Timmy invites me to a dinner party at his apartment. I’m the first one to arrive because Timmy has invited me over an hour earlier than everyone else. We’re in the kitchen. He’s busy putting the finishing touches on the lasagna he’s making. He puts it in the oven to stay warm and we run to the supermarket to pick up beers and sodas and ice. When we get back, there’s still, like, 45 minutes before the rest of his guests are supposed to arrive.
“Let me suck you off,” he says.
I laugh, but I’m not surprised. I should have seen this coming. And I should already be able to see where it’s going.
“I’ll put on some porn,” he says, and he pops a DVD in.
I don’t really want a blowjob from Timmy. Partly because blowjobs just don’t really do it for me, mostly because I’m not into Timmy, not even a little. But he’s insistent, and since he’s not expecting any sort of reciprocation I figure it’s just easier to let him do it than to argue about it.
And why is that? Am I that lazy, or just astoundingly easily manipulated, easily pressured into doing something I’d rather not? Is it because Timmy’s one of the only people I’ve met so far in New York, and I actually kinda thought we were going to be friends? Or do I just lack enough self-esteem, self-respect, whatever you want to call it, to insist that no means no, even if it means walking out on this little dinner party, or worse still, waiting around for everyone else to show up and then sitting through dinner awkwardly trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary happened an hour ago?
Whatever the case, I end up sitting on Timmy’s couch, watching some severely unimpressive porn, and he’s kneeling between my legs, sucking my cock. He takes his out and strokes it while he’s sucking mine. When I’m ready to come, I tell him so, but he doesn’t stop, so I shoot in his mouth and he swallows it. No one’s ever done that with me before. There’s nothing to even wipe up afterward.
Timmy’s friends arrive and we have dinner. And all evening long Timmy is a total dick to me. I get the impression that I’ve served my purpose and that he’s irritated that I have had the audacity to stay for the dinner party he invited me to.
And a few weeks later he invites me over for a Super Bowl Half-Time party—everyone’s already there when I arrive this time—and I get the same treatment. He’s dismissive and rude and says casually hurtful things. He says something smells bad and asks me if I stepped in dog shit on the way over, even though I don’t smell anything. Every comment I make, he contradicts or ridicules. And all night, he’ll occasionally ask if I’m sure I didn’t step in dog shit on the way over.
I’m completely baffled as to why he even invited me to this stupid party, and he must be too, because he never invites me over to he house again after that night.
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