A typical Friday night of foosball and football on the TV becomes that special night when you finally get that boy. When a playful kiss ends up more than just an impulse, and suddenly you’re allowed to undress him and his penis is jutting out in front of his body expecting your attention. Something about seeing his cock and balls hanging and protruding on display turns any doubts about this off, and your brain puts all other functions on ‘hibernate’ so it can devote all its energy to sex.

You get your arms around him, cradling his torso, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You want his cock, and he wants you to have it. He’s acting like a woman, parting his legs, trying to encourage you to give attention to his pussy. It turns you on in dizzying, incredible ways to know that a man is expecting you to take him, that he’s silently accepted you as the dominant one.

The high lasts for nearly an hour, a two man orgy of touching, caressing, kissing, and sucking. Not an inch left unexplored, no erogenous zone neglected. The sex lasts maybe ten minutes but you know the penetration is just the finale. By the time you reach the breeding, the pulling his hips flush with yours so you can get deeper in him part, you are just an animal recreating what your ancestors have been doing for millennia.

He’s very hot, and very malleable in your hands. His penis feels like a silk flower in your fingers, his balls soft permissions heavy on the branch. Wetness is everywhere.

The next morning you both convince yourselves it was a dream and never reconnect on Fridays again. You don’t see each other for nearly 15 years, until one day he finds you online, and messages you out of the blue: “Do you still wonder if it was real or not?”
Your heart leaps at his message and you reply: “Every day.”
“Do you ever wish it were real?”
“Every day.”
“555-921-8266.”

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Text is fictional. Need the source please.