"I don't like this."
I coughed on my French fry and stared at Erica. "What are you talking about?"
"It's pretty obvious he's using you, Joe. The guy is horny and can't get any, and instead of resorting to his right hand, he's using you as his personal Fleshlight. That's not right."
After Russ' not-altogether-unwelcome intrusion into my room seeking another quality blowjob, I decided to bring at least one friend into the fold by seeking their advice. Erica was the one I felt safest about approaching, mainly because I knew that unlike the gay guy friends I had, she wouldn't ask for lurid details or if I was willing to set up a camera to record the next session. I also thought she was fairly open-minded about sex; the negative reaction surprised me, and my open jaw showed it.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "It's not like he's coming into my room at night and raping me."
"The first time you gave him head, he was drunk and horny. The second time, he sounded just plain horny. Where's the appreciation for you as a willing partner? Did he even offer to reciprocate?"
"Well, the second time, he told me to... take matters into my own hands. He didn't think about it the first time."
She dropped the fork in her salad and crossed her arms, frowning as she looked square in my face. "And you're okay with that?"
I shrugged. "I enjoyed myself." It was the truth. It was also the truth that, while not suffering tunnel vision as a result of a fog of lust, I thought it would've been nice of him to return the favor, maybe offer a couple of tentative swipes of his tongue on my shaft, or at the very least jerk me off. The likelihood of either scenario happening was about as probable as me winning the lottery. Both times had primarily been about getting his rocks off and not mine; my orgasms were afterthoughts. Russ didn't even tell me to jerk myself off until well after he already forced his cock down my throat and teabagged me.
Erica shook her head. "That's not really what I mean. Where is this going? Are you okay with being some straight guy's willing mouth until he drops you and goes back to his ex, or whoever decides to crawl into his bed?"
Before he came on to me (in more ways than one), Russ had just been my roommate. The past few days where he seemed to be making an effort to spend time with me, and get to know me, allowed me to get to know him as more than just a roommate. He was a good guy, and I liked him. Any girl would be lucky to be with Russ. But, when it came down to it: what did Russ think of me as someone beyond his personal cocksucker? There was no guarantee he was feeling the same warm fuzzies I did when he sat next to me on the couch to watch some movie, or hand me a slice of pizza, and those warm fuzzies weren't entirely a result of blood rushing to my smaller head. I wouldn't turn him down were he to offer to take me out to dinner before taking me to his bedroom for more than just head. He might be open-minded, but that didn't mean he wanted me for anything more than what I already gave him.
I sighed. "Can't I just enjoy myself while I still can? You don't need to remind me about the shoe dropping."
"But that's exactly what I need to do!" Erica cupped my face and shook it as if I were a particularly effervescent puppy. "Look at that face! You could get out there and find any guy you want to give you what you deserve: a good fuck! Russ, as hot as he is, doesn't sound willing to give you that. You deserve better than him."
I knew she was right; I just didn't want to hear it. It was the sensible thing to do to protect myself from falling harder only to splat in a huge mess on the hard concrete that I knew was at the bottom. Russ could offer a hard cock, but he couldn't give me anything more than that.
At Erica's insistence, on Friday night, we all went out to the local gay club. I had enjoyed myself there a couple of times before all the stuff with Russ started, but never did I make a pass at anyone, or feel pressured to go home with a guy. Erica was determined to change that.
"Ooh! What about him?" she motioned to what amounted to a vaguely male-shaped silhouette walking past our table, his visage obscured by the club lighting, or rather, lack thereof. "He might be Mr. Right Now!"
"Erica, now you're just pointing at every guy in the club and calling him 'Mr. Right Now.'"
On my other side, one of my friends, Colin, shrugged. "She's kind of right. You're not even trying."
"I don't see you getting out there and trying to find Mr. Right Now."
"I'm good where I am." He adjusted his glasses before sipping his Coke. "It's more entertaining to watch you two. You're just being a wet blanket and she's trying so hard to get you laid."
Jesse and Duke, panting heavily from their insistent bumping and grinding on the dance floor, scooted back into our booth. "What's happening?" asked Jesse, downing a glass of water.
"Joe just wants to go back home to his straight roommate instead of getting a quality fuck from any one of these eligible bachelors," pouted Erica.
"I still say let him be a happy little fag," said Duke. "You don't get that kind of straight boy dick on the regular every day."
Jesse nudged Duke. "Gonna kiss and tell about your own straight boy dick experience?"
Duke's hand moved conspicuously underneath the table. "I can show you instead when we get out of here."
"C'mon, guys, I need to catch up on sleep this weekend," said Colin as he visibly blanched. "It's been a rough week."
Jesse winked. "He can stuff something into my mouth to keep me quiet."
Erica grunted in frustration and grabbed my hand as she edged out of the booth, dragging me along. "We are going to find you some grade-A gay dick on the dance floor whether you like it or not." I protested but Colin pushed me along, and I tried to shoot him a dirty glare but Erica and I were quickly swallowed up the anonymous mass of men and women dancing to the rhythm of the thumping beats overworking the subwoofers. Everywhere I turned, I could only see the same vaguely defined dark outlines, occasionally lit by a strobe light or flash of someone's camera taking a photo. How Erica even thought this would be a good idea, I had no clue; I couldn't see anything. She could pimp me out to some truly lecherous chickenhawk, or a poor guy who couldn't control his sweat glands or acne, and I'd go running back to my place between Russ' legs; they would be gay, probably, but neither imaginary man had anything on Russ. If I had to sleep with someone, I'd rather know what they looked like first.
I lost Erica in the pulsating throng. It was overwhelming, being on my own in a space that I didn't want to be in. I lamely tried to push my way out towards where I thought our booth was but then felt a pair of hands from behind grip my waist. "I know you can dance," a voice shouted in my ear; if it was meant to be seductive, the effect was lost due to the need to shout just to be heard over the music.
I turned and was chest-to-chest with a guy. Given the purposeful semi-darkness, it was hard to see what he even looked like. His hands firmly planted on the small of my back, he began gently grinding his hips against mine. I thought it interesting that he didn't want to do it in time to the music; it was comically out of sync with everyone else's movements. As if by instinct, I followed his lead, and realized that he had actually been moving in time, but at a slower rhythm, only to gradually increase tempo to catch up to the music as I warmed up to him. I had to admit that that was a fairly suave move: he eased me into dancing with him.
I gripped his head and pulled it close to my mouth so I could ask, "Do you do this with everyone?"
"Only the hot ones," he replied.
I turned around and pressed my ass against his crotch, noticing his prominent bulge. He wrapped his arms around my torso, as if being protective, and we danced. I could feel his hardness, and there was no way to mistake the message he was trying to send: he was into me. Maybe it was the hedonistic club atmosphere itself, or the rush I got from imagining I was on my knees in front of Russ, but I felt pretty sure I was into him too. It had been awhile since a guy fucked me, and I wanted to feel that again. Erica was right: Russ couldn't give me everything I wanted—no, what I needed.
I turned around and leaned into his ear. "Your place, or mine?"
"I live in the dorms. Do you?" I understood what he meant; maybe he had a roommate he didn't want to disturb with sounds of two guys going at it. I could sympathize.
"I have an apartment off campus. Do you wanna get out of here?"
At that moment, a camera flash went off in our direction, and I could see his face: cute in a frat pledge bro kind of way, full head of hair, kinda big nose, nice smile. I could do worse. It was the kind of face I didn't think I would mind seeing while I was on my back.
When we got back to the apartment, it didn't look or sound like Russ was home. I reminded myself that maybe he was getting over Paige by going out and banging some chick in his car in a parking lot behind a club, the windows fogging up as it rocked from side to side. Or maybe he was at Paige's apartment right now, going down on her after he reminded her how good he was with his tongue. I shook my head to clear it; there was no reason to think about Russ while I had a guy willing to get in my bed.
"I'm Cody. What's your name?" he asked as I led the way to my room.
