A Trial of Strength

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