The humour was infectious.
Not that it was a funny book, just that the way the story was told tickled Grant just right. And he was, he realized belatedly, stroking himself off as he imagined fucking the book's hero, Robert. It was the tenth Robert book and also the latest one, fresh off the press. Grant had only discovered them 18 months before so the time between had been fairly well occupied by the ten novels.
Robert was a slightly offbeat cop who always arrived at the wrong time. And if the case got solved it was because he got caught in the middle of some siege or chase or whatever where the bad guy confessed to him at the end. But Robert also worked out seriously and was a bit of an amateur power-lifter who also sang in the local Methodist church choir.
The books had a steady cult following but were never likely to be best sellers. Grant knew that. They were a bit too literary, and a gay cop was also too way out for most readers. Not that Robert was very gay, any sex he had was suggested to have occurred or hinted at, rather than graphically described. But that was fine with Grant. He had a very good imagination and there was nothing like that sense of humour, that Robert's character was always written with, to make him happy. And nothing like Robert's way of talking about another man he was feeling hot for, to make Grant hot.
What really annoyed Grant now was knowing he'd have to wait at least six months for the next Robert book to come out. But he hadn't finished this one yet and was taking his time. He could definitely imagine Robert lying back on the weight bench recovering his breath after pressing 150 kg. Yep, and he just slid onto the bench between Robert's thighs and lifted his muscular legs and flipped his shorts off his butt and . . . Yes. Robert was fucked. And was loving playing bottom, to Grant's top. Though Grant knew Robert supposedly preferred to have things the other way round, and in the books he always did.
But Grant's gut feeling was that Robert would really like taking it. Hard and long and . . .
Yes indeed. Grant pulled out a tissue and cleaned up.
Grant never went to gay events, he didn't even consider himself to be gay, or even bi - he was just, well, just getting a lot more male action than the other nowadays. It was easier he rationalised, and there were less possible complications, and it was well - good.
But Robert's creator, the author Hamilton Sloan, was appearing at a gay literary event that Saturday. The thought of a gay literary event made Grant shudder, and part of him knew he shouldn't go. That part was sure the whole thing would be ghastly and that Hamilton, or whatever his real name was, would be some limp wristed hairdresser type, who Grant would take an instant dislike to. And taking a dislike to Robert's creator would, Grant knew, spoil Robert for him for ever more. And he didn't want to lose the good feelings he got from reading about Robert, or fucking him in his imagination..
But the other part of Grant couldn't not go. He was a man who accepted challenges. Well some challenges, and this Saturday was the first one in ages that he had free. It seemed like a sign. Grant could go, so he had to go. He sighed and read for a while longer before he finally set the book down for the evening. The Evening Train it was called, about a series of muggings and rapes on a Washington DC commuter train, where all the victims were good looking male office workers wearing suits and overcoats. A bit of a risky plotline Grant thought, taking the gay thing into the crime itself. Hamilton hadn't done that before, Robert was gay, but the crime and the murderer were always straight
Robert of course had nearly been raped himself when he wore an overcoat and a suit to the office one day, because he was meeting his rich elderly aunt Maud for dinner afterwards. The image of Robert squeezed between the two dark haired muscular young men of uncertain ethnic background had been what had just helped Grant to be well satisfied. The second time that evening. He could well imagine them feeling Robert up, one pressed in behind him and rubbing his huge rod against Robert's butt as he held his arms tight. The one in front, all big hand inside Robert's unzipped pants, playing with him while the other hand relieved him of his wallet.
At the next stop they had manoeuvred Robert off the packed train into a space that was set back out of sight between two station buildings. Then Robert had used some martial arts skill's to get away. In spite of the knife that had appeared. Of course he had lost the two horse hung muscular young studs as they leapt the station fence like cat's and disappeared up an alleyway.
Grant had grunted at the sexless ending to the erotically charged scene, and he had gone back three paragraphs to the one just before Robert began his escape.
That paragraph had ended with, 'The youth behind him had his arms around Robert, holding his arms down, pinned to his side, as his companion, another dark haired muscular and dangerous youth undid Robert's belt and pushed his pant's down.'
"Yes," Grant hissed, imagining Robert's dick jumping free as his own just had. "Yes,"
Grant's imagination was off and running. Louie, the dark haired muscular stud standing in front of Robert pulled out his own huge rod at the same time, and the cop gasped at the size of it. Louie docked the two cocks together and needed both hands to stroke them.
Robert arched back, turning his head to the side and moaning. But other lips found his, and Paulie the stud behind him had his tongue slipping between Roberts parted lips and into his mouth. Robert welcomed it's invasion, closing his mind to anything except the feeling of what the two young men were doing to his body.
"Yes," Grant whimpered.
Paulie locked his arms in a tight embrace of Robert's chest, rubbing himself against his captives firm bubble butt as his tongue showed its possession of his victim's mouth
Louie stripped Robert's pants off while letting Paulie know what Robert had.
"A lovely big hard 8" cock, " Louie growled, "This guy is really hung Paulie."
Paulie could feel Robert's bare arse through his own pants, and judged it was safe to let go with one hand and drop his pants, so his throbbing tool could find the passage it wanted to burrow into. Robert suddenly felt the head of Paulie's naked tool being stroked up and down his crack, and moaned around its owners tongue, letting him know they both wanted the same thing.
But Louie's fingers got in first, and Robert groaned his disappointment at not feeling the hard rod behind him making its way up into him. Louie was obviously enjoying this new activity though and Robert tilted his pelvis and widened his legs to give him better access. The young mugger had long thick fingers, and Robert's moans were no longer ones of regret for Paulie's cock, but appreciation of the stretching and fucking he was now receiving from two of those long fingers. Then Louie was doing a hand and mouth job on Robert's dripping cock. His tongue rimming the head and cleaning up the drips leaking from his slit, as it tried to enter it.
