Date: Wed, 11 Mar 2020 01:51:56 +0000 (UTC)
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 504  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH – PART 504
By Rob Williams

Chapter 504 – "MIKE, LARRY & EX-HUSTLER FINN"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Mike, still in-shape and sexy in his fifties, and his boy, young jock
Larry, love each other but struggle with their age difference.  Insecure
Larry feel's he's a loser, not good enough for Mike.  But the tribe rallies
round them, especially the ex-hustler Finn who had the same troubled
history as Larry before joining the tribe.  The boys form a bond as fuck
buddies, which could save Larry's relationship with Mike.
___________________________________________________________________


IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER

They were known in the tribe as the Triumphant Trio – the gypsy boss
Randy, his handsome lover Bob, and the blond cop Mark.  They had set off
for Palm Springs on a mission of mercy to help their old buddy Uncle Mike
and his boy Larry, who were in trouble.

All three men knew the rocky history of the May/September relationship
between the older but still-in-shape and hot-looking Mike, a bar owner in
his late fifties, and the good-looking Larry, a young man with a troubled
past.  And the word was that Larry had gone off the rails again.

When they arrived at Mike's home he told them the story.  "Guys, things
have been going sour for some time ... and now Larry's gone.  Far as I can
tell he's hooked up with some guys he met in my bar. Word is they have some
ramshackle place way out in the desert where they make crystal meth.  As a
cop Mark, you know there are lots of places like that deep in the desert
around here – couple of trailers where they live and cook the stuff."

Hot-headed Randy knew instantly the only way to solve the problem – his
way.  He didn't see nuances, repercussions or what-ifs, so while the others
debated, Randy took off on his own.

When he located the two old trailers he found Larry and a couple of big,
menacing thugs high on meth and spoiling for a fight.  The 2-on-1 brawl was
brutal and Randy took quite a beating, but as usual he came out on top and
left the thugs destroyed and tied together on the ground.

Bob and the cop Mark showed up and Mark took control, contacting his cop
buddies on the local police force to come and arrest the thugs, while Bob
drove the bruised and battered Randy and the injured Larry back to Mike's
house.

While a relieved Mike helped Randy into the house to clean up and get
bedrest, Bob sat in the garden with a chastened Larry, still under the
influence of meth.  "Thing is, sir, I'm probably coming down and there's
only two things to do – either do another bump of crystal, or crash."

"By crash I think you mean to fall into one of those deep, long sleeps.
Well the first alternative is not an option as I'm sure you understand.
But bed is certainly possible.  Are you tired?"

Larry looked at Bob, frowned, and tears flowed down his cheeks.  "Yes I am,
sir.  Dead tired.  Tired of everything, of the mess I've made and ..."

"It's OK, Larry, in a few minutes you can go to bed and crash for as long
it takes. But first there's another very important question, and I want a
truthful answer.  "Are you still in love with Mike?"

Larry sobbed.  "Yes of course I am, sir.  I've loved him since the day we
met and it gets stronger all the time.  And it scares me.  That's why I
gotta leave him, because I don't wanna hurt him no more.  He's too good and
generous to have a loser like me.  Face it, sir, I'm not the kind of guy
who can be trusted or be in love with anyone.  Look how I fucked up.  I
don't belong with a guy like Mike.  I should just get the hell back to my
old home in St. Louis where I fit in."

The tears were flowing now and Bob was moved by the clumsy way he brushed
them away, like an unhappy small boy. He said gently, "Larry, when Mike met
you and fell in love with you he knew what he was getting, warts and all.
He knew you're no saint but welcomed the challenge.

"You just said you don't want to hurt Mike anymore.  Do you think that
leaving him would take away his pain?  I think we both know the answer to
that. Love can sometimes be overwhelming, Larry, but I hope you believe me
when I say that running away from love is never the answer.  You have to
embrace it even harder.  I honestly can't believe you really want to run
away from the love of a man like Mike.  Do you, Larry?  Do you?"

"No, sir," the boy replied in a very small voice.

"Look, I'll talk to Mike – I have a feeling he badly wants to open up to
someone.  But in the meantime I want you to promise me that you won't do
anything rash.  That should be easy `cos I'm going put you to bed and
you'll probably crash for a long time.  Deal?"

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  And ... and will you thank Randy, sir?  He was
incredible but he could a' got killed."

Bob chuckled, "Oh, Randy's a tough nut to crack.  He always comes out on
top – bloodied but unbowed.  He bows to no man – except maybe to Mike
who's putting him to bed as we speak."

Bob put Larry to bed and he fell into a deep sleep.  While Larry slept and
Mike ministered to Randy, Bob phoned a worried Doctor Steve and related the
whole story – including Randy's impulsive intervention and the huge
fight.

"Mark as usual was the calm authoritative cop and took charge.  The goons
were running a meth lab but Mark is miraculously keeping Larry's name out
of everything so he'll be in no legal trouble. Randy was pretty banged up
so he's sleeping it off.  And Larry is what he calls `crashing' – you
know that post-drug deep sleep."

"Best thing," Steve said, "and he'll probably sleep the clock round.  You
see, Bob, meth is the real problem here.  Until the boy stops using
nothing's gonna work.  So the first thing we need to do is get him away
from all the triggers – the desert, the bar where he meets unsavory
characters like these, anything that reminds him of the drug and triggers
resumption."

Steve had a suggestion.  "You know that Seth moved out of our guesthouse up
here in the hills.  Well, Lloyd and I redecorated and refurnished it ready
for another move-in.  It would be perfect for Mike to bring Larry into town
for a short vacation in the guesthouse.  Larry likes Tommy and Lloyd and he
can get private therapy from me. It won't be easy, they've both got a hard
slog in front of them, but up here is a good place to start. D'you think
you could arrange that, Bob?"

"Steve, after this I have a feeling I could arrange anything – with help
from your brother Randy."

"So how is my wild impulsive brother, Bob?"

"Well it seems it was a massive two-on-one fight, and the thugs were no
pushover – tough and high on meth.  So Randy took quite a beating, but
you know your brother – he picks himself up and dusts himself off like
it was all in a day's work.  Then sexy cop Mark takes charge, mops up the
damage and gets us out of trouble – the strong, muscular arm of the
law."

Steve laughed. "Damn, there's no stopping you three.  What a trio.
Triumphant every time."


========= CHAPTER 504 =========

<><> BOB & MILE TALK AGE DIFFERENCE <><>

Bob ended his conversation with Doc Steve and just had time for another sip
of brandy when Mike came out of the house looking weary and beaten down.
"Come here," Bob said, "you look like a guy who could use a brandy."

"Or three or five," Mike responded with a pallid smile.  He sat down, Bob
poured him a glass and he took a swig.  "Hmm, yeah I needed that."

"How's Randy, Mike?"

"Sleeping like a baby, like nothing happened.  Damn he's tough – must be
that gypsy blood.  He's like a rock, he can take a fist to the jaw without
flinching and the other guy gets his knuckles broke."  He paused for
another sip.  "Bob, I can't begin to thank you three guys for everything
you've done.  You all just jumped in a truck and raced out here to our
rescue."

"You don't have to thank us, Mike.  Like I already said, that's what
friends are for.  The whole tribe loves you, Mike, you're our favorite
uncle.  We couldn't just stand by and watch you suffer.  Mark will make
sure those guys are arrested without bail, they'll rot in prison and you'll
never see them again.  And best of all, Larry's back home."

"Yes he is, buddy.  For now anyway.  But if he carries on using that shit I
don't know how I ..."

"Wait, Mike.  Before you say any more you should know I took the liberty of
calling Doctor Steve and asked his advice.  Don't worry, he's discreet –
professional ethics and all that.  He told me that the first problem to
tackle, as you just said, is the drug use.  And the first step is to pull
Larry out of an environment where he still has all the triggers that make
him use.

"Now it's your decision, of course, but if you could manage to take some
time off, Steve has offered his guesthouse to you and Larry.  He says a
short vacation up there in the hills would be just what's needed for Larry
... and you too, buddy, you've been through a lot of shit and you look like
you need a break."

Mike managed a smile.  "Damn, that sounds perfect, Bob.  Sure I could take
the time off, my staff could run the bar, that's the easy part. But I don't
think it would work, Bob.  See, this thing is a bigger issue than that –
goes right to the root of my relationship with Larry.  I've come to the
conclusion that I'm not the right guy for him."

"Not the right guy?!" Bob protested.  "Man, you two are crazy in love with
each other, anyone can see that.  Love that strong should be enough for you
to overcome anything, even serious messy bullshit like this."

"I wish it were that simple, Bob.  See, a relationship between an older guy
like me and a young jock like Larry is more complicated than it looks from
the outside.  Sure we love each other and sex is great.  Took me a long
time to believe that a handsome young stud like that could really love an
older guy like me.  Maybe he was in it for the money, I thought.  But now I
know for sure that he loves me as much as I love him."

"So what's the problem, dude?"

"What you guys don't see is that there are so many other differences
between us.  They run the gamut – social, intellectual, stamina, sexual
maturity.  You could say it's the wisdom of maturity versus the
impulsiveness of youth."  Mike chuckled.  "You should see us relaxing –
Larry playing video games, me reading a book.  Hell, I can hardly make
sense of my cell phone, have to ask him for help."

"Mostly it comes down to energy.  Larry could cum three, four times a day.
Me, I'm lucky to do it once, maybe twice, even though he's a total turn-on.
Look, I accepted long ago that Larry sometimes needs a social and even
sexual outlet with a guy his own age and temperament who he can blow off
steam with, and he's done it once or twice, no problem.  But I have no
control over the kind of guy he meets.  And you see what happened this time
with disastrous results."

"But at times like that you've got buddies to help out, like Randy beating
those guys up."

"But that's just the point, Bob. That should have been me ... and thirty
years ago it would have been.  Man I would have jumped in my truck and
tackled those goons just like Randy did.  Well," he shrugged, "maybe not
like Randy did.  Nobody does stuff like that as good as Randy.

"What it comes down to, Bob, is that I'm not the right guy for Larry –
I'm not good enough.  You know Larry's history – abusive home, running
wild as a street tough.  That old saying's true that you can take the boy
off the streets but you can't take the streets out of the boy.

"See, Larry needs someone tougher than me, someone who'd give him a good
ass-whooping when necessary.  A guy like Randy could do that – he
wouldn't let him get away with shit.  Me, I'm an old softy.  No, Bob, when
push comes to shove, I'm just not good enough for Larry."

Bob took a long swallow of brandy and banged his glass down on the table.
"OK, that's it, I've had enough of this bullshit.  You should know, Mike,
while you were putting Randy to bed I had a chat with Larry, and he said
the same thing – he's not good enough for you.

"He said he's loved you since the day you met and he loves you so much it
scares him.  And that's why he's got to leave you `cos he's scared of
hurting you any more – you're too good for a loser like him.  He thinks
he's the kind of guy who can't be trusted or be in love with anyone.  He
don't belong with a good guy like you – better go back to his old trashy
life where he belongs."

"No, he's got that wrong.  Did he really say that?"

"So what we have here, Mike, are two guys who are crazy in love with each
other but each one thinks he ain't good enough for the other, to the point
where they're gonna separate.  I mean, I feel like I just fell down the
rabbit hole to where nothing makes sense, everything's upside down.

"Sure, Mike, I agree that Larry needs someone his own age, someone like him
who he can hang out with and fuck occasionally.  And there's a danger he'll
meet someone you don't know who's bad for him.  But why look any further
than the tribe?  Damn, right now off the top of my head I can think of a
guy in the tribe who'd be just right for him – they have a whole lot on
common.

"You see how crazy all this has become?  Please, Mike, don't give up.  At
least give Steve's idea a go – take Larry up there to his place and see
what happens.  Do it for Randy, Mark and me.  You wanna thank us for
bringing Larry home?  You can thank us by giving this a try, Mike."

The ensuing silence was broken by Mark who had just got back to the house.
"Hey, can anyone join the debate?  What the hell's going on here?"

Mike smiled.  "What's goin' on is I just got a tongue-lashing from Bob.
And the hell of it is, he's right.  Looks like Larry and me are going on
vacation."

<><> RANDY GETS HIS ROCKS OFF <><>

As Randy and Larry were sleeping it off, it was just the three men –
Mike, Bob and Mark – for dinner so they decided to order in from a
nearby Italian restaurant.

The delivery boy was way cute, wearing a T-shirt that clung to an obviously
gym-honed body, and tight white pants stretched over a perfect bubble butt
that Bob said "could make a grown man weep".  The young jock was obviously
impressed by all three handsome men but he made strong eye contact with
Mike as he asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you sir?"

Mike smilingly declined and gave him a huge tip.  As they set out the food
on the dining room table Mark grinned, "The boy was eating you up, Mike.
So what about Bob and me?  We chopped liver or something?"

"Hey," Mike chuckled, "the state I'm in I need all the ego-boosts I can
get.  Besides, I got my work cut out coping with the Larry situation.  Tell
you the truth I don't have a clue how I'm gonna do that when he eventually
wakes up.  I know Larry and his wounded pride.  He'll be feeling a mix of
embarrassment and resentment that he had to be `rescued' by you guys.  He
told Bob he knew he had fucked up and felt like a `total loser'.  How do I
handle that?"

`That's your call, old buddy," Bob said.  "All I can say is to accentuate
the positive – the positive here being that you love each other.  Oh, I
know, you're right when you said that love doesn't conquer all, but right
now it's the only thing you're sure about – your love for each other.
So don't project about the future, just concentrate on love.  Push the
other stuff on a back burner for later."

After that word of advice they changed the subject and Mike gave them all
the latest gossip on life in Palm Spring while the guys brought him
up-to-date on the saga of Seth, Will and the dinner they gave for Chad and
Adam in Seth's new house.

"Talk about musical chairs, or houses," Mark laughed.  "Adam moved in with
his new lover Chad ... Seth moved into Adam's old house ... and now you and
Larry will be vacationing in Seth's old house on the grounds of Steve's
place.  That's if Larry agrees."

"Yeah, that's quite a big `if'," Mike said, but he was interrupted by a
booming voice – "Hey who'd you have to fuck to get a drink around here?
Come to that, who'd you have to fuck to get a fuck around here?"  It was
Randy, scratching his head and looking a bit goofy having just woken up.
He stood buck naked, his body still bruised, his huge cock swinging slowly
between his legs.

Bob said, "You can have a drink and some food if you put some clothes on. I
won't have a naked gypsy sitting at table, it's ... impolite.  Even one
who's the hero of the hour."

Bob got up, went into the house and came back with a bottle of Scotch and a
pair of boxers that he tossed at Randy.  Grudgingly Randy put them on, sat
at the table and poured himself a drink.  "And what about the other part,
the fuck?  Whenever I get kicked in the balls I have to fuck ass to make
sure the plumbing's still in working order.

Bob winced.  "Randy, please, try not to be so ..."

"Hey stand up ... let me take a look at you."  Bob sighed, rolled his eyes
and stood up.

"Hm, yeah, well that bit works – my dick's hard.  Looking at you would
give me a boner even if the goon has busted my balls and turned me into a
soprano.  But I gotta know if they're still making sperm, so when we've
eaten I'll take you to bed and fill your ass up with jizz."

Bob smiled, "Ah, Randy, always the gentleman, such an old romantic.  Who
could resist a seductive offer like that?  Fill my ass up with jizz?  A
dream come true."

"Asshole.  Don't tell me you don't want it `cos I know you do," Randy said,
helping himself to a heap of lasagna.

"Well," Mike laughed, "I'd say you're back to health, boy.  Same old
routine – a fistfight, a nap, food and a fuck, in that order.  What a
guy."

A short while later Randy's phone rang and he said, "I gotta take this –
it's Pablo."  He got up and walked a short distance away but they could
still hear snippets of his conversation.  "Yeah ... yeah that's right, two
of them.  Thing is they were high on meth ... made them stronger and
oblivious to pain ... Still, I could a' taken them pretty quick but I
didn't look out for a weapon ... you always gotta watch for that ... one
good whack from a crowbar and it's light's out."

He paused, listening to Pablo's comment.  "Yeah, good idea, kid, but first
you gotta get control of the weapon.  Once I did that it was game over, I
dropped the mother-fuckers.  Yeah sure, we'll go over it when I get home."

Mark grinned at the others.  "Post-game analysis with his boy, necessary
sequel to any fight."

Randy came back, shoving the phone in his pocket.  "OK, stud," he said to
Bob.  "Rehashing the fight like that always makes me horny as a toad, so
you're on."

Bob stood up and grinned at Mark and Mike. If you'll excuse me gentlemen,
looks like it's time for that jizz fill-up."

They went to the guestroom where Randy had napped and where he now turned
to Bob.  "Hey, dude, you know I didn't mean all that crude stuff out there.
That's the adrenaline talking."

"No worries, Randy, that wildman act turns me on.  So does that mean you
don't really wanna fill my ass with jizz?"

"Get on the damn bed, asshole."  Bob quickly stripped naked and lay on the
rumpled bed where Randy had slept.  He gazed up at the rugged gypsy who
dropped his shorts, his cock sprang out and his stubbled features broke
into a dazzling smile.

"Randy, I don't say this often enough, but I'm so damn proud of you –
and proud to be the man you love.  And when you stand there like that,
triumphant warrior, pumped with adrenaline after a fight, you are the
sexiest man on the planet.  My ass is yours, buddy.  So let's see if your
balls still make jizz."

Randy fell on top of him in a gorilla hug, kissed him and almost crushed
him with the weight of his brawny body.  At last he eased off a bit and
grinned, "You're right, stud, your ass is mine, always has been.  So give
it to me."

Underneath him Bob pulled his knees back and raised his hips, offering his
ass, an offer Randy accepted by driving his dry shaft inside it.  Bob
gasped at the pain spike but when he looked into Randy's mesmerizing pale
blue eyes set in the swarthy face, his long black hair falling over his
brow, all he could think of was that Randy was inside him, making love to
his ass.

Part animal, part lover, Randy pinned Bob's arms to the bed and pumped his
ass.  Bob loved the sensation of being captive, unable to move, at the
mercy of the dark gypsy who looked even more savage with bruises and
scratches on his face and body.  The warrior who had fought and won a
brutal fight was now the lover, claiming his reward as heroes do.

Their eyes met, they saw their own reflections in them and they drifted
into that private world of their own.  "Fuck, I love you, Bob.  You know I
do all this for you, don't you?  To make you proud of me ... to make you
love me even more.  You are so fucking gorgeous.  Say you love me, man.
Tell me ... I love to hear you say it."

"You know I love you, man.  I love to show off when I'm with you – the
lover of the King of the Gypsies who everyone lusts for.  I would do
anything for you, Randy.  Fuck me, man, and let me show you how much you
turn me on.  Yeah, fuck me, plough my ass with that massive schlong
... damn that's hot ... fuck ... fuck ... aaagh!"

Bob's cock reared up and pumped jizz all over his own ripped, heaving body.
Randy grinned down at him.  Damn that's hot.  And yeah, my balls still
work, they're still making jizz.  Here it comes, buddy.  Fuck yeah
... fuuuck ..."

And as promised, Randy filled Bob up with jizz.

<><> A ROCK TO CLING TO <><>

The howls of sexual euphoria echoed out in the garden where Mike grinned at
Mark.  "Sounds like Randy's balls are still functioning just fine.  You
better get in there, officer, and check on your buddies – join the
party.  I gotta check on Larry.

When Mark went into the bedroom he was greeted with open arms by the
jubilant couple.  He got naked and fell into bed with them, where he stayed
all night in a tangle of muscular limbs.

Meanwhile, Mike cleared the table and took the remains of dinner to the
kitchen.  The rowdy company of the three lusty men had taken him out of
himself and helped him temporarily forget his troubles.  But now, left
alone, Mike braced himself for what came next.  He was still unsure how to
handle it – so many unknowns – but as he made his way to Larry's room
Bob's words still rang in his ears – concentrate on love.

He stopped when he entered the room and gazed at the bed where Larry lay
fast asleep.  He had pushed the blankets down a little in his sleep and his
naked upper body and face were bathed by moonlight shining through the
window.  His breath was even, sighing softly, and his face looked beautiful
in repose.

Tears sprang to Mike's eyes and he almost panicked.  He loved the boy so
much he couldn't imagine life without him, though that was a prospect he
might have to face if things didn't work out.  Then he checked himself.
No, don't project, Bob had said.  Focus on the one thing he was sure about
– the love for Larry that he was feeling so acutely right now.  Above
all, don't give in to his panicky impulse to run away.

He walked quietly to the bed and sat next to it, keeping watch over his boy
as he slept.  He wasn't sure how long he sat there but Bob had been right.
Just looking at Larry, just loving him, brought him a peace and serenity
that he had not felt for weeks.  Tentatively he reached out and brushed the
hair away that had fallen over his eyes.  He let his hands hover, then
dared to stroke Larry's brow and his cheeks ever so gently.

Larry's breathing became less even ... and he opened his eyes.  Half-awake
he looked up and smiled.  "Hello, sir."  But then, as reality came flooding
back he frowned, winced, and abruptly turned his head away on the pillow.

Mike said, "Hey kid, I preferred the hello, and the smile."

He held his breath as the head slowly turned back and Larry looked up at
him with a plaintive expression.  "Sir, I don't think ... I can't ... I'm
sorry for everything but ..."

"Larry, let's not get into all that, not now.  All I want you to know is I
love you."

Larry frowned again as if confused.  "Thank you, sir."

There was a heavy silence and Mike felt they were on a precipice – they
could pull back or plunge over.  Panic started to rise in him again but he
recalled Bob's gentle smile and his advice on love.  And Mike heard himself
say, "Larry, can I make love to you?"

Again they teetered on the precipice ... for the longest time ... and then
... "Yes please, sir."

Larry frowned and Mike wasn't sure if he had heard right.  It was almost as
if it was not they who had spoken, they were watching two other men in a
distorted moonlit world.  Then he heard it again.  "Yes please, sir."

Mike stood up, wanting to freeze the moment in case the moonlit scene faded
in the harsh bright light of reality.  Quickly Mike undressed keeping his
gaze fixed on Larry, willing him not to fade away too.  But no, he was
still there as Mike eased under the covers beside him, leaned over him and
kissed him gently on the lips.  Larry did not respond but he did not flinch
either.  It was almost as if he were still half asleep, letting Mike take
charge, do what he wanted to do.

Maybe he was still coming down from the drug – the sleep had been so
deep he was not entirely back in the world.  Never mind.  Mike reached for
the lube on the nightstand and lubed his stiff cock, then pushed Larry's
legs back and gently, almost imperceptibly, eased his cock into the boy's
sweet warm ass.

"Aaah."  Larry sighed deeply and a smile flickered on his face.  "Thank
you, sir.  I like that ... so much."

"Me too, kiddo.  Tell me, Larry.  Do you love me?"

"I never stopped sir.  I could never stop loving you.  But ..." The smile
faded to a frown.  "But I ... but I don't think ..."

"Ssshh ... no buts, don't think.  Not yet.  Right now, at this moment, just
let me love you."

"OK, sir."  The smile was back, slightly puzzled.  Larry reached up and
traced his fingers over the contours of Mike's face, almost as if he were
seeing him for the first time, committing his features to memory. Then he
ran his hands over the gray hairs on Mike's chest.  "You're very handsome,
sir," as if discovering it for the first time.

For a moment Mike wondered if Larry were dreaming all this, still in a
drug-induced sleep.  But then he felt Larry's ass rise up and clench round
his cock as it slid deep inside him.  That at least was real.  Mike leaned
forward and kissed the boy again, and when he pulled back he saw tears
streaming down his face.  Were they tears of joy ... or tears of farewell?
He panicked again.  Was this the last time he would make love to his boy?

No, no, no ... stay in the moment, don't project. So he continued to make
love to his boy, to his ass, and watched the shadows of conflicting
emotions pass over his face.  "Are you OK, Larry?"

"Yes thank you, sir," he said through his tears.  "Sir, would you cum
inside me?  I really need to feel that ... please, sir."

Mike gazed into his tear-stained eyes and felt he had never loved anyone as
much as he loved this boy right now.  It was not so much the exquisite
physical sensation in his cock as the wave of passion that swept over him
that made him cum inside the boy.  "I love you so much, Larry.  Here it
comes, kid."

His cock swelled in the warmth of Larry's ass and his juice poured inside
him, a healing balm.  Now the initial big `hello' smile was back as Larry
said, "Thank you, sir.  I love you, sir."  Then a note of panic.  "Will you
stay in bed with me, sir, and hold me?  And stay inside me, please?"

"Of course I'll stay."  Mike deftly swung one of the boy's legs over so he
lay on his side, then snuggled up against his back and wrapped his arms
round him, his cock still buried in his ass.  Larry was asleep almost
immediately, deeply asleep as before.  As they lay like spoons Mike
realized that Larry had not cum, and for a moment he wondered if he himself
had dreamed it all – a wet dream – and he would wake up to discover
that ...

No, no, no, don't project, Bob had said.  Live for the moment and trust in
love.  That, at least, was rock-solid real – the rock Mike would cling
to in the days to come.

<><> WE'RE OUTA HERE <><>

Next morning when Mike woke up, Larry was still asleep.  During the night
his cock had slid out of him but at least Mike knew it had been real,
although how much of it had been real to Larry he didn't know.  Mike knew
that the drug's euphoria took a while to mellow out, and maybe that had
been a large part of Larry's reactions.

Mike also knew of the drug's usual trajectory – the three-day run on
meth with no sleep and limp dicks, although that didn't matter – the
euphoria was enough as a guy masturbated endlessly.  Then at last, through
sheer exhaustion, he crashed in a long, profound sleep.  And when the man
at last woke up – depression and paranoia took over, for which the only
solution was another bump of crystal, or three or four.

And that, Mike knew, was what he faced now, even as he felt Larry stir.  As
he struggled back to consciousness Larry turned, found himself staring at
Mike and groaned, "No, sir ... I can't ... I need ... I mean ... I can't do
this to you sir.  I'm just not good enough for ..."

Mike cut him off gently.  "Larry, please don't face all that yet – it's
the same story as before.  I know how difficult things are for you, but
listen to me for a minute.  Yesterday I took the liberty of calling Doctor
Steve after Bob had spoken to him."  Larry groaned but Mike persisted.  "I
know, I know, but Doc Steve's a great therapist who has treated so many
guys in your situation and he said it's important for you to get away from
here for a while – from all the triggers he called it.  My idea is to
take you into town ..."

"I can't face the tribe, sir, especially the boys ..."

"You won't have to, Larry – although you should know all the boys are
rooting for you `cos they love you.  But no, I would take you straight up
to Steve's house `cos he has offered us his guesthouse to stay in as it's
newly furnished and available since Seth left.

"You don't have to see anyone, except Steve for therapy sessions. Lloyd and
Tommy will be there of course, but it'd be just us two down the hill in the
guesthouse, or you alone if you want.  How's that sound? Get away from it
all, from all this, and smooth those ruffled feathers, eh?"

Larry frowned and stammered, "I ... I don't know, sir. I just feel so tired
... so, like ... drained.  You mean it'd be kinda like rehab?  For me to
dry out?"

"Don't let's call it anything ... just a nice rest in a wonderful house in
the hills.  I think it's just the thing, kiddo.  Please."

"Could we leave right away, sir?"

Absolutely.  I just have to run to the bar and tell our manager Jeff that
he's in charge, then we and the three guys will hit the road.  We could be
at Steve's a few hours from now – far away from all this.  While I'm
gone you can shower and have some breakfast.  Bob, Randy and Mark will take
care of you."

"You mean my jailers, sir?"  He saw Mike flinch.  "I'm sorry, sir that was
stupid.  Those guys have been terrific in all this, coming out here and
Randy beating up those ..."

He shuddered as if he were cold and Mike put his arms round him.  "It's
over, kid, at least that part.  We got a long row to hoe but together we
can do it ... if you want us to do it together."

"Sir, you're everything to me, I just don't wanna hurt you."

"Kid you can hurt me, use me, curse me, hit me with a crowbar if you want
– well, maybe not that – that's more Randy territory."

Larry laughed.  "OK, sir, it's a go.  Let's tell the guys were outa here."

<><> A HERO'S WELCOME <><>

The three men were glad to hear the news and offered to drive Mike and
Larry back to L.A.  But Mike declined, saying Larry was still shaky and
confused and it would be best if they went in their own truck.  So, after
cleaning up and locking up the house, the two trucks set off.

In Randy's truck the atmosphere was almost festive.  They had come out to
the desert to help their buddy Mike and they had been successful.  They had
worked as a close-knit trio, each man using his own special talents as
needed – Randy's brawn, Bob's powers of gentle persuasion, and Mark's
authority as a cop.  Now they would pass the baton of assistance to Mike
and Doc Steve in what promised to be a long-haul process helping Larry.

In the truck following behind it was far from festive – Mike and Larry
rode mostly in silence.  Larry was reeling in a fog of fatigue, guilt and
even resentment at having to be `rescued'.  He had an overwhelming sense of
having failed everyone – himself, Mike, and by extension the whole
tribe.  In a big group of vibrant, productive men and boys he was a loser,
plain and simple.  And boy, could he use another hit of crystal to take
away the pain.

Beside him Mike saw the boy shivering – whether from fear or the
unnatural chill of the drug's after-effects – so he wrapped his right
arm over Larry's shoulder and steered with his left.  His jaw was set in
determination to do whatever it took to help his boy out of this mess –
with the assistance of the tribe's therapist.  He just hoped that Doc Steve
was even half as skilled as his glowing reputation among the tribe claimed.

A couple of hours later the trucks left the freeway in L.A. and spilt up
– Mike headed up to Steve's house on Mulholland Drive at the crest of
the Hollywood Hills, and Randy drove fast as usual to the tribe's compound
in the Mt. Washington area.

When Randy's truck pulled up and the three men walked into the garden they
were clamorously greeted like heroes.  The whole story, of course, all over
the grapevine by now, enhanced by enthusiastic exaggerations of the boys.

Randy's part in the drama had been the most daring and graphic, so he was
the focus of much of the praise.  He shook hands as he walked through the
group, but his focus was on his boy Pablo who stood in the background, his
eyes shining with pride at the rugged hero he idolized.  They sat together
and Pablo said, "You don't look too banged up, sir, for a guy who fought
off two guys and demolished them."

"See kid, the secret is to roll with the punches and act like they're doing
more damage than they are. You howl, wince and double over, make them think
you're almost done for, but all the time you're saving your strength and
planning your next move. They're tiring themselves, not you."

"So give me a blow-by-blow, sir."

"Well I sized up the situation and hoped to gain the advantage of surprise,
but Larry fucked that up by yelling out loud as soon as he saw me.  So,
these two huge goons came lumbering out of the trailer, each one built like
a brick shithouse and ..."

Mark and Bob looked over at master and boy, then grinned at each other.  It
was vintage Randy and Pablo, going over the fight blow by blow, the boy
gazing worshipfully up at the master.

Jamie rushed up to Mark who greeted him with a tight man-hug, while Bob's
reception by the smiling twins and young Will was more sedate but none the
less enthusiastic.  The table was already set for lunch and soon the loud
clamor gave way to food.

<><> ENTER EX-HUSTLER FINN <><>

The arrival of Mike and Larry at Steve's large house was more subdued.
Steve had designed it that way, knowing that a welcoming committee would be
intimidating for the boy in his fragile state.  So Steve was alone to meet
them at the door with affectionate hugs.  "Hi, guys, you made good time."

Mike chuckled, "Keeping up with Randy's truck makes it a fast ride –
that guy breaks every speed limit on the books."

"I know, right?  But having a cop with him helps.  If they get pulled over
Mark flashes his badge and they go on their merry way.  Come in and relax
by the pool for a while, get your bearings.  You've only been up here a
couple of times before as I recall, so this is a chance for you to get to
know us better."

As they walked through the expansive house Steve said, "Lloyd and Tommy are
in the kitchen making the lunch and I'm out on the deck having cocktails
with, er, Miguel and his boy Finn."  Steve saw Larry flinch and deduced
from his edgy body language how disoriented he was, like a nervous calf
ready to flee.  But Steve flashed a reassuring grin at Mike, who sensed
that Steve's therapist wheels were already spinning.

"Finn and I just finished one of his regular therapy sessions and I had
invited Miguel to accompany his boy and stay for lunch. But don't worry,
Larry.  Sure, they know your whole story from the grapevine but Finn
usually does most of the talking – loves to tell lurid tales of his
former adventures as a street hustler.  So the spotlight will be mostly on
him – we just sit back, smile and listen.  He has some pretty wild tales
to tell.  Even teaches me a thing or two."

Steve had a knack of calming his patients who were often nervous, and he
now had that effect on Larry.  When they went out onto the deck by the pool
Miguel stood up, looking gorgeous as ever in board shorts and one of his
many Hawaiian shirts hanging open over his muscled chest.

"Hey, Mike, great to see you."  He shook hands with a gleaming smile on his
chiseled Hispanic features, with his heavily stubbled square jaw, thick
black hair and penetrating dark eyes.  "You too, Larry, welcome to
Mulholland.  Say hi to my laid-back boy Finn.  He's feeling pretty mellow
after his session with Doc Steve, eh kiddo?"

Finn shambled up, wearing an old, sleeveless denim shirt, cargo shorts and
unlaced sneakers – not too much different from the way he used to dress
working the streets.  Miguel liked the tough, casual look, bordering on
grunge.  Finn shook Larry's hand and pulled him into a macho shoulder bump.
"Hey, dude, how's it hangin'?  Vacation in the Hollywood Hills, eh?  Nice
work if you can get it.  Lot different from my old beat – Hollywood
Boulevard – the cruddy end."

Larry smiled at last.  He liked the tough act Finn always put on, still
keeping up the street-hustler image, even though he was comfortably settled
and in love with a gorgeous hunk of man, a top chef in a five-star hotel.

Mike noticed Miguel nod slightly to Steve who said, "Hey Finn, before Tommy
brings out more cocktails would you do me a favor?  Would you mind helping
Larry take his and Mike's bags down to the guesthouse and show him what
we've done to the place ... help him settle in?"

"Sure thing, doc.  Come on dude, the place is looking real cool.  You're
gonna love what they've done to it."  He threw his arm over Larry's
shoulder and together they went out to the truck.

Mike grinned at Steve.  "Why do I get the impression, doc, that nothing you
do is by chance, there's always a purpose to it?  That sophisticated
therapist noggin of yours at work."

Steve laughed.  "Nothing sophisticated about my methods at all, Mike.
Usually I just throw a bunch of stuff at the wall and see what sticks.
Sometimes it does, sometimes not."  He shrugged.  "Just have to wait and
see.  Ah good, here comes Tommy with the drinks."

<><> BIRDS OF A FEATHER <><>

Larry followed Finn out to the car where they grabbed the bags and
schlepped them down the steep gravel path to the guesthouse that stood
alone on the hillside, below the main house but visible from the deck.
They went in, dropped the bags on the floor and Finn said, "Ta-da!  Your
home for the next week.  What d'ya think?  Hey there's even beer in the
fridge.  Sit here with me and we'll open a couple."

They sat together and Larry looked around.  The previously rumpled
guesthouse had been renovated and furnished in a casual, comfortable style.
Trying not to look impressed Larry said, "Yeah, pretty good – too good
for a guy like me.  I'm still not sure what I'm doing here."

"What d'ya mean, dude?"

"Come on, man, look at me.  Might as well say it, you think I'm a loser
too, don't you?"

"Too?  In addition to who ... me?"

"I didn't mean that, Finn, you're nothing like me.  Sure, you started out
on the streets like I did but when you met Miguel you turned yourself
around and made something of yourself."

"Well you met Mike and fell in love."

"Yeah, and look at me now ... I ran away from him, got high on meth and
moved in with a couple a' tweakers in their meth lab.  When the tribe got
wind of it those three studs came out to `rescue' me.  Randy could a' been
killed in that fight, Mark threw the book at the goons and Bob whisked me
out of there still tweaking my brains out.  Face it, dude, I'm a total
loser, a joke, the laughingstock of the tribe.  Come on, say it with me
... `looosser.'

Finn laughed.  "You know, kid, I can just hear Doc Steve at your first
session."  He mimicked Steve.  "`Larry, you know that self-pity is a
counter-productive, a destructive force ...' that's what he'd say and he's
right.  What we have here, kid, is a classic case of low self-esteem.  And
I should know, I practically invented the word.  Dude, all that crap you
spouted just then is complete bullshit.  Matter of fact it reminded me of
someone ... myself a few years ago."

"You?  But you never did ..."

"Yes I did, and a whole lot more.  Drugs?  Huh, I've done every drug known
to the pharmacy and plenty more the pharmacy never heard of.  I spent weeks
of my life high on something.  Have you any idea how demeaning it is to be
a street hustler, looked down on by everyone, right down in the gutter with
the roaches?  How the fuck do you think I could bring myself to suck the
greasy dicks of all those johns?  Get high!  It was the only way."

"I know that feeling," Larry said.  "Damn I'd give anything for a hit right
now.  Do you ...?"

"And before you ask, no.  I gave up all that shit the day I met Miguel, and
no I don't have access to it.  I wouldn't tell you even if I did, which I
don't.  Don't think I didn't want to do it at the start, but Miguel gets
real scary when he's mad.  That is a guy you don't say no to."

"But you always gave me the impression of confidence, real sure of
yourself."

"All an act, dude, bravado.  You know, street kids like me hide those
feelings of being gutter trash by putting on a show of being tough, don't
give a shit about anyone.  It's like putting on a suit of armor to hide the
wounds.  You even believe it yourself – you have to or you couldn't
survive.

I tried it on with Miguel at first but he wasn't buying it, not for a
minute.  He upped and told me flat out I was free to leave any time.  But
how could I?  The first time he fucked me I looked up at him and, boy, I
knew I was home.  I sure as hell wasn't gonna fuck that up.  Sexiest stud
in creation and he loved me!  Can you believe that, a loser like me?  He
loved me!  How could I ever run away from that?"

There was a heavy silence, then Larry said, "I did.  I ran away, `cos I
didn't think I was good enough for Mike.  See, I had a rough time as a kid,
abusive dad, then I hooked up with Jamie and we thought we were tough
skinheads, ruled the streets, giving the finger to the world.

"And Finn, that rebel is still in me.  I can't shake it.  Mike gave me a
good, happy and productive life, even bought me my own bike repair business
that's doing real good.  But that life ... it scares me sometimes.  I ... I
don't deserve it.  So I ran away from it and hooked up with those guys in
their meth lab.  And I tell you, dude, when I get high it's ..."

"You don't have to tell me what getting high feels like.  I've been there,
man.  But listen to me, Larry.  If you don't believe anything else, believe
this.  Meth and all the drugs, they're poison, they'll poison your
life. Getting high is not the solution to your problems – it is the
problem.

"Please, Larry, I like you a whole lot, we have so much in common and we
could be real good buddies.  You'd love my pal Tyler, too. Such a sweet,
shy kid, he needs guys like us on his side.  Please, kiddo, don't throw it
all away.  Trouble is, you've been unhappy so much of your life that you
swat away happiness when it hits you in the face.  You have such a great
man in Mike, the best, and you have good friends like ... well," he
shrugged, "like me, if you want to."

They stared at each other ... and hugged tight.  They held on for a long
time, all their problems and fears, old desperation and new hopes, passing
between them in their shared experience of life.  And amazingly, whether it
was the intense affinity they felt, or just youthful lust, they both had
erections.

"Damn," Larry grinned, "now I know the drugs have worn off.  You know how
crystal gives you a limp dick, no matter how long you pump it?  Last night
I woke up from that deep sleep – you know, half dreaming – and Mike
was watching over me ... then he made love to me.  He pumped a load in me
but my dick stayed limp.  But it sure ain't limp now and I gotta jack off.
I'll just go to the bathroom for a minute."

"Dude," Finn laughed.  "Here we are, new buddies, and the first thing you
do is go away and jerk off by yourself.  What the hell d'you think buddies
are for?  Get on the damn bed."

Finn's sexy smile was seductive and Larry lay on the bed and pulled out his
dick.  Finn jumped on the bed and lay on his side, in the opposite
direction from Larry, his face level with Larry's cock.  Finn rolled him
over to face him and pulled Larry's hand off his dick.  "Yup, definitely
not limp – a real boner.  Only one thing to do with that ..."  Finn
sucked it into his mouth and moaned "mmm" as he went to town on it.

After all his recent trauma, physical and mental, Larry suddenly felt
great.  He had nothing to hide from this guy who was so much like him.
With Finn he could have fun.  So he ripped open Finn's shorts, pulled out
his rigid cock and went down on it.

The new buddies were sixty-nineing each other, their heads bobbing in
unison, slurping and moaning.  Larry pulled away for an instant and
mumbled, "Fuck, you taste good, dude."

"Shut up and suck, man ... mouths are for sucking not talking."  The only
sounds from then on were noisy slurping, groaning, the occasional gag or
choke and the creaking of the bed as they feasted on each other's dick.

In one of those lucky quirks of fate the two boys had met at a crucial time
for one of them.  Both were society's outcasts in the past, but they had
since fallen in a pot of jam, meeting exceptional men who loved them.  But
they still felt a need sometimes to re-create the earthy feelings and
fantasies of their former rough-and-tumble lives, and who better to do that
with than a sexy young stud who had also lived on the edge?

Finn recalled the times he had sucked the dick of a fellow hustler in
between turning tricks, and Larry remembered his skinhead days where he and
Jamie had sixty-nined in the bushes. But now there was no cold, no fear, no
element of danger.  Even as they eagerly went down on each other they both
knew they had protective lovers waiting for them, supportive friends and
warm beds to sleep in.

It was the thought of those men waiting for them that brought their suck
session to an end.  "You ready, dude?" Finn shouted.  Larry answered with
eager slurps, they sucked harder and in perfect unison their cocks erupted
in each other mouths.  And they swallowed the juice of their new buddy for
the first, but certainly not the last, time.

When they separated their laughter rang round the room and they kissed each
other, sharing cum from mouth to mouth.

As they lay panting, looking into each other's eyes, Finn said, "Dude, I
want you to know there were times I have acted up with Miguel and almost
lost him.  It scares me to think where I could be now if that had happened.
Please buddy, don't let it happen to you.  Mike is such a good man for you.
And just for the record, the other boys are not laughing at you – their
rooting for you, you're one of them.

"And promise me this.  Whenever you feel the urge to get high call me day
or night and I'll make sure you don't. Guys with that wild streak like us,
we gotta watch out for each other, kid."

Their smiles and a fist-bump said it all.

<><> THIS TIME IT STUCK <><>

A few minutes later up at the pool Miguel said to Steve and Mike, "Hey,
guys, do you see what I see?"  Coming up the path from the guesthouse were
Larry and Finn, with their arms over each other's shoulders, laughing
together.

Mike grinned at Steve. "Hey doc, seems like this time when you threw stuff
at the wall it stuck."

"Seems like it," Steve smiled and shrugged.  "Sometimes it works, you never
know.  That's a great start but we ain't out of the woods yet.  Larry still
has to have a session with me, and then it's time for Larry to edge back
into society – meaning us three and Lloyd and Tommy.  See how he handles
that."

"And how we handle Larry ... and Finn," Miguel grinned.  "Should be quite a
party."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 505


Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I
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