“A hole’s a hole, man.”
When my roommate says he messed around with a dude, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Isn’t he the straightest guy on campus? Why would you let another man go down on you?
But the more he talks, the more my own curiosity takes over. I can’t stop staring at the big print in his sweatpants. What would it feel like? What would it taste like?
How much of it could I even take? Maybe a hole is just a hole. And maybe I could be his next one.
