Date: Tue, 23 Jan 2018 22:34:25 -0500
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 398  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 398
By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 398 – "THE KING OF THE GYPSIES GETS TRASHED"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy, the tough gypsy construction boss, pays the price for insulting his
buddy, the black musclehunk Zack, and their savage fight leaves the gypsy
beaten in the mud.  Then he gets a humiliating tongue lashing and worse
from the respected older man Uncle Mike, who stares down at the rugged
gypsy face running with tears and cum.  "Man, I have never seen anything so
pornographically sexy in my life."
_____________________________________________________________________


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

Mike, the handsome middle-aged bar owner, and his younger lover, the hot
stud Larry, had hit a rough patch in their relationship that could even
lead to a breakup.  Larry had got into trouble by making love with a hot
young guy named Franco.  Mike, conscious of a 30-year age difference with
Larry, was afraid that he would leave him for a younger man.

But they were saved by the intervention of several men of the tribe –
the cop Mark; the Marine Hassan; and the macho mechanic Pablo – who had
brought their boys out to visit Mike and Larry in their Palm Springs home.

Seeing that their friend Larry was in trouble, the boys, led by Pablo, had
convinced him that if he needed "young fresh meat" all he had to do was
look no farther than the boys of the tribe.  So they had inducted him as a
member of the tribe in a wild sexual initiation by the whole group.

Pablo grinned, "See, Larry, you can have your cake and eat it, bro – be
lovers with Mike and still fuck around with us younger guys when the mood
hits you.  You want young juicy sex, you know where to get it.  Just one
rule – you don't go outside the tribe."

When they returned to the house Larry hugged Mike. "I'm sorry for the
trouble I caused, sir, but I promise that everything's gonna be just fine
from now on.  No more crap about me leaving you.  If you or I wanna fuck
anyone else there's a whole hot tribe of men to choose from – your
buddies as well as mine."

Mike smiled with relief.  "Thanks, kiddo.  You've made an older man very
happy.  Listen, Mark, Hassan and I have been talking, and I think it would
be good for you to spend a week in L.A. with the boys.  We've got a slow
week coming up at the bar so you could go back to L.A. with the guys when
they leave here and in a week I'll come into town and pick you up. Sound
good?"

"I'd like that, Mike.  Hey, sirs," to Mark and Hassan, "think you can put
up with me for a week?"

Hassan grinned encouragingly but Mark seemed distracted.  "What?  Oh, yeah,
sure.  Be great, just what you need, Larry.  Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked
there.  I just had a call from Bob and it seems there's a big problem
brewing between Randy and Zack.  They've been best buddies for years, but
they're both hotheaded alpha males and they've clashed before."

"Yeah," Mike said, "kind of inevitable, I suppose, like two stallions in a
pissing contest to mark their territory."

"I guess so.  Only this time Bob thinks it's more serious.  Zack's even
talking about leaving the construction company and setting up on his own."

"Ah, don't worry, Mark," Mike said.  "I know Randy and his hot temper, but
I don't take no bullshit from him, he listens to me.  I'll be out there in
a week, so maybe I can do something."

"Let's hope so, buddy.  Someone has to."


********************** CHAPTER 398 *********************

Now that the clouds had lifted from Mike and Larry and their relationship
had been repaired better than ever, they set about proving that making up
was better than breaking up.  They spent a lot of time in the master
bedroom making up for lost time.

Not that their guests minded.  Mike and Larry's newfound happiness was
infectious, like the sun reappearing after a rainstorm.  The junior boys
Eddie and Tyler took over the kitchen and threw together what passed for a
late lunch, which they all ate lolling around the pool.

Three consecutive relationship dramas – Mark/Jamie, Mark/Hassan, and
Mike/Larry – had all been put to rest, and now the main topic of
conversation was the unsettling news from the tribe's compound in L.A. that
boss Randy and his co-boss Zack were butting heads.

As Mike put it, when rival stags clashed horns it was usually a battle for
leadership of the herd, and that was now the fear expressed by the senior
men, the cop Mark and Marine captain Hassan.  "Yeah, sounds like the shit
has really slammed into the fan this time," Hassan said.

The senior boys – Jamie, Mark's young lover; and Pablo, the construction
company's head mechanic – also had a stake in the outcome of the
conflict.  As Randy's boy and adopted son, Pablo predictably weighed in on
Randy's behalf, but his position was complicated by the fact that his lover
Darius was Zack's boy, so they risked being on opposite sides if it came to
a fight.

"Man, you guys really do weave a tangled web in that tribe," Mike grinned
as he and Larry came out of the house to join them by the pool.  "So many
overlapping, tangled relationships.  I bet a dime to a dollar that this
one, like all the others, will wind up in Doctor Steve's lap."

Mike was referring to the tribe's therapist Doctor Steve, who always waited
on the sidelines in case his intervention was needed.  Although he was
Randy's brother, he stayed professionally unbiased.  He was acutely aware
of the faults of the unpredictable, hot-headed gypsy.

As the conversation continued, the youngsters Eddie and Tyler were content
to sit back and listen.  They were excited at the prospect of yet another
upheaval in the tribe, but this was definitely a senior man issue.  Junior
boys could definitely not intervene so, for once in his life, motor-mouth
Eddie was silent, though it was the kind of story he would later relate
with his usual dramatics and colorful exaggerations.

Mike was the wisest head in the group with his long experience of men and
their problems, having sorted out many in his years as the owner of a
popular leather bar catering to aggressive, opinionated men.  Respecting
Mike as they all did, Mark, asked, "So what's your take on all this, buddy?
You have the benefit of seeing us all from a distance which probably gives
you a better perspective when things go wrong."

Mike shrugged with a sigh.  "Well, of course, it's early days yet and we
don't have the details but my guess is that it's a classic clash of egos in
two tough alpha males – what you might call a Clash of the Titans."

He chuckled at the thought.  "I've seen those two muscle-studs striding
around the construction site – co-managers, equal bosses barking their
orders.  They run a real tight ship – Randy the fierce long-haired gypsy
in filthy jeans and that old sweaty tank top he always wears, and the black
leather-master Zack, shirtless in black jeans with his shaved head and a
hard-muscle body that won't quit.  Shit, they're straight out of some porn
fantasy and they sure scare me – as well as giving me a major hard-on,"
he grinned.

"But the worst part of it is that they are real close buddies too.  You
know the old saying – never go into business with a friend `cos it'll
ruin the friendship.  Those guys are made for each other.  They respect
each other's strength and dominance – they see themselves in each other
in a way.  But the other side of that coin is that they're rivals too –
like I said, two dominant stags in a herd that can support only one.  The
clash was inevitable sooner or later.  I'm only surprised it didn't come
sooner."

"Oh, it has – several times," Mark said.  "They've clashed before over
all kinds of shit – work issues, relationship stuff, protecting their
boys.  You're right, Mike, there's a deep-down rivalry there – a
friendly rivalry most of the time – two macho buddies flexing their
muscles, challenging each other like they're in some competition pose-down.
But sometimes it gets serious and the demons rise up.

"In the past their mutual love and respect has won out but, from what Bob
says, this time there's a more serious element to it.  This time it's
territorial and, like your stag analogy, Mike, there can be only one leader
left standing.  And that's what scares me."

***********************************

But they eventually ran out of steam on that particular topic and the rest
of the weekend was devoted to fun and relaxation.  Mark and Hassan took
them all out for dinner as reciprocation for Mike and Larry's hospitality
to them.

Mike reveled in their company, and the boys were especially solicitous of
Larry after having helped to solve his relationship problems with Mike.
They were looking forward to him driving back to town with them and him
spending the week with the tribe before Mike came to pick him up the
following weekend.

The only signs of continued anxiety on the Randy/Zack front were the
frequent phone conversations Mark had with Bob.  Ever since they met years
ago Mark had been in love with Bob and his main focus now was to make sure
Bob didn't get hurt in this growing feud between Zack and Bob's lover
Randy.  He had been caught in the crossfire before.

After a couple of enjoyable days together, with a mix of laughter,
boisterous play, and hours of just lounging by the pool, the weekend came
to an end.  They prolonged it as much as possible, choosing to drive back
early Monday morning to avoid the heavy Sunday evening traffic.

The departure was as chaotic as their arrival had been as gear was thrown
into the two vehicles and Eddie's excited voice could be heard above the
din.  Off to one side Mike and Larry hugged and kissed goodbye.  "OK if I
phone often to make sure you're doing OK?" Larry said.

"You better, kid.  But the main thing is for you to take a break and have
fun with the boys.  Fuck as many of them as you like," Mike grinned,
"provided you tell me all about it when I get there."

Mark elected to accompany Hassan in the jeep as they loved the prospect of
being alone together, and it gave them a chance to chew over the pending
drama waiting for them at home.

That left the boys to crowd into Mark's truck, with Jamie at the wheel and
Pablo next to him.  In the back seat Larry regaled Eddie and Tyler with
colorful stories of his life as a hot, shirtless bartender in jeans and
leather chaps basking in the lustful admiration of the customers.

They finally set off just as the sun was coming up, early enough so they
would be ahead of the Monday morning rush hour.  They made good time and a
couple of hours later were pulling up at the gate of the tribe's compound.

Hassan said, "Mark, I gotta get back home `cos I start work in a couple of
hours and I'm sure Eddie has his duties here.  I'll keep in touch, bro."
He hugged Mark, then Eddie, telling him to be good and work hard.  "And not
too much gossip, eh kid?"

"Me, sir?  Gossip?  You must be thinking of some other boy, sir?"  Hassan
laughed, ruffled his boy's hair, and took off.

Pablo took Tyler into their apartment, and Larry was to stay in the guest
room of Mark and Jamie's apartment.  "Jamie," Mark said, "why don't you
take Larry and get him settled in, OK?  I gotta go upstairs and have a word
with Bob."

"Yeah, I thought you would, sir?" Jamie grinned.  "Good luck with that."

******************************

When Mark knocked on the door to the master suite and went in he found Bob,
wearing the T-shirt and boxers he had slept in, sitting staring morosely at
his computer screen.  On seeing Mark his face broke into a smile of relief,
he got up and they fell into a long hug.  Then, "Here, Mark, the breakfast
tray the twins just brought in is over there.  Grab some coffee."

They sat facing each other and Mark said, "So what's the latest?"

Bob sighed.  "You know those days when storm clouds threaten all day until
the inevitable cloudburst comes?"

"And that's where you are, eh?  Waiting for the deluge."

"Pretty much.  Randy's already gone to the construction site – wants to
be the first one there so nobody can take charge but him.  In the meantime
there's this eerie truce – Randy and Zack are not talking much, barely
tolerating each other. But you know the last straw will break any minute
and then ... Jesus, who knows?

"Problem is, Mark, it goes a lot deeper than a business disagreement or
just frayed tempers.  That co-manager thing has always been flawed –
Zack makes decisions that are often countermanded by Randy.  Zack's
dissatisfaction has been brewing for a long time and it's finally boiled
over.  He's always chafed under the idea of Randy being the boss and he
wants more autonomy.  He says the only way to get that is to break away and
form his own construction company – which would inevitably compete with
Randy's."

"Damn," Mark said, "I can guess Randy's reaction to that.  No one ever
walks out on Randy – it's a blow to his macho pride, an insult to his
manhood."

"That's it exactly, Mark, although Zack's need for more autonomy after all
these years is not unreasonable.  And to make matters worse they have
always been such close buddies.  You know Randy's always had irrational
abandonment issues with me, and now he's facing what he sees as abandonment
by his old buddy Zack.  So this would not only be a partnership split, it
would be the end of a friendship.  It's like an acrimonious, multi-layered
divorce."

"Is there anything you can do, buddy?"

"Oh, you know how that goes, Mark. Randy refuses to even discuss it with me
and besides, it's dangerous to intervene in his problems when he's as riled
up as he is now.  I've tried that in the past and wound up as collateral
damage with a bruised face or a busted arm."

"Yeah, and that's what scares me the most this time, Bob.  But it's not
gonna happen again or by God I'll ..."

"And that's what scares me the most, Mark, is that this will spread from
the top all the way down through the tribe.  So I thank you for your
concern, but please don't lose your cool with Randy."

"Look, Bob, I gotta go and get ready for work.  It's an eight hour shift
but I'm only a phone call away so if there's the slightest hint of trouble
..."

"I know, Mark, and you'll be the first one I'll call."

*******************************

They hugged again, Mark reluctantly left the room and Bob went back to his
computer.  God knows he had enough work to do and he preferred to do it
here in his private office rather than downstairs in the main business
office where he would face the anxious, enquiring faces of Jamie and
Brandon.

The company was in the final stages of planning a new project, a small
apartment complex.  They mostly worked on commercial properties, but the
current housing shortage in L.A. meant there were lucrative opportunities
in residential properties right now, which is why they were embarking on
this one.  Bob spent the whole morning finalizing the budget for the
project and was so engrossed that he was surprised to hear a knock on the
door and the twins, Kyle and Kevin, came in with a lunch tray and drinks.

"Jesus, is that the time already?" Bob said.  "Thanks, guys.  I'm sorry to
give you the trouble of providing room service but I prefer to stay on my
own up here for a while."

"We understand perfectly, sir," said Kyle, and Kevin added, "We only wish
we could do more than just feed you."

Bob chuckled.  "Boys, don't sell yourselves short – you are providing an
essential service.  It was Napoleon who once famously said, `an army
marches on its stomach', and right now I feel like an army of one in the
middle of a battle."

"Just don't get caught in the crossfire, sir," Kevin said.

"Huh, that's just what Mark said.  Don't worry, guys, I intend to keep my
head down and ..."  He stopped short as he heard the squeal of brakes
outside the gate and a truck door slam.  The twins looked nervous as they
heard the unmistakable heavy tread of Randy's boots on the stairs, and the
door burst open."

Randy looked like a savage, with his swarthy features, a heavy stubble on
his chin, unruly long black hair and blazing eyes.  He was wearing his
usual dirt streaked jeans and muddy boots, and the greasy tank top that
clung to his muscled torso, his shoulders and arms gleaming with sweat that
ran down to damp patches under his armpits.

Even the usually placid twins were scared as Randy barked, "Get out, I need
to talk to Bob."

Bob clenched his fists.  "Randy, don't you dare insult my boys by talking
to them like that."  Then more gently, "OK, guys, I can handle this.  And I
apologize to you on Randy's behalf."  The twins beat a hasty retreat and
Bob said, "You don't usually come home on your lunch break, Randy.  Must be
something important."

"It is," Randy snapped.  "I wanna see a copy of Zack's employment contract
– to see if there's a non-compete clause in there if he leaves.  Print
it out for me – now!"

"Is that an order, Randy?" Bob asked calmly, making no move to comply.

"Fuck yeah," Randy growled, then checked himself.  "Well, no.  Fuck, I
... just print the fucking thing out, man."

Bob could see Randy was wound tight as a drum and didn't want an eruption
so he calmly searched for the document on his computer and pressed print.
While the printer spewed out four, five pages Randy paced the room,
breathing heavily, clenching and unclenching his fists.  Bob tapped the
pages together on his desk but withheld them from Randy.

"Randy, are you sure you want to go this route?  What, are you gonna sue
your buddy Zack?"

"He's not my fucking buddy, asshole, he's a son-of-a-bitch traitor,
threatening to desert me and stab me in the back by setting up a rival
outfit.  I won't let that happen, whatever it takes."

"Why don't you try just beating him senseless?" Bob said sarcastically.

"Oh he'll get that too, don't worry.  I can drop that mother-fucker any
time."

Bob finally lost his cool.  "Oh for God's sake, Randy, you're acting like a
schoolyard bully.  Zack has every right to pursue his own career path and
if that means setting up his own company good luck to him.  I'd even help
him do it, `cos he's a friend."

"Fuck you, man, I knew you would turn on me too.  Fuck you all."

Bob stood up and sighed wearily.  "I am not turning on you, Randy, you know
better than that."  He picked up the contract.  "But I doubt there's a
non-compete clause in this contract because when we started this company we
were all friends who trusted each other.  We could have done it on a
handshake.  But you seem prepared to destroy that friendship, bring down
the company and dissolve the tribe.  Way to go, big guy."

He thrust the papers at Randy.  "This is not about any damned contract,
Randy.  It's all about you and your massive ego.  You take it as a personal
insult that a man you used to admire, a man as big and tough as you, would
turn his back on you, the King of the fucking Gypsies.  OK, I give up.  If
that's what you want, take the damn file and your ego and go pull the house
down."

"Fuck you, man," Randy shouted, losing all control and jabbing Bob in the
chest. "What the fuck do you know about it anyway?  It's me built this
company, out there sweating my guts out day after day bringing in the money
while all you do is sit here and count it, in your nice cool office with
your clean fingers on your fancy computer."

He jabbed harder and pushed Bob back down in his chair, his elbow hitting
the desk hard.  "I'll tell you something, asshole.  Zack goes, I go, back
to Texas where a man's sweat means something.  And you and the company and
the whole damn tribe can go to hell.  I've had it up to here with you."

He snatched the papers out of Bob's hand and stormed toward the door.  He
opened it, paused and looked back at Bob rubbing his sore elbow and wiping
his eye.  "Fuck," Randy growled, then strode back across the room, pulled
Bob out of his chair, wrapped his arms round him ... and kissed him
savagely.  Their mouths clamped tight and Bob felt his lover's tongue
probing inside, pressing in deep and pushing against his tongue.

Shocked by this astonishing act Bob reflexively tried to pull back but was
firmly trapped in the bear hug of Randy's muscular arms.  He felt he was
suffocating but he inhaled sharply as Randy exhaled so they were breathing
the same air back and forth. The ferocious embrace was so intense it seemed
to Bob that Randy was afraid to let go.

And despite being dazed Bob knew what this was – it was Randy's way of
apologizing.  The fierce gypsy was a man of actions not words.  The only
way he knew how to fight was with his fists, and the best way he knew to
express love and remorse was with this savage display of his overwhelming
sexuality.

And the irony was that this was when Bob lusted for him the most – the
savage, the caveman, the sweaty, stubble-faced construction worker he had
sat next to in a seedy bar so many years ago.  His cock was rock hard in
his boxer shorts rubbing against the bulge in Randy's jeans.

Bob also sensed that this was more than Randy's attempted apology.  It was
a cry for help.  The rift between Randy and Zack had knocked the big man
off balance, sapped his self-confidence, and he was lost in uncharted
territory.  Of course his animal instinct was to fight and yell, to
intimidate everyone around him.  But Bob knew that Randy was part dominant
alpha male, part insecure young boy – courageous as a lion most of the
time but occasionally reverting to a child lost in the dark woods he had
foolishly wandered into.

At last Randy loosened his hold, pulled back and his pale blue eyes
penetrated Bob's.  Then he turned abruptly away and walked to the door.
But again he paused, beat his fist on the doorpost and growled "Fuck
... fuck ..."

Then came Bob's soothing voice.  "Randy, do you wanna fuck me?"

***********************************

Randy whirled round, eyes blazing.  "Hell yeah."  He came back across the
room and stood towering over Bob who looked up at him from his desk chair.
He lifted Bob bodily out of the chair, carried him across the room and
threw him down on the bed.  Bob stared up at him and almost creamed his
shorts.  This was pure caveman.  If Randy had dragged Bob by the hair
across the room it could not have been more like a caveman emerging from
his lair.

"Hell yeah," Randy said again, as he ripped open his jeans and pulled out
his massive cock, stiff as a pole.  Then he did something that surprised
Bob, who thought he was beyond surprises after all these years.  Randy
reached down to a jar of lube that Bob kept by the bed for when he made
love to the twins.  He scooped out a big blob and coated his cock with it.
He almost never used lube with Bob – spit at the most.  But even at this
frenzied moment of animal lust Randy's deep-rooted instinct to protect Bob
remained.

Bob was wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts and, typically for Randy,
there was no foreplay.  He leaned down and pulled off Bob's shorts, knelt
on the bed, pushed Bob's legs back ... and drove his thick shaft deep in
his ass.  Bob gasped and pressed his hands against Randy's chest in a
reflexive act of self-protection.  He knew this would be one of Randy's
legendary savage fucks and was grateful for the thick coating of lube round
his cock.

Randy stared down at him and growled, "Fuck you, man," though Bob was not
sure if the mad gypsy was addressing him or Zack or the world at large.
But he did know that this is what Randy needed to reassert his threatened
manhood and heal his bruised ego.

"Fuck you, man.  Fuck you all," Randy howled as he gazed down at the
chiseled superman beneath him and began the brutal invasion of his ass.

Shocked at first at the ferocity of the piston pounding deep inside him Bob
closed his eyes and winced in response to the pain.  But the pain dissolved
when he opened them and gazed at the homoerotic sight of the construction
boss above him, sweat gleaming on his sinewy body, muscles rippling under
the greasy tank, his long black hair falling over his stubbled gypsy face.

Randy reached down, grabbed the neck of Bob's T-shirt and pulled his head
and shoulders up off the bed.  He glared wildly down at the grimacing face
as he fucked harder, pulling up on the bunched shirt until the jerking
motion of the fuck brought ripping sounds.  Soon the torn shirt gave way,
the front ripped off completely and Bob fell back on the bed, the shreds of
thin fabric draped over his chest.

Roused to a frenzy by the sight of the handsome muscle-god in the shredded
T-shirt Randy leaned forward, grabbed Bob's wrists and pinned them to the
bed above his head, sweat dripping from his forehead onto his captive's
face thrashing beneath him.  The action was relentless as the gypsy's cock
jackhammered the muscled superman's ass, harder and faster as the minutes
passed.

"Now you know who the fucking boss is around here, man.  I can drop you
anytime."  It was crazy talk, born of all his fears and frustrations at
Zack, and Bob realized he was substituting for Zack as Randy raved, "No man
walks away from me, you black mother fucker.  I'll fucking break you, man
– show you who's boss.  You know your ass can't take any more.  Let's
hear it, stud.  Let me hear you submit."

Swept up in the rugged gypsy's powerful sexuality, and feeling his own
climax approaching, Bob succumbed to the heady sensation of imagining
himself the defeated rival and the submission felt real – and
exhilarating.  "OK, OK, I've had enough.  I give up ... you're the boss.
Please, sir, take my ass, cum inside me.  Fuck, I'm gonna cum ... you're
making me cum ... aaagh!"

His hands were still trapped but his body shook, his cock reared up ... and
spurted a stream of jizz straight up onto Randy's chest, just as Randy
drove in one last deep thrust and shot his wad deep in his lover's ass.

The only sound was heavy, rasping breaths as their cocks drained and Bob's
own semen dripped down on him from Randy's chest.  Slowly the delusion
faded back to reality ... and Randy found himself staring into the handsome
face of the man he loved.  His mind whirled with conflicting thoughts of
love, rivalry, threats and betrayal, but on some level he had the
impression he had reasserted his manhood – to himself, at least, if to
no one else.

But one other thought was more urgent than the rest as abandonment paranoia
gripped him again.  "You won't ever leave me, will you man?"

"Of course not, Randy, you know I won't."  Randy stared into his eyes and
frowned, as if seeing him for the first time.  He kissed Bob passionately,
then pulled off, stood up, stuffed his cock back in his jeans ... and he
was gone, as abruptly as he had arrived.

Bob lay on his back staring at the ceiling, exhausted and exhilarated.
Whatever mess they were in, he thought, whatever happened next, Bob was
certain of one thing.  He was totally in love with this magnificent,
complex man, held powerless in his sexual magnetism, and he would never,
could never, leave him.  He was at once elated – and fearful of what
came next.

He was brought back from his reverie by a gentle tap on the door and the
twins came in looking anxious.  "Are you OK, sir?  We heard the noise and
..."

"Yeah ... yeah, kids, I'm fine.  Except maybe for a sore elbow and ass.
Randy and me were just ..."  He shrugged and the twins both smiled at him,
naked except for a ripped T-shirt and covered in cum.  Kevin noticed the
papers scattered on the floor, picked them up and shuffled them together.
"Do you need these papers, sir?"

"Oh, just something Randy forgot," Bob smiled.  "No, Kevin, you can throw
them in the trash."

*************************************

Bob realized that he had been used as a kind of whipping boy for Randy to
vent his anger at Zack.  But if he thought that this episode would be a
watershed moment and the beginning of Randy's return to common sense, he
was sadly mistaken.  Events beyond our control have a way of blowing our
optimism clear out of the water.

The action shifted from the master bedroom to the construction site, but
even now it took a couple of days to reach the inevitable climax.  In the
meantime Randy and Zack steered clear of each other during the day, each in
charge of different crews on separate projects on the site.

Pablo and Darius had a hand in this too, carefully and subtlely intervening
to prevent the men from meeting ... and clashing.  The boys were also
walking a fine line between friendship and rivalry.  Buddies and lovers
from way back they were also the boys of the quarreling men, so they risked
being sucked into the fight on behalf of their masters.

But there was nothing they could do to prevent the storm when it came,
except stand on the sidelines as if watching a slow-motion train wreck.
The cause was something as mundane as a retaining wall.  It linked the two
projects the men were supervising but looked unstable.  Randy said, "We
need to buttress it ... here ... and here."

"Nah," Zack disagreed, "it still wouldn't be safe. This section has to be
demolished and rebuilt."

Ordinarily a routine difference of opinion like this would be easily
resolved but in this overheated atmosphere Randy took it as a direct
challenge.  Unfortunately the crewmen sided unanimously with Zack.  It was
Randy himself who had always insisted on `safety first' to the men.

Seeing himself outnumbered, and to preserve his image as boss, he grabbed a
heavy pickaxe and said through gritted teeth, "Right, you want it gone
...?"  He raised the axe high and brought it crashing down on the side of
the wall.  It shuddered but remained upright.  He swung again with the same
result.

His anger had clouded his judgement as he would normally have brought the
wall down with one blow.  So Zack stepped forward and said, "Nah, you're
hitting the wrong side.  See, it's listing slightly to this side so you
need to aim into the list ... like this.  Zack grabbed the pickaxe from
Randy's hand, swung it mightily, and the wall collapsed in a cloud of
dust."

And finally the shit hit the fan.  Randy could never be upstaged like this
in front of his men, especially in a contest of sheer brute strength.
Shit, Randy thought irrationally, if Zack set up his own outfit the men
would follow him.

"Suppose you think that makes you hot shit, don't you?" Randy snarled.  "I
already loosened the damn thing, you just got a lucky hit.  OK, men, as you
were.  I'm the boss here."

Zack snarled, "Oh for god's sake knock it off, Randy, with all this `I'm
the boss' bullshit.  You don't impress anyone anymore."

"Fuck you, asshole," Randy said, punching Zack on the shoulder.  "I started
this company ... you don't know shit about running your own outfit."

The temperature was rising rapidly and Pablo and Darius ran forward.
"Guys. Let's take this next door, let these guys carry on here.  Glaring at
each other Randy and Zack were barely aware of the younger men pushing them
off the site and into a derelict building next door that was scheduled for
demolition.

It was a large empty space with a dirt floor that had turned to mud from a
leaking hose that snaked over it.  The two raging alpha males stood in the
middle squaring off, eyes blazing, the savage gypsy in greasy pants and
sweaty tank, the black muscle-stud shirtless as always in black jeans.
Darius could see that Randy was about to take a swing so he grabbed his arm
and said, "Randy, cool it, man, there's no need to ..."

Incensed, Randy yelled, "Take your fucking hands off me" and shook Darius
off so violently that he stumbled and sprawled in the mud.  "This has
nothing to do with you, boy," he sneered touching every one of Zack's hot
buttons.  He not only saw his boy knocked to the ground but heard in the
sneering "boy" echoes of how the word was once used degradingly to black
slaves.

"Mother-fucker!" he roared and threw himself on Randy, bringing them both
crashing down into the mud.  The battle that had been brewing for days was
finally joined ... and it was brutal.  The two muscular construction bosses
traded blows with building ferocity.  Randy drove Zack to the wall and
slapped his face from side to side until Zack kneed him in the groin,
sending him groaning to the floor, then launched himself on top of him.

They rolled over and over in the mud, wrestling, slugging, clawing at each
other as Pablo and Darius stared aghast, powerless to intervene.  At one
point Randy broke free, staggered to his feet and grabbed a crowbar off the
ground.  But as he raised it Zack wrapped his feet round Randy's ankles and
brought him crashing down again.

They were so evenly matched that it came down to stamina and adrenaline and
there Zack had the edge.  They both had days of pent up animosity inside
them but nothing roused a man like a threat to his boy, and Zack's rage had
peaked when Randy attacked and demeaned Darius.  Plus, as the demolition
incident had shown, Zack was more controlled and focused than his wildly
emotional rival.

So in the end Randy lay on his back in the mud with Zack kneeling astride
his chest, slamming his face with the back of his hand.  Zack picked up the
dropped crowbar and pressed it across Randy's neck.  But despite his rage
he flashed on their former closeness as best buddies, a memory that now
triggered restraint before he could do real damage.  He tossed the crowbar
away, leapt to his feet and the exhausted Randy stared up at him in a
half-conscious haze.

Zack jeered, "Yeah, look at the `big boss' now.  You've been asking for
that for a long time, mother fucker, but what you really need is this ..."
He hooked his boot under him and kicked him over on his stomach.  He
reached down and yanked Randy's jeans down over his ass, then unzipped his
own jeans, pulled out his massive cock and smeared it with wet mud.

He fell forward, braced his hands on Randy's broad back, dug his feet in
the mud and arched over him.  "Fucking arrogant prick like you needs one
thing, stud – a big black monster dick up your ass.  Brace yourself,
boss."

"Aaagh!"  Randy's scream echoed round the cavernous room as Zack's rod
plunged into him, pulled back and slammed in again.  Desperately Randy
tried to claw his way forward through the mud but the weight of his rival's
hands on him pinned him to the ground at his mercy.

"I'll give you a break and make it quick, big guy," Zack growled, "in
memory of when we used to be such good buddies.  This ain't what I wanted,
man, you and me enemies, but you stopped respecting me and you hurt my boy.
So here it comes, man, my jizz in your ass just to prove I am the best."

His pile-driving cock pounded the big gypsy's ass faster and harder.
"Sorry, buddy, but this is how it has to be.  Fuck you man ... fuck you for
screwing up what we had ... I loved you, man ... I used to love you
... aaagh!"

Their screams shook the old derelict building as Zack fell on top of the
broken man and his rod plunged in deep one last time, pouring hot jizz into
his ass in a final definitive act of dominance and humiliation.

Zack pulled out, jumped to his feet and stuffed his cock back in his jeans.
Pablo ran forward, knelt beside Randy and carefully turned him over on his
back.  He ran his hand gently over his bruised face, wiping the mud away
from his eyes and nose.  Darius made a move to join him but Pablo looked up
and snarled, "Back off, man, don't you dare touch him."

"But Pablo, you and me, we're ..."

"We're done, dude.  My place is with my dad.  After this ... we're done."

Zack grabbed Darius's shoulder.  "Come on, boy, your friend's right.  Let's
get the fuck out of here ... for good."  They walked out together, master
and boy, leaving Randy beaten in the mud, his boy bending over him with
tears running down his face.

*********************************

The news, of course, ricocheted around the tribe and cast a cloud over
everything.  They had known that there was a problem and hoped for the
best, but this was bad, worse than they could have imagined.

One of the worst affected was Bob, who had hoped that when Randy had
savagely fucked him as a stand-in for Zack it might banish some of his
demons and turn on a light at the end of the tunnel.  But that optimism lay
in ruins, buried in the mud of an old abandoned building.

Randy had been brought home by Pablo and put to bed in the apartment Pablo
shared with Darius.  Darius of course was sequestered with Zack in Zack's
house across the street, and nobody expected them to appear for dinner that
evening – if ever.  Maybe they were already making plans to leave for
good.

When Mark came home from his shift he went straight to Bob and comforted
him, though they avoided the impossible question of what came next.
"Mark," Bob said, "we should go across to the office and see how Jamie and
Brandon are bearing up.  Can't imagine much company work is being done –
hell, there may not even be a company after this."

Jamie and Brandon were talking somberly when the men walked in and Jamie
stood and hugged Mark.  They all sat around and finally, in the
businesslike atmosphere of the office, they tentatively edged toward the
main subject.

"Apparently they're both OK," Bob said, "no bones broken or teeth knocked
out.  The irrepressible Eddie was the only one bold enough to check and he
called both Pablo and Darius.  I've asked the twins to take food into Pablo
and Randy, and across to Darius and Zack too.  Those guys always seem to
float above the fray, thank god."

"That's a relief, at least," Mark sighed.  "But now what?"

"Huh, that's the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, Mark.  After this
Randy is never gonna give Zack more autonomy at the construction site and I
doubt Zack wants it at this point.  He's hell bent on having his own
company so ... jeez, I'm afraid he'll just shove off.  No, I've racked my
brain but I just can't see a solution."

"I think I can, sir."

They looked in surprise at Brandon who had been quietly working at his
computer in the background while Jamie concentrated on the men's
conversation."

"You can?" Bob asked in disbelief ... "What do you mean, Brandon?"

Brandon turned his wheelchair round to face them and took a deep breath.
"Well, sir, while Jamie was away last week with Mark in the dunes I had
plenty of time alone in the office.  There was only so much I could do
without Jamie so I spent my spare time on a project of my own."

They stared at Brandon who blinked earnestly behind his black-framed
glasses.  "You see, sirs, working these last few years in the office I've
got to know the business of the company pretty well – you know, the way
it all runs, the budgets, the corporate structure.  And of course I heard
all about the problems between the guys – Eddie spilled all the details
to me ... he always knows pretty much everything that's going down."

"Well, I saw that the root of the problem was that Zack had a hankering to
run a company of his own – and if you don't mind me saying so, sir, it's
about time too.  Also, I know that we are bringing a new project on line
– that apartment building – and you guys have said the company should
get into residential projects much more, in addition to the commercial
stuff we build.

"So, I put two and two together and thought maybe Zack would be supervising
the apartment project.  Problem there was that he would still be working
under Randy as boss."  Brandon grinned broadly.  "And then the lightbulb
went on."

"The lightbulb?" Mark smiled, amused and impressed with the boy's
enthusiasm.

"Yes, sir.  Zack wants his own company so the company should give it to
him."

Bob frowned.  "But that would mean two companies."

"Bingo!  You're quick sir.  Two companies under the corporate umbrella.
One would be the existing commercial division under Randy as always, and
the other, the new residential division, under Zack.  That way both men
would be boss of his own company.  There must be a way the companies could
be run independently with both feeding profits into the corporate entity."

Brandon winced.  "But then I got stuck.  I mean, I'm not clever enough to
know all the stuff about forming a corporation or splitting one.  But isn't
that what you do, sir – I mean financing, incorporation and all the
legal mumbo jumbo shit?"

Bob chuckled.  "I sure do, Brandon.  Legal mumbo jumbo shit is exactly what
I do."  He paused.  "You know, guys, I think we have a boy genius among
us."

Brandon looked at Jamie.  "Dude, you don't mind me doing all this in my
spare time do you?  I mean I kept up on the day-to-day stuff."

Jamie leapt out of his chair, knelt by Brandon and hugged him.  "Brandon I
love you.  I always knew you were handsome and brave and loyal and loving,
all those things – but who knew you were a boy genius too?"

"Sir," Brandon said to Bob, "that's about as far as I got with all this, so
I'm talked out ... and I'm hungry.  Could I run across to the kitchen, get
some food from the twins and bring it back here for us all?"

"Sure you can, Brandon.  Wow, you've certainly set my mind buzzing, kiddo."
Brandon wheeled himself out and Bob looked thoughtful.  "Of course, this is
the logical next step for the company.  We couldn't see the wood for the
trees but Brandon was able to take the long view and think outside the
box."

Bob paced the room as he worked it out.  "Of course it would need two
separate managers – bosses – and we've got those.  And an expanded
board of directors too.  Right now it's just me, Randy, Zack, you Mark, and
recently Pablo at Randy's insistence.  We've talked about bringing on
Darius and Jamie too and we should do that pronto.  That means all the
directors will know the workings of the company intimately, either on the
worksite or in the office."

He frowned.  "Only thing is, it's a bit incestuous, like we're all related.
I mean it's men and their boys, and lovers like me and Randy.  The
conventional wisdom is that friends and relations can be a recipe for
problems in business – as we've just seen.  So I think we need one more
director, someone who's not a boyfriend of any of the others and can think
objectively, with no emotional ties.  There's the other senior boys, the
twins and Nate, but they've got their work cut out with their new house
management enterprise ..."

"I can think of somebody, sir," Jamie said, with a sparkle in his eye.
"Someone who knows the workings of the company well, who's real intelligent
and can think outside the box."

"Dammit, you're right.  What do you think, Mark?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea.  But first we better see if he'd even be
interested in that much responsibility."

"Yeah, yeah," Bob agreed, "we're racing ahead of ourselves here.  What I
have to do is put together a prospectus and present it to the board."

Just then the door opened and Brandon came in with his tray table loaded
with food and drinks."  They were all staring at him and he stopped.
"What, have I got spinach in my teeth or something?" he grinned.

"Not spinach," Bob said, "but we want to know if you'd like to get your
teeth into something else, Brandon.  This is all speculation for now, early
days, but if it came to it, how would you like to be a member of the board
of directors?"

"A member of ...?"  Brandon's eyes blinked fast behind his glasses.  "You
mean it, sir?  Of the corporation?  Of course, I would, sir.  Who wouldn't?
Wow, just wait till I tell Pete."

"Hey guys," Mark said.  "I hate to rain on your parade but aren't we
forgetting something?"

Bob stared at him and they said in unison, "Randy!"  "Oh shit," Bob said.

********************************

Early next morning, Uncle Mike arrived.

He had left Palm Springs at dawn, eager to see his boy Larry again after
almost a week apart. In his daily phone calls Larry had kept Mike abreast
of the fast-moving developments at the house, and his description of the
big fight yesterday had prompted Mike to hit the road early.  He wasn't
sure if he could be of any help but he loved these guys and hated the
possibility of some big breakup.

Larry was outside the gate waiting for him when he arrived.  Mike leapt out
of his truck and pulled Larry into a tight bear hug.  "You're looking
great, kiddo.  Being around all these guys obviously agrees with you –
and stimulated you, with all the activity going on.  Man, I would love to
take you straight to bed, but can we wait until I've spoken to Bob, see how
he's doing?"

"Sure, sir, I wish you would.  He's with Mark right now and the mood is
pretty bleak."

When they walked into Mark's apartment Bob was there with Mark and Jamie.
Bob leapt up from his chair with a beaming smile of welcome and some
relief.  "Finally ... an adult in the room to help deal with the warring
children."

"Great to see you, Bob, but I'm not sure what help an old desert rat can be
to all you sophisticated city folk.  But at least fill me in on how things
stand.  Don't leave anything out."

And so Bob gave him a blow by blow recap of the situation (literally when
he described the fight) ending with what had become known as the Brandon
Solution they had discussed yesterday."

"Well," Mike said, "my business expertise is limited to running a leather
bar, but that sounds like a terrific idea.  I gotta get to know Brandon
better," he grinned.  "Maybe he has some tips on how to run a bar."  Then
he got serious.  "But what does Randy think of the idea?"

Bob looked guiltily at Mark. "We, er, haven't told him yet – haven't
talked to him since the fight.  Tell you the truth, Mike, we haven't dared
to.  In his present mood there's no way he would agree to any proposal,
especially one that includes Zack."

Mike frowned.  "You know, you guys let that big lug get away with too much
shit.  I know he's a big, tough, fist-swinging gypsy, and sexy as all get
out, but he ain't god.  Acting more like the devil right now.  He's just a
man with his share of male insecurities – more than his share, I'd say.
Where is he now?"

"He's in Pablo's room," Mark said.  "Spent the night there with Pablo and
his boy Tyler, like some little family against the world.  Darius is over
at Zack's house, of course.  Tyler just looked in to say that Pablo told
him to report for work to Nate as usual.  Best thing for the kid, too."

"OK listen," Mike said.  "I'm not scared of the big bad boss licking his
wounds up there, so I'll go talk to him.  He probably won't listen but at
least I'll have my say."  He grinned.  "If I'm not back in half an hour
send a search party."

Mike left the apartment, went upstairs and knocked on Pablo's door.  "There
was a scuffling sound from inside and Pablo opened the door.  "Oh, wow,
didn't expect to see you so soon, sir.  Hey," he called over his shoulder,
"Uncle Mike's here."

A voice growled, "Huh, come to gloat has he?"  Pablo rolled his eyes and
shrugged. "You better come in, sir.  Actually I gotta get to the building
site, make sure the foreman has taken charge.  And Ben will be confused and
worried, so I gotta go to him.  Will you, er, will you be OK?"

Mike chuckled.  "That's a question you should put to Randy, kiddo.  Yeah,
I'll be fine.  You go and sort things out at work.  I'll be fine."

Pablo left and Mike went in to find Randy slumped in a chair wearing just
boxers and drinking beer.  Mike grinned, "Hey, big guy, I hear you've had a
spot of bother.  But you know what?  Those bruises on your face somehow
make you look sexier than ever."

"OK, have your fun, man, like everybody else.  Yeah, I had a spot of
fucking bother ... got into a fight and got my ass whipped by my one-time
best friend and now traitor.  I took a real beating and got my ass fucked
lying face down in the mud.  So when you've seen what you came to see and
you've done gloating over a beaten man why don't you just get the hell
out?"

Mike replied with an icy calm.  "Randy, I know you're feeling pretty rough
right now – rough and mean – but ..." his voice rose ... "but nobody,
especially not you, talks to me like that.  Whatever twisted thoughts
you're nursing about anyone else, you will treat me with respect, boy,
because right now I'm twice the man you are.  And while we're at it you
don't need any more of this so early in the day."  He snatched the beer
bottle out of his hand and put it down.

"Fuck you, man," Randy shouted, rising from his chair.

"Oh sit down, Randy, you and your clenched fists."  Randy stayed poised
hallway out of his chair but Mike pressed his hands on his shoulders,
shoved him back down and shouted, "I said sit the fuck down, boy!"

Randy fell back in his chair eyes blazing with anger, but he curbed his
instinct to strike back as he gazed up at the handsome older man with his
mane of gray hair, his still hard-muscled body and, above all, the steely
look in his eye.

"And don't come the big bad wolf act with me, son, `cause we've been there,
done that and it gets old real fast.  Dammit, how many times have I
confronted you like this with a tongue lashing and you end up whimpering,
`I fucked up, Mike'?  But it never lasts, and here we are again, same
anger, same fuck-up, except worse than ever this time.  I got the whole
story from the other guys and I'm not taking sides, but I gotta tell you,
boy, this time you got yourself in some deep shit.

"Man, I don't know why I bother, I should just cut loose and forget about
you.  Except I do know why I bother.  First time I saw you I got a hard on
and thought, `Now there is one hell of a man.  He's beautiful, rugged, a
real man's man, a natural born leader.  The other guys look up to him, some
of them worship him, and they all wanna get fucked by him `cos he's one on
the sexiest men to walk the planet'.

"Added to that you've got a spectacular man who's crazy in love with you, a
strong, kind, beautiful man who has the added advantage of resembling
Superman.  You've got a boy who idolizes you, and you've created a
successful construction company from the ground up by the sweat of your
brow and the strength of your muscular body.

"In short, you have everything a man could want.  So I ask myself, what is
the fucking problem?  And the answer I come back to, again and again, is
you, man.  The problem is you, and those demons inside you.  You're a
paradox – a dominant alpha male who is insecure, with a fragile ego and
fear of abandonment that you cover up with a towering rage and those
ever-swinging fucking fists."

By this time Randy was totally cowed, staring up at Mike like a schoolkid
squirming before an angry football coach.

"And sure, we know where all that comes from – your early life with no
father, abandoned by your mother leaving you with five young brothers to
protect.  And you did a magnificent job, in a world you saw as against you.
And you were right – a band of gypsies roaming the tough streets of
redneck West Texas.  The world was against you.

"But here's a newsflash, boy.  That's in the past.  This new world is with
you, rooting for you, loving you, working for you, wanting you to succeed.
But you're still fighting old battles, egged on by those old demons on your
shoulder.

"So what happened this time, eh?  Zack, a man you love, who you think of as
a brother, wants to improve himself and work his way up in the world.  That
co-manager stuff was bullshit – you were always the boss and he knew it.
And he wanted to be boss of his own outfit.  Perfectly natural in a man
like him.  So here's your best buddy, your brother, who's reaching higher
and what do you do?  You knock him down!  You fucking knock him down, and
you know why?  All you hear is that old bogeyman that's always scared you
– abandonment!

"That's your real Achilles heel, Randy, the fear of abandonment.  God knows
Bob suffered for it, getting beaten every time you got scared –
irrationally – that he was leaving you.  And now you think your
so-called brother is walking out on you and you freak out.  You throw a
tantrum and you're ready to hightail it back to Texas and turn your back on
your buddies, your lover, the company you built up, everything.  Way to go,
stud.  You know, son, for a big beautiful man, you are fucking pathetic.

"The irony is that right now you've got friends downstairs who have a
solution to the problem.  Young Brandon of all people came up with the idea
of creating two companies under the same corporate banner – commercial
for you and residential for Zack.  But here's the kicker. They are fucking
scared to tell you `cos you'll go apeshit again. You are such an asshole.
Shit, man, I ..."

Mike raised his arms in surrender and paced the room.  "I give up.  I never
rant on like this, I'm too old for bullshit like this.  I just thought that
one last time I would ... ah, forget it."

"Mike," Randy said in a subdued voice edged with despair.  "What do you
want from me?  What can I do?"

Mike stared down at him at this powerful man cowering before him.  "You
know what I want?  I wanna see you grovel, boy.  After this arrogant
fucking ego-trip of yours, you need that.  I'll tell you something.  Like a
lot of leather guys one of my big sexual turn-ons is to see a top-man, a
macho alpha male, get defeated and humiliated by another top man and submit
to him.  Hell, I've even jacked off thinking about you on your knees being
forced to suck another man's dick."

Slowly Randy got up from the chair and fell on his knees before the older
man.  "I can do that, Mike.  I want to.  Please, sir."

Mike looked down at the swarthy, dark-haired gypsy, his handsome face and
muscular body covered in bruises after being thrashed by a powerful black
construction worker who fucked him up the ass and left him beaten in the
mud.  Now came the final degradation and Mike's cock was rock hard in his
jeans.  He had never had such an epic fantasy as this."

He pulled out his cock and pointed it at the rugged face as the stubbled
jaw sagged open.  Mike grabbed the gypsy by the hair, pulled his face
forward and sank his thick cock deep in his throat.  What an incredible
feeling, an incredible sight, as he watched his cock drive into the face of
a man such as this!  He felt Randy's throat clench round his cock as an act
of total submission, after the macho alpha male had suffered a brutal
beating and a stinging tongue-lashing.

Randy had been annihilated, stripped to the bone, sprawled in the mud,
cowering in a chair and now on hands and knees sucking cock.  Mike knew
that this was the only way for Randy – to hit rock bottom before clawing
his way back to manhood.

And apart from anything else, this was a fantasy come true for Mike.  He
feasted on the sight of his cock pulling out, then plunging back into the
bruised, handsome face.  He pulled on the long black hair and looked down
at those seductive pale blue eyes staring pleadingly up at him.

Mike gradually increased the speed and force of his cock as it pistoned in
the gypsy's mouth.  Randy gagged and choked as the shaft slammed against
the back of his throat, and tears sprang to his eyes and coursed down his
cheeks.  It was a homoerotic image of a broken muscle-god in degrading
submission to a dominant man.

Mike stared down at the broad shoulders and powerful chest shuddering with
each thrust of his cock. "Randy," he said, "if it's any consolation, you
have never looked more magnificent than you do now.  I have never seen
anything so pornographically sexy in my life.  But I'm no match for a sight
like that ... I've gotta cum.  I'm gonna pump my load in your mouth, boy,
and you're gonna swallow every last fucking drop, while you pound your own
dick and cum at my feet."

Randy obeyed the order.  He pulled his cock out of his shorts and pounded
it in his fist while Mike ramrodded his mouth.  "Let me see you spill your
sperm on the ground, boy, the ultimate submission and the resurrection of
your manhood.  Here it is, man, drink my jizz, all of it.  Fuck ... you
sexy son-of-a-bitch mother-fucker ... here it comes ... yeaaah!"

His cock erupted deep in Randy's throat and he swallowed desperately,
careful not to spill a drop as instructed.  Randy screamed into the gag of
the cock as his body shuddered and he pumped his own hot juice over Mike's
boots.  Before he was drained Mike pulled out his cock and spurted the last
of his cum into Randy's face.

There was a long silence as they regained their breath and waited for their
heartbeats to slow.  Mike stared down in awe at the bruised tearstained
face running with sweat and cum, at the open mouth oozing cum down over the
sagging, stubbled jaw.  He looked down at the jizz sliding down his boots
and growled, "Clean it up, boy."

Randy fell on his stomach and licked Mike's boots, slurping up the cum he
had splashed over them.  His degradation overwhelmed him and he finally let
go.

Images flashed in his mind of his buddy Zack, the tear stained face of his
boy Pablo and the forgiving smile of his gorgeous lover Bob, and even young
Brandon in his wheelchair working away to make things come right.  And he
had let them all down.  His body heaved with wrenching sobs as he clung to
Mike's leg and groaned, "Don't give up on me, Mike.  Please, I need your
help, man."

Mike was back to his down-to-earth self.  "Ah, get over it, son.  I'm not
gonna give up on you.  Hell, not after that fucking orgasm you just gave
me.  I'll jerk off thinking about that forever.

"So like the saying goes, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start
all over again, buddy.  You still got a lotta work to do, fences to mend,
but don't worry, boy.  If you survived the mean streets of West Texas
you'll get through this too.  You're one a hell of a man, Randy.

"Now get your ass in the damn shower while I go down and talk to your
buddies."

*********************************

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 399


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.  Click on the green `Chapter Synopses' button to
browse all the chapter descriptions.  Enjoy

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