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.

Robert lifted his legs and draped them over Louie's shoulders as Louie continued to work him open. Then Louie was standing and Robert pulled free of Paulie's mouth to turn back and look at the muscular young man between his thighs. Louie lifted Robert's legs, one by one, and set his feet up on the chain mesh fence before him and Robert widened his feet on the wire, lifting his arse higher.

"You have a lovely hole man," Louie crooned, teasing the brown twitching eye with his thumb pad.

Robert writhed and moaned as Louie leant in to kiss and claim his mouth. Both his hands were now pushing Roberts cheeks apart, with the longest fingers of both sinking deep and pulling wide. Robert sucked Louie's tongue in the way his channel wanted to suck in Louie's big cock.

Behind him Paulie was grunting, "Hurry up man I wan to fuck him too, I am aching man."

Robert wanted to tell them how much he agreed, but then he turned and Paulie had his mouth again, now deadening the noises Robert was making as Louie made a last preparation. Bending to wet down Robert's finger filled entrance before removing his thick fingers and replacing them with his cock. Louie's cock made the long journey inside slowly, Paulie's mouth covering Robert's groans and cries, as he was filled deeply. Louie came quickly but the brief powerful fucking still had Robert moaning happily. Then Louie released Robert's feet from the wire mesh of the fence, letting them back to the ground, after which he and Robert fell into a deep kiss

"Yes," grunted Grant seeing it all. The two would be muggers completely wild for Robert who was ready, no eager, for a wild fucking from both of them. Preferably with seconds.

Paulie growled and pushed Robert forward, breaking up the battle of tongues that had been going on. He positioned his cap at Robert's cum lubed entrance and with a twist to his piece forced the full head in.

Paulie stretched Robert enough to make him cry, "No, no," as the thicker rod made room for itself. Paulie bottomed and waited for a few moments for Robert to accommodate him. Then he slowly pulled Robert's shoulders back up towards him, catching his thighs in between his and stepping his own feet together, pushing Robert's thighs closer together without losing any depth. Louie moved in to run his hands and mouth over the arched torso of the impaled and moaning cop.

A train came into the station and the three of them froze as they were. Paulie's cock throbbing deep inside Robert's stretched arse, Louie covering his mouth and pressed tight against him. His hands up under Robert's shirt pinching his nipples, giving Robert plenty to yelp about around Louie's buried tongue.

"Yes," Grant grunted and moaned, his cream shooting out, with the departing train, in it's rush to escape the station. He gazed sightlessly at the page before him for a few minutes as he recovered.

So Saturday it was, at the University Book shop. Grant sighed unhappily as he got up and headed for the kitchen for a quick snack before be fell into bed.

The Literary event didn't seem to have a schedule. Typical student run shambles Grant thought, looking about at the late teen, early twenty crowd of mainly lesbians milling about loudly. He sighed and looked around gloomily. Now he'd come he decided he might as well stay a while and see if Hamilton would appear, but he certainly wasn't standing round waiting with the crowd. Instead he headed to the coffee shop up on the mezzanine floor, overlooking the non-academic book section. Unfortunately that was crowded too and he looked around wondering if he should just go, deciding that if he couldn't get a seat in five minutes he would. But there was a table to one side where a lone middle-aged male was sitting reading, and Grant took a chance and went over.

"Is it possible for me to share your table," he asked politely.

The man looked up frowning. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, and that done his eyes immediately returned to his book.

Grant ordered a coffee at the counter and returned.

The other man glanced up as Grant sat, "Are you here for the event?" he asked, more Grant was sure because he felt he should be polite than for any other reason.

"Yes," he replied, clearing his throat.

His addiction to Robert wasn't something he had confessed to anyone else ever. After all, he wasn't gay and people might get the wrong idea.

"Yes," he repeated stumped.

The man returned his eyes to the book, 'Stone buildings of Victoria.'

"Hamilton, I came to see Hamilton Sloan," Grant felt he had to say something to explain his presence.

He didn't want the man to think he was there for the launch of the BDSM manual he had seen signs for everywhere, down below in the bookshop. He couldn't even make out what was going on in a couple of the poster shots and was sure he didn't want to know.

"Oh," the man glanced up. "Do you read that stuff?"

"Yes," Grant admitted, looking away. "Um. I like his humour," he added, looking back at his table companion and feeling that some further explanation was required. "I'm not gay," he added, "but I like good murder mysteries."

The man's eyes were green Grant realised, and large. He was older than he looked too, Grant decided. Everything about him was neat and calm and there was something about him that was attractive.

"And you?" Grant asked.

"Um. Same," the man said.

Grant felt a strange tingling as he said, "Robert is a great character. Great sense of humour."

"Yes," the man replied, "But not a very good detective."

Grant was piqued at his mate Robert being criticised by a stranger. "He always finds the killer," he said gruffly.

"I think it's more a case of the killer finding him," the man replied, smiling.

Grant, who had been about to disagree strongly, just said, "Rubbish," and wondered what the story was with his table companion.

"Grant," he introduced himself

"Andrew," the man replied, and they briefly grasped hands across the table.

"Coffee?" Grant asked, having noted his companion's cup sitting empty since he'd joined him.

Over a coffee they chatted some more but Grant's mind was not entirely on the chat. He had been busy lately and now he was surrounded by men, and he was aware of being in the mood for something to happen. He noticed a couple of the young men who moved about the café of the bookshop. A couple were eye catching for sure, but just then it was the mouth of his companion that was the sexiest thing in the room to him. The mouth, and the hands, and the striaght but flexible back. Grant was getting hard under the table.

"I don't think this Hamilton guy is coming for a while," he said, "How about we get out of here for a while. Have lunch." he said, trying to think of an excuse to go somewhere things could get more personal.

He rarely picked anyone up in public, and he usually didn't know the other mans name or want to. Now he wished he had some good line to use, other than 'I want to fuck you Andrew.'

"I want to fuck you Andrew," he said, accidentally, as they left the bookshop.

Andrew laughed and turned to look at him, "Pardon?"

Grant stepped in closer to Andrew, so he could say it properly without anyone else being able to hear. "I said, I'm glad I met you Andrew."

Andrew smiled at him lopsidedly. "Oh, I thought you said 'I want to fuck you Andrew'."

"Oh," Grant said, confused now and wanting to laugh, as Andrew slipped off his jacket and folded it over his arm.

He had on a short-sleeved shirt and his upper arms were thick with muscle - power-lifter arms.

"Hamilton, I presume?" Grant asked blushing.

Unexpectedly their mouths came together in a kiss.