A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 77 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER

Zack breaks in Darius ... "Now you know what it takes to be my boy." Then Zack and Mark have a guys' night out together. The cop and the black stud, two macho jocks on the town in Vegas. Boxing ...drinking ...girls ... the works. But later their male testosterone provokes the guys to a macho challenge. "Your ass is mine, buddy. Submit." "Fuck you, asshole. It's your ass gonna get ploughed."

As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions. They can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 77

Darius had been over the moon when Zack asked if he would help him on the remodeling of the new house he had just purchased. The boy worshipped the gorgeous black muscle-god and considered it a privilege to work for him. But more than that, he privately wondered if it could possibly lead to a deeper relationship. Darius would have given anything to be Zack's boy.

But then, in a moment of carelessness, Darius had caused a near-fatal accident that trapped Zack under a huge metal beam. In an extraordinary feat of adrenaline-fueled strength Darius had managed to heave the massive beam up a few inches, enough to allow Zack to roll free seconds before the beam crashed to the ground.

Darius was devastated that his negligence had almost killed the man he worshiped and he was sure that their friendship was over. When Zack got to his feet the boy buried his tearstained face in his chest. "Sir, I nearly killed you. I failed you. I'm a total fuck-up. I don't deserve to be here, sir. I know you're gonna send me away ... that's what I deserve."

"Darius!" The commanding voice silenced him. "Darius ... you were magnificent. I've never seen a man raise a beam like that single-handed. You saved my life, bro."

"But it was me caused it in the first place. I disobeyed. I let go of the beam, I screwed up. I let you down, sir, and I'm not worthy of you. You're so ... you're such a spectacular man, sir. You deserve someone better than me, a real man ... not a total fuck-up like me."

"Darius!" Again the powerful voice. Zack clamped his hands on the side of Darius's face, held it tight and gazed into the tearful green eyes. "Darius ... do you want to be my boy?"

Darius went blank. "What?"

"I said, do you want to be my boy?"

Darius stammered in disbelief. "What? ...after I fucked up so bad? I was an asshole. I almost killed you, sir. You nearly died. I'm not ... I mean ...you know I don't deserve to..."

"Darius!" The grey eyes bored into him. "I'll ask you one last time... do you want to be my boy?"

There was a long silence ... and now the brimming tears began to flow down the boy's cheeks. Zack pulled his face toward him, lowered his mouth and kissed Darius hard, crushing his lips, their tongues rubbing together as they probed each other's mouth.

At last Zack pulled back, smiled into the dazed green eyes ... and began to laugh. His laughter built and became infectious, so Darius, in a mix of wonder and euphoria, found himself laughing too. They were venting their sudden release of tension, a calamity averted, and their joyous realization that they were, at last, master and boy.

Best of all, as they hugged each other in their newfound intimacy, their peals of laughter brought sudden life to the forlorn and empty house. Zack was home ... and Darius was his boy.

Darius had no idea how to express his wild excitement. As he clung on to his new master he saw a bead of sweat running down the deep cleft between the stud's hard pecs and he licked it from his gleaming black skin. The salty taste roused him to a new pitch of excitement and he ran his tongue all over the muscular chest and down over the chiseled abs. Zack pulled the boy's face up and gazed at the shining eyes.

"Time for that later, bro. We gotta talk."

They sat down facing each other astride the beam that had nearly ended it all. Zack pulled two beers from the ice chest and they drank deep. Zack smiled into Darius's dazed eyes.

"So? Talk to me, kid."

Darius was feeling overwhelmed, near to tears again. "Sir, I've never had a master before. Never ... belonged to anyone. Oh the guys have been great, of course, and taken care of me."

"Bob especially, I bet."

"Yes, sir. How did you know? I love Bob. He always seems to know how I feel ... what I want. And he's sensational at helping me live out my fantasies."

Zack laughed. "Yeah, I heard about that. I hope I can do as well."

"Sir, you don't have to do a thing. You are a fantasy, a fantasy come to life. Every minute I'm with you is a fantasy." He became serious. "Sir, I promise to be the best boy you could ever have. I'll do anything you tell me to ... anything in the world."

"OK," Zack said. "Time to talk turkey. Now listen, Darius. From this moment on I am your master ... I own you, and I'll be tough on you. I can be a real son-of-a-bitch. You will do whatever I order you to, you will come when I call, give me whatever I want. You misbehave, you get whipped. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Darius's eyes were wide with wonder.

"And in return I will protect you, care for you, love you. If anyone tries to hurt you they'll answer to me ... and that won't be pretty."

"Now ... sex. With that huge dick of yours you've always been the guy who fucks. But not with me you don't. I'll be the one doing the fucking. I've only ever fucked one guy ... Bob ... but that's given me a taste for it. I love to fuck ... a lot ... and I'm gonna fuck your ass whenever and wherever I choose ... and fuck it hard. I'll own it and you will always make it available for me. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely sir." Darius's cock was already rigid in his shorts.

"Now, you guys across the street have a complicated set-up. As I understand it, Pablo is your lover and Randy's boy ... his adopted son. Jamie is Mark's boy and works for Bob. And you are Randy's assistant at work, his right-hand-man. Have I got that right?"

"Pretty much, sir."

"OK, now none of that changes. You will still be Pablo's lover ... you guys are great together ... and you will still be Randy's assistant at work. But now you also have a master, the toughest black mother-fucker you've ever met. So when you're not working with Randy, not sleeping with Pablo, you're mine. And I mean mine ... you belong to me. Your ass belongs to me. Those are my rules. Is that clear, boy?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Zack stood up, walked over to a pile of his belongings and pulled something out of his back pack ... the black leather collar.

"Stand up, boy." Darius stood to attention. "I brought this back from the dunes where I used it on Bob. But I kept it ... I kept it for you, Darius." Darius bowed his head and Zack buckled the collar round his neck. Darius looked up, pride shining in his eyes, and said. "Thank you, sir. This is the best day of my life."

"OK. You heard my rules. You know what I need. So let's seal the deal."

Without breaking eye contact Darius unbuckled his tool belt and let it drop. Already shirtless, he kicked off his boots, unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall round his ankles. He stepped out of them and faced his master, naked except for his shorts and the collar round his neck. Zack gazed at him.

"God, you're a beautiful man, Darius ... my prized possession." He took a step forward grabbed the waistband of the boy's shorts and ripped them clean off his body. The boy's huge ten-inch cock sprang out, hard as iron.

"Jesus, that's phenomenal. But it's not your dick that I want, you know that. Turn round."

Naked now Darius turned his back to his master, hands stiff by his side. Zack gazed at the firm round globes of the perfect black ass. "That's what I want, boy. I'm gonna enjoy getting acquainted with it. Every time I see you I'm gonna want it. Now, on your knees, boy."

Darius fell to his knees, and watched mesmerized as Zack undid his tool belt and let it drop, kicked off his boots and dropped his jeans. The boy gasped as he looked up at the spectacular physique, black muscles gleaming with a sheen of sweat. His eyes ran down the naked torso, the slim waist, and finally settled on the thing that made him gasp with awe and fear. The huge black club swung between Zack's legs, inches from his face, the monster shaft that was going to take possession of his ass, now and always.

Then Darius panicked. This was his life from now on. He was giving his ass to this man and he knew it would be fucked hard and often by this monster cock. He wasn't sure if he could take it. But then he looked up at his master's face, the gray eyes smiling down at him and he knew that he would give this man anything. He was his master.

"Make it hard, kid."

Hypnotized by the huge piece of meat swinging before his eyes Darius took hold of it, opened his mouth wide and swallowed it, sucking it down until he felt the head halfway down his throat. His face was crushed against Zack's wiry, sweaty pubic hair and he breathed deeply, inhaling the pungent, male scent of this incredible man. He felt the blood rush into the cock as it swelled and filled his mouth, making him choke. His head started to spin and he thought he would pass out, when the stiff rod pulled back, allowing him to breath for an instant before it plunged back deep into his throat.

Zack gazed down at the beautiful, naked young boy, the collar round his neck, and reveled in the feel of the hot mouth tight round his rod as it pistoned in and out of the furnace. Darius's eyes were streaming with tears and he breathed desperately through his nose. He saw the narrow hips and muscular thighs pump back and forth, slamming against his face, and he almost shot his load as his tongue tasted the pre-cum dripping from his master's cock.

He knew Zack was close and closed his eyes waiting for him to flood his mouth with cum. But Zack had other plans. He pulled out suddenly and looked down at the beautiful face coughing, sobbing in relief.

"Get down in the dirt, boy," Zack growled. Darius instantly fell on his back and gazed up at the man's club standing out from his pubic hair, rigid as a pole. The black muscle-god fell to his knees in front of his new boy and spoke softly. "I guess most guys want your beautiful dick in their ass, so you haven't been fucked too often, uh?"

"No, sir. Several times by Bob, by Pablo and once by Mark. And by Randy of course when he got mad. But not that often, sir."

"Well I own your ass now, kid, so you're gonna get fucked a lot. Better get used to it ... starting right now."

Suddenly Zack pulled up the boy's legs, moved against him and pressed the head of his shaft against Darius's ass. "This is it, boy." Darius's eyes opened wide as he watched his master's face. Then he felt it, the huge club entering him, filling his ass, moving slowly down into his burning hole and coming to rest deep in his gut. The boy was being fucked for the first time by his master, and he spun into a new world, a world where his ass was on fire, a world echoing to his own screams of pain and ecstasy.

Zack stopped moving. With his cock buried deep in his boy's ass he gazed steadily into his eyes and waited. It took only a second before he saw Darius's cock shudder, he heard his screams reach a new pitch, and he saw a huge jet of white liquid blast from his boy's cock. He felt the hot juice splash on his own chest, then saw it pour onto the face and body of the boy writhing beneath him.

Hypnotized by the sight of his new master Darius was not aware what was happening at first. But when he felt stream after stream of cum splashing onto his face he looked up at Zack in horror. "Oh no... I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't hold back. I shot my load too soon ... as soon as I felt your cock inside me. I spoiled everything, sir."

Zack's voice was soft. "Darius, I knew you would do that. I wanted to see how much my boy wanted me. And now I know, I'm really gonna pound your ass, boy."

Darius felt the huge cock pull out of him, then plunge back in like a piston. The real fuck had begun. Darius lost all sense of time and place. All he was aware of was the beautiful black muscle-god looking down at him, his body rising and falling on him, crashing against his ass. All of his feeling was centered in his tortured ass as it was ravaged by his master's enormous tool.

The boy was hurtling into a world where nothing existed but his master. This is what it meant to belong to a man, to submit entirely and willingly, to offer his body as a ritual sacrifice to a man so beautiful he could deny him nothing. There was no pain now. His ass relaxed and he gloried in the feeling of his master's huge rod piercing his body. He heard the deep voice.

"Now you know, boy. Now you know how it feels to have a master." He rammed his cock in deeper. "Feel that, boy? Get used to it, `cause your ass is mine now. You're gonna fall in love with my dick, man. You're gonna beg for it."

In his delirium Darius managed to groan, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Zack reached down and wrapped both fists around Darius's rigid ten-inch cock, one hand at the head, the other near the base. As he rammed the ass with his own dick he pumped his fists up and down boy's the iron-hard rod like a plunger. He grinned down at him.

"You know you can't take much more, boy. You know you have to shoot. Look at my body, kid. Watch those muscles flex as I pound your ass and your cock. Come on, man. Let me see you shoot your load in your face. Show me you love me, Darius."

This time he didn't scream. Mesmerized by the glorious face and physique above him Darius watched his own second eruption spurt another load of semen over his face. He heard Zack's voice ... "you want to feel your master's cum in your ass, all over your body?"

"Yes, sir," Darius howled as he felt the huge shaft pulse in his ass and felt the hot liquid pour deep inside him. Then Zack pulled out his cock, held it pointing at his boy's face, and blasted a second stream of cum straight into his gaping mouth. Darius gulped hard and swallowed the hot juice, relishing the bitter-sweet taste of his master for the first time.

But Zack wasn't finished. He sprang to his feet and towered over his exhausted boy. Once again he pointed his cock down at his face. But this time it wasn't semen ... it was hot, yellow piss, blasting from his cock, onto Darius's face, into his mouth and soaking his gleaming coffee-colored skin. Once again Darius swallowed hard and this time the taste was rancid, warm ... the taste of his master's piss.

Zack looked down wild-eyed at the ravaged boy. "So now you know, Darius. You know what it means to serve me as your master ... what it takes to be my boy. You sure you still want it?"

Darius swallowed one last time and said in a clear voice, "More than anything in the world, sir."

Zack let Darius catch his breath, then reached down and pulled him to his feet. He smiled at the naked boy whose body ran with sweat and rivers of cum and piss.

"Now here's what you do, boy. Just as you are now, naked except for your collar, soaked in my piss and semen, you walk across the street to your own house. You go upstairs to Pablo and tell him what happened. You ask him to remove your collar and then you take him in your arms so he can feel and taste the cum of both of us. Then you make love to him. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Darius said. He stumbled barefoot and naked across the street, staggered across the lawn and up the stairs. Pablo was in their bedroom and he looked up in amazement as his friend stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing, his face and body still running with creamy white cum mixed with urine.

"Dude!" Pablo grinned. "No need to ask what happened to you ... at last."

Darius's voice was hoarse. "I'm his boy, Pablo. I'm Zack's boy!"

They continued to work hard on the house until it was ready for Zack to move in properly. It was an exhausting few weeks and, when things were pretty much in place Zack decreed that they should take a break.

Zack's introduction to the group had been really intense ... first the fight with Randy by the lake, then his incredible experience with Bob in the dunes, and finally breaking Darius in as his boy. He loved the idea of living so close to the guys, of having a boy, but right now he needed to take a short break, take stock of himself.

What he needed was an infusion of macho testosterone

As it happened, Mark was feeling pretty much the same kind of restlessness. Since the episode with Jamie, when the whipping had brought them an even greater intimacy, he knew that they both needed a breather. He loved Jamie and enjoyed being with the guys, his buddies, but sometimes the cop's mind went back to the girlfriend he had left and, like Zack, he somehow needed to reassure himself that his macho prowess was still intact.

He had dropped in to see Zack in his new house. They hadn't spent much time together since Zack arrived and they had promised to get better acquainted. Now their conversation somehow veered onto the subject of this restlessness they both shared.

It was guy talk. Zack reminisced about the wife he had lost in a car wreck, and Mark talked about the girlfriend he had walked out on when he learned of her affair with a fellow cop. Zack needed to flex his muscles, literally and figuratively. "Shit, sometimes I want to get back in the ring. I was a great boxer ... it used to give me that adrenaline rush guys need."

"I know just what you mean, buddy," said Mark. "I guess you didn't know that I'm on the boxing team at the police academy. Hell, we should go a few rounds sometime. Tell you what though, they give out free tickets to the cops all the time, and I've got a pair of tickets to the fights in Vegas next weekend. I was gonna turn them back in but ... hey man, you feel like a night in Vegas? Go to the fights ... hang out, have a few drinks."

Zack brightened up. "Now that sounds like a winner, man. I need to get out of town, see how the other half lives."

"Hell," Mark laughed, "I'm not sure that the Vegas crowd is really `how the other half lives', but it sounds like a plan. You're on, man ... a real guys' night out!"

They squared it away with their boys. Darius was only too pleased for him and Pablo to take care of Jamie while Mark was away. The boys always had a great time when the three of them spent the night together, and Darius's fantasy wheels were already spinning.

Mark and Zack didn't change out of their usual jeans and T-shirts, they just threw a change of clothes in a bag and by noon on Saturday they were ready for the four-hour drive to Vegas. As they drove east on the 10-Freeway in Mark's truck they were in high spirits. The testosterone was flowing.

They talked about their past, about the women they had had in their lives, the wild things they used to do with their buddies in those days. But they barely mentioned their boys or the other guys in the house. This weekend was not about that. It was a chance for them to get away from that for a few hours, be regular buddies. They were just two macho guys out on the town.

They checked into the MGM Grand, the hotel where the boxing was taking place in a few hours, and went to their room to freshen up before dinner and then the fights. They were surprised that it turned out to be a king-size room, with just one large California-king bed.

"Hey, we can call down for a twin-bedded room if you like," said Mark."

"Nah," Zack grinned. "Probably won't be spending much time in the room anyway. Hell, I stink. Gotta hit the shower."

Mark stretched out on his back on the bed, hands under his head. He watched as Zack stripped off his shirt, kicked off his boots and dropped his jeans and shorts. He stretched his naked body after the long drive.

"Jesus," Mark said. "You have one hell of a physique, buddy. The face ain't chopped liver either. The ladies are gonna go ape-shit for you tonight."

Zack laughed, grabbed a towel and flicked it hard at his buddy before he went to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. He came out with the towel wrapped round him, his perfect muscles still gleaming with water, his ebony skin glowing. Mark stood up and it was his turn to strip naked.

"Wow, officer," Zack grinned. "You should talk about me. Look at you, man. Just about the best-looking cop ever to ride the beat. What do they always call you, a Greek God? Shit, that doesn't even come close. OK, go hit the shower, stud."

A few minutes later Mark came back from the bathroom rubbing the thick towel in his blonde hair. As he lowered the towel he saw that Zack was still standing just where he had left him, towel round his waist. There was a long silence as they gazed at each other. Suddenly Zack pulled at his towel and it dropped to the floor. His huge black cock sprang free, hard as a rock.

Mark dropped his towel and gazed at the naked, black muscle-stud, standing motionless in all his physical perfection. The cop smiled slightly.

"Zack, there's something you should know about me. I really get off just looking at a beautiful guy. And they don't come any more beautiful than you."

"Except for the cop I'm looking at right now," Zack said. "You are simply fucking gorgeous ... so beautiful it hurts. OK, man ... just this once ... let's do it."

They both began stroking their rigid cocks, gazing at the other guy, muscles flexing as they ran their eyes over the perfectly chiseled physique. Zack was awestruck by the square-jawed blonde face, and Mark likewise by the rugged features of this incredible black man.

"God, you're spectacular," Mark breathed. "I can't hold out too long, man."

"Me neither," said Zack. "Man, it's a privilege to be with you. You are one hot son-of-a-bitch. OK, man, let's do it. I want to see you cum, buddy. I want to see that hot body shoot its fucking load."

"Oh, man," Mark moaned. "This is it. You're making me cum!"

The orgasms were huge and simultaneous. As the gazed in awe at each other the two stunning muscle-gods, one blonde, the other black as ebony, blasted their loads, stream after stream, making two big pools of cum on the thick carpet.

They grinned as they continued to stare at each other. Then they started to laugh. Zack said, "Hey buddy, that is not what tonight was supposed to be about. It was fucking great, but we gotta go find us a couple of girls. It's been a long time. Hell, I need a piece of ass."

"You read my mind, buddy," said Mark. "OK, we get dressed, get dinner, then the fights and then ... some serious action."

"Sounds like a plan. Lead on, stud."

This time they dressed up ... just a bit. Still Levis and boots, but Zack pulled on a white tank and over that a blue dress shirt. Mark wore a black shirt over a white T-shirt. They looked at themselves in the mirror.

"Think we can cut it?" Mark grinned.

"Hell, man, they'll be drooling all over us."

Zack was kidding, but actually he was right. As the two guys walked the full length of the huge casino floor downstairs, all eyes turned in their direction, even the ones that had been glued to the slots. They looked stunning, the tall blonde god and the muscular black stud. They grinned at each other, pleased with the stir they created.

After dinner and a few drinks they joined the fans gathering in the boxing arena. It was a raucous, bawdy crowd, with laughter and obscenities filling the air ... just what the guys wanted to get their juices flowing. Their seats were great ... ring-side ... and as a bonus they were next to two hot-looking girls who seemed ready for anything. The ladies did a double take as the guys grinned at them.

The opening fights were tremendous, a great warm-up for the main championship event between a black heavyweight and a blonde mountain of a man. "OK," said Zack as the fighters entered the ring. "A twenty says the black guy wins ... in a knockout."

"You're on, asshole. The blonde ... on points."

The fight was brutal and they had shouted themselves hoarse by the time Zack's man delivered the knockout blow in the sixth round. As the huge blonde's head jerked sideways from the crunching right hook, blood spurted from his face, spraying Zack and one of the girls. The girl was unfazed, howled with laughter and threw her arm round Zack as he wiped the blood from her cheek.

The show was over and as all four of them pushed through the crowd leaving the arena, Zack shouted in Mark's ear, "The blonde's mine, buddy. You get the brunette."

In the elevator the blonde said, "We have a two-room suite on the eighth floor. "Care for a nightcap, guys?"

As it turned out, there was no nightcap. As soon as they entered the suite, Zack took the blonde's arm and pushed her into the second bedroom. Mark turned and smiled at the gorgeous brunette. "Seems like we have this room to ourselves, babe" he said, unbuttoning his shirt."

It was a couple of hours later when Zack came out of his room pulling on his tank. Mark too was putting on his T-shirt. They grinned as they saw the disheveled state they were both in.

"How was it, man?" Mark asked.

"Sensational. That girl knew a few moves that were new even to me. You?"

"Terrific. She was game for anything. She's in the bathroom pulling herself together. She wants me to stay the night."

"You going to?"

"Nah, think I'll go down to the bar. I need a drink after that marathon."

"Me too. You want company?"

They said goodnight to the girls and staggered out of the room. They pulled on their shirts on the way down in the elevator. It was obvious to anyone who saw them ... grinning, scruffy, tousled ... that they were in the after-glow of great sex.

They made their way to the dark bar, slumped on bar stools and ordered doubles. "Shit, man, I feel great," Mark said. "That was just what I needed." Their double scotches were followed by another, and another and soon they were shit-faced.

Zack threw his arm over Mark's shoulder and slurred his words. "Mark, old buddy, you are great company. We should do this again sometime. But right now, man, I gotta say I'm bushed. Need my bed."

"Damn right," Mark agreed. They walked unsteadily to the elevator, went up to their room and looked longingly at the bed. With some difficulty they began to undress, falling against each other as they lost their balance.

"Here, asshole ... this way," Zack said; he helped Mark unbutton his shirt and pulled it down his back. They kicked off their boots, let their jeans drop and stood facing each other in their underwear. Unaccountably they started to laugh drunkenly and fell against each other again. Mark managed to stand up straight, pulled back the covers of the bed and pointed down at the cool sheets.

"Sir, your carriage awaits." Still laughing they fell into bed. And in seconds they were silent ... fast asleep.

But, drunk as they were, their sleep was restless. They tossed and turned and slid closer together. On his stomach Zack pressed against Mark and threw his arm over his chest. In his sleep Mark turned onto his side, so close their faces were almost touching.

It was the smell of the man, whiskey breath and sweat, that triggered Mark's dreams. He didn't dream of the brunette he had so recently fucked. Instead his dream was a vivid image of Zack, fresh out of the shower, black muscles gleaming wet, a towel round his waist. He saw the towel drop and the huge black club spring free. Then his dream focused on the extraordinary face, high cheek bones, square jaw, piercing gray eyes.

The image was so striking that Mark opened his eyes ... and there, inches away, was the face of his dream. Still half asleep, still half drunk, Mark groaned, moved closer and pressed his lips against the mouth.

Zack was having dreams too, but they were confused, scrambled. He saw faces, blondes. First the face of the big blonde boxer who had taken such a beating. That faded and was replaced by the softer female image of the blonde he had made love to. But then even that face became blurred and morphed into the strikingly handsome features of a man with tousled blonde hair. Instinctively, in his sleep, Zack tried to take an intake of breath, but panicked when he felt his mouth blocked. His eyes shot open ... and there was the face, there was the man ... kissing him.

They barely woke, dazed from drink, their minds a blur, as their embrace became more passionate. Their tongues probed the mouths, they tasted, smelled the damp essence of the other man. Their arms wrapped round each other and they rolled over the bed, pressing their bodies together, feeling the muscles through the thin cotton of their underwear. Then simultaneously, they both felt something else. At their groin their own bulge pressed against the other man's erection and their cocks started to pulse. And that woke them up completely.

Reflexively they sprang back from each other. "Shit, man," Zack said. "What the fuck's going on? Man, I must be drunker than I thought. Felt like we were ..."

"Forget it," Mark said. "Go back to sleep."

"Easy for you to say," Zack muttered. "I've got a huge boner that won't quit."

"You too, uh?" You know, it wasn't supposed to be that kind of trip."

"Yeah," Zack said. "But here we are, a bit drunk, king-size bed, hard-ons ..."

They looked at each other and their shy grins became bolder, and broke into laughter.

"Oh, what the hell," Mark said. "You wanna try that again?"

"Hell, yes."

And this time they came together without any inhibitions. Crashed together would be more like it ... bulls in heat. Despite their earlier exhausting fucking of the girls, despite the fact that they had drunk up a storm, their testosterone flowed more strongly than ever. Their mouths ground together once more, they flexed their bodies against each other, digging their fingers into the solid muscles, ripping at the thin cotton of their shirts. The two muscle-studs rolled over and over, crashing off the bed onto the floor without letting go of each other.

This is what the whole day had been building to. The two macho jocks in the truck, the fights, the raucous crowd screaming obscenities, the boxers spurting blood in the knock-out, the hours spent fucking their girls, the drinking, the stink of Scotch and sweat and finally bed, in their underwear, brushing against each other in their restless, dream-filled sleep.

They should have realized when they first got out of the shower, saw each other naked, so gorgeous they couldn't stop shooting their load. They had put that out of their mind at the time, but now here they were rolling over the floor in a frenzy of lust and desire.

Their testosterone still flowed and their raging male passion became a trial of strength as they tested each other's muscular physiques. Finally Zack was on his knees astride Mark, pinning his hands to the floor above his head. He grinned down at the handsome face gleaming with sweat.

"Man oh man," Zack growled. "Am I ever gonna enjoy fucking your macho ass, stud."

"Like hell you are!" With a burst of strength Mark pushed upward and heaved Zack over onto his back, so their positions were reversed. "Look at me, asshole. Do I look like the kind of guy that gets fucked? Maybe a couple of times by Randy and the guys as a challenge, but definitely not by you, buddy. No, your ass is mine."

They were both on their knees now facing each other. Zack's body was heaving. "Listen to me, Mark. The only time I ever got fucked was by Randy, but that was part of the fight ... a fight that I won! Never again, buddy. Nobody gets to fuck my ass again. Least of all you."

It was a standoff, two stallions flaring their nostrils. Sure, their macho night out together had ended in their grappling together passionately, but it was still their male testosterone that ruled them. Sure, they had kissed, embraced each other, made love even, but getting their ass fucked by another guy was out of the question ... and yet ...

It was their masculine pride, the very testosterone flowing through their veins, that finally resulted in the challenge. "I'll fight you for it," Zack said. "That is, if you're man enough."

"Shit, man, I could take you in a heartbeat, so fast your fucking head would spin."

"You're on," said Zack springing to his feet. He strode over to the small table set with two chairs facing each other. Still in his shorts and torn tank he sat down, placed his elbow on the table, forearm up, and stared at Mark. The cop stood up, pulled off his sweaty T-shirt and, in just his shorts, sat facing him. Elbow on the table he raised his forearm and the two jocks locked hands in classic arm-wrestling pose.

It had to come to this. The challenge had to be a contest of strength or of sex. And this was both. Two macho buddies, alpha males, proud of their masculine prowess. They could show male love to each other, be best buddies, but never surrender their ass. No, they were top men, vain, arrogant. And yet ... one had to surrender to the other. One was to be dominated in the most extreme way that one man could dominate another.

"I've never lost at arm-wrestling," Zack growled. "You should submit right now, buddy. Surrender your ass."

"Fuck you, asshole," said Mark. "It's your ass gonna get ploughed."

They took a deep breath, flexed their biceps ... and the fight was on. Nothing moved. Their eyes bored into each other, their arms strained, veins standing out ... but nothing moved. Their great strength was equal, their determination implacable. The laughter was gone, the mood had become tense. This was serious.

Seconds became minutes and sweat started to pour down their faces and bodies. Their breathing became labored and their eyes penetrated each other with looks of defiance and intimidation. Their shoulders, biceps bulged with exertion. Suddenly, slightly, one man gained the upper hand and pushed the other arm back slightly. But immediately the other retaliated and the stalemate continued.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally each man felt his strength ebbing. It was only a matter of time. Then it happened. One of them found a reserve of strength from deep within and with a howl of triumph forced the others man's hand flat on the table.

It was over. They stared at each other, one in triumph, the other in defeat.

The winner smiled. "You lost, man. I'm gonna fuck your ass..."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 78"