A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 61 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER Steve, the virile, macho stud, tries to suppress his mounting lust for Randy, but he's losing the fight. "He entered a world he had never dreamed of. He was lost. He gazed awestruck at Randy. He was such a fucking ... man! The ultimate, dominant male, the dark, demonic King of the Gypsies was going to fuck the square-jawed Superman face of Bob, kneeling shirtless before him."

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 61

He knew that it had been the most incredible orgasm of his life. But that's just about all Steve remembered. Last night was something of a blur. He must have been thinking of his girlfriend, Connie as he pumped his cock and creamed his shorts. And yet ...

Steve and Randy had become good buddies during the course of Randy's anger management therapy. It was a guy thing as the therapist and the patient got to know each other, talked a lot, became workout partners at the gym. Maybe it was because they looked exactly like each other that they got on so well. But they were nothing more than buddies. Steve was a ladies' man ... `Steve the Stud,' they called him ... and he was happy fucking a different girl every night.

But then one night Steve slept over at Randy's house. They shared a bed and while Randy slept soundly Steve was restless. He thought first of Connie and began to stroke his dick. But his mind drifted back to when he had first met Randy. He saw the dark, gypsy face telling his life story over lunch. He thought of his body flexing in the gym. He saw him stripping for bed. Now he was beside him, here, naked in the same bed. He heard him, smelled him, felt his incredible warmth.

He couldn't focus on Connie. As if in a dream be became submerged in the sound, the heat, the scent of this man ... his very maleness. He stroked his cock harder, started to sweat ... and then, suddenly, his dream was broken by the sound of a muffled shout. It was his own. He felt a sticky wetness in his shorts and realized he had just had an orgasm ... was still having it as jets of cum continued to pour into his shorts. It was the most spectacular orgasm he had ever had.

The next morning he put all this out of his mind. Probably just a wet dream. He and Randy worked out hard in the downstairs gym and took a shower. Over breakfast the conversation was as lively as ever as Darius and Pablo fell over themselves to serve and to please this exciting new man. The meal was almost over when they heard car doors slam outside.

"Great," Randy beamed. "The guys are back." Bob, Mark and Jamie had been away for the night in San Diego. As they came in Randy clapped Mark on the shoulder and hugged Bob. "Hey guys, you're early. You must have burned rubber on the freeway. He turned toward the table. Steve, you know Mark already of course."

"Hey, big guy," Steve said. "You're looking great as usual."

"Hi, Steve. Been a long time. Let me introduce Jamie." They shook hands

"And this," said Randy proudly, "is my buddy Bob I've talked so much about."

Bob and Steve faced each other for the first time. As their eyes met they both had a sharp, involuntary intake of breath. A deep silence fell over the room, a frozen moment. You could have heard a pin drop. All eyes were on Bob and Steve.

Then, suddenly, it was Jamie who jerked them back to reality. "Hey, guys, you're never gonna believe the security gear we brought back from San Diego. Cameras, monitors, the works. Come and look."

The freeze-frame jolted back into a frenzy of activity as the three boys ran out of the house and Steve looked at his watch. "Hell, I gotta get to work. I'll have patients lined out the door. Hey, Randy, thanks for the workout. Mark, good to see you again, man. Bob, great to meet you at last." They shook hands and held each other's eyes for another long moment. Then he was gone.

Mark went off to get ready for work and Bob and Randy were left alone at the table. Randy grinned over his coffee cup. "So what was all that about?"

"You noticed."

"Hard to ignore a bolt of lightning."

"It's just that he looked so much like you."

"And that's all it was?"

"Sure ... well, he's very impressive ... everything you said he was. I can see why you guys get on so well."

Randy grinned. "Anyway, we're safe there. Steve's really into the ladies, a real stud." He laughed. "I even have a feeling he jerked off last night thinking about his girlfriend Connie. I missed you sleeping next to me, buddy. Wanna make it up to me? We've got half an hour."

He put his arm round Bob and they walked quickly upstairs to the bedroom.

Randy's next therapy appointment wasn't for another four days, so Steve got on with his life as usual ... well, almost. He had a full slate of patients and, professional as ever, concentrated on them and their needs. Some of them droned on a bit, though, and at moments like that the therapist's attention wandered momentarily. The image that came most often to his mind was Randy's smiling face, his pale blue eyes, tousled black hair and square, stubbled jaw. Jesus, he's a handsome dude, Steve thought.

When he did not have the distraction of patients, when he was reading or making notes, Steve's thoughts again wandered to the extraordinary man he had met so recently, the man he had described as `The King of the Gypsies.' Late one afternoon he sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and smiled as he remembered Randy working out in the gym, sweat-soaked muscles straining and flexing hard. He recalled the night he had dinner at his house, then he saw the image of Randy stripping for bed.

Yeah, that bed. He had a clear recollection of sleeping with him, watching his chest rise and fall in sleep, smelt the beer on his breath and felt the warmth of his body. He was transported back to the moment ... the moment when he suddenly felt the sticky wetness in his shorts ...

"Jesus Christ," he murmured to himself, shook his head and got back to his notes. Just then his phone rang.

"Hey, big guy." It was Randy. "What's up?"

"Hey, I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah? Me and the gym I hope."

"Well, as a matter of fact ..." Steve stammered.

"Reason I ask, I was gonna swing by the gym for an hour when I get off here. You wanna come for a quick workout?"

Steve felt a warm surge of pleasure. "Sure, man. I could use the exercise. Tough day."

"Good deal, buddy. I'll leave your name at the door. See you in half an hour."

In the gym locker-room Steve changed into gym shorts and T-shirt. He watched as Randy kicked off his boots, took off his jeans but kept on the old sweaty tank top he had worked in. He pulled on an old jock strap, then walked over to the urinal to take a piss. Steve couldn't take his eyes off the tall, sculpted physique in just a tank and jock strap as Randy pulled out his cock and let fly a stream of piss. The man was an icon of raunchy masculinity. Then he pulled on old shorts and they walked into the weight room.

The gym was a major one in the middle of Hollywood, so there were plenty of good-looking men there, great physiques. Nevertheless, all heads turned as these two guys walked across the floor, two gorgeous men looking so alike they could be brothers. Steve was aware of the hush that fell over the gym; Randy was oblivious as always.

They wasted no time and were soon sweating through a bone-crunching workout. As usual Randy took charge, guiding Steve through the routine that would be most effective in achieving his goal of chiseled definition, not too much bulk.

Steve enjoyed the physical exertion as always, but with Randy it was something special, a heightened intensity, exhilaration even. Steve watched his magnificent body gleam and flex as he pumped iron, then let Randy coach him on refining his technique. Steve was standing between the cables, his arms stretched up and out, grasping the handles.

Randy offered advice. "Here, change the grip ... hold them at an angle ... like this."

Facing him, Randy came close, their chests touching, and reached up across Steve's body to adjust the handle. Randy's armpit brushed against Steve's face and he gasped as he breathed in the musky smell of the armpit hair, even tasting a drop of sweat on his tongue. Something else that made him gasp was the jolt that shot through his cock. He shook his head to rid himself of this sensual overload.

"OK, that's got it. Now I'll show you exactly the right angle to push the cables down."

Randy pressed close behind him as he reached upward, put his hands over Steve's on the handles and flexed his biceps as the men moved in tandem. As their arms moved forward Steve felt the sweat-damp chest press against his back, felt the hot breath on the back of his neck, and the bulge in Randy's shorts pressing against his ass. Again the jolt in his cock, which this time made him pull away.

"OK, man. I think I've got it. Can we go on to the bench press?"

"Sure, I'll spot you. We'll start with the 45's."

As Steve lay on his back on the bench Randy stood behind him astride his head, smiling down at his face. "OK, stud, you ready to press? I'll be right here to guide you."

Steve grabbed the bar and lowered it to his chest. He looked up and saw the awesome sight of the handsome, dark, demon face looming over him, the arms bulging as Randy grabbed the bar to guide it. He saw the wet tank top stretched over the massive chest, and glimpsed the muscled thighs astride him, almost touching the side of his face. He gasped and momentarily his strength failed him.

"It's OK, hold on, buddy. Here, let me help." Randy leaned further forward and Steve saw straight up through the leg of his shorts the piss-stained jock strap round his bulging balls and cock. Suddenly his eyes stung as he felt hot drops of sweat falling on his eyes from Randy's face. He heard the big man strain, smelled his body, tasted the sweat that poured off him. Steve's cock was now rock hard.

With a panicked surge of strength Steve pushed the bar up and rested it on the rack. He stood up quickly and said. "Sorry, man. I gotta take a piss." He strode quickly to the restroom, went into a stall and closed the door. His heart was pounding. The image of Randy was sharp in his mind ... the sinewy muscle god in tank top and jock strap pissing in the urinal. Steve pulled down his shorts, took his rigid cock in his hand and after only a couple of strokes shot a huge load of cum over the door. Stifling a shout, he watched in amazement as stream after stream hit the door and poured down it. He stood panting, his mind in a complete daze, unable to comprehend right away what had happened.

"Jesus Christ," he moaned and slammed his fist against the wall. "Shit!" As he gathered his thoughts he pulled yards of toilet paper and hastily scrubbed the door clean of his sticky cum. He flushed the paper, pulled up his shorts and wrenched open the door. He knew what he had to do. He grabbed his clothes and gym bag from his locker and marched out to Randy.

"I, er ... I gotta go, man. Just remembered something ... something I gotta do. Sorry, man. Thanks for your help. Just ... just gotta go."

He turned round, and Randy watched dumbstruck as Steve strode quickly toward the exit with his clothes and his gym bag over his shoulder.

"Must've been something you said," Bob smiled later that evening as he lay in bed with Randy.

"No, seriously, dude. One minute everything was going just fine, then he goes to take a leak and whammo, he can't wait to get out of the place. Some bullshit about remembering something he had to do."

"Well, you know how psychiatrists are. Sometimes they're a worse mess than their patients. Tomorrow he'll be back to normal."

But that was far from the truth. Randy couldn't rid his mind of Steve's odd behavior so the next morning, while he was working with Darius on the construction site, he took a break and called Steve. He dialed a number where Steve always picked up, but this time he got the receptionist.

"No, Dr. Peterson is not available right now," she said. "Actually, he has reassigned your case to another therapist, Dr. Farnham."

Randy couldn't get his mind round this. "Let me speak to Steve," he barked.

"As I said, sir, Dr. Peterson is unavailable. I can put you through to Dr. Farnham."

"Fuck Dr. Farnham, and fuck you, lady." All Randy's anger therapy went right out the window. His blood was boiling. He slammed his phone shut and shouted to Darius, "Hey punk, take over here. I have something to do ... won't take long." He stormed off the site and Darius heard the squeal of tires as the truck roared away.

The same receptionist was startled by the door crashing open as she was confronted by a wild man, eyes blazing, dressed in an old tank top, filthy cargo pants and boots.

"Excuse me, sir," she said quickly. "Do you have an appoin...?"

Randy totally ignored her, strode through and yanked open the inner door to Steve's office. Steve was alone going over some notes at his desk. He looked up in alarm as Randy walked in and slammed the door behind him.

"OK, what's all this bullshit," Randy barked, "this Dr. Farnham bullshit?"

Steve took a deep breath and stammered, "That's right, Randy. I can't treat you anymore. I can't see you anymore. No more hanging out together, no more gym. It just won't work."

"That's it? That's all I get? You've reassigned my case'? Is that all I am now, a case'?"

"Randy, you shouldn't have come. It's for the best if we don't ..."

But he got no further. Randy walked round the desk and grabbed the therapist by the throat, hauling him up to a standing position. Steve clamped his hands on Randy's wrist but it was squeezing his neck in a vise-like grip. Randy's eyes blazed as he held him with one hand.

"Now listen to me, asshole. Nobody blows me off like that. You think you can dump all over me? Who the fuck do you think you are? This is me you're dealing with now, mother-fucker. Apparently you didn't get it the first time. Seems you need a repeat performance."

He released Steve's neck and then, in a replay of the day they first met, he slammed his fist into Steve's gut. As the therapist doubled over Randy delivered a forearm smash across the back of his shoulders. Steve fell to his knees gasping. He managed to look up at the man towering over him. He was wild, savage, magnificent ... `the King of the Gypsies.' But what struck Steve the most was the infinite pain in his eyes, the bewildered, questioning pain. He heard the ache in his voice.

"I thought we were buddies, man. You were my friend ... like a brother. Why, man ...?"

His voice trailed off, he gazed down at the fallen man, then turned and quickly left the office. Steve choked back a sob. His pain was not only the soreness of his ribs. Worse was the anguish, the guilt that he felt at hurting this incredible man. Worse still was the realization that despite the beating he had taken ... or maybe even because of it ... his cock was raging hard in his pants.

Bob and Randy were so close it was as if they shared one soul. They shared the same feelings, the same intuition, and when one hurt the other hurt. That's how it was now as Bob looked at Randy, slumped dejectedly at the table across from him.

Bob shook his head. "This is all totally weird, man. There has to be more to it than meets the eye."

"We were buddies. And he blew me off just like that."

Bob realized that Randy felt not only the loss of a new friend but also the intense blow to his pride. People gravitated to Randy, accepted him as boss, obeyed him. Rejection was new to him, a bitter pill that was hard to swallow. Bob couldn't see his soul mate in pain like this. Something had to be done.

Steve's receptionist buzzed the intercom. "There's a gentleman here, doctor. Not the same one as before." (The relief in her voice was palpable). "He apologizes for not having an appointment but says it's important he speak with you."

"The name?"

He heard another voice interjecting on the intercom, "It's Bob, Steve. I just need a minute."

Steve jolted upright and found himself straightening his tie and smoothing his hair. He cleared his throat. "Have him come in right away."

The door opened and there was Bob. Just like before their eyes held in a penetrating gaze that made both their hearts beat a little faster. They shook hands.

"Hey, man," said Steve. "Come in, sit down. It's ... it's good to see you again."

"Good to see you too," Bob said softly. He sat at the desk and looked uncertainly at Steve. "Look, Steve, I know you're busy so I won't beat around the bush. And I wanna make clear that Randy doesn't know I'm here. If he did he'd beat the shit out of me. But, you know, he's hurting like mad and I can't just sit and watch that. That's why I came, to ask what's going on."

Steve gazed at the man sitting opposite him. He was not only stunningly beautiful physically, there was a graciousness, a gentleness about him that made him intensely attractive. He had taken a risk coming here, not for himself but for his friend.

"You really love him, don't you, Bob?" Steve asked gently.

"He's my life Steve. That's why I have to help him now."

Steve took a deep breath. "Trouble is, man, I don't think I can help you much. My gut is in knots by what I did, but just take it from me that I had to."

"But you liked Randy."

"I liked him a lot."

Bob gazed at Steve, the pain in his eyes, and he suddenly knew the truth. He spoke softly. "Did you like him too much, Steve? Is that it?"

Steve looked startled, then tears came to his eyes. "God, man, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. You know my reputation with the ladies. I fuck women. I'm not into guys, no way! Some of my patients are, of course. And among them a few may even lust for me."

"All of them, would be my bet," Bob grinned. "Just look at you."

"Yeah, whatever. The point is I'm no stranger to the subject. I have no problem with it. I'm a therapist, for God's sake. But it's just not for me. I have never, ever felt anything like that for another guy. Not remotely."

Bob smiled. "But Randy's not just `another guy'."

Steve relaxed a bit and managed to smile back. "You can say that again."

Bob reached over the desk and touched Steve's hand. "Tell me about it, Steve."

Steve couldn't resist Bob's deep, comforting voice, and the whole story poured out ... his first tempestuous meeting with Randy, the meals, the walks, the male bonding, gym partners. Then that night at the house."

"He made me cum, man! He was fast asleep and just his presence, his naked body beside me made me shoot my load. I went into denial about that but then, as we worked out together at the gym, I couldn't take it anymore. I went into the restroom, into a stall, and just thinking about him I shot a huge load of cum all over the door. Jesus, when he came here yesterday and thrashed me my dick got hard. I mean, what's happening, man? What the fuck's happening to me?"

Bob smiled. "Randy's what happened to you, Steve. It's what happened to all of us. Everyone in that house is in love with him. In lust with him too."

"Yeah, I guess I saw that when I met them. But not me, Bob. It's just not me. I can't see him again. Ever."

"Oh, don't worry, Steve, it doesn't change you. Your old feelings and desires are the same as before. Except that now, your affection for Randy is an add-on, something new. Go with it, Steve. We've all learned to. You don't have to distance yourself from him." He gave him a piercing look. "You'll find you won't be able to, anyway. You'll have to come back."

Steve was swept by a wave of admiration and warmth for the man opposite him who seemed to read him like a book. "But what about you, man? ... you and him, I mean. How can I see you both when you are, well, just about the closest, most loving couple I've ever met."

Bob laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. We've been down that road many times and back again, and I've got the bruises to prove it. Seriously, though, what Randy and I have surpasses anything else, any other feelings we might have for others, any dangers or distractions. Don't worry about us. Just love us both, Steve."

Again Steve locked eyes with this awesome man. He imagined him with Randy, imagined him in bed, imagined him naked ... Then he shot up from his desk.

"I can't do this, man. It's happening again. Look!" He looked down at the bulge in his pants. "I've got a boner just talking to you. It's happening with you too. Man, you're so fucking gorgeous, I ... No, I can't. You've gotta leave man. You've gotta get out of here ... now! Go!"

Bob stood up and smiled. "OK, Steve. But when you're ready give me a call. And you will call. I know that. When you're ready." Then something extraordinary happened. Bob walked up to Steve, held his head in his hands, and pressed his lips against his. For an instant Steve recoiled, but as he tasted Bob's lips, looked into his deep brown eyes, he lost himself and probed his mouth with his tongue, grinding their mouths together.

Then the cold water of reason splashed over him and he pushed Bob away. "Go!" Bob quickly left the office and Steve rushed into his private bathroom, frantically tearing open the fly of his pants. He pulled out his raging cock and stroked it. He could still see Bob's eyes, feel the taste of his lips. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror he saw his own reflection. Then he saw Randy, saw him naked ... with Bob. What did they do together? How did they make love? He saw the two magnificent bodies come together, saw them fall on the bed, saw them writhe in each other's arms.

His mind was spinning out of control. He ripped off his shirt and tie and stood shirtless before the mirror. He saw his muscular, naked physique reflected back at him, gazed into his own eyes in the mirror. Then Randy and Bob were beside him. He felt the warmth of their bodies, felt again the taste of Bob's lips, felt the thud of Randy's fist in his stomach ... and that did it. "NO!" He screamed out loud as he watched a jet of creamy, white liquid hit the mirror. The semen poured from his cock onto the glass, streaming down it, obscuring the graphic images that had made his body convulse in this explosive climax.

He was totally exhausted. He fell to his knees sobbing. His mind was a tornado of thoughts and sensations. But through it all he heard again Bob's calm, confident words. "You'll find you won't be able to stay away, Steve. You'll have to come back. When you're ready give me a call. And you will call. I know that. When you're ready."

And suddenly Steve knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bob was right.

In fact Steve did make a call right away. But it was not to Bob or Randy. It was to Connie at the restaurant.

"It's Steve. Look, doll, when do you get off? Half an hour? Perfect. OK if I pick you up, take you to my place?"

Connie didn't need to be asked twice and within an hour they were both in Steve's house on Mulholland, in bed. All the old affection and physical lust were there. Steve fucked her like a stallion, then they lay and talked for a while, and then made love again. It was great for them both, better than ever. As he lay there with his girl Steve smiled. He had needed to reassure himself that what Bob had said was true: "Don't worry, Steve, it doesn't change you. Your old feelings and desires are the same as before." Guess he was right.

Much later, after Connie had left, Steve heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. He was still the same macho guy as before. He smiled, still `Steve the Stud.' His old confidence flooded back. He was his own man ... self-assured, in charge, strong enough for anything. Strong enough to do what he knew he had to. Strong enough to make another phone call. He smiled as he thought of Bob, poised, sure of himself, handsome as a prince. He couldn't wait to hear his deep brown voice. He picked up the phone.

Bob's voice on the phone was calm, reassuring. Steve less so ... nervous, hesitant. "Did you, er ... talk to Randy?"

"Told him everything," Bob said. "I always tell him everything."

"And what did he ... ?"

"First he was mad at me, of course, but he wasn't really surprised at what you told me. Happens to him all the time, guys lusting for him. Normally he doesn't give a shit, doesn't think about it, but this time I think he was flattered. Relieved in a way. He really values your friendship, really wants you to like him. That was what had upset him the most, thinking you didn't. So the fact that you liked him enough to ... well, it was icing on the cake. He can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah, me too."

"Don't get me wrong, now. He's not sorry he slugged you."

"Nor me. I really deserved it."

"Most people say that when Randy hits them. Anyway, now that's out of the way, dinner at our place? Just the three of us?"

Mark knew there was something going down and that Randy and Bob wanted to be alone with Steve. And he knew exactly how to make that happen. "Hey guys, he said to Darius, Pablo and Jamie. Why don't you make dinner just for Randy, Bob and their guest. When you've done you can leave it for them `cause I'm gonna take you boys down to Malibu for dinner at one of those fancy restaurants overlooking the ocean. What d'you say?"

The young men jumped at the chance. They loved going out with the spectacular cop.

"You'll have to dress up a bit. No tank tops, Darius; no dungarees, Pablo; and Jamie, you can have one of my shirts. We'll have a blast ... paint the town a bit.

As the boys worked in the kitchen, talking excitedly over each other, Randy turned to Mark.

"Thanks, Mark. You're a prince."

"Glad to help, buddy. You seem to have quite a story going on there with Steve."

"I think we do. We'll tell you all about it when you get back."

Mark grinned. "I'm counting on it."

"It's still a work in progress, of course, but I promise you'll be a part of it. That is, if you want to be."

"Try stopping me. Haven't I always been part of your stories?"

"That's just what I wanted to hear. God, I love you, man." And they held each other close in a warm, masculine embrace. "Enjoy Malibu. Don't let the kids eat too much. We gotta keep them looking like hot young studs. Who knows, they might become part of the story too."

So Randy and Bob were left alone, and the boys had set up a great meal on the table in the garden. When Steve arrived any awkwardness or doubts disappeared amazingly quickly, despite what they had all been through. It was almost as if the three men had been buddies for years. True, they stayed off the topic of any lustful desires they might have for each other, but there was plenty of other stuff to talk about ... guy stuff mostly, work, exercise, trips they had taken.

Steve kept them laughing as he described, without naming names, some of the weird problems he had heard of in his therapy sessions.

"Anything you couldn't handle?" asked Randy."

"I could usually calm them down ... come up with some kind of answer."

"Did you ever feel threatened?" Bob asked.

"Only twice, when a guy slugged me. Same patient each time, actually. But he was the exception." He reflected for a moment. "Yeah, that's how I'd describe him ... an exceptional guy."

There was a brief moment of uncertainty, then they all suddenly roared with laughter. The ice over that particular topic was finally broken. From then on they relaxed as they lounged by the pool drinking beer. But there was still Topic A that hung in the air, and they all knew it. Finally Bob caught Randy's eye and he nodded. Here goes, thought Bob.

"Have you, er, ever dabbled in aversion therapy, Steve?"

Steve was taken aback. "Aversion therapy! Wow, that came out of nowhere. Aversion therapy? Nah, psychology has mostly turned its back on that. Deliberately exposing patients to uncomfortable stimuli to cure them of unwanted behavior can be dangerous."

"Nevertheless ..." Bob mused. "Look, Steve, there's something we have to confront, and we all know it. We've talked about your feelings for Randy, and even for me, and we can't let it hang like a sword over our heads, get in the way of our friendship. We can't tiptoe around this anymore."

"So?"

"So we thought we should throw you in at the deep end of that murky pool ... call it aversion therapy if you like. But maybe if you were to actually see a display of the things you've been thinking, if you saw how Randy and I are together, it would turn you off so much you'd be over it, cured. On the other hand ...?

Steve interjected emphatically. "There wouldn't be any `on the other hand,' man. No way."

"Great. So is that a yes?"

Steve frowned. "I dunno, guys. Like, what did you have in mind?"

"We'll show you. You gotta trust me," Bob said. "Put yourself in our hands."

They all went up to the bedroom. Steve was nervous, apprehensive, but felt a strange shiver of exhilaration. Randy and Bob faced him. Bob spoke first.

"Tell the truth, Steve. We know you fantasized about each of us. But did you wonder what we were like together? Did you wonder what we did? Did you wonder how we made love?"

"Now look, guys. I don't wanna even ..."

"Steve," Randy said sternly.

Steve took a deep breath. "Of course I did. When you left my office, Bob, I tried to imagine it as I jerked off in the bathroom and shot my load. But you gotta understand, I'm not ..."

"Steve!" It was Bob who stopped him this time. He spoke gently. "Forget the conventions, forget the labels. You're here with us now ... just the three of us. This is our world. And here's the deal. We're gonna show you what we do when we're alone together. And if that turns out to be aversion therapy for you, if it upsets you, repels you, feel free to leave at any time. We'll understand. And we can still be buddies. But we want you to see. We want you to know us as we are. We owe that to you."

Steve replied in a small voice. "OK"

"Now sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Chances are you'll decide to leave and we won't even notice when you do. From here on it's Randy and me."

Steve sat in the armchair. He felt nervous, confused, apprehensive. He felt alive!

Randy faced Bob and smiled. "Come here motherfucker." He took Bob's face in his hands and kissed his lips hungrily. Then he held him at arm's length. "Come on man, let me see that glorious body."

One of Steve's reflexes was to run right out the door. But he found he was rooted to the spot, mesmerized, riveted by what was happening in front of him. He watched as the two men moved in unison. They reached forward behind each other's neck, took hold of the T-shirt and pulled it slowly upward. Steve gasped as he realized the men were undressing each other. Inch by inch he saw two magnificent torsos being slowly revealed.

The shirts came free of the slim waists and he saw the tight ridges of their abs. The thin cotton rose higher and the hard slabs of their chests and the wide lats were exposed. As the men pulled the shirts over each other's head the broad shoulders and muscular arms were finally bare. They threw the shirts to the floor and stood facing each other, two magnificent studs, stripped to the waist, each glorying in the sight of the man before him.

Steve couldn't breathe. He had never seen anything more beautiful than these gleaming muscle gods poised to join together ... poised to make love. He knew they would strip naked and enjoy each other in ways he had never even dreamed of. He watched as they held each other's eyes. But then he was shocked to see Randy's expression cloud over, become dark, forbidding.

"On your knees, boy," he growled.

"Yes, sir," breathed Bob.

Steve felt dazed, unable to grasp what was happening. He watched as the handsome muscular stud fell to his knees in submission. Bob unbuttoned Randy's pants, reached inside his shorts and pulled out his huge, thick, hard rod. Steve had never seen Randy's cock before and now he was thrilled, horrified at the thought of what would happen next. Bob opened his mouth wide.

No, this was too much, Steve couldn't watch any more. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked quickly toward the door. As he was leaving he glanced back and saw that Bob's lips were touching the head of the huge cock. Steve stopped dead.

As if in a trance, he turned round and fell back in the chair. He suddenly realized that his own cock was rock hard in his shorts. He was hypnotized by what came next. He saw Bob's face move forward, and the head of the cock slipped between his lips. Slowly, slowly, the whole monstrous shaft slid into the mouth. He saw Bob swallow as the rod pushed deeper and deeper down his throat until the handsome face was buried in Randy's dark black pubic hair.

Steve entered another world, a world he had never dreamed of. He was lost. He gazed awestruck at Randy. He was such a fucking ... man! The ultimate, dominant male, the dark, demonic King of the Gypsies was going to fuck the square-jawed Superman face of the shirtless man kneeling before him. It was the most thrilling sight Steve had ever seen. He knew now, beyond doubt, that he could not leave this room.

As he moved his hips back and forward, Randy gazed intently into his lover's eyes. But then, just for an instant, he turned his head and shot a quick, penetrating glance at Steve. That fleeting look was all it took. It was a challenge ... a command. Steve rose slowly out of his chair.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 62"