As they lay naked in bed Zack and Brandon could hear the waves hissing onto the shore not far from their motel room. Brandon was warmly wrapped in the arms of the leather master, still recovering from the extraordinary sights he had seen.
Zack had deep homoerotic secrets that he had never shared with anyone until now. But seeing a keen intelligence in Brandon, and trusting to his utmost discretion, he had vented his inner demons and shown the boy how a rugged alpha male, a top man, sometimes longs deep down to be overpowered by an equally dominant master. Himself - in a mirror.
The whole incredible experience had left Brandon stunned, and he was now catching his breath in Zack's arms. But eventually they were able to relax into easy conversation, where Brandon again surprised Zack with his intuition and perceptiveness, especially with regard to the men and boys of the tribe.
Brandon had witnessed the leatherman's secrets (even taken part in them in a couple of ride-on cameos) and now Zack smiled warmly at him. "So if you're so goddam smart, kiddo, observing everyone in the house like you do, what other secrets do you think are brewing?"
"Oh, lots, sir, but because they're secrets I can't spill the beans. Except maybe for the twins. Have you noticed how they look at Bob these days, ever since he let that sexy stubble grow on his chin? No-one knows what kind of sex they have with Bob, but I've seen a change in them lately. They dress differently - not so buttoned-up tighty-whitey. Their clothes are even a bit ragged sometimes and they both stare a lot at Randy when he comes off the construction site all sweaty, ripped clothes, covered in dirt.
"They'd love to see what I saw today, sir - maybe even get into similar stuff with Bob, I dunno. 'Course," Brandon chuckled, "they wouldn't need a mirror - they're already perfect reflections of each other."
"You've got it all worked out, haven't you kid, and you may be right."
Actually, he was.
But for right now, after humiliating himself to the man in the mirror, Zack needed to reassert his dominance as a leather master. "When I've been beaten up like that I just gotta ....
"....you gotta fuck ass, sir?"
"Hell yeah," Zack grinned. "I wanna find a boy I can take to bed, forget all the rough stuff, make love to him and fuck his ass. But he's gotta look on me as the top-man he has to obey at all times. The boy has to submit completely. He has to service me without question - suck my dick, get fucked in the ass by my big black club as often as I want - all night if necessary."
Brandon's eyes shone. "Look no further, sir. You've found your boy."
"That's what I was hoping," Zack grinned. "'Course, he'd have to start right away."
Brandon rolled over. "No problem there, sir. No problem at all."
It was a groggy pair that rode up to a nearby coffee shop next morning and replenished their stamina with a hearty breakfast and pots of coffee.
Having shared Zack's deepest secrets in the most uninhibited way there was a new intimacy between them. They didn't talk about the events of the night before, but each of them knew ... and knew that the other knew ... that the bond between them was unique ... still master and boy, for sure, but something private, separate from the usual camaraderie of the tribe.
It was also separate from the still solid master/boy relationship between Pete and Brandon. Over breakfast Brandon went on and on about Pete, the things they did together, the future bike runs they would take together now he had his new motorcycle. Watching Brandon's boyish enthusiasm, his sparkling eyes, Zack understood just how much the kid loved the handsome Ranger. Pete was a lucky man.
Zack felt confident that he had done what Pete had asked him to do - to expose his boy to new environments and experiences, to broaden his horizons. The sex they had shared was part of that, something condoned by Pete from the start.
The ride back up the coast was even more fun than the way down, given the closeness they felt. And Zack was right about Pete who was at the gate to welcome them home. The boys, of course, mobbed Brandon and although Darius, as always, prodded him to "spill the beans, dude, all of them," the boy kept Zack's secret to himself as the leatherman knew he would.
Pete smiled at Brandon's center-stage exuberance and turned to shake Zack's hand. "Man I gotta thank you big time. The kid's obviously had a terrific time and - look at him - there's a whole new spirit to him - he's glowing. I don't know what you did down there and I suspect I'll never know all of it. I don't even want to know and I won't ask Brandon. It's between you and him - and Darius, of course. I assume you tell him everything."
Actually Zack didn't, and Pete's casual remark made him wince. In the motel, after Zack had treated Brandon to that homoerotic display of his secret sexual yearnings, Brandon had shyly urged him to share it all with Darius too. And now, as the chatter died, Zack looked over at Brandon and winked. Then he grabbed Darius's arm and said, "Come with me, boy. I got a story to tell you."
As they left Pete said, "If you boys can see your way to releasing Brandon, I gotta get reacquainted with my boy."
"So that's what they're calling it these days," giggled Eddie, then realized he had gone too far with the Ranger. His eyes opened wide and he said, "Sorry, sir. I'll zip it." He drew closed fingertips across tight lips, turning them at the end like a key." As Pete stifled a grin, Brandon revved up his bike's engine and drove slowly up the hill with Pete jogging beside him.
Another man who had been watching the festivities closely was Bob - specifically his twins, Kyle and Kevin, who had not been as boisterous as the other boys. They hung back on the sidelines, glancing at each other, then staring at Zack and Brandon in their leather pants and vests. It even occurred to Bob that they had dressed for the occasion, wearing old sleeveless shirts he had never seen before instead of their usual pristine white T-shirts or Polo shirts.
"Those bikers look great don't they?" Bob said to them, reading their thoughts. But he sensed a restlessness in them, almost a longing. Later he broached the subject with Randy when he came home from the building site and they were sitting in their apartment with pre-dinner drinks - Bob sipping wine, Randy gulping back beer. Bob was still in his smart business clothes, though he had removed his jacket. Randy of course was in his usual grimy work clothes.
Bob described the expression in the twins' eyes, a look he had noticed several times lately. "Any thoughts, Randy?"
After another gulp of beer the gypsy wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and said gruffly, "It's obvious what they want if they're looking at Zack and the boy like that. You gotta dirty them up a bit, man."
"Dirty them up?"
"Yeah, look at my boy Pablo - never so happy as when he's in those greasy dungarees of his, face smeared with oil. Even happier when I call him into the trailer, pull down his pants, spread him face down over the drawing board and fuck his ass."
A bit shocked at the comparison Bob said, "But my twins are not like that."
"No, that's my point. Trouble is they take their cue from you in your fancy business suits, button-down white shirts and ties."
I'm an executive," Bob protested. "I gotta keep up appearances."
"And I don't?!" Rand spread his arms out displaying his oil-stained tank top and filthy cargo pants. "My men respect me like this. Only difference between you and me is that keeping up appearances for you means changing your shirt twice a day. Me, I wear my fucking shirt for two fucking weeks."
"Yeah, and when you come home from work you stink of sweat, like you do now."
"Never heard you complain, asshole." He got up and wrapped his arm round Bob's head, pressing his stinking arm-pit into his face, making him choke on the rancid taste and smell of the wiry wet hair. Bob pushed Randy away and said, "Don't, man, you'll muss up my shirt. I'm not in the mood - got things on my mind." He immediately knew he had said the wrong thing - he'd said no to sex. No one ever did that to Randy - like a red rag to a raging bull.
Randy towered over him and roared, "Not in the mood? Not in the fucking mood? Who the fuck you think you're talking to man?" He grabbed the back of Bob's neck, pulled him out of his chair and forced him to the ground in front of the mirror. "On your knees mother fucker." Bob knew it was hopeless to resist. And anyway, as he saw Randy's blazing eyes in the mirror, saw him rip open his pants and pull out his beer-can cock, resistance was the last thing on his mind.
Randy knelt behind him, roughly yanked Bob's pants and shorts down below his ass and spat on his cock. Randy didn't do foreplay. He pushed his rod between Bob's cheeks and drove it savagely down his chute, deep in his ass. Ignoring his howls he pushed Bob's shirt up over his back. "I'll muss up your fucking shirt alright ... mess up your ass too."
From behind Randy planted his hands on Bob's shoulders, feet on the floor so his body arched over him, the only other point of contact his massive piston pounding his ass.
"Keeping up appearances, eh? Well appearances can be deceptive, asshole. Look at the business executive now, getting his ass ploughed by the gypsy construction boss. Not in the mood eh? Things on your mind? Well now you got a thing in your ass too - my dick - so what's the smart-ass executive in the mood for now, eh?
"I want your dick in my ass. Fuck me, sir. Fuck my ass. I'm sorry for what I said. Punish my ass." Randy took him at his word and jackhammered his butt with one of his legendary fucks.
Sometimes Randy would ease up and fuck gently. Not this time. This time the caveman had crawled out of his lair.
He was, in fact, punishing Bob. Randy was not used to guys rejecting him - never happened - but when Bob, of all people, did it with his "not in the mood" it struck at the heart of Randy's insecurity and fear of losing Bob. It was just a casual phrase but it triggered Randy's instincts of self-preservation and he fought back like the street fighter he was.
Relentlessly pile-driving Bob's ass Randy growled, "Feel that, big guy? That's what you get when you say no to me. Your ass is mine, and I take it whenever I damn well want, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," the muscular businessman groaned on his hands and knees. The fuck was not only savage, it seemed endless and Bob knew he was reaching his limit. "Aaagh .... You're killing my ass, man. I can't take any more. You're ripping me open. Please cum in my ass. Please, sir," he yelled.
"You begging me, Superman? You want my jizz in your butt? You gonna keep it there all night, lubed up for when I fuck it again?"
"Yes, sir!" Bob looked up into the mirror and saw the laser blue eyes staring back at him from the dark gypsy face. The image of the wild savage fucking his ass drove him over the edge and ... "Aaagh". Bob's cock shuddered and exploded onto the floor beneath him as Randy speared his ass one last time and poured sperm deep in his gut.
Bob was dazed, his head slumped down, staring at the pool of semen beneath him. He felt a stab of pain as the huge cock was yanked out of his butt. He looked up and saw Randy get to his feet, pull his shirt off and use it to wipe the sweat off his face and body and the cum dripping from his cock. He threw the stinking wet tank on the floor, grabbed his beer and sprawled in his chair. "OK," he said matter-of-factly, "now about those boys of yours."
It was stunning - the man was back to business as if he had just paused to scratch his ass. "That's it?" Bob said. "Slam bam thank you man, 'now about those boys of yours'? You're just a damn fuck machine, you know that?"
"Listen, asshole," Randy said, pointing his bottle at him for emphasis, "you push me away with your fucking 'not in the mood' bullshit and that's what you get. See, I'm the boss around here, get it? I don't wanna have to remind you again."
"I wish you would," Bob grinned.
Randy's face broke into a smile. "Asshole. Now for God's sake get up, take off that poncy suit and let's get back to business." Bob stripped down to his boxer shorts, sat down and poured himself another glass of wine.
"See," Randy said, "I know just what those boys need from you and I'll help you give it to them. OK ... you remember that time when you climbed on your soapbox and fed me some bullshit about teambuilding in the Company, how we should all get to know each other's jobs better? Some crap about doing each other's job for a day to get a 'feel' for it."
"It wasn't bullshit," Bob retorted. "It's basic "Staff Management 101."
"Whatever." Randy flipped his hand and dismissed the idea like swatting away a fly. "Like I said, executive bullshit. But it did give me an idea."
Bob narrowed his eyes. "Does this mean you're gonna come work in the office for a day?"
"Yeah right," said Randy scornfully, "like I'm gonna climb into a poncing suit and tie and punch a keyboard in your office all day? Listen, buddy, I built that office for you guys and that's as far as I go. No, I was thinking more about you. You don't know shit about what really goes on at the constructions site. About time you found out ... get your hands dirty for a change.
"You mean work on your crew for a day, with you as the boss?"
Randy grinned, "The hot executive becomes a construction worker? Gotta admit, it has a kind of ring to it. Shit, in the lunch break I might even call you into the trailer office like I do Pablo and ... well, I told you what happens to him. Don't pretend you're not tempted, man."
Bob frowned, "Tempted or not, what in God's name does this have to do with the twins?"
"Plenty. But don't sweat it, man, that'll all happen naturally. Trust me, buddy, those kids already worship the ground you walk on. Soon they'll be kissing it." His blue eyes smiled seductively. "You do trust me, buddy, don't you?"
Bob stared at him, shook his head and murmured, "Son of a bitch." Dammit, he was tempted, and besides, no one ever says no to Randy. He had tried that just now and look how that turned out.
Word of the experiment percolated out to the tribe pretty fast, especially when Darius heard of it. He fingered his camera, intent on taking it to work and recording the scene for 'prosperity' as he would say. The idea was pitched as an experiment that, if successful, would be extended to some of the others. That was greeted with much enthusiasm, especially by the three amigos, Eddie, Ben and Brandon whose imaginations kicked into overdrive.
"Wow," said Eddie, "I'll switch with you, Ben, and work a day as a mechanic. Then when I come home I'll have to get my ass ploughed by your fireman Jason.
"Cool," said Ben, "and after doing your job cleaning house all day I'd have to spend the night with Hassan. I could go for mixing it up with that stud Marine."
"Yeah, but think about this, dudes," Brandon said. "Which of you wants to spend the day in a wheelchair working in the office with Jamie and Bob, then going home and giving your ass to Ranger Pete?"
Two eager hands shot in the air.
Randy took the idea more seriously in a short meeting with Zack, Darius, Pablo and Ben, the four guys who worked with him on the building site. "Now I want you to treat it like any other day," Randy said.
"I know Bob's a director of the Company and all, and he's ... well, he's Bob ... but this kind of stuff was suggested by him in the first place - some kind of Management 101 bullsh ...." He checked himself as Zack glared a warning at him. " ..... management bulleting that he's studied. Anyway, you're to treat him like any other crew member so he can really get a feel for what you all do. I think I'll assign him first to the mechanics pool. Pablo, Ben, what'll you be working on tomorrow?"
"That truck that's out of commission 'cos it's leaking oil all over the place," Pablo said.
"Leaking oil," Randy mused. "Good, yeah, leaking oil's good." Zack caught the glint in his eye.
The next morning Randy was to drive Bob to the site in his truck. He nixed Bob's Mercedes as creating the wrong impression if it purred up to the site. "You're one of the guys, buddy, not the hotshot executive in a top-of-the-line Merc. And while we're at it those jeans have to go. Shit, they're brand new and they've got a fucking crease pressed down the front. Here, try these. They're something I wear for best."
"For best?!" Bob winced as Randy threw him a pair of old cargo pants, maybe not quite as bad as the ones Randy was wearing, but still, stained with dirt and what Bob felt sure were cum stains - a result, no doubt, of Randy's lunchtime trailer sessions with Pablo. He changed into the pants and Randy stroked his chin as he surveyed his new employee.
In addition to the pants and boots, Bob was wearing a white tank top under a sleeveless denim shirt open over his chest. With the five-day growth of stubble on his chin, his tousled dark hair, not to mention his square-jawed Superman features and smoking hot physique, he looked spectacular and Randy had trouble hiding the huge boner in his pants. Wouldn't do to let on to a new employee that the boss was so turned on the first thing he wanted to do was fuck him.
"Yeah," Randy faked nonchalance, "not bad. The tank's too clean, so are you, but we'll soon take care of that."
Not much liking the sound of that Bob followed Randy out to his truck.
Bob's arrival on the site was greeted with some surprise by the crew. They had often seen him there as a Company Director, the man who issued their pay-checks, but they were used to him in a suit - they had never seen him like this before. But they took it in stride and correctly assumed that it was just what it looked like, one of the bosses getting a hands-on feel for the work they did. A few were nervous he had come to do some kind of management study on them, but they got over that as soon as the easy-going Bob settled in and became one of them.
As promised, Bob's first assignment was to the motor pool. Randy went with hm to check out the problem truck and said to Pablo, "Kid, I need this truck back on line pronto - we got a lotta stuff to haul. So fix the damn oil leak. Bob here can give you a hand." As he turned to go he winked at Pablo, unseen by the others.
Pablo and Ben opened the hood and bent their heads over the engine. "I think the problem's that valve down there," said Pablo's muffled voice. He pulled back and said to Bob, "Sir, would you slide under the truck and tell me if the leak gets better or worse when I adjust this valve?" It seemed odd calling Bob sir when Pablo was ostensibly his temporary boss, but Bob would always be sir to him.
Bob, being probably the most secure man in the tribe, seemed to have no problem with any of it. He lay on his back, slid under the truck and right away saw the oil dripping on the ground. He wriggled under it to get a close-up view and immediately saw a worn seal. But just at that moment the drip got worse. "Worse," Bob yelled up to Pablo. The drip became a stream. "Much worse," he yelled. "Other way - other way!"
The leak diminished to almost nothing and Bob pulled out and jumped to his feet. Pablo and Ben gaze at him, his face shoulders and arms streaked with oil, not to mention his clothes. "It wasn't the valve," Bob said, "there's a leaky seal. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Bob fixed him with a steely look that made Pablo wither.
"Ah, never mind. You two were only carrying out orders I guess," flashing a glare at Randy in the distance, recalling his words 'dirty them up'. "Shit this oil's everywhere." He pulled off the denim shirt and used it to wipe the oil off his white tank, succeeding only in spreading it and rubbing it in deeper. The two boys gazed at Bob open mouthed. They had never seen him like this. He looked like a real mechanic, with oil on his face, neck and arms, and spread over his formerly white tank.
Bob didn't care what he looked like. He felt irritation rising up in a slow burn. "So why are you just standing there? You want me to get under there again and fix the seal?"
"No, sir, of course not sir," said a chastened Ben. "I'll do it." As he went to work on it Randy came over and Pablo said, "We found the problem, sir - at least Bob found it - broken seal."
"Good job, said Randy. "That's all I wanted."
"Are you sure that's all you wanted?" Bob said, fixing Randy with a look that Randy recognized and always flinched from. But he recovered himself and said. "Maybe you should take a look at what Zack and Darius are working on - that old shed they're tearing down."
"Whatever you say, man. You're the boss," Bob said, not meaning a word of it. With another withering look at Randy he turned and strode over to the other side of the site where Zack and Darius were in a partially dismantled shed, reaching up to the old metal roof and tugging on it. "Randy said you guys could use a hand," Bob said.
"Sure thing," Zack smiled, "It's coming loose and a bit more muscle should do the trick. And you sure got the muscle, buddy." Bob joined them, tugging at the corrugated iron panels above them. It took a while and a lot of muscle, but the roof finally gave up the fight and caved in, showering the three of them with dust and debris that had gathered on the roof over time. They stepped back coughing and wiping dust from their eyes.
"Shit damn," said Zack brushing down his bare chest while Bob shook the dirt from his tangled hair, "that was one messy job." Bob grinned, "You can say that again," looking down at the dirt clinging to his greasy tank and arms. "Any more jobs like that?"
"Unfortunately yes," Zack said. "You chose the right day to come, buddy - or wrong day, perhaps I should say. It's teardown day .... see, all that lot has to go. Stick with us, Bob, and we'll show you how the other half lives."
And so the morning went on, with Bob working amiably with Zack and Darius on one mucky job after another. He didn't complain, even when he had to crawl through a pipe and clear it of rubble. When he emerged, his tank top was a mess, ripped in several places. The midday sun beat down on them and sweat was pouring down their dirt-covered bodies by the time the whistle went for the lunch break.
Zack and Darius grabbed bottles of water and Zack threw one to Bob. Thankfully Bob pulled off the top and went to sip it, but Zack shook his head and laughed. He and Darius raised their bottles up high and poured the contents over their heads.
Bob watched the water stream over their faces and shirtless bodies and it looked so cooling (not to mention seriously sexy) that he did the same. He felt the soothing effect of cold water soaking his hair, pouring over his face, his stubbled chin and drenching the ragged tank stretched over his chest. Any glimpse of white was long since obliterated by oil and grease, and the water left it streaked a dirty gray and stinking of sweat.
Darius grabbed his camera and focused it on Bob. "Sir, I gotta get a shot of that. You look totally amazing." Zack grinned, "Yup, one of the guys alright, except hotter than any of them with dirt running over those shoulders and biceps." He chuckled. "Man, I could sure make a meal of that in my lunch break."
At that moment another man was having exactly the same thoughts. Randy was staring through the window of his trailer office at Bob in the distance, so turned on that he instinctively pulled his dick out of his pants and stroked it slowly, careful not to bust a load just gazing at his lover - the preppy, buttoned down executive with his chiseled Superman looks now transformed into a grimy construction worker. "Fucking pornographic," Randy moaned.
His animal instinct reared up, overcoming any sense of restraint or finesse. Those words meant nothing to him - but he did know what he wanted. He yanked open the door and yelled, "Hey, Bob, get your ass in here." Bob, Zack and Darius exchanged looks and Darius grinned, "That's the boss ordering lunch, sir. I guess that lets Pablo's ass off the hook for once. Good luck, sir."
"See you later guys," Bob smiled and walked over to the trailer. Inside he found Randy sprawled in a chair, sipping a beer and looking pleased with himself, his hand resting on the bulge in his pants.
Randy always had a touch of arrogance and the only insecurity he ever felt was being outshone by Bob's stunning looks, his business success and his breeding. But here, on the construction site, was where Randy ruled. It was his world, and his ego soared as lord of his domain, the undisputed boss. He owned the men on his crew including, for today, Bob, it seemed.
"Man," Randy said, stroking his bulge, "you look so fucking hot like that. I knew you would once we dirtied you up. Now you're just one of the grunts, and I usually break the new ones in - one way or another. And there's only one way with a stud like you." He stood up and ran his hands over the filthy tank clinging to Bob's chest. "Oh yeah, perfect ... you really get my hormones racing ... and I told you how I spend my lunch break. But this time there's no Pablo - only you, big guy."
Facing Randy, his resentment mounting, Bob caught sight of himself in the wall-mounted mirror. He was amazed at his reflection - a rugged construction worker, just like Randy - just as dirty, just as muscular - and just as tough. Randy was ripping open his own pants and pulling out his massive cock. "See this here? This is what I use to break in new recruits. You know what to do, stud.... bend over the table and spread 'em."
He grabbed the back of Bob's neck,shoved him face down on the drafting table and kicked his legs apart. Bob spread his arms, held onto the edges of the table and braced himself. It was business as usual - Randy, the rugged alpha male, the macho gypsy on top of his game, dominating the clean-cut, compliant Bob like he owned his ass.
But this time, as Bob looked in the mirror and saw Randy spit on his cock preparing to penetrate him, there was something wrong with this picture. It wasn't Bob, the near naked businessman waiting to get his clean white boxers ripped off and his ass ploughed. This was a hot, muscular construction worker, tough, dirty, sweaty, a match for any arrogant muscle-hunk laborer - including Randy.
Adrenaline raced through him and he twisted round, grabbed Randy's neck and shoved him across the room and against the wall. "What the fuck?" Randy sputtered, the wind knocked out of him. Bob's stubbled jaw clenched as he stared at the startled blue eyes. "So that was your plan, eh, stud? Get your guys to 'dirty me up' as you call it so you can get your rocks off by ramming the almighty club in my ass and show me who's boss. Man you sure know how to humiliate a guy."
He let go of Randy's neck, took a few steps back, held his arms out to the side and snarled, "Look at me, man ... look at this ... this is what you created, 'bossman'. But maybe you overplayed your hand, 'cos what you created ain't some patsy who's just gonna follow orders, bend over and take it up the butt. Look at this, asshole."
Bob raised his arms and flexed in a couple of bodybuilder poses, his oil-streaked muscles rippling under his sweaty, ripped tank, his chiseled features, dark disheveled hair - an impossibly homoerotic icon of a stud construction worker ripped from a porn magazine. Randy's breath became ragged as he stared wide-eyed at a Bob he had never seen before.
Bob grabbed Randy's pulsing dick and grinned mockingly. "Yeah, turn you on big time, eh, boss? This man's you're equal, big guy, and you want him bad. See those two construction guys in the mirror. One of them is going down ... and it sure as hell ain't gonna be me."
Still clenching Randy's pulsing club he dragged him across the room by his cock. "For once in your life, bossman, you're gonna be the one spread over the table .... and I won't even have to force you. Look at me, man - look at my eyes."
Randy had no choice but to obey. He had been totally blown away by the spectacle of this incredible man asserting his masculinity and he now withered under the blazing eyes. It was not a question of physical strength now - though it would have been a doozy of a fight. All Randy's swaggering arrogance had been knocked out of him ... he was no longer the boss. He had met his match in this new guy on the crew and he knew it.
He bent over the table as Bob had done, gripping the edges, spreading his legs. He felt his pants being tugged down below his ass and turned his head to look in the mirror. He moaned as he saw the dark-haired, muscular workman pull out his cock, spit on it as Randy had just done and loom over him.
No foreplay, no finesse, just "Aaaagh!" Randy screamed as the man's cock speared his ass, pulled back and drove in again ... and again. In a haze of pain and ecstasy Randy knew he was getting the brutal treatment he had dished out so often, getting it from a man who looked just like him - a rugged construction boss in cargo pants and a filthy, torn tank.
Bob had never fucked him like this. He had been rough before but never this relentless, pile-driving the gypsy's ass, sending flashes of pain though his body as he braced against the merciless cock. The agonizing drilling of his ass seemed to last an eternity, the howls of triumph from above him, the sweat dripping onto his back. It would have been unbearable but for the sight of the spectacular man in the mirror, muscles rippling as his oily body slammed down on him.
Determined not to give up Randy flexed against the brutal onslaught on his ass. But even he had his limits and he was about to beg when he felt an arm curve round his neck and he was pulled to his feet at an angle to the mirror so he could see Bob pounding his ass from behind. He felt his legs go weak, they buckled, and he and Bob sank to their knees.
And still the relentless fuck. Bob's muscular arm was still clamped round Randy's neck, holding him upright on his knees to watch himself get fucked in the ass. They stared at each other in the mirror, their eyes burning in the recognition of mutual power and lust.
"You've had enough," Bob said at last. "I wanna see the construction boss submit to his new crewman by pumping jizz all over himself. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna grab that thick rod of yours, and when I give the order, you point it at the man in the mirror and shoot." Randy nodded in total subservience. "Yes, sir."
Bob increased the intensity of his fuck to a fever pitch, Randy pounded his cock in his fist .... Then, "Now!" The second Bob gave the word Randy felt his lover's juice slamming into his ass and his own cock exploded in a shower of cum that hit the mirror and ran down the image of the broken construction boss.
When Bob pulled out and stood up Randy fell forward exhausted onto the floor. Bob hooked his boot under Randy and flipped him over on his back. Towering over him he flicked the last drops of cum from his cock onto the dark, stubbled face. Bob taunted him by throwing Randy's own words back at him. "Just so you know, asshole, I'm the boss around here, get it? And I don't wanna have to remind you again."
Bob stuffed his cock back in his pants, pulled open the door and went back to business as casually as Randy had done earlier. As he came out of the trailer he was zipping up his pants. He paused, pulled off his stinking tank and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and chest. He stuffed it in his back pocket and strode shirtless over to an astonished Zack and Darius. "OK, guys, let's get back to work. We're damn well not gonna let a fucking shed beat us"
Zack grinned at him. "He deserved that, buddy." Bob smiled, "No Zack, he needed it. I know my man." He glanced back at the trailer and saw Randy's face at the window.
Randy had watched Bob stride across the site as if nothing had happened. As he saw Bob strip off his shirt, shove it in his pocket and give his orders, Randy was seeing himself, the boss. And this boss too, on his lunch break, had gone into the trailer, fucked a man across the desk, then wiped off his cock and gone back to work.
With his pants still round his feet Randy stroked his cock that was already getting stiff. His ass was still burning, his body still on fire as he watched Bob join his men.
"Son of a bitch," he grinned.
Work progressed steadily after that and, when Randy finally came out of his office he paced around giving orders as always, though his manner was less abrasive than usual - somewhat subdued, the men thought. Zack exchanged knowing looks with Bob, while the three boys, Pablo, Darius and Ben found time to gossip. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened, judging by Bob's swagger and Randy's restrained attitude that bordered on civilized for once.
"That was a turn-up for the books, Darius said. "Hard to tell who's the boss around here anymore."
"Bullshit," said Pablo, always loyal to his adoptive dad. "Randy's the boss. Always has been, always will be."
"Pity you didn't get it on video, Darius," Ben chimed in. "Maybe they'll do a replay for you."
"Nah," Darius said, "there's no second takes on a scene like that. But I did get Bob going into the trailer and coming out. What's the saying? In like a lamb, out like a lion?"
Just then the lion growled. "What's this guys, afternoon tea? Does the word 'work' mean anything to you? Get to it." Surprised by Bob's gruffness the boys looked questioningly at Zack who grinned and shrugged helplessly. "Better do what the boss says, boys."
Randy steered clear of Bob for the rest of the afternoon, though Bob often caught him gazing at him with love or lust in his eyes, Bob couldn't tell. Probably both. But before the end of the shift Randy finally pulled him aside.
"Just for the record, buddy, what I did this morning - turning you into a real live construction worker, with that face and body smothered in oil and dirt - I did it for you, not just to get my rocks off. Although ...." he grinned and looked down at his bulging crotch. "I told you I'd help you give those twins of yours what they want. I suggest you cut out of here and pay them a visit. Here, take my truck," tossing the keys to him.
Bob smiled, "Thanks, buddy." He pulled on his tank that was almost dry by now, though still ragged and filthy hanging on his muscular torso. Randy stared at him and murmured, "Oh, shit," his hand moving mechanically down to the bulge in his own pants. As Bob turned to go Randy cleared his throat and said tentatively, "Er, Bob .... any chance of you and me, like, getting together before dinner?"
Bob laughed. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, boss, you know that."
When Bob got home the houseboys Nate and Eddie were emerging from cleaning Mark's apartment. Jamie and Brandon had just closed the office for the day and were in the garden with Pablo's dog Billy. The construction site was the one place Pablo couldn't take Billy, for safety reasons, and on those days the dog kept close to Brandon, instinctively protecting him.
When they heard Randy's truck pull up the boys expected Randy to make his customary swaggering entrance. But this time Nate dug a distracted Eddie in the ribs and said, "Eddie, Eddie, check it out, dude."
Eddie looked up and gasped, "Holy shitballs .... fuck me with a broom....."
All four boys gazed at the amazing sight. Every day they had seen Bob come home from his corporate office, the handsome executive in his elegantly tailored suit. But this was an instant hard-on - the muscle-god construction worker in muddy boots, cargo pants and a torn, sweaty tank covered in dirt and grease. His tousled dark hair hung over his face, sweat trickled down into the stubble of his square jaw, down his neck and the oil-streaked muscles of his arms and shoulders. It was like Superman emerging from a knock-down drag-out fight.
Billy's reaction was instantaneous. He growled threateningly and Brandon had to hold him back by the collar. "Sorry, sir," Brandon grinned, "but he doesn't recognize you. Probably thinks you're one of those construction workers who's been beaten up by Randy and come for revenge."
"Well," Bob smiled, "actually that's not so far off the mark given the day I've had."
All the boys had their fantasies. That was Brandon's, and Eddie followed up with his. "Can't blame Billy, sir .... you look like ... like a roughneck from an oil rig who hasn't had sex in weeks and has come here to grab a boy and fuck him gutless for days and days."
Nate sighed and raised his eyebrows as a warning to Eddie. He heard stuff like this all day as he worked with the boy and his oversexed imagination. Bob walked toward Billy and held out the back of his hand. Getting the scent Billy licked the hand, whimpered and wagged his tail.
"Good, I've made my peace with Billy, but I'm sorry to disappoint you boys and your fantasies - I'm just a working guy come home to see his boys. Where are the twins by the way?"
Jamie answered warily, "Er, at the moment I think they're down in the basement, sir."
Eddie's eyes sparkled. "But if I were you I wouldn't go there, sir. Bad idea."
Bob shot him that imperious look that could freeze even Randy. "But I'm not you, am I Eddie?"
"No, sir. Far from it. OK, I know, sir - sorry, sir, out of line." Eddie pursed his lips and, in his trademark gesture of silence, ran his fingertips along his lips and twisted them at the corner of his mouth like turning a key, just as he had earlier with Pete. It was a move that always amused Bob, but now he managed to keep a straight face as he said, "You really gotta watch that mouth of yours, kid."
Eddie opened his mouth to respond but Bob raised a cautionary finger and he clamped his lips shut again, looking up at Bob wide-eyed. Stifling the urge to laugh Bob said, "OK, I'm going down to see my boys. Randy and the guys will be back from work soon so make sure everything's ready. You know how Randy can be."
(But not as well as I do, he grinned to himself.)
The twins had been in the basement playroom for some time. It was a magical room for them, with the mirrors all around them reflecting two beautiful identical twins to infinity. But they were in a specific mood today, playing out a fantasy that had been building for several weeks, especially after seeing Randy, Zack, Mark and Pete take their boys on a motorbike run, most of them in leather.
They always took their cue from Bob and dressed neatly in a way that showed off their tanned, youthful physiques to their best. The raciest it ever got was on festive occasions where they served dinner wearing only their white bib overalls over their otherwise naked bodies.
But they had often heard Randy's phrase "dirty him up a bit", and they were ready for a bit of rough sex themselves. They were embarrassed to mention it to Bob so they had taken this opportunity of his day-long absence on the construction site to spend a couple of hours in the basement, acting out their fantasies on each other.
They were doing their best. Having spent much of their lives alone together they were no strangers to sex with each other. They loved each other and even the mere sight of their brother turned them on. As they stared at each other they had the thrill of knowing that their twin was seeing exactly the same thing. So this magical room was perfect for them with their reflections endlessly repeated.
The room was redolent of man-sex and they had the added turn-on of the pile of sex clothes and toys in the corner of the room - torn shirts, ragged shorts, leather, restraints, whips.... They had spent long minutes plundering the pile and had come up with black leather pants that fit. They admired each other from every angle in the mirrors, kissed each other and had even begun their usual vanilla sex when they stopped abruptly. That is not what they came for.
So now here they were, taking faltering steps into the not-too-familiar world of bondage and sexual domination. Randy had once given them lessons on ropes and knots, emphasizing safety above all, with his famous escape knot and the use of safe words.
Kevin was the chosen victim today. He was wearing a torn white shirt tucked into the leather pants. One of the sleeves was torn off, the other hung in sheds, and the ripped shirt was open almost to the waist, showing his perfectly shaped pecs. His arms were raised, tied to ropes that hung down from one of the ceiling beams, stretching his lithe, muscular body.
They had concocted an elaborate fantasy about a prisoner of the Inquisition, a handsome young nobleman in tight leather pants and a white shirt undergoing interrogation, his clothes getting shredded as he is tortured. His inquisitor was Kyle, who had found a leather harness in the pile and wore it crossed over his bare chest.
However, having set up the fantasy, the boys were not sure how to play it out. Kyle had a whip and attempted a snarl that wouldn't have scared a rabbit. He lightly whipped his brother across the chest threatening all kinds of horrors if the prisoner did not confess - "We have ways of making a coward like you talk."
Obviously he needed help punching up the script. Currently it sounded like a send-up of a bad B-movie and made Kevin want to laugh more than flinch. Kyle eventually abandoned the role of snarling bad guy and they took refuge in their comfort zone of affection. Holding the whip limply at his side Kyle approached and pressed their bodies together. Their lips touched and they began to make love. Until.....
"What the fuck...?!!"
They whirled round and gasped in disbelief. They hardly recognized Bob under the red spotlights, a pornographic vision of a ruggedly handsome construction worker - sweaty, filthy, with a greasy tank hanging ragged over his muscled torso.
Actually Bob had been standing in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs watching his boys' fumbling attempts at fantasy and his heart went out to them. He caught sight of himself in a mirror and suddenly he knew what Randy had meant. Randy had sensed what the twins wanted - rough sex - and he had molded Bob into the prefect icon of male domination (with Randy getting his own rocks off in the process.)
Bob strode over to the stunned boys and growled, "What the fuck's going on here? Were you two getting off on each other - two brothers? That's fucking weird ... one of you tied up and the other holding a whip. What we got here, a little bondage and domination scene going on, eh?" Hey, if you want a bit of the rough you gotta know how to do it. Look at me, assholes. You want it rough, you come to me."
"Yes, sir," they said in unison, not sure if Bob was talking punishment or just getting into the scene. The sight of him looking rougher and sexier than they had ever seen him made them not care what he had in mind .... they wanted it. All of it.
Bob picked up the whip Kyle had dropped and said, "What is this anyway, the Inquisition?" And you, boy, are under interrogation?" He flicked the whip at Kevin's chest, stinging his pecs exposed under the open shirt. "I asked you a question, boy."
"Yes, sir ... that was it, sir. But Kyle didn't know....."
"Enough! Godammit you guys gotta learn what torture really feels like." He walked over to the many pieces of equipment hanging on the wall and picked out the items he needed. First came the rope that he used to tie up Kyle just like his brother, his arms stretched up to another rafter so they faced each other a few feet apart.
He picked up a set of tit clamps joined by a chain and clamped them over Kyle's nipples. They were of moderate strength, not serrated, so the pain was titillating rather than harsh. Next he tied a cord tight round the base of Kyle's scrotum making his cock get rock hard and his balls bulge. He did the same things to Kevin, then picked up two ropes to complete his plan.
A few minutes later he stood back to review his work and nodded with satisfaction. "Now that's more like it." The twins were trembling with excitement so intense that it overcame their fear. The two ropes were stretched between them, linking them in a classic bondage scenario. The upper rope stretched between the chains of the tit clamps. The ends of the lower rope were attached to the cord round their balls.
Bob had made the ropes just tight enough to cause discomfort rather than pain, but the result was that, tied by their arms, the twins arched their bodies forward to relieve the stress on each other's chest and balls. Each gazed into the other's eyes enraptured by the sight of his brother tied to him in a stress position, so that if either moved they felt each other's pain equally.
"Now," Bob said, "let's see if you're up to this." He had put a collar round Kyle's neck with a rope attached. Now, standing behind him, Bob gave short tugs on the rope, jerking the boy backward so the ropes joining them tightened and jerked their tits and balls. Bob was a master at this (he had been well taught by Randy) and knew exactly how much pressure to exert to taunt and torment the boys.
The boys were in ecstasy, watching the boy facing him get tortured in exactly the same way he was - the same pain, same grimace on the same face, same body stretched and arched in the same way. They turned their heads sideways and saw the pornographic scene reflected again and again to infinity - two beautiful young brothers in leather pants getting tortured by a rugged construction worker fresh off the job site and smothered in oil and grease.
Bob decided to increase the pressure. He pulled Kyle further back and watched their faces contort as the discomfort turned to pain. "You know I can make my prisoners do whatever I want, don't you?"
"Yes sir," they yelled in unison. "OK. See I have a hankering to force two handsome, macho brothers like you have sex with each other. You think I can make you do that?"
They stayed silent, playing the game of resistance to their interrogator. "Good, I like defiance in a man," Bob gloated. "We'll see how long it lasts." He released Kyle's neck and shoved the twins toward each other. Their arms stretch up and back but the ropes were loose enough for their chests to slam together, the tit clamps grinding against each other, their balls pressed against each other's, making them moan with the pain.
"Kiss each other," their captor ordered. But they simply stared at each other in open defiance of the sweaty muscle-hunk looming over them. "Right, so I guess I'll have to make you."
Using the same whip Bob lashed their backs in turn, lightly at first, then with more pressure so the lashes stung, then hurt - more and more. Forced into compliance, arms still stretched upwards, the twin brothers now ground their mouths together, the ecstasy of tasting their brother's lips heightened by the pain in their chests and bound balls as their bodies churned against each other.
Whipping harder Bob yelled, "You know you can't hold out much longer .... the pain's too much. You've gotta submit to me. Pull away ... look into each other's eyes. They pulled their heads back and stared into their brother's eyes, each boy seeing in them not only the same love and lust as always, but now for the first time, the same suffering, the same flinch of pain as the whip cracked against his brother's back.
For each of them it was like watching himself get tortured, feeling it, loving it, loving himself, loving his brother - it was all the same. It was the most intense sensation they had ever felt and they fell in love with each other more deeply than ever.
They saw themselves reflected in each other's eyes as they smiled and whispered, "I love you bro." In a final act of submission to their master they threw their heads back and screamed as sperm blasted from their cocks up between them, joining their bodies together with the juice of fraternal passion.
When they were spent they slumped against each other, each boy resting his head on his brother's shoulder in exhaustion. They heard their master's heavy breathing - "Yeah, here it comes" - and felt his semen splash over their bodies. Bob had rarely seen anything so emotionally erotic as his twins making love to each other while being tortured.
And neither had Randy. The twins heard a slow hand-clap coming from the door and slowly raised their heads to see a second construction worker, just like the first - only fiercer.
"Fucking incredible, buddy," Randy said, walking toward Bob. "Looks like you're really teaching these boys a lesson. I knew that's what they wanted. But you ain't finished with them are you?"
"Hell no," Bob grinned. "This is just the start. You wanna give me a hand, old buddy?"
Randy stroked his chin. "Let's see now. Two handsome identical young brothers in leather pants and torn white shirts, tied up and worked over, at the mercy of two macho construction guys. Yeah, now that has definite possibilities. Sure, buddy, count me in.
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength - Chapter 263