Getting drunk with your gay roommate at 4$ martini night in Toronto means learning WAY more about gay sex than you'd ever want to know.
Not that it was gross or anything, but we learned that we both swallow, that he doesn't have the hips to take on big cocks ("Come on JD, it's a cock not a baby!" I might have yelled in the café) and that we are both looking forward a date with a new guy in the upcoming days.
No, not the same guy.
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