfect. Now that is music to my ears, kid. Purring away like a satisfied cat. Oh yeah, I gotta take this baby on the road."

He rode the bike slowly across the garage where the helmets were stored, and put one on. Then he flashed a grin at Larry. "You done, great, kid." He picked up another helmet and flung it at Larry. "Here, put it on, boy, and hop on. You wanna get high? I'll give you the biggest high you ever had."

After an instant of surprised hesitation Larry did as ordered and climbed on the seat behind him. Randy reached back grabbed Larry's wrists and pulled them round his stomach. "Hold on to me tight, boy. This ain't gonna be no stroll in the park."

They roared out of the garage and across the parking lot under the amazed eyes of the other men and boys. In seconds they were racing up the hill and in minutes had reached Mulholland Drive the spectacular road that runs along the spine of the Santa Monica Mountains which divide the city proper from the San Fernando Valley.

There was not much traffic (most through traffic took one of the freeways) so Randy made the most of it, swooping through the many bends and turns, speeding along with the city sprawled out far below on their left and the Valley and San Gabriel Mountains to the right.

The two shirtless men on a Harley were quite a sight and made motorists look up in awe as they sped by. Larry's heart was pounding, his arms wrapped around Randy, hands clasped tight round the ridges of his washboard abs as he rested his cheek against his bare back.

As he gained in confidence and trust he became aware of the scenic view, the speed, the road racing beneath them, wind streaming over his face and body ... and most of all of the shirtless gypsy, his muscles rippling under Larry's tight grasp. As they went round bends and leaned into the curve, one side then the other, they were like one body joined together. Randy turned his head and yelled over his shoulder, "You OK, kid? You feel that fucking machine between your legs – like we're fucking it."

Randy's exhilaration was contagious and Larry felt euphoric. He was sharing his euphoria with the man who not long ago had been pounding his ass. And now he was here on the top of the world, the city far below them, flying along, his hands wrapped round the boss's bare waist. And as he clung to his naked flesh, pressing hard against his back, Larry's cock was rock hard.

As they sped for mile after mile, his cock rubbed against the bare back and started to shudder. "Sir," he shouted in Randy's ear, "I think I'm gonna ..."

"You wanna bust a load, boy? Me too. Help me out here ..."

Hardly able to believe what was happening Larry clung on tight with one hand while the other moved down to the bulge in Randy's work pants. He pulled them open, groped inside and pulled out his thick rod, hard as steel. "I'm gonna open her up, kiddo," Randy shouted, opening the throttle to top speed, "so let's do it, boy. This is what it's all about, kid."

Grabbing Randy with one hand Larry leaned his cheek against his back while his other hand reached round and pounded the boss's cock. With the exhilaration of speed, the wind on their bare flesh, their bodies grinding together, it didn't take long.

With his hand wrapped round the shaft that had so recently been in his ass Larry pumped harder, faster until he heard Randy yell, "Yeah, that's it boy. Like I said, biggest high you ever had. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna bust a load. Fuck yeah ... Aaaagh!" His howl of joy was carried away on the rushing wind as his cock exploded first all over the gleaming black gas tank, then flying up onto his own chest and abs.

When the cock was drained Larry released it and ran his hand all over the hard muscles of his semen-soaked chest and abs. "I'm gonna cream my pants," he shouted. "I love you, sir. I'm gonna shoot ... yeaaah!" He had to cling to Randy now with both hands as his cock pumped jizz in his jeans and he yelled in his ear, "I did it, sir. I did it."

"Good boy ... I knew you would. You're one of us, kiddo."

Half an hour later they roared through the gate of the compound to the astonished looks of the tribe. Randy's cock was still hanging out of his pants and as he got off he shoved it back in and buttoned up. When Larry got off the bike everyone could see the big wet patch at his crotch.

Randy put his hands on Larry's shoulders and looked at him with a penetrating gaze. "OK, boy, what's past is in the past, and I mean buried deep in the past. You made your mistakes but you're a good boy or Mike wouldn't love you so much. Now go make your peace with your man."

Larry hugged Randy, "Thank you, sir. I love you, sir." He kissed him, then broke away and ran to Mike. "Sir, I've got so much to tell you. First of all I let you down, sir, and was gonna get high again but Randy showed up and ..."

"Hey, hey, it's OK, Larry. I guessed that's why Randy did what he did, and I'm also sure that Randy pretty much settled the issue once and for all. He doesn't take boys for a ride that he doesn't approve of. And by the looks of things that was a pretty wild ride, eh?"

Larry blushed. "Yeah, it was pretty extreme, sir." He frowned, "Sir, do you think it's possible for someone to be in love with two guys at the same time?"

Mike smiled. "It depends on the guys. Er, if you're referring to Randy, I'd say yes, definitely. In fact most of the guys in this tribe are in love with Randy, though some wouldn't admit it."

"So I can still be your boy, sir, and love you like I always did?"

"I'd be upset if you didn't, kiddo. Come on, let's take a break and you tell me all about your big adventure with the King of the Gypsies."

As so often happened in this tribe of volatile men, while one problem was winding down another one was cranking up. Across the street was the house that Zack and his family were vacating. It had been bought jointly by the Marine Hassan and the forest ranger Pete, who would be moving into it with their boys Eddie and Brandon.

But Bob had earlier expressed to the men a nagging worry he had. "The only guy I'm a bit concerned about is Hassan. I mean, he's a real stoic Marine, has always kept himself to himself. That's why he's been hiding away in Steve's little guest house in the hills all these years. I think he agreed to the move mostly for Eddie's sake. I hope he won't have a problem adjusting to a life close to Pete and Brandon, right across the street from the rest of the tribe."

As it turned out, Bob's fears were prescient. Hassan had been out all day and when he got home he came down from his little house to check out his new home. Bob had been right that it had been mostly for his boy Eddie's sake that Hassan had agreed to leave his refuge in the hills and come down to `join the land of the living,' as Pete had said playfully.

It was unfortunate that when Hassan left his quiet, bucolic hideaway and arrived at the new house he had found a scene of noisy remodeling activity. The contrast between this, surrounded by a noisy group, and the peaceful solitude he had just left, hit him square in the eyes.

Hassan had had a stressful day at the base among raucous Marines and had looked forward to kicking back alone in his little house in the hills. So in that tense frame of mind this circus was exactly what he wanted to get away from. And was this what his life was to be from now on?

At the center of the activity were Eddie and Brandon, best friends from way back, excited at the prospect of living so close together. "Hi, sir," Eddie called out. "Looking great ain't it? Great party place ... were gonna have a whole lot of fun here together."

Talkative Eddie was known for putting his foot in his mouth, but this one was a doozy. In one short sentence he had succeeded in pressing all Hassan's buttons and describing exactly the kind of future he didn't want. It didn't help that as he turned to leave he literally fell over Brandon in his wheelchair and sprawled on the floor.

Hassan lost his cool. He had always liked Brandon but now, as he picked himself up, that affection went out the window. "Dammit, boy, can't you look where you're going with that damn thing? This ain't gonna work. I can't live like this with all this noise, plus a boy in a wheelchair."

Brandon winced at the mention of his chair but kept calm. "Sir it won't always be like this. This is a duplex so we'll be living separate lives, you and Eddie in one half, Pete and me in the other." Hassan glared at him, as if one of his young Marine recruits had talked back to him.

"Fuck you, boy. I don't want some kid dictating to me about the way I'm gonna live my life. I'm a fucking Marine captain and I call the shots. And I say this ain't gonna work. You claim to be so damned independent but there's no getting around the fact that you're handicapped, you're confined to a wheelchair and you get in people's way. No, this ain't gonna work. Either the wheelchair goes or I go. I'm getting the fuck out of here."

As he stormed out he brushed past Pete who had just got home and had heard what he said. Hassan jumped in his jeep and sped away. Pete's angry instinct was to follow him, but he had to look after his boy first.

Brandon had burst into tears. Eddie, stunned, quickly but his arm round his friend. "Dude, he didn't mean that. He gets like that sometimes after a rough day on the base. But he'll come round, you'll see."

"But you heard what he said, Eddie. He looked down on me for being in a wheelchair and said he can't live with a handicapped boy. You heard, either the wheelchair goes or he goes. It's all fucked up Eddie and it's all my fault for being handicapped, so fucking different. The tears started flowing again ... and that's when Pete walked in.

"I heard all that, kid. Did Hassan injure you?"

Brandon quickly blinked back his tears. "No, I'm fine sir. "I ... I think he was just mad cause he backed over me in my chair and fell on the floor. Like Eddie said, maybe he didn't mean it, sir."

"The hell with that," Pete shouted. "No one speaks to my boy like that. Fuck him. He's damn right about one thing. This ain't gonna work."

At that moment Bob came in, having heard the shouting. But before he could speak Pete growled, "This ain't gonna work, Bob, the deal's off. Take care of my boy – I've got a score to settle with that fucking soldier." He spun round and stormed out.

Bob looked at Brandon and Eddie and sighed. "Oh dear, here we go again."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 418

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 own Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, with extras including pictures and biographies of all the characters.

AND DON'T FORGET – IF YOU ENJOY THESE STORIES, PLEASE DONATE to the Nifty site. Nifty needs your donations to provide these thousands of wonderful stories. So please, back-arrow to the NIFTY home page and click on "DONATE" at the top. Please give what you can - the other authors and I thank you. ... Rob