A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 321 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The men and their boys are guests in the desert home of bar-owner Mike. After dinner the boys stage an erotic floorshow for their host. Jamie and Pablo, the blond surfer and dark Mestizo, face off – "On your knees, boy". Then the twins show Mike their version of "brotherly love." But in the end Randy clashes with Mike, who faces him down: "What a waste ... such a beautiful man and such a fucked-up mess."

CHAPTER 320 – "RANDY MEETS HIS MATCH"

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

Three of the tribe's leaders – Randy, his lover Bob, and the cop Mark – had brought their boys – Pablo; the twins Kyle and Kevin; and the blond jock Jamie – out to the desert near Palm Springs where they were enjoying the hospitality of Mike, the owner of the local leather bar.

Mike was a friendly, handsome middle-aged man with graying hair, somewhat past his prime, but still well pulled together despite a thickening waistline. He was better known to the boys as Uncle Mike.

His young nephew Brian had come with the group. The boy had been living a solitary life in the desert until Brandon rescued him and brought him to Los Angeles where he had landed a job as live-in assistant to the actor, and new big-screen Tarzan, Grady and his Italian lover Mario.

Brian had come back out to his former humble trailer home to pack up his belongings before thankfully turning his back on his sad life there for good. From their first meeting he and Brandon had soon developed a firm friendship, drawn together by natural attraction and mutual interests, not least by the challenges of their shared handicap as they were both in wheelchairs.

And before they left the trailer their friendship had at last crossed the line to sexual intimacy. As he reveled in the joys of hot 69 sex Brian discovered that making love to a good buddy was in a whole different dimension from the fleeting release of jacking off to porn. And so they left the trailer, closed the door behind them, threw away the key, and headed back to Uncle Mike's

Meanwhile, Randy, Bob and Mark, three alpha males united in a tight friendship of respect, love and lust, had indulged in a wild session of homoerotic three-way sex, reaffirming that they were no longer the `tormented trio' of the past. That reunion had taken place in the small desert hideaway of their buddy Hassan, where they now lay recovering in a tangle of muscular limbs.

The whole group would all be staying the weekend with Mike in his comfortable ranch-style home near Palm Springs, with its extensive grounds and pool. While waiting for the trio's return Mike was having a heart-to-heart chat with Randy's boy, the self-proclaimed `boss's boy' Pablo. Mike had said, "You know, listening to you I realized how much like Randy you are. You seem to have picked up a lot of his habits."

"Oh, that's deliberate, Uncle Mike. I model myself on Randy. He's my hero and I try to be exactly like him – you know, the way he speaks, walks, the way he treats guys, his authority ..."

"... his anger?"

Pablo grinned, "Well that too, I guess. See Randy adopted me, I'm the boss's boy, so I wanna be just like him. I copy him in everything."

Mike knew the danger inherent in that. "God forbid I should ever give advice," he grinned. "... but here's a word of advice. Sometimes it's not a good thing to always copy someone else – you can lose sight of your own identity. By living in some other guy's shadow you could end up not casting one of your own. You say Randy's his own man. Are you, though? It's sorta tough to be your own man if you're copying someone else all the time.

"Pablo, I've watched you being tough, manly, generous, protective of the boys, all the good things Randy is, but you can do it as yourself, Pablo, not as a clone of someone else no matter how much you worship the guy. Sometimes you need to branch out, do your own thing if you want it and believe in it – even if occasionally it's the opposite of what Randy would do."

After Mike's gentle advice Pablo was lost in silent thought for a moment, before saying, "Uncle Mike, nobody's ever said stuff like that to me, not even Bob, I guess `cos he's too close to Randy. Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. Er ... would it be OK if I call you sometimes when I'm, kinda, confused – can't see my way forward?"

"Son, I would be honored. `Course, Randy is your master, your dad and your hero, and you're his boy, so you pay attention to him first. But if ever you want to chat to an older guy who's been around the block a few times – many times actually – you pick up the phone and call me. And whenever you come out this way again you'll be my guest – you and your big stud gypsy.

"And talk of the devil ..." he grinned as they heard the crunch of tires on gravel and the slamming of car doors behind the gate. The other boys heard it too and joined them in eager anticipation. And when the gate opened it was an astonishing sight – three glorious musclehunks stripped to the waist – a swarthy gypsy in black pants, a chiseled Superman in blue jeans, and a blond Nordic God in the black uniform pants of a police officer.

Standing between the other two Randy threw his arms over the shoulders of Bob and Mark and flashed a gleaming smile. "Guys, we've been working up a helluva thirst out there. So who the hell do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?"

Every hand shot up – "Me, sir ... me, sir."

"OK," Randy grinned, "one at a time ... or what d'ya say guys, two, three at a time?"

"As many as you like, buddy," Mark said ... "but only after we drink."

A cheer went up and Randy yelled, "OK, guys, party time. Let the games begin!"

Uncle Mike smiled and shook his wise old head. "Shit damn, you guys are something else."

******************** CHAPTER 321 **********************

A guest in his own home, Mike didn't have to do a thing except sit back and admire as all six boys swung into coordinated action. The twins, of course, ruled in the kitchen; Pablo was boss of the barbecue; and Jamie, in charge of the table set for ten diners, recruited Brandon and Brian to ferry tableware from kitchen to pool on their wheelchair tray tables

With an audience of the three bosses, Randy, Bob and Mark lounging together with Mike watching them, the boys, all natural showman, decided to strut their stuff. The twins had brought their own kitchen equipment from home, including chefs' hats for themselves and the other boys, which they all wore with panache.

The twins (the only ones qualified as chefs) wore them with professional flair. Jamie wore his tilted on the back of his head, his tangled blond hair tumbling below it. Pablo pulled his to a jaunty angle on one side, reminding Randy of how he wore his baseball cap with the peak twisted to the side. The twins, fearing that Pablo might feel his macho image diminished by actually cooking, had given him a special apron which he now wore over his shirtless, muscular torso. It bore the defiant, irrefutable words, "Stand Clear – I'm The Boss."

The junior boys Brandon and Brian were especially proud of their headgear, and when they emerged with their tray tables piled high with dishes and food, sometimes all that was visible above the pile were their tall hats. Mike was especially amused by his nephew Brian, now a proud member of the gang, his hat sailing across the lawn like the masthead flag on a ship.

The four men, kicking back with pre-dinner cocktails, were having a great time watching the boys ... their different personalities, defined by their headgear, all meshing together in synchronous efficiency. Mike chuckled, "You guys must be mighty proud of those boys. You've done a great job with them."

Bob grinned, "You do realize they're putting on a show for you, Mike. When they have an audience they always rise to the occasion..."

"Yeah, in more ways than one," Randy said salaciously, "as you'll probably see later, Mike, if they treat us to one of their after-dinner floorshows they're famous for."

"Hell, no need for a show," Mike grinned. "Those young colts could stand like statues and they'd look hot enough for me to jerk off and bust my wad, except that's probably not kosher in polite company."

"Who said anything about polite company?" Mark laughed. "Jacking off goes with the territory around here, so feel free, Mike, any time."

The twins had provided appetizers, salads and all the trimmings for a steak dinner and now it was Pablo's turn. He was surprisingly efficient at wielding a fork over sirloin steaks and salmon steaks, his hands flying over the grill like playing a Giant Wurlitzer. "Come and get it while it's hot, guys," he shouted.

Mike nudged Randy, "Is he referring to the steaks or that smoking hot ass of his bulging in his shorts?"

"Both," Randy chuckled. "My boy is always aware of his perfect butt, always flashing it in my face, and I usually give in to temptation and end up fucking it."

"Yeah," Bob said, "I've never been sure whether you adopted the boy or the ass."

"It was a package deal," Randy grinned. "But don't let that ass fool you into thinking he's just a bum-boy, Mike. You'll see later that he's a top-man just like his dad. Takes after me in everything."

"Yeah, I noticed," said Mike, recalling his recent conversation with Pablo on that very topic. "Anyway, `the boss' has summoned us to the barbecue and I for one am starved. So let's eat."

It was one of those magical Southern California evenings. The dry, desert heat of the day had cooled down to a balmy warmth, the indigo sky sparkled with stars, a slight breeze rustled through the palm fronds high above, cicadas chirping below.

By contrast, the scene at the table was a boisterous celebration of high spirits, laughter, and young voices competing for attention in a swelling crescendo. The boys' hats had come off, a sign that they were temporarily off duty, so their professional restraint was thrown to the wind. At the head of the table, amid the babble of voices and laughter, a rather bemused Mike gazed down its length at this extraordinary collection of men and boys.

Amid all the topics tumbling over each other one had been problematic at first. Even before dinner began Brian had blushed when Mike asked him exactly what his new job would be. He knew he was not supposed to talk about what went on in the Grady House outside of the tribe, so he appealed to Bob who phoned Grady's lover Mario to clear it with him. Mario said light heartedly, "Bob, mi amico, I will leave it to your good judgement."

Bob was the very soul of tact and had a quiet word with Mike, who immediately grasped the situation and said, "Bob, maybe in my distant youth – too distant to remember – my loose lips may have sunk a few ships but I'm now old enough and canny enough to keep my trap shut. I had a sense that my nephew was bursting to tell me something and I'd love him to be free to."

So it was agreed ... and the dam of discretion burst. Puffed up with pride Brian gushed, "See, I had this all-day interview with Randy's brother Steve, this gorgeous hunk, he's a shrink actually, who gave me all sorts of tests, some of them sexual, and apparently I passed, but Grady already wanted me because, you'll never believe this but when I ran lines with him we ended up acting out the scene and he fucked me – can you believe that? ... I got fucked by the new Tarzan and he's so gorgeous, better than his pictures even, and him and Mario, well ..."

"Hey, slow down kiddo," Mike laughed, "let someone else get a word in sideways, will you? How about later on you and me get together and you tell me your whole story from start to finish?"

Brian blushed and grinned at Brandon who felt a surge of affection for this excited freckled-faced boy with long tousled hair, who only hours earlier had been wallowing in morose memories of his bleak trailer-park past. The two junior boys gladly let themselves be enveloped by the noisy free-for-all round the table.

When at last the hubbub died down and the guys had eaten their fill the whole complex operation of getting the meal on the table went into reverse. The table was cleared, the barbecued cleaned, and in a few minutes everyone was sipping coffee and brandy when the twins appeared with a fruit flan that they had learned from Danny, the young Grady House chef.

All in good time the brandy made its presence felt and, on top of the earlier cocktails and wine, really loosened the men up. And, inevitably at this stage of the game, the warm night air was humming with sexual vibrations.

Mike, who never drank at his own bar, had celebrated this evening with the best of them to the point where he was relaxed enough to ask, "Say Randy, didn't I hear you make mention earlier of some kind of floorshow?"

"You bet your life, you did, buddy. Didn't your invitation say `Dinner & Entertainment'?"

Bob grinned. "Asshole ... since when did our crowd ever send out printed invitations? However, I agree – it was implied. So, boys, how about it?"

An expectant hush fell over the table and for a minute Brandon and Brian wondered if they, as junior boys, were expected to provide the entertainment. The twins merely smiled enigmatically and kept their seats. Then slowly and dramatically Pablo rose, to foot-stamping cheers. Still shirtless in just his shorts and sneakers he stood before the group raised his arms to the sides and flexed his impressive muscles.

"OK, guys, see it and weep. So which of you thinks he's man enough to compete with this?"

Another pregnant pause, and then Jamie rose to his feet, to wolf-whistles of admiration. He was truly stunning, dressed only in his customary board shorts that hugged his slim waist and rose tightly over the mounds of his surfer's ass. Mark laughingly said that his boy wore surfer trunks all the time so that whenever he heard the siren song of the waves – which was often – he'd already be dressed for the occasion.

As Jamie faced Pablo and they competed in a minor pose-off Mike said to Randy and Mark, "Holy shit, they're fucking gorgeous. Just how often do you guys fuck their asses?"

"Jamie gets it twice a day, at least," Mark grinned, "morning and night." Randy countered with a growl – "Pablo takes my dick whenever I damn-well feel like it."

Suddenly one of the twins, Kyle, stood up from the table and shouted, "Hey, let's make it an old-fashioned duel." His brother Kevin added, "And the principals in a duel need to have seconds. Gentlemen, name your seconds."

Jamie grinned, "Brandon!" Pablo countered, "Brian!" Brandon smiled encouragingly at his young friend, and each boy wheeled himself over to his designated dueler.

"Right," Kyle said firmly. "My brother and I will officiate as referees, and you, gentlemen ..." with a gracious sweep of the arm to the table, "... are the witnesses."

Kevin took over. "Gentlemen, your seconds must speak for you." He faced Brandon and Brian. "Name your weapons – swords, pistols, fists?"

Brandon grinned mischievously at Brian, paused for effect, then shouted, "Cocks!" Brian took his cue and said, "Agreed – cocks!"

"Cocks it is," said Kyle. "Gentlemen, shake hands, turn round and walk ten paces forward." And that's where the `old-fashioned' duel had its first new-age variation. No handshake.

Pablo and Jamie, both senior boys, were rivals for a long time until they finally acknowledged their love and lust for each other and now fucked at every opportunity. This was one such opportunity – and in public – so, instead of the traditional handshake, the black-haired Mestizo and the blond surfer, locked eyes, smiled at each other ... and came together in a grinding kiss, their hands moving lecherously over the other's muscular body.

"Fucking gorgeous," Mike said softly. "What comes next, guys?"

"Not hard to guess, buddy," Randy said proudly, enjoying the spectacle of his boy flaunting his supremacy in public. "Like I said, Pablo takes after his dad. Always a top-man."

Bob flashed a quick raised-eyebrows glance at Mike and rolled his eyes. Mike was starting to understand the dynamic between boss Randy and his laid-back lover Bob. But he was yet to discover all sides of the unpredictable, possessive gypsy. That would come later.

"Enough," Kyle shouted. "Now turn and pace." They turned their backs on each other, took ten long strides forward, then turned again to face each other over the 20-yard distance. "Get ready!" Kyle shouted. The boys loosened their shorts, let them drop and stepped out of them, naked now except for their sneakers. "Take aim!"

Grinning, Pablo and Jamie grabbed their rigid cocks, pointed them at the other boy, and began to stroke them. They walked toward each other, as if to do battle and, when they were close, stopped and smiled at each other.

"Here it comes," said Randy to Mike. "Now you're gonna see my boy in action."

But Pablo grinned briefly over to Mike and suddenly there was a collective gasp as Pablo slowly sank to his knees before Jamie, his jaw sagged open and Jamie pushed his dick into the mouth of the boss's boy.

"What the fuck ...?" Randy growled menacingly and pressed his fists on the table about to rise to his feet. But Bob put a restraining hand on his, Randy glanced at him and settled grudgingly back in his seat. None of this was lost on Mike who imagined what effort and skills over a long period had brought Bob to the point where he could control the impetuous wildman with just a light touch of his hand. His admiration for the calm, confident Bob soared.

That did not, however, lessen the disbelief and wounded pride in Randy's eyes as he watched his young `top-man' capitulate before Mark's boy. By now Jamie was holding Pablo's head and moving his hips back and forth, driving his dick faster and faster down the handsome Mestizo's throat. Far from fighting back, Pablo took the long rod like a pro – no choking or gagging, just hungrily slurping on the surfer-jock's dick.

"Incredible," Mike murmured, fascinated by the sight of these gorgeous young men – the blond jock face-fucking the dark young stud. But he nevertheless kept a wary eye on Randy who was clearly straining at the leash, longing to intervene. Obviously his pride had been punctured by his boy's inexplicable failure to behave as forcefully as he himself would have done.

Brandon had wheeled himself over to a small table that contained two jars of lube, which Mike had had the foresight to provide in anticipation of the hoped-for `floorshow.' Each boy put one on his tray table and, like faithful seconds, positioned themselves on either side of the active blow-job. Taking his cue from them Jamie pulled his cock out of Pablo's mouth who gazed up at him, eyes shining, his mouth sagging, saliva running down his chin.

Unfazed by this unexpected turn of events Kyle said, "Looks like we have a winner. We need to hear a submission from the second. All eyes turned to Brian who blushed, caught sight of Brandon's encouraging nod, and spoke loudly on behalf of his duelist, "We submit."

There was another disturbance from the table as Randy growled, "What the fuck's going on here ...?" and had to be gently restrained by Bob from protesting out loud. But the principals of this `duel' paid no attention, getting off on their own sexual fantasies as Jamie stared down at Pablo and said, "Is that right, dude – you submit? You know your ass is grass, don't you, stud?"

"Yeah," Pablo said with a gleam in his eye. "It's what I want. I wanna feel your dick in my ass."

Far from feeling demeaned by surrendering his ass Pablo felt the pleasurable anticipation of getting fucked by his buddy the hot surfer. And he felt strangely empowered by following his own inclination and desires for once rather than always doing what was expected of him by his master – pounding ass as Randy would have done. Mike's advice was hitting home and Pablo's natural assertiveness was emerging. So he grinned meaningfully at Mike as he flipped over, knelt on all fours and offered his flawless ass to Mark's boy.

"Hell no," Randy glared, "That ain't gonna happen ... not in public."

"Randy," Bob whispered urgently, "Not here, not now. Behave yourself." It was like a parent restraining a troublesome child – which in some ways it was.

Randy was never good at finessing the finer points and sensing the undercurrents inherent in a gathering of men such as this, especially when he was confused ... as he was now. He was focused on what he unreasonably felt was his boy's disobedience, but he was also aware of the grinning glances Pablo had thrown in Mike's direction. What the fuck was going on here? But the last thing he wanted was to embarrass Bob, so he sat in tense silence and clenched his fists as he watched the scene play out to its inevitable climax.

The rest of the men and boys were enjoying the sexual play-acting, and the idea of these two gorgeous senior boys making love was irresistible. Brandon wheeled close to Jamie who dipped his fingers in the lube jar on his tray and oiled up his cock. Ever the dutiful second Brandon discreetly withdrew, wheeled himself next to Brian and squeezed his hand.

Jamie fell to his knees behind Pablo's ass, leaned over his back and whispered softly, "Thanks for letting me do this, dude, in front of all the guys. You know how I love to fuck you and that gorgeous ass. Sure you're OK?"

"Never better," came Pablo's soft reply. "Go for it, dude."

Jamie pulled back up on his knees, pressed his dick into the fuzz of black fur round Pablo's hole and gently eased his cock inside, hearing Pablo's breathing get heavy as he pushed in deeper and deeper. "Yeah," Brian shouted impulsively, then blushed at the sound of his own voice as he realized what he had done. But he needn't have worried as his sudden exclamation was taken up by Brandon and the twins who yelled encouragement as the fuck gathered speed.

Pablo loved getting butt-fucked – by his master Randy, by his boyfriend Darius's monster dick, and now by his hot blond buddy Jamie. Relieved of the burden of having to prove his macho dominance Pablo now wallowed joyfully in the exquisite sensation of a long shaft pounding his ass. He grinned back over his shoulder and said, "Well if you're gonna do it, dude, really do it. Let's see what you got, surfer boy. Come on, let's give `em a show."

Jamie didn't need telling twice. Grabbing Pablo's hips he pulled his ass back on his cock, harder each time as his rod became a jackhammer. Men and boys gazed in awe at the spectacle of the long shaft driving between the twin globes of the perfect ass as each boy worked up a sweat, Pablo's dark hair falling in his face and Jamie's blond mane flying wildly.

Jamie raised his arm and slapped the ass he was fucking, watching the white mounds bounce under his hand. The boys cheered as the scene grew wilder and wilder, Pablo's body bucking beneath the onslaught of Jamie's insistent cock, both boys howling in youthful exhilaration.

The reactions at the table were almost unanimously elated. Mark, turned on by his own boy's performance, grinned at the stunned look on Mike's face and Bob put his arms over the twins' shoulders as they cheered wildly, along with Brandon and Brian.

Randy, of course, was the exception. While he could hardly be unimpressed by the erotic show being staged by the senior boys, he felt embarrassed by the sight of his boy on all fours impaled on the cock of Mark's boy after previously boasting of Pablo's supremacy. He glowered at Mark and Bob and avoided Mike's eyes altogether.

By now Brandon and Brian had renounced any idea of being the duelists `seconds' and were the loudest cheering section, urging them both on equally. In his eagerness Brandon yelled, "Come on – bust those loads. Bring it home, guys."

It was time. Jamie yelled at Pablo, "You ready, man?" and Pablo responded, "Let's do out, dude!" The pounding rhythm reached its climax, Jamie punched a jubilant fist in the air and howled, "Yes! Yes! I'm cuuuming!" Their bodies heaved in unison as the surfer poured his sperm into his buddy's ass, then Pablo reared up on his knees, grabbed his dick and, as a grand finale, blasted a stream of jizz that flew across the grass and landed almost at the spectators' feet.

The audience rose in a raucous standing ovation while Brandon and Brian did mad whirling-dervish wheelies in their chairs. Bob grinned over at Mike who actually blushed when Bob saw, now that Mike was standing up, the wet patch growing at the crotch of his pants. "Good for you, Mike," Bob mouthed in amusement.

At last Jamie pulled out of Pablo, helped him to his feet, grabbed his wrist and raised his arm high like a victorious fighter while Pablo beamed in triumph. Brandon and Brian brought their shorts to them, they put them on and resumed their places at the table.

Beaming with pride Mark threw his arm round Jamie's neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. Then all eyes turned to Randy. His instinct was to berate his boy for not living up to his expectations of proving his dominance over the other boys, of pounding ass as Randy would have done. But he was restrained by a light in Pablo's eyes he had never seen before.

In fact Pablo, following his own instincts for once, had proved his strength and resilience worthy of the boss's boy, not by savagely pounding ass as Randy did routinely, but by offering his own to another senior boy. He had submitted to a ferocious butt-fuck, had loved every minute ... and had emerged as the hero of the hour.

On some level Randy understood all this and saw in his boy's eyes a level of maturity that was new. His face broke into a grudging smile and he said, "Well done, boy. I'm proud of you. I love you, kiddo."

But for a while a tension lingered in the air that was hard to identify. It emanated from Randy, of course, but why? Who was he angry at? Pablo for `betraying' him and not acting as he had hoped and assumed he would? Mark for cheering his boy on as he dominated Pablo? Bob, for restraining him from intervening as his instinct had urged him to?

Or was it Mike for exerting some as-yet undetermined influence over his boy, evidenced by their exchange of glances that seemed to convey some private understanding – a plot even? Randy's paranoia was getting the better of him, stemming most likely from a combination of all of the above.

Knowing every inflection of Randy's moods Bob sensed all of this. Of course he had seen the change in Pablo – a welcome development as far as he could tell, where Pablo had at last stepped out from Randy's shadow and behaved as his own man for once. Bob even guessed that this had something to do with the time Pablo had spent alone with Mike earlier, and he felt sure that Mike would clear it all up when they had a moment alone together.

In the meantime Bob did not want the wound to fester and felt it was up to him to repair the damaged air of festivity that had reigned up to now. He knew exactly how to do it and looked hopefully at his twins. Kyle and Kevin rewarded him with their most serene and knowing smiles and lowered their heads in acknowledgement of his wishes, somewhere between a nod and a polite bow.

They rose to their feet in unison. "Gentlemen," Kyle said. "So far my brother and I have played a minor role in this drama as the two referees. But have you ever wondered what dull referees do when they go home, relax and shed the dignity of their office? Allow us to show you." While he spoke his brother pulled a white tablecloth from a side table and spread it on the grass.

"Shit damn, Bob," Mike grinned at him, "what now? Don't tell me these beautiful boys of yours are gonna get their asses fucked by Jamie and Pablo."

"Not quite," Bob smiled. "Prepare to be surprised, my friend."

The twins stood shoulder to shoulder wearing their usual neat white polo shirts and shorts, looking, Mike thought, almost virginal. Boy, did he get that wrong! The group watched in awed silence as the twins, moving in total harmony, slowly pulled off their shirts and stood facing their audience. They stood still – no flexing, no posing, they didn't need too. Their beauty spoke for itself. Besides, Bob had drilled them with the lesson that less is more. It worked for him.

They turned their heads and smiled at each other, then unbuckled their brown belts, unbuttoned their shorts, pulled them off and folded them over a chair. Their white briefs hugged their slim waists and bubble butts as they faced the table momentarily before turning to face each other. Another long pause, then Mike's eyes widened, his jaw dropped as he watched them ... kiss.

"Holy shit," Mike groaned incredulously. "They're brothers!"

"Brothers who are very close," Bob smiled. "Always have been. Most of their lives all they had was each other. It was them against the world. This is how they survived. Watch."

After a long, loving embrace, the twins' mouths pulled apart and they gazed at each other while pushing the other's briefs down so their cocks sprang out and rubbed against each other. Kevin rested his hands on his brother's shoulders while Kyle wrapped his two hands round both their cocks, holding them together while their hips moved gently back and forth. Their cocks slid against each other and their bodies flexed in obvious sensual pleasure. It was almost as if they were fucking each other's cock.

After the ferocity of Jamie reaming Pablo's ass the mood turned softer, more serene, as men and boys watched gentle love-making in its purest form. Slowly the twins sank to their knees and kissed again, then pulled back and smiled into each other's eyes that seemed to speak in a silent language only they understood.

As if coming to an agreement Kevin lowered himself on his back on the white cloth and stretched his arms and legs out straight, his naked body spread-eagled before his brother smiling down at him. Kyle sank to his knees between Kevin's legs, reached over to the lube jar Jamie had left on the grass and spread the cream over his rigid cock.

Mike stared in astonishment, wavering between uncertainty and fascination. "Dammit, Bob," he said hesitantly. "I'm not sure what I should be feeling right now."

Bob smiled reassuringly. "Not what you should be feeling, Mike, but what you are feeling. And you know you are mesmerized by these beautiful boys expressing their love in the way they know best. Go with your feelings, Mike. It's what we in the tribe do. We ignore polite rules of society and make up our own rules as we go along. Relax and enjoy, old buddy."

Bob's words, combined with the enthralling prospect before his eyes, made it easy for Mike to let slip the conventions he had grown up with and enter the world of these extraordinary men where everything took second place to love for each other. He instinctively grabbed the bulge in his pants and held his breath as he watched one handsome young man slide his cock in the ass of his identical twin.

The brothers had begun this as an exhibition for Mike and the other men, but now, as always, they became lost in each other – in the thrill of making love to their mirror image, reading each other's thoughts, feeling identical sensations and passions. In fact, as Mike watched, he had the impression he was seeing a boy making love to himself in a mirror as both images moved in perfect harmony.

Kyle leaned forward and placed his palms on his twin's chest as Kevin reached up and did the same to Kyle. They ran their hands over each other's body in matching patterns, their eyes piercing each other, with identical smiles on their faces. It was, Mike thought, like synchronized sex between two handsome boys with angular faces, light brown hair and eyes, full, sexy lips and long-waisted muscular bodies.

As if drawn by his brother's eyes Kyle leaned forward, lowered his head and kissed his lips while still massaging his ass with his cock. It became hypnotic and the men and boys watched in stunned silence, rubbing their cocks through their pants.

As if on a silent signal Kyle suddenly pulled off his brother and lay on his back beside him. Gazing up to the starry sky they communed silently with each other for a while in a mute expression of fraternal love even more eloquent than the physical act. In unison, each boy reached over and stroked his brother's cock, still gazing upward, until finally their faces turned and smiled at each other. They were ready for the next act.

Which turned out to be pretty much identical with the first – with the exception that this time their positions were reversed. Kyle lay on his back, his legs raised, while Kevin leaned forward and pushed his cock deep inside his brother. And so it continued as the dazzling twins made love in a seamless exchange of alternate positions, first one on top then the other. To the spectators it became a blur of matching limbs and identical faces so the brothers became one, visually as well as spiritually – loving each other, loving themselves ... it was the same thing.

But at last, by intuitive agreement, the brothers moved to bring their display of fraternal passion to a fitting, and surprising, climax. Kevin, who happened to be on top, withdrew his cock, extended his hand and pulled Kyle off his back so they were kneeling facing each other, their knees touching.

Their eyes were locked in a penetrating gaze, with an intensity that slowly began to melt into the first hints of a smile. They again moved in unison, each boy wrapping one hand round his cock and reaching his other forward to tweak his twin's nipple. They stroked and squeezed gently at first until the pace quickened and their smiles became broader. Soon they were pounding their cocks and twisting the nipples harder.

The amazing sight of their own face reflected in the eyes of an identical face, like an infinite hall of mirrors, amused them and they began to laugh. They leaned back on their haunches, pounded their cocks faster and their silvery laughter filled the garden as together they uttered their first word, "Now!" and shot twin streams of juice up high that hovered in the air then splashed down on their brother's face.

They were not the only explosive orgasms. The onlookers pounded their cocks and their own climaxes paid tribute to the extraordinary spectacle of the beautiful twins in the throes of fraternal passion. Even Mike joined in, having finally thrown caution and modesty to the winds, and yanked out his cock, caught up in the euphoria of this crazy tribe of men and boys.

The cheers were rapturous as the twins fell on the ground, licking their own juice off each other's face, rolling over the lawn in each other's arms.

But gradually, as the men shoved their dicks back in their pants, calm was restored and the twins' earlier decorum returned. They helped each other to their feet, retrieved their shorts from the back of the chair, pulled them on and buckled the belts.

Standing side by side they faced their audience. They held hands, then raised their arms high like taking a curtain call at a theater and bent low in a sweeping bow. As they straightened up the applause continued so they took another bow. In the general euphoria Brandon yelled, "Encore! More! More!"

The twins grinned at him and said in unison, "Are you kidding?" and to howls of laughter resumed their seats at table.

Bob looked at Mike for his reaction, and the older man shook his head and murmured, "Un-fucking-believable."

Bob chuckled, "Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase brotherly love, wouldn't you say, Mike?"

As startlingly erotic as the twins' performance was it also had the effect of restoring harmony to the evening and dispelling, at least for now, the thunder clouds that had started to form. Only Bob, with his sensitive antennae to Randy's moods realized that he was still nursing some imagined injury – to his pride, his leadership – whatever. Bob had learned to take these episodes in stride and most of them usually blew over. But his fears were rekindled after he had a chat with Mike.

As the party wound down it fragmented naturally into small groups. Brandon and Brian helped the twins clear some of the debris from the table and bring out more wine and brandy. Then they joined Pablo and Jamie in the pool, who were still feeling the sexual vibes that had inspired them earlier. Mark was in conversation with Randy, making sure to heal any imagined breach caused by their boys after Jamie's playful `domination' of Pablo.

Bob and Mike were sitting together at a small table sipping brandy and it was clear Mike had something on his mind. Bob circled the subject carefully. "Quite a show the boys put on, eh, Mike?" he smiled. "But you know, no matter how merry the group gets there are sometimes undercurrents, inevitable with so many opinionated men and boys with clashing egos. And occasionally they cross the line from playful to real and feelings can get hurt."

"Look, Bob," Mike said, "I kinda know where you're going with this and I gotta say something. It's been a real blast having you guys here ... you're an awesome group and I love you all. But Bob, I fucked up. I trod on turf I shouldn't have, opened my big mouth and put my foot in it. While you guys were still out doing your three-way thing I was chatting with Pablo. And I broke my own rule of not giving advice – especially where a man and his boy are concerned.

"Pablo's a great kid and I could see how much he idolizes Randy, copying his every move and mood, and I casually suggested that maybe sometimes he should step out of his dad's shadow and act on his own initiative – you know, be more assertive – his own man.

"Hell, I never expected the boy to react so soon, but that's what the thing between him and Jamie was all about. He knew Randy wanted him to be top man but he did what he really wanted – give his ass to his buddy. Damn, I'm old enough to know better than to come between a boy and the man nurturing him, especially a man like Randy."

Bob grinned, "Hey, don't beat yourself up about this, Mike. I completely agree with the suggestion you gave Pablo. It's about time someone did. I couldn't do it `cos Randy would never listen to me about how to raise his boy. He's crazy about the kid, loves and protects him like a tiger with his cub, but the only way he knows how to bring him up is as a junior version of himself. Strange, really, that Randy prides himself so much on being his own man, leader of the tribe, but has a blind spot when it comes to building the same independence in his boy.

Mike frowned, "But Bob, you know better than anyone how Randy can flare up at anyone who invades his territory, especially his role as Pablo's dad, and when he finds out that all this was my fault ... well, I don't want any trouble, man."

"I hear you, buddy, and I'll try to make sure nothing happens, though it might take some fancy footwork."

Bob grinned. "You know, of course, that I am totally in love with the guy. We're soul-mates and I couldn't live without him, but I'm not blind to his flaws. Hell, I love him because of them ... that rugged masculinity, his alpha-male gypsy arrogance – so fucking sexy. You know, he's often called the King of the Gypsies and that's just what he is. But I flatter myself I'm the only guy who can tame him. Took a lot of blood, sweat and tears but I'm close."

Mike put his hand on Bob's shoulder. "Bob, you're a hell of a great guy, inside and out, and if I were twenty years younger I would ..." He broke off and chuckled. "Hell, who am I kidding? Compete with Randy? No fucking way."

Just then Pablo pulled himself out of the pool and ran over to Randy. Brimming with his newfound assertiveness he said, "Hey sir, I'm gonna spend the night with the twins, if that's OK. That show of theirs turned me on but I think it's about time someone came between them and I'm the guy to do it. That's OK isn't it?"

Randy was taken aback ... was his boy asking him or telling him? Taken off guard he said, "Er, yeah sure. I was thinking we might ... but no, that's fine, it's fine."

Bob rolled his eyes at Mike. "Oh shit, that didn't help our cause one bit, buddy. Better go and keep the peace." He walked over to Randy and said, "Hey, stud, it's been a long day, I'm tired and horny, though not necessarily in that order. You wanna do something about that?" He was appealing to Randy's male ego and lust at the same time and Randy fell for it.

He stretched his arms and said, "Well, I guess someone's gotta do it, so it might as well be me. Hey Mike, where's our room? Gotta take care of my man here in the only way he understands."

Mike was impressed by the way Bob, with just a few words, had dispelled Randy's simmering irritation. He took them to the main guest room in his sprawling home. Mark of course had a room with Jamie, and Pablo led the twins into the third guestroom.

Brian wheeled himself forward and said, "Uncle Mike, would it be OK if Brandon and me slept out in the garden under the stars? It's warm outside and I'd kinda like to spend my last night in the desert cuddled up with my best buddy looking up at the stars.

"Sure thing, kiddo. You know where the blankets and pillows and stuff are. Make sure you're warm enough. You need any help?"

"No thank you, sir," Brandon smiled. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Yeah," Mike chuckled. "You'd think I'd have learned that about you two by now."

The next morning the group observed the tradition that Sunday is a day of rest. Most of them slept in late, except for the twins who were used to getting up before anyone else to prepare breakfast.

When Brandon and Brian, sleeping out on the lawn, felt the sun touch their faces and smelled the coffee they disentangled themselves from each other's arms, pulled themselves into their wheelchairs and rolled into the kitchen to help take food and dishes out to the table by the pool.

Mike came out bleary eyed and said, "Morning, guys. Hey, you didn't have to do this."

"But we like to," Kevin smiled. "Do it every morning of our lives," Kyle added. "Take a seat Uncle Mike and Brian will serve your usual cup of joe and some orange juice."

Within minutes Mark and Jamie emerged and took their seats, Pablo came out with his dog Billy and put a bowl of water on the ground for him. Conversation was rather more muted than usual, partly because they had slept deeply after their exertions of the day before, but also because they were apprehensive about Randy's frame of mind today.

They needn't have worried, though, because when the two men surfaced Randy had his arm round Bob's shoulder (a casual act both protective and possessive) and they shared a glow that could only mean that they had just had morning sex. If yesterday Randy had sensed his authority over his boy slipping away, nothing restored his dominance like fucking his Superman.

There was no agenda for the day besides lounging by the pool, swimming, eating and drinking. They were all feeling lazy ... except for Pablo who, when breakfast was over, jumped up and displayed the energetic independent spirt he had acquired yesterday. "Hey, Brian, I promised you your first driving lesson today ... you ready?"

Startled by Pablo's assertive tone Brian said, "Er, yes sir ..." He blushed. "Sorry, sir, I mean dude ... sorry, dude."

Pablo's friendly grin put him at ease. "Hey, Brandon, your truck's only a two-seater so is it OK if I take Brian out in it to that disused road out in the desert?"

"Sure," Brandon said, handing him the keys. "Do you know how to work the hand controls?"

"I should," Pablo chuckled, "I installed them. Come on then kiddo. Lesson number one."

As Brian followed Pablo out to the truck everyone noticed that Pablo hadn't asked Randy for approval or advice. Not that he needed to defer to Randy – it wasn't even a breach of manners or respect – but they noticed Randy stiffen and clench his jaw, and Bob cast an uneasy glance at Mike.

However, the mood lightened as they lounged in the warm desert sun, and when the two boys returned after an hour or two the joy on Brian's face was enough to soften even the hardest of hearts. "So how was it dude?" Jamie smiled.

Brian beamed at the enquiring looks around him. "It wasn't that hard. It felt great. I soon got the hang of it and I didn't crash into anything." He grinned impishly, "Not that here was anything to crash into out there, except sand. Pablo was terrific, a great instructor, and he says I'm a natural born driver."

All eyes turned to Pablo who acknowledged their admiring glances with a cheeky salute, then quickly stripped naked and dived into the pool. Once again he was the hero of the hour.

And Brian inadvertently added to that glowing image as he said in a more conspiratorial tone, "Tell you the truth guys I was scared ... I've heard how rough and tough Pablo can be but he was great with me. I mean, I was a klutz at first but he was kind and patient and I think he really liked me. I can see why all you guys look up to him as a leader of the boys. I guess it takes more than fists to be a leader."

This peon of praise from the new boy made them all smile, and Jamie ruffled Brian's hair affectionately ... but nobody glanced at Randy.

Mike's smile was broadest of all seeing his formerly shy nephew coming out of his shell. But he was puzzled by Randy's continued reticence to embrace Pablo's new image. Surely a dad would be pleased and proud to see his boy growing into a respected leader of his peers, renouncing fisticuffs in favor of a more mature understanding of what makes a man a man.

Mike was canny enough to guess that it wasn't so much that Pablo had a new attitude, it was how he had achieved it, seemingly without Randy's help. Indeed, it was the reverse of that. His decisiveness had coincided with an apparent shrugging off of Randy's constant supervision, even of going against Randy's wishes, as he had by allowing Jamie to top him yesterday.

Mike was starting to grasp the dimensions of Randy's ego – a natural born leader who needed to control everything and everyone in his world – even his son – even his lover. Mike could only guess at the insecurities that lay hidden beneath Randy's tough, macho exterior.

Later in the afternoon Brian took time out to call the Grady House and check in with his new boss Danny to see how Mario was handling the absence of his lover Grady, filming in England.

"He was a basket case at first," Danny said. "It's the first time he's been apart from Grady and it's real hard on him. But I've spent a lot of time with him, working in the garden with him, eating with him, and I spent last night in his bed. Only time I'm away from him is when Grady videophones him from England and they talk, laugh and have Skype sex, which they've done several times already.

"But get this, dude, Grady says next time he wants me to be there and join in. Not sure how that's gonna work but I kind think it might involve Mario fucking me." He chuckled. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, far from it. Getting fucked by a hot handsome Italian? Who's gonna say no to that – not me!

"But dude I can't wait for you to get back and we can take turns – one of us taking care of the household chores, the other comforting Mario – however he wants it. That's life in the big house right now, kiddo – service, sex and Skype. You ready?"

"Ready and willing, dude," Brian grinned. "We'll be back tonight."

And so the day passed pleasantly enough and it was only Bob and Mike who really noticed Randy's brooding as he watched Pablo taking the lead, with the willing compliance of senior and junior boys alike. Jamie and the twins seemed to have found a new respect for Pablo, and the juniors followed him around in their wheelchairs like acolytes.

What annoyed Randy most was that all this was happening without reference to him. It was as if he were losing control – a situation that always roused his combative instincts and a need to fight back. He even murmured once to Bob, "I'm losing my boy, buddy," to which Bob replied that it was all in his foolish imagination.

But some kind of confrontation was inevitable, and it came in the evening when they were starting to pack up and leave. They had already said their fond farewells to Mike with promises to visit again soon, and now it was the usual chaotic scene with boys getting in each other's way, squabbling about what went where. Playing the part of circus ringmaster Bob did not notice that Randy had taken Pablo into the house to have it out with him.

"So what's up, boy?" Randy said with his usual directness. "You've been playing the big leader and ignoring me, and I did not appreciate being made to look a fool as my own son gets fucked in the ass by the cop's boy."

"But, sir, I thought you wanted me to be forceful and take the lead with the other boys. As for getting butt-fucked by Jamie, that's what I wanted, sir, and it made the guys respect me even more. "

"And what suddenly brought all this on? – and don't lie to me, boy."

That remark hurt Pablo. "I would never lie to you, sir, you know that. OK, it was when I was chatting with Mike yesterday that he made me see the light. He's a great old guy, knows what he's talking about, and he admires the hell out of you.

"He calls you `an original', a guy who takes no shit from anyone. You're independent, your own man and you don't copy anyone. He kinda suggested that I should be the same, decide things for myself. He said I sorta live in your shadow, but when a boy lives in another guy's shadow he doesn't make one of his own."

"He said that, did he?"

"Yeah. I liked what he said, made sense. I asked if I could call him whenever I can't work stuff out for myself and need advice, and he said that would be great. So I intend to, sir, and..." He was distracted by shouts coming from the gate. "Oh shit, I gotta go, sir. I knew those kids would end up fighting. I gotta sort them out – they listen to me." He grinned, "The new me, sir."

He ran off, leaving behind a seething Randy trying, without success, to control his anger. He looked out the window and saw Mike out in the garden, tidying up, straightening chairs. He strode out of the house and when Mike looked up he was staring into a pair of blazing eyes.

Randy launched right in. "What the fuck have you been telling my boy, old timer? You've been fucking with his mind, telling him he should do what he wants and pay no attention to me."

OK, this is it, Mike thought. He straightened up and looked Randy firmly in the eye. "Randy that is not what I said. I merely suggested that maybe Pablo shouldn't copy everything you do. He's a great kid, fast becoming a man and it was time he began to assert himself, just like you do."

"And what the fuck gives you the right to come between me and my boy, give him advice, turn him against his own dad?" Randy seethed, his voice rising. "You've got some fucking nerve, old man. That boy is mine, I rescued him, raised him and I own him. I'm his master, his dad, and he does what I tell him, not some over-the-hill dickhead he's just met. You want him for yourself, that it? You wanna get it his pants."

Mike's own anger flared. "That's disgusting, boy ... Listen, this is my house and I don't have to stand here listening to your bullshit and be insulted in my own home. OK, I was wrong to give your kid advice, at least I thought I was until now. Now I see you ranting and raving I'm not so sure. Maybe he does need someone else he can confide in, someone who's not plumb crazy."

"Fuck you, man. Fuck you. I'll make damn sure that boy never confides in you, never even speaks to you again. You're just a frustrated old guy who thinks he knows what young guys want. Well that boy wants me, and only me, so get that in your head."

"OK, this conversation's over Randy. I can't reason with a guy whose anger is making him come unglued. Boy, I've thrown more crazy guys like you out of my bar than I can count, and right now I'm throwing you out of my house."

"The hell you are! Anyone talks to me like that, asshole, and ..." In a towering rage Randy lost all control, raised his arm and slammed the back of his hand across Mike's cheek, sending him staggering backwards, falling over a chair and crashing to the ground.

Randy stood glaring down at him, his breath heaving. His eyes, wild with anger, could hardly focus at first, but as his heart stopped pounding he found himself staring down at their friend Mike sprawled on the ground. In a daze he slowly began to realize what he had done.

Luckily Mike had fallen on the grass, not the concrete, which could have been disastrous. Randy reached down to help him but Mike glared up at him. "No! Don't touch me ... do not touch me." He pulled himself up on his feet and rubbed his jaw. His anger spent, Randy looked in confusion at the man he had just attacked, and who now addressed him in a calm, level voice.

"Randy, when I first saw you I thought, now there's a real man, a gorgeous alpha male that guys could look up to and respect as a born leader. I know different now. I would have been honored to be your friend, but I see now that's not possible."

"Listen, man, I ..." Randy stammered, but Mike silenced him with a raised hand.

"No, don't speak, and for god's sake don't apologize ... don't insult me with that bullshit. I'm familiar with the pattern of abuse where guys like you slug a man, apologize, ask for forgiveness and promise it'll never happen again – until the next time when the cycle starts again. I saw yesterday how you operate. You fuck up, brutalize a man like Bob, then do penance by asking for physical punishment, getting whipped and fucked ... and it's over ... all's right with the world.

"God knows what you've put Bob and the other guys through in the past. Well maybe they idolize you so much you get away with it and they do forgive you – just big boss Randy being Randy. Well not me, boy. I've been around that block before – and never again. So, I'm supposed to give you a thrashing and that makes everything OK? Well not me, kid, I don't go in for that shit ... ain't never gonna happen.

"So here's what is gonna happen, boy. You will get out of my house and never set foot here again. If you come to my bar I'll have you thrown out. I don't want you to call, I never want to speak to you again. This is just between you and me, boy. I won't say a word about it to those wonderful guys waiting for you outside. Just know that for me, Randy, you don't exist."

Mike's eyes grew moist as he reached up and gently touched Randy's stubbled jaw. "What a waste ... such a beautiful man and such a fucked-up mess." He turned round, walked away, and went back to arranging the chairs.

Randy had listened to Mike's tongue lashing like a scolded kid. Now he stood stunned for a minute as his eyes filled with tears and he started to sob. But as the tears fell he pulled himself together. He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. He straightened up and strode to the gate.

The three trucks were all loaded and everyone was on board. Randy climbed in beside Bob who looked at him with alarm, at his face streaked with tears and the agonized look in his eyes.

"Randy, whatever's the matter. What's happened?"

"Nothing, man. Let's just get the hell out of here."

He started the engine, the trucks pulled away from the house ... and they headed home.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 322

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, I invite you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy