Date: Tue, 15 Nov 2016 21:41:54 -0500
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 337  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 337
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The hunky Forest Ranger, Pete, makes spectacular love to his boy Brandon.
Then he gives him a new leather outfit and they ride out to the desert to
visit their old pal Mike.  But a near tragedy occurs that changes
everything.  A paramedic tells Pete, "I would never have believed a kid
like him could do the brave thing he did.  He deserves a reward."  The
Ranger grins at his boy. "Oh he'll get his reward alright."


CHAPTER 337 – "BRANDON – WHAT MAKES A HERO?"


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

At the party up at the Grady House the high-spirited boys had been talking
about the twins and their new leather outfits.  It set the boys off
competing with one crazy idea after another of the wild things they were
going to do with their masters.

But the Forest Ranger, Pete, had been disturbed when his boy Brandon had
not joined in the excited banter.  He had become subdues and depressed
listening to their stories, and distanced himself from the group.

Pete followed him and was surprised and saddened when Brandon looked him
straight in the eye and said, "Sir, if you ever wanted to take on another
boy instead of me, I would quite understand.  I mean a proper boy, one not
in a wheelchair like me, who could do what the other boys were just talking
about ... run around, show off dressed in leather, stand over their masters
and make them proud.  I can't do that, sir.  I can't walk, can't even
stand, so I can't give you everything they can.  I mean ..."

"Hey, hey stop right there, kid."  Pete sat down next to him and gazed into
his eyes.  "Brandon, let's get one thing straight.  You're my boy and
always will be – only you.  I love you, kiddo."

Having depended on a wheelchair from a young age, Brandon was a brave,
independent boy but Pete knew that occasionally his awareness of being
different from the other boys reared its head and triggered a melancholy
mood for a while.  Pete loved Brandon for his strength and courage and saw
part of his job as his master to help him maintain his usual optimism and
make sure he didn't lapse back into sadness and insecurity.

Pete also knew that with Brandon you could not sweep feelings and problems
under the rug.  Part of the boy's strength came from confronting issues
head on.  Which is why, when they got back home and settled down with a
late-night brandy, Pete said, "Brandon, that little chat we had up at
Grady's this afternoon.  We didn't get into it too much at the time, and I
know how you like to talk things out, so do you want to talk about it now?"

"Yes please, sir.  Like I said, it was when the guys started kidding around
about doing what the twins had done – you know, walking around preening
in their leather outfits, and standing legs astride over their masters –
that I tried to imagine myself doing the same thing for you ... but of
course I couldn't `cos I'm in this frigging wheelchair."

"But Brandon, I thought you had come to terms with that long ago.  I mean
you're so independent and so cheerful, something I love about you."

"Yeah, most of the time, sir.  But underneath all that the truth still nags
at me and sometimes, out of nowhere, it rises up and socks me in the
kisser.  Face it, the real truth is that I'm not like the other guys and
never will be."

"But Brandon, that's what makes you so special for the other boys.  They
love you for being so brave and think of you as their hero."

"But that's just the point, sir!  I don't want to be special or brave or
anyone's hero.  I just want to be an ordinary, regular guy, no different
from the other boys.  I want to be like a normal boy for you, sir, so we
can do things together – all the things you want me to do."

"Brandon," Pete smiled, "I won't insult you with the platitude that you
already do all those things.  But if words don't work, maybe deeds will.
He went to a closet and pulled a package from the top shelf.

"You remember that time when we went out to the desert as part of Zack's
motor-cycle gang – me on a Harley riding next to you on that nifty
motor-trike of yours?  Darius lent you one of his leather outfits and a
spare helmet and you looked terrific.  So after that I went right out and
bought you this.  I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you
... and now's the moment."

Brandon took the package and ripped it open.  His eyes opened wide as he
saw a full leather outfit ... chaps, vest, sleeveless leather shirt, the
works.  "And there's these too."  Pete pulled from the closet black boots
and a badass skull-cap helmet – "like those Hell's Angels wear."

Brandon's eyes brimmed with tears, he leaned forward and threw his arms
round Pete's neck.  "I love you so much, sir.  It looks awesome."

"And that's not all.  There's a reason I'm giving it to you now, kid.  See,
I'm off work for a few days so I called Uncle Mike out in the desert.
Right away he invited you and me to take a run out there and stay with him.
You seem to be a favorite of Mike's after what you did for his nephew
Brian, and as I recall you were a big hit in the leather bar Mike owns."

Brandon opened his mouth but Pete said, "You don't have to decide now.  I'm
sure as hell going `cos I could use some desert sun and the company of the
guys out there.  But ... what with this depression you're in ... I'll quite
understand if you don't feel like coming, afraid you'd be out of place
among all those guys – you know, like you said, too different from them
all ... can't do what they do.  So if you'd rather stay home, I understand.
I'll only be gone a few days, so ..."

"Sir," Brandon said, blinking back tears behind his black-rimmed glasses.
"Please stop.  I know just what you're doing – trying to jerk me out of
my funk by throwing my own words back at me.  I never heard such bullshit.
Hearing it coming out of your mouth makes me feel stupid ..."

"So you'll come?" Pete beamed.

"Sir, if you try to leave me home I'll get all dressed up in my new leather
gear and follow you on my bike.  And you know it's got a ton of power and
can overtake your Harley any day of the week.  So I'm afraid you're stuck
with me, sir, and so is Uncle Mike."

Pete roared with laughter and said, "That's my boy.  OK, here's what's
gonna happen now.  We're gonna shower together – and if you wanna suck
my dick in there go for it – and then I'm gonna take you to bed and make
love to my boy.  In the morning we'll get up early, you'll call Bob and ask
his permission to take a few days off work.  And if he says yes, we'll suit
up in our leather and hit the road.  How's all that sound?"

"Sounds perfect, sir."  Brandon blinked excitedly.  "You know, whenever the
other guys go to the desert they always seem to have some kind of
adventure.  Think that'll happen to us?'

"I'd bet money on it kiddo.  OK, let's hit the shower."


********************* Chapter 337 *********************

Brandon let Pete get ready for the shower first because one of his great
pleasures was to watch the muscular Forest Ranger get naked.  Pete knew
this turned his boy on so he put on something of a show.  He was wearing
boots, jeans and a dark green polo short with a small green and gold Forest
Service flash on the breast pocket.

Brandon loved Pete in this shirt, part of his casual uniform he often wore
off duty.  It stretched over his muscular torso, from his broad shoulders,
over the mounds of his pecs and ridges of his abs, then tucked into his
jeans at his slim waist.  The short sleeves fitted snugly round his hard
biceps that flexed slightly as he picked up the tray with the brandy bottle
and glasses.

He walked to the kitchen and back and smiled as he saw Brandon's shining
eyes blinking behind his glasses, following his every move.  He paused in
the middle of the room and stretched his arms up, making the sleeves slide
back off his biceps.  Brandon's cock stiffened in his shorts and he
instinctively put his hand over the bulge.

Pete yawned as he stretched and said, "Quite a day we had, kiddo.  Hell,
that Grady sure knows how to keep a party going ... his sense of fun never
quits.  You would never know he's about to become a major heartthrob movie
star.  That house and the tribe are his refuge from all of the glitz and
glamor, where he can relax and be just one of the guys."

Brandon was mesmerized by the deep voice, the ruggedly handsome, square-cut
features and the pronounced Adam's apple moving in his throat as he spoke.
The boy was careful not to stroke the bulge in his shorts as he knew we
would cum in seconds.

He watched as Pete tugged the shirt free of his waistband, then reached
behind his neck and pulled the shirt up slowly, revealing his washboard
abs, the slabs of his pecs his shoulders and muscular arms.  He yanked the
shirt up over his face and tossed it aside, shook his head and grinned down
at the enthralled Brandon.

"Hey, unlace my boots would you, kid?"  He rested one foot on Brandon's
knee and the boy quickly went about unlacing the Ranger's work-boot then
pulled it off, and the sock.  Then he repeated the action with other boot
and found himself with a close up look at the Ranger, shirtless and
barefoot in jeans, his face level with Pete's bulging crotch.  He raised
his head and looked up at the handsome face smiling down at him.

"Go for it, boy.  Do the rest."

Brandon didn't need to be prompted twice.  As if in a trance he unbuckled
Pete's wide brown belt then undid his jeans one button at a time, his eyes
riveted on the pale gray boxer briefs revealed slowly underneath.  The
jeans dropped to the floor and Pete stepped out of them.

Brandon gazed at the boxer briefs hugging the Ranger's tight waist, slim
hips and the top of his muscled thighs.  The briefs were the kind that
accentuate the bulge of the balls and cock and that's what Brandon focused
on now.  The long thick shape stretched up diagonally from the balls almost
to the waistband, where there was a small wet patch of pre-cum that oozed
from Pete's cock.

Brandon's heart beat wildly and his cock ached as he stared at the bulging
briefs.  Without thought or reticence the boy acted impulsively.  He leaned
forward and clamped his mouth over the shape of the balls, breathing in
their essence through the gray cotton fabric.  Then he ran his tongue up
the briefs following the shape of the shaft to the top where he licked the
damp fabric and inhaled the scent and taste of pre-cum.

This was the male essence of his master, the muscular Ranger he would soon
shower with, whose cock he would suck and swallow his cum, then curl up in
bed with him and feel this long shaft, the one he was licking right now,
slide into his ass.  He was Pete's boy ... he loved him ... he pressed his
cheek against the bulge ... he loved him ... "aaah ... aaah" ...  His own
cock erupted and he creamed his shorts.

He jerked his head back, blushed deeply and said, "I'm sorry, sir.  I
didn't mean to cum ... it's just that ..."

Pete roared with laughter.  "Boy, didn't you ever hear Randy say that a boy
never has to apologize to a man for busting a load over him.  It means you
love me, kiddo.  And it also means you need a shower even more now.  About
time you took my shorts off."

Trembling with excitement Brandon curled his fingers over the waistband of
the boxers and pulled them down, jerking his head back as the long cock
sprang out and almost smacked him in the face.  He couldn't resist poking
out his tongue and licking the drops of pre-cum that oozed from the head.

"Hey, don't want you cumming again kid ... let's hit the shower."  Pete
turned and strode off to the bathroom.  Brandon watched the muscles ripple
in his broad back, sloping down to the cheeks of his tight butt that
clenched as he walked.  Brandon quickly pulled off his T-shirt, wriggled
out of his cum-soaked shorts, leaned down and pulled them off, along with
his unlaced sneakers.  He took off his glasses and set them aside.

Buck naked he wheeled himself into the bathroom where Pete was already
shrouded in steam in the shower.  Even the cloudy view of the tall,
muscular figure made Brandon's heart beat faster.  The shower door was
still open so he wheeled up to it, grabbed the bars Pete had installed,
pulled himself in and sat on the stool against the shower wall.

It was one of those moments when Pete knew Brandon was at his most
vulnerable as his handicap was most visible.  So he chuckled, "Man, am I
glad you always sit in the shower.  That way you're at just the right
height and your face is in exactly the right place for this." He slapped
his stiff cock gently against his cheeks.

Brandon laughed, knowing what Pete was doing, something he often did
himself.  Both he and Pete knew that making fun of his handicap diminished
it ... put it in its place, a thing not to take too seriously.  Having done
that he could turn himself to the matter at hand – or at eye level.  His
master's stiff dick.

"Hey," Pete said smiling down at Brandon through the streaming water and
steam, "you know you look pretty damn good when you're soaking wet.  You
still remember the lessons you got from Eddie, kiddo?"

Of course, sir," Brandon said smartly.  "But you know what they say,
there's nothing like on-the-job training."

"So get on the job, boy.  My dick's fit to burst."

Hm, fit to burst, Brandon thought, his mind running over Eddie's cock
sucking instructions that he gave to all the boys.  There was a special
lesson on fit-to-burst cocks, which need extra special delicate treatment
to stop them cumming too soon.  The whole trick to a great blowjob, Eddie
said, was to keep the man right on the edge or orgasm without actually
letting him cum.

As Eddie's best friend, Brandon had learned his lessons well and become an
expert.  As water poured over the long hard cock he leaned forward, braced
his hands on Pete's muscular thighs and studied the thick shaft like an
artist studies a canvas before making his first brush strokes.

Then he opened his mouth extra wide and slid it over the soaking cock,
making as little contact as possible with his lips.  He wanted to tease
Pete with his hot breath rather than actual physical touch.  He stopped an
instant before the head of the cock would have touched the back of his
throat, knowing that contact would make Pete cum.

"Oh shit," Pete moaned, "don't stop, boy.  Suck it hard, swallow it down
deep.  I'm so close ... make me cum, boy.  That's an order."

An order that Brandon ignored.  When it came to giving head, he knew best
... and Pete knew that.  So Brandon pulled his head back, all the way off,
and flicked his tongue at the sticky opening of the head, sampling the
pre-cum dripping from it.  "Man," Pete groaned, "that feels so hot, I wanna
cum so bad.  Suck that dick, boy ... make me cum in your mouth."

"Please don't say that again, sir," Brandon said.  "Leave everything to me.
I know what I'm doing.  You'll cum when we're good a ready."

Pete smiled down at his boy's face streaming with water, concentrating on
his cock.  "Aye-aye sir," Pete grinned, "you're in charge.  And you look so
cute when you're giving orders."

After that the Ranger did as he was told and relaxed.  It was true, the kid
knew what he was doing ... driving Pete crazy as he swallowed his cock
carefully, gently applying pressure that almost made him cum but not quite,
then backing off a moment before tormenting him again.

Brandon loved making love to his master's cock like this, giving him wave
after wave of pleasure mixed with exquisite frustration.  But he knew it
couldn't go on for much longer.  He knew the Ranger so intimately that he
knew just how much cock-teasing he could take until his juices erupted.
Pete had reached that point and they both knew it.  "OK, boy, so you've
driven me crazy like you knew you would.  But I'm ready to explode here, so
finish me off, kiddo.  You want me to beg?"

"No need, sir," Brandon said, momentarily backing off from the cock.  "I'm
just like Randy," he said cheekily.  "We can both make a man cum just when
we want to.  Only difference is, he does it with his dick, I do it with my
mouth ... like this ..."

He suddenly rammed his mouth down on the shuddering cock, taking it deep
down his throat, and felt the Ranger's whole body jolt violently and heard
him yell, "Aaaagh!  Oh fuck ... fuck ... that's so fucking ... aaagh!"

The cock erupted deep inside the boy, pouring jizz down his throat that he
swallowed with not a hint of gagging or choking – proof, if proof were
needed, that he was the best of the best.  Pete pulled out, held his cock
pointing at his boy's face and blasted the last of his juice all over it.

Overwhelmed by joy Brandon started to laugh.  As he smiled down at him Pete
had never loved his boy as much as he did now – sitting on his special
stool, his jubilant face gazing up at him through the steam with cum
washing down his cheeks under the spray from the shower.

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

"Don't move, sir."  Brandon groped around for the soap, lathered up a
wash-cloth and gently squeezed it over Pete's cock and balls, his dripping
pubic hair and his thighs.  He loved cleaning Pete in the shower, an act
that aroused his fantasy of a slaveboy servicing the muscular body of his
master.

After they were both fully rinsed off Pete shut off the shower and pulled
in two towels to dry themselves.  He grinned down at Brandon, ruffled his
damp hair and said, "I know you don't like to be helped in moving around,
kiddo, but just this once I'm gonna break the rule."  He leaned down,
scooped Brandon up in his arms and carried him from the bathroom into the
bedroom.

Brandon loved the sensation of being supported by the Ranger's strong arms
and he gazed up into the rugged, determined face, the clenched jaw, the
sparkling blue eyes and tousled hair falling over his brow.  He gasped as
he felt himself being thrown gently on the bed.  And there he lay while the
naked Ranger towered over him beside the bed, his muscles rippling as he
raised his arms and towel-dried his hair.

Throwing modesty aside Brandon didn't even try to hide his erection, as he
sometimes did instinctively by cupping his hands over it.  "Huh, another
boner already," Pete said with mock sternness.  "Maybe I should give you
the same treatment you just gave me."  Pete knelt by the bed, curled his
fist round the boy's rod and stroked it slowly.

"You like that, boy?  Makes you wanna cum again?  You love your master, eh?
You love him?"

Brandon's body was alive again.  "Oh yes, sir, more than ever.  My cock
feels so hot ... I'm ready to shoot again, sir."

"That so, uh?"  Pete promptly removed his hand and Brandon winced with
frustration as his imminent orgasm was denied.  "Taste of your own
medicine, kiddo," Pete chuckled.  "That's the torture you just put my cock
through.  Hurts, don't it?"

"Not when you do it, sir.  Nothing hurts when you do anything – or say
anything."

"Good, `cos it's time we had a little chat.  Shove over and make room for
me."  Pete got on the bed and they lay naked on their sides facing each
other.  As he gazed into Pete's shining blue eyes Brandon thought that,
even if they never fucked again, it would be enough just to lie with this
gorgeous man that he idolized and listen to him talk.  (Not that never
fucking again was even a remote possibility.  No way, Brandon smiled to
himself.)

Pete propped himself up on his elbow and gazed intently at Brandon as he
spoke.  Listening intently Brandon put on his black-rimmed glasses so he
could see Pete better.

"OK, kid, what I want from this trip – among other things," he chuckled
– "is for you to get over these gloomy thoughts you've been having about
being different from the other guys because you're in a wheelchair.  I
mean, Mike likes you a lot so when we get there he's gonna be complimenting
you on how brave and independent you are, like your friends often do.

"See, here's the deal, Brandon.  I want you to think not so much of what
they say as why they say it.  They do it because they love and admire you,
kid – your `amigos', the other boys and the men.  I guarantee that most
of the time they forget you're even in a wheelchair – they just take it
for granted, it doesn't register anymore.  But sometimes when they see you
rushing around, serving dinner, running errands in your truck, a little bit
of their heart goes out to you and they love you even more.

"And if you mistake that for pity, you're wrong.  See, I believe that love,
compassion and sympathy are all bound up together – they're part of the
same impulse in a good man.  But what it all comes down to is love – and
you never wanna be scared of that, let me tell you.  I know you don't like
to hear the words `brave' or special' or anyone calling you a hero, but
just take it where it comes from – from the guy's heart.  You get it?"

"I get it, sir," Brandon said earnestly, and as Pete saw him blinking
solemnly behind his glasses, it was Pete's heart that leapt with love and
affection.  The only difference with Pete was that those sentiments surged
straight from his heart to his cock that was already getting stiff again.

"And talking of love ..." Pete grinned.  He pushed himself up on his knees,
straddling Brandon's waist.  He reached forward and twisted the boy's
nipples gently in his fingertips, sending jots of pleasure through him.  "I
guess it's OK if I love you, eh, kid?" Pete teased.  "I guess it's OK if I
love kissing you, love fucking you and getting my dick sucked by the
hottest mouth in town."

"Yes, sir," Brandon stammered, almost lost for words as he gazed up at the
handsome Ranger kneeling over him.

"And I guess it's OK if I play with your tits like this and almost make you
cum, and then ..." he pulled his fingers off ... "and then do that so you
don't shoot that load of jizz making your balls ache.  Is that OK?"

"Yes, sir.  I mean ... I mean I do want to cum real bad ... but you can
... if you want ..."

Pete threw his head back and laughed at Brandon's confusion as he blinked
rapidly behind his glasses.  "Don't worry, kid.  I was just waiting to get
hard again after busting my load in your mouth in that shower scene.  Well,
bingo ..." he grabbed his cock and showed it off ... "already hard, stiff
as a baseball bat.  Only one thing to do with a rod that size.  Know what
that is?"

"Fuck me with it, sir?"

"Hmm, well, now ... you know that thought never occurred to me, but now
that you mention it.  Could be.  Is that what you want?"

"Yes please, sir.  I want it real bad."

"Yeah, but what I really had in mind was what I used to do in the old days.
When I went to bed I was always horny and used to jerk off before I went to
sleep.  I got real expert at it too.  As they say, I handled myself well.
You want me to show you?"

"No, sir.  I mean, yes, sir ... no ... I mean ... I'd rather feel your cock
in my ass, sir – if it's all the same to you."

"Well, I don't think it would be quite the same.  I mean a hot fist is a
little different from a hot ass.  Let's see here."  Pete reached over to
the bedside table and dipped his fingers in an open jar of lube.  He
shuffled back on his knees from the boy's waist so he was kneeling between
his legs and pressed his greasy fingers against Brandon's hole, massaging
it gently.  "Is this the kind of thing you had in mind, boy?"

"Oh ... oh ..." Brandon almost sobbed.  Even though he knew Pete was
mind-fucking him he still wasn't sure how far he would go – or not go.
And not sure if he was going to get butt-fucked was driving him crazy.
"Sir, please fuck me, sir.  I mean, I know you're in charge, sir, but ..."

"Damn right I am, boy.  And if I wanna jack off that's what I'll do.  My
cock feels real good in my fist right now.  Like I said, I used to get off
on rubbing one out before I went to bed.  `Course, back then I never had a
handsome boy under me begging to get his ass fucked.  That is what you're
doing, eh, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Brandon blurted with increasing desperation.  "I can beg, sir.
Please, please, I'm begging you, sir.  Please let me feel your cock in my
ass."

"Hm, I like that.  A fine-looking kid like you looks real hot when he's
begging.  OK, what the hell.  My dick is greased up and so is your butt.
So let's give it a try."

Pete lifted Brandon's legs and hooked them over his shoulders.  He pressed
the head of his cock against Brandon's hole until it popped over the
sphincter and came to rest just inside.  "Hmm, that don't feel half bad.
Hell I could bust my wad right here.  Unless you want it deeper."

"Yes please, sir.  As deep as you like, sir."

Pete frowned.  "What, you mean more like this?"  His eyes flashed and he
suddenly drove his cock hard and fast down the boy's chute until it slammed
into the back of his ass.

Brandon's eyes opened wide, his head thrashed from side to side and he
howled as his cock erupted in a shower of juice that spurted so high it
splashed down on his glasses.  Through a screen of semen he stared up at
the blurred image of his master and begged, "Please don't stop, sir.  I
couldn't hold back – but please don't stop.  I can cum again, sir, I
promise."

Laughing playfully Pete said, "Well the first thing we gotta do is get rid
of these."  He lifted the glasses gently off his boy's face, looked at them
and licked one of the lenses.  "Hmm, you taste real good, kiddo."  He set
the glasses on the night table.  "OK, I'll fuck you some more but only if
you can cum again all over yourself `cos I like the taste of your jizz and
I wanna lick it off your body.  Think you can do that for me?"

"Yes, sir, absolutely, definitely.  I can do that."

"Good.  So let's do it."

And finally, at long last, having driven his boy wild with desire, Pete
fucked him.  Brandon sighed deeply and warmth enveloped his whole body as
he looked up at the smiling Ranger and felt his shaft sliding in and out of
his ass.  "Thank you, sir.  I love you so much, sir.  I would do anything
for you sir."

As Pete fucked steadily his expression turned serious and he said, "Well,
there is one thing you'll have to do.  See, my juice is precious and if I
pour it into a boy's ass that boy becomes mine.  I mean he has to commit to
me – live with me forever, serve me, obey me, give his body, his mouth,
his ass to me whenever I want to use it.

"Plus this boy has to be a special boy, real strong minded, with no doubts
about himself.  He has to be an equal of other boys, and if he ever has
feelings of insecurity he has to be brave enough to get rid of them when I
order him to.  In other words, he has to cut the crap.  That's real
important to me. You think you could handle all that?"

There were tears in Brandon's eyes as he said, "Yes, sir.  I can be the boy
you want.  I can be strong and brave and real special.  I can definitely
cut the crap."

"Good.  We've got a deal.  So let's fuck."

As Pete intensified the rhythm of his cock pistoning in his boy's ass they
stared into each other's eyes with a new understanding, a love more
powerful than ever.  Of course the first part of the deal – the part
about committing to him as his boy – was just Pete playing with him, as
they already were, undeniably, master and boy.  But the second part, about
cutting the crap, was serious, and bound them even closer together.

Right now the question was who could hold back the longest, though that
would soon be resolved as they were both aching to cum.  Pete fucked even
harder and smiled, "This is it, kiddo, you ready?"  Brandon nodded eagerly.
"OK, here it comes, boy – your master's jizz in your ass.  Let me see
you shoot, boy.  Now!"

He plunged his cock in the boy's ass harder and deeper than ever, their
eyes pierced each other, their bodies jolted and they howled triumphantly
as Pete poured his juice in his boy's ass and Brandon erupted all over his
own body, as ordered by the master and promised by the boy.

Pete flashed Brandon a dazzling smile.  "We did it, kiddo.  I fucked your
face and your ass, and I fucked your mind too.  And you took it all.  Damn,
I love making love to you, boy.  You are the best!"  He leaned forward and
licked Brandon's jism off his body as he slowly withdrew his cock from his
ass. Then he flipped the boy over on his side and lay on his side behind
him.  From behind Pete folded his arms round his boy and gently pushed his
cock back in his ass.

"OK if we fall asleep like this, kiddo?  I might need bust another load in
your ass in the night."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, sir," Brandon said with a big smile.

"OK, no more fooling around, kid.  Go to sleep.  We've got a long day ahead
of us tomorrow."

But even Pete couldn't know just how long that day would be.

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

Brandon was up early next morning making breakfast for them both.  As he
cooked he phoned Bob, explained that Pete had suggested a trip and asked if
it was possible to take time off work.

On the grapevine Bob had heard of Brandon's melancholy mood at the Grady
House and had a fair idea of what Pete was doing.  So of course he agreed.
"Jamie will be back soon and it'll be a chance for him to teach Eddie more
about the office.  So go for it, kiddo, and have fun."

Over breakfast Pete suggested that they load their bikes into the back of
his truck and drive to the desert.  He knew that one of the best times to
talk was on a two-hour drive like this and he wanted to make sure that
Brandon was not still harboring any of yesterday's negative thoughts.  "We
can go for long bike runs in the desert – no speed limits on those
deserted roads.  What do you think?"

One of Brandon's favorite things was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Pete
in his truck, talking man to man, so he willingly agreed.  But he still
wanted to wear the new leather outfit Pete had given him so after breakfast
when they threw their gear together, Brandon expertly pulled on his leather
pants and boots while sitting in his wheelchair, put on the black leather
vest and clipped on a leather armband to complete the picture.  "Ta-da," he
grinned proudly, holding his arms sideways so Pete could get a good look.

"Very impressive.  Hell I'd be scared gutless if I met that in a dark alley
... well, maybe not scared as much as turned on."

"We could fuck right there in the alley," Brandon laughed.  "One of my
fantasies – two leather guys meet in a dark alley and ..."

"Yeah, later kiddo," Pete grinned.  "Eddie and the boys want to see you off
so why don't you ride your bike down to the house and we'll load it on the
truck there.  Here, you need these too."

Pete gave him mirror sunglasses and the skull helmet with no peak.  Brandon
wheeled himself outside to his specially adapted motor-trike and clicked
the button to lower the ramp at the back.  He rolled up the ramp and
secured the bike with clips to the flat platform.  He raised the ramp
behind him, grabbed the handlebars, revved the engine and was set to go.

Needless to say he made quite an entrance as he followed Pete's truck to
the gate of the tribe's compound.  The other boys were waiting for him and
Eddie said, "Awesome, dude.  Man, that looks so cool, real butch.  What a
stud.  Can I suck your dick, sir?"

"Not now, boy," Brandon growled with a sparkle in his eye.  "Me and my man
got business in the desert."  Pete lowered the ramp of his truck and
Brandon gunned his engine theatrically, drove round the truck a few times
kicking up dust, then rode up the ramp onto the flatbed where Pete secured
the trike next to his own bike.

Brandon backed his wheelchair off the platform and down the ramp of his
trike, then down the truck ramp to the ground.  He wheeled round to the
passenger door, opened it and pulled himself in effortlessly with his
strong arms.  He reached out, folded his wheelchair, pulled it in and
stowed it behind his seat.  All of this he completed in one confident,
seamless maneuver, watched by the awestruck boys.  Pete jumped into the
driver's seat and started the engine.

Eddie ran up to Brandon's window and shoved something through it.  "Darius
told me to give you this.  It's his second-best camera that I often use.
He wants you to get as much footage as you can while you're at Mike's.  He
says stuff happens in the desert and he wants it on film."

Eddie wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I love the hell out of you,
kiddo.  You're a real special friend."  As the truck moved off he shouted
after it, "You're my hero, dude!"

As they drove down the hill Pete chuckled.  "There's those words again
... `real special' ... `my hero'.  Can't get away from them, it seems."

"Yes, sir, but after what you said last night I don't mind, cause I know
where they're coming from.  And I know the tears in Eddie's eyes were not
tears of sympathy."

"Tears of love, maybe?"

Brandon smiled broadly.  "Yes, sir.  Definitely tears of love.  And who
knows, all that hero stuff will probably fade away in time.  After all,
being in a wheelchair doesn't mean you're a hero – it means you're in a
wheelchair.  So the guys will forget they ever called me that."

But Brandon was wrong about that.

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

The two-hour drive east was everything Pete had hoped for.  They had
already pretty much exhausted the topic of Brandon's insecurities, and the
words special, brave and hero didn't come up once as they chatted
comfortably most of the way on a variety of topics.  Even when there was
silence it was the kind of companionable silence shared by good friends for
whom words are not needed.  Their mere shoulder-to-shoulder presence was
contentment enough.

Pete had taken the more scenic route along the 60 Freeway and when they
began to feel the warm, dry air of the desert they relaxed even more.  Pete
smiled at his boy – "Nearly there kiddo," – as he swung onto the
Highway 111 turnoff to Palm Springs.  "I told Mike what time we'd get there
and he said he'd be waiting for us."

He sure was, standing outside his gate as they drew up.

Mike was a good-looking older man of late middle-age who kept himself in
great physical shape.  As he said often of himself, "I've been around the
block a few times – more times than I care to count."  The result was a
wise, self-confident man who was a pillar of the desert community,
especially as he owned the foremost leather bar in the gritty town of
Cathedral City adjacent to Palm Springs.

He was universally respected and admired by the guys out there, and many of
the younger ones looked on him as a father figure.  He could be a tough
non-nonsense kind of guy, used to throwing rowdy drunks out of his bar.

He had put many a pushy, rebellious man in his place, including even Randy
at first.  On an earlier visit to the desert Randy had mistreated Bob and
slugged Mike, which had resulted in a blistering tongue lashing from Mike
– one of the only men ever to call Randy "boy".  He had black-listed the
chastened gypsy from his house and Randy had worked hard to eventually
regain his favor.

Mike was universally known by the tribe as Uncle Mike.  His nephew Brian
who, like Brandon, used a wheelchair, had been living a wretchedly lonely
life of despair in a moldering trailer park way out in the desert.  But
Brandon had gone out to visit him and, leading by example, had overcome his
pessimism and eventually persuaded him to come and live in L.A.

Uncle Mike was eternally grateful to Brandon whom he regarded with great
affection.  He went as far as saying that Brandon had, in effect, "saved my
nephew's life."

As the truck pulled up Pete jumped out, strode up to a beaming Mike, and
they shook hands and pulled each other into a man-hug.  Mike knew better
than to open the passenger door for the fiercely independent Brandon.  The
door flew open, out came the wheelchair, it was unfolded and Brandon
lowered himself into it.  He wheeled up to Mike, opened his arms wide and
smiled, "Hi, Uncle Mike.  Thanks for inviting us."

"The pleasure's all mine, kid," Mike chuckled and bent down to give him a
tight hug.  "Hell, boy, that leather outfit looks so goddam hot on you.
Wait `til my bar crowd gets a load of that."

"It was a present from Pete, sir," Brandon smiled proudly.  "And we brought
our bikes, as you can see."

"Yeah, and you'll raise some hell roaring around these old deserted roads
out here.  We'll unload them later, but right now you guys could probably
murder a beer and I wanna hear all about my nephew Brian.

Half an hour later the three of them were drinking beer in a shady spot of
the expansive garden.  Brandon had changed into shorts and was sitting in a
wicker chair beside his wheelchair.  Mike was firing questions at them
about the guys in the tribe he had visited in L.A. not too long ago.

"And how's Randy?  Behaving himself?  Nah, I doubt it ... boy like that is
always asking for trouble.  Fucking sexy though.  And Bob, still the same
super-hunk?"  He went through the list, with Brandon and Pete answering his
quick-fire questions.

"And what about that handsome stud Grady?  Still with Mario, I hope.  Hell,
I see his picture everywhere ... great advance word-of-mouth on his Tarzan
movie, can't wait for it to come out."

He grinned roguishly.  "You know, one of my customers at the bar brought in
one of the movie's publicity posters and put it up in the restroom – you
know, the one of Grady swinging from the trees in his loincloth.  Trouble
is there's now a long line for the men's room `cos each guy who goes in
there jacks off looking at it."

Pete and Brandon laughed as they visualized the scene, but Mike suddenly
looked at his watch and said, "Hell, is that the time?  I gotta go to the
market and get supplies for us, then I gotta get in my morning swim before
I go and open the bar.  But I'm dying to hear about Brian too."

"Tell you what," said Pete jumping to his feet.  "Why don't I go to the
supermarket and get all the supplies while you pump Brandon for news of
Brian, then take your swim.  You got a list?"

"It's right here, a long list," Mike said, "but you don't have to do that,
Pete.  You just got here."

"I insist," Pete smiled.  "As I recall the market is quite a distance so
it'll take me a while.  Think you can take care of Uncle Mike while I'm
gone, kiddo?"

"You bet, sir.  We'll be fine."

As Pete left, Mike said, "That's a great guy you got there, Brandon.  He
treating you well?

"The best, sir.  He's so good to me and I love him like crazy.  And he
loves me too."

"Of course he does, boy.  He's a lucky man to have you.  OK, now how's that
shy nephew of mine doing?"

"Not so shy, sir," Brandon laughed.  "He's got a job any kid in the world
would envy – taking care of Grady and Mario.  And I do mean `taking
care!'  Like, one time Grady wanted help with a difficult scene where
Tarzan, in England, forces himself on a servant girl.  He asked Brian to
run lines with him and before you knew it Brian had become the ... well,
the servant boy, getting fucked by Tarzan ... and I mean actually getting
fucked by Grady.  Grady said when Brian sees that scene in the movie he'll
know that Tarzan is thinking of him!"

Mike roared with laughter and pumped Brandon for a lot more stories like
that.  But eventually he looked at his watch again and said, "I gotta jump
in the pool, Brandon.  It's a ritual, I always swim twenty laps every
morning to stay in shape."  He stood up, pulled off his T-shirt, dropped
his jeans and was wearing swim trunks underneath.  He held his arms out and
said, "See, not bad for an old timer like me, eh?"

Not bad indeed.  Brandon admired his muscular physique which was in better
shape than most guys he had known that were twenty years younger.  "Bit
thick round the middle," Mike said ruefully, "but at my age – that's
life.  The beer don't help neither.  You wanna get in the pool?"

"Nah, I'll just kick back here, sir.  I'll swim with Pete when he gets
back.  I'll just watch and admire," he said cheekily.

"Right, kiddo.  I'll treat you to one of my special dives."

Brandon watched Mike jog over to the pool.  He stood at the edge, looked
back over his shoulder, gave Brandon a thumbs up, then turned back and
raised his arms for the dive.  But as he turned he seemed to slip on the
wet concrete, tilted sideways and tumbled into the pool with a big splash.

Brandon chuckled to himself.  "Hm, some special dive, Uncle Mike.  Wonder
what a regular one looks like."

He took a swig of beer, scrunched down in his wheelchair and closed his
eyes, feeling happier than ever waiting for Pete to come back.  In fact he
was almost drifting off to sleep when he realized something.  Swimming
laps?  Mike was supposed to be swimming laps but there was no sound.  He
opened his eyes, listened ... no sound, no splashes.

Something was wrong.

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

Quickly Brandon hauled himself out of the chair, into his wheelchair and
wheeled fast to the pool.  His heart jumped as he saw Mike floating
motionless, face down, at the deep end of the pool.  A trickle of blood was
oozing from his head into the water.  Brandon realized he must have hit his
head when he slipped and fell in the water.

For a moment panic seized him, but he suppressed it instantly.  His life in
a wheelchair had taught him to react calmly when problems arose, which he
did now.  Adrenaline kicked in and from that moment his reactions were
ice-cool and methodical.

First, get Mike out of the pool.  Normally a boy would jump in and pull him
to the steps at the end of the pool, but if Brandon got in he would be no
use.  He looked around calmly and saw, over by the pool heater, a leaf
skimmer – a net at the end of a long pole.  He wheeled over to grab it,
took it to the edge of the pool and locked his wheels in place.  He leaned
forward, lowered the net under the water between Mike's legs and pulled him
gently to the side.

He unlocked his wheels and held the pole in one hand while he propelled his
chair with the other.  In that way he found it easy to guide the body with
the pole, through the water at the pool's edge to the wide, shallow steps
at the end.

Using the pole he was able to get him partway up the steps where, if he
leaned down far enough, he could just grab his arm and half-float,
half-drag him the rest of the way.  It took a lot of strength but Brandon
had great upper-body strength from wheeling his chair all his life.  And at
last he had managed to pull Mike onto the grass.

Now for phase two.  With the rod he levered Mike onto his back, then he
slid out of his wheelchair onto the ground.  Using his elbows on the ground
he hauled himself into a position where he was lying beside Mike looking
down at his motionless face.

He said a silent prayer to the cop Mark and the fireman Jason who had both
insisted that all the boys learn mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and CPR.
Brandon's analytical mind flew back to those lessons on what Mark and Jason
called rescue breathing but the boys called the kiss of life as it sounded
sexier.  So now he pressed Mike's forehead back, opened his mouth and
gently pushed his fingers in to search for obstructions.

All clear, ready to begin.  He took a deep breath, pinched Mike's nose
gently and clamped his mouth over Mike's, He exhaled steadily for several
seconds, then turned his head to the side to listen for air and watch to
see if his chest fell on its own.  Nothing.  For a second he looked around
desperately with a stab of panic – if only Pete were here!

No, he thought, pull yourself together, concentrate, try again. He repeated
the maneuver, turned his head again ... and saw the chest fall.  It was
working!  With renewed optimism he clamped their mouths together again,
exhaled deeply ... and again the chest fell.  Mike was exhaling.

Brandon continued working for what seemed like endless minutes.  It was
hard work, but crucial and he was starting to feel exhaustion creeping up
... when suddenly Mike coughed.  Brandon turned Mike's head to the side as
water came coughing from his throat in spurts.  "Take it easy, Uncle Mike,"
Brandon said.  "You're gonna be fine."

"He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.  He calmly
explained what had happened and was promised help in a few minutes.
Suddenly Mike vomited and when he had brought it all up Brandon put his
fingers in his mouth again to make sure there was no obstruction.

Mike was looking up at him in a daze and Brandon said gently.  "It's OK,
sir.  You had a fall and hit your head but I got you out and everything's
gonna be fine.  Help's on its way."

Mike frowned, then grinned faintly.  "You mean I didn't drown?"

"Not unless I'm speaking to your ghost, sir."

"You pulled me out?  You gave me the kiss of life?"

"Yeah, the boys call it that too, sir."  Just then they heard the
Paramedics' siren, a scrunch of wheels outside, flashing lights and the
medics rushed in.  Brandon backed off to let them work, and told his story
clearly and precisely to another of the medics who crouched beside him.

The guy frowned.  "But how did you...?  I mean, you being in a wheelchair
..."

Brandon smiled at the medic.  "People don't realize, sir, that a guy in a
wheelchair can do anything a regular guy can if he puts his mind to it."

"Even save a life," the medic grinned.  "'Cos that's what you just did,
kid."

Just then there was a commotion at the gate and a frantic Pete rushed in.
The paramedic went to restrain him so he didn't get in the way.  Quickly
the medic explained what had happened.

"But everything's fine now, sir.  We'll take the gentleman to hospital for
observation as he might have a slight concussion, probably overnight is
all.  As for the boy, all he needs is a pair of strong arms to help him
back into his wheelchair, and then a hot drink.  A medal wouldn't hurt
either.  He saved the guy's life.  I would never have believed a kid in a
wheelchair could do what he did, but he must be one exceptional young man.
You should be mighty proud of him.  He deserves a reward."

"O he'll get a reward alright," Pete grinned, and walked over to Brandon
who was still lying on the ground.  "Hello sir," he smiled weakly.  "I'm
glad you're home.  Sir, I don't usually ask you this, but I'm a bit tired
right now so could you help me into my chair?"

Pete lifted Brandon up in is arms and placed him gently in his chair.
"Let's get you into the house young man."

The paramedics had completed their initial check of Mike and were ready to
wheel him out on a gurney.  Pete walked alongside them, pushing Brandon's
chair.  Mike was still weak but he looked up at Pete and managed a smile.
"Pete, that boy of yours just saved my life.  That is one brave and special
young man.  Take good care of him, big guy.  He's a hero."

Brandon looked up as Pete smiled down at him.  "There's that word again,
kiddo.  But this time it's for real."

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

Indoors Pete said, "I'm gonna get you to bed, kid.  After what you've been
through you should get some rest.  He lifted him onto the guestroom bed and
gently took off his shorts.  He was worried by the look in the boy's eyes,
a wild, haunted look, and he realized that the adrenaline that had no doubt
kept him going was draining away now that the need for action was over.

But Brandon wanted to talk, with an edge of hysteria to his voice.  "Sir, I
should have realized Mike had hit his head when I didn't hear him swimming.
When I saw him floating in the water I thought it was my fault ... but I
got him out, sir, with the leaf skimmer ... I thought I couldn't get him up
the steps but I pulled real hard ... I remembered what Mark taught us and
tried the kiss of life but it didn't work at first and I thought he would
die and it would be my fault.  Sir, I ... I ..."

Brandon broke into wrenching sobs as the barely avoided tragedy crashed in
on him and he imagined what the outcome could have been.  Pete lay on the
bed with him and cradled him in his arms, letting him cry it out of him.
He pressed the boy's head to his chest and stroked his hair until finally
the heaving body became still and the crying stopped.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't know why I did that, but I'm OK now."  Brandon
looked up and forced a weak smile through his tears.  "You won't tell the
guys I blubbed like that, will you sir?"

"It's our secret, kid."  Pete bent down, licked the tears from his cheeks,
kissed his eyes and said softly, "Would you like to sleep now, kiddo?"

Brandon's eyes opened wide.  "No thank you, sir.  I ... I need to feel
... to feel safe, sir.  If you don't mind, would you make love to me sir?"

"Mind!" Pete smiled.  "Making love to you would not only be a pleasure, it
would be an honor."  This time there was no playacting, no kidding around.
Pete stripped naked, spat in his palm and stroked his dick, then knelt
between Brandon's legs and hooked them over his shoulders.  "Brandon, I
love you to bits and I am so proud of you.  This should make you feel
better."

Gently he slid his cock inside his boy and slowly eased it farther and
farther inside until it came to rest, filling his ass.  Brandon sighed
deeply.  "Now I feel safe, sir.  I always do with you."  He winced
suddenly.  "You won't ever leave me, will you, sir?"

Pete chuckled, "What kind of a question is that?  We're a team you and me,
joined at the hip ... and right now joined in your ass.  Of course I'll
never leave you, kiddo.  Here, gimme a kiss."

He leaned forward and their mouths joined in a long passionate kiss while
Pete gently fucked his boy's ass.  They made love like this, sharing their
breath and their passion, for so long it seemed that time had stopped still
in this silent room, but finally Pete pulled his head back and they stared
into each other's sparkling eyes.  "Would you like me to cum in your ass,
kid?"

"Yes please, sir.  I would love that."  So that's what Pete did, pouring
his warm juice inside his boy like a soothing balm as Brandon's cock
shuddered and shot a long stream of cum up so high it splashed on Pete's
bare chest.

Then they laughed, with joy and relief as all the memories of fear and
danger faded away.  Pete pulled his cock out and fell forward on his boy.
He held him tight and whispered in his ear, "I know you don't wanna hear
this, kid, but I gotta say it.  Like it or not, you're my hero, Brandon.
My beautiful, sexy hero."

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

They were lying dozing when the bedside phone rang.  "Hm," Pete said,
"someone for Mike."  But it was Mike himself, calling from his hospital
room.  "Hey, stud, you taking good care of that boy of yours."

Pete grinned, "I just fucked him if that's what you mean.  But how are you,
buddy?"

"Ah, I'm fine," Mike said dismissively.  "They're all fussing around me
here like a bunch of old hens, keeping me `under observation' though god
knows what for.  They won't let me go home `til tomorrow, so will you two
be OK there?"

"Mike, we'll be just fine.  Just take care of yourself."

"I can't get over what that kid did for me.  Er, I hope you don't mind but
I called Bob and filled him in on what happened before the tribe heard it
from anyone else ... you know how their grapevine is."  There was a silence
as he hesitated.

"Er, there's another thing, and you're not gonna like this.  I called my
buddy at the bar and told him to hold the fort there tonight and, well,
here's the thing.  He knows Brandon from before, of course, and I guess he
found the story so riveting that he ... he called his buddy at the Desert
Sun, our newspaper out here, and told him all about it.  They lapped it up,
it seems, so it's likely they're gonna write it up in the paper.  It's
probably already in the on-line version.  I know how Brandon likes to
low-key everything so ... I'm real sorry, man."

"Ah, don't sweat it, man, we'll handle it.  Hell, if my boy can handle a
body floating face down in a pool he can handle anything."  They talked,
and laughed, a bit more before Pete hung up and Brandon asked, "Handle
what, sir?"

"Ah, nothing.  I'll tell you later."

But he didn't have to.  Just then Brandon's cell phone rang and he fished
it out of his shorts pocket by the bed and put it on speaker so Pete could
hear.  It was Eddie, in full flood – one of those
stream-of-consciousness monologues where he doesn't pause for breath.

"Dude!  What the fuck you been doing, dude?  Mike called Bob and he told
the twins who mentioned it to Darius and it was off to the races ... it's
all over the place.  Man you are totally awesome, what a guy! ... and guess
what! ... that newspaper out there is gonna run a story and you're gonna be
a hero, dude ... well you always were my hero but now it's prob'ly gonna go
viral and, well, you know how that goes.

"But here's the best part ... I told Hassan I gotta come out there `cos
you've gotta have your best friend with you at a time like this .. to
handle the press and stuff ... so he's gonna bring me ... I am his boy
after all ... actually my hunky Marine was real keen on the idea ... I
think he has the hots for Pete and wants to take him to that little house
he has out there in the desert and fuck him ... or vice-versa ... whatever
... and maybe some of the other guys will come out too `cos they don't
wanna miss the fun ... and ..."

"Dude, cool it, will ya?  It's great that you're coming `cos I'll need a
pal to hide out with, a guy I can trust not to spill the beans ... well,
maybe not, knowing what a bean-spiller you are.  Listen call me when you
know when you're coming, OK?  Right now I gotta sleep.  Love you, dude."

"Oh, sir," Brandon groaned as he shut off the phone.  "Now the shit's
really gonna hit the fan."

"Well," Pete grinned, "that's the price of fame, boy.  It won't be so bad.
Just do what Grady does.  He's got all that fame stuff going on and he
doesn't take it seriously, has fun with it.  And it'll be great to have the
other guys here."

Brandon frowned uncertainly.  "Eddie said Hassan's got the hots for you and
wants to take you to that little hideaway he's got out here in the desert.
He's got that dungeon thingy in the basement where he took Mark that time
and Mark chained the Marine up and worked him over."

"Hm, sounds kinda hot.  But I wouldn't do anything if you didn't want me
to."

Brandon blinked hard and thought about it.  "Well, sir, I guess I'd be OK
with it – provided I got to watch."

Pete threw is head back and laughed.  "That's my boy.  That's my hero."

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

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 338


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

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