Mr. Banana and I had been dating for a few months, and with open mind, the suggestions of using types of fruit/vegetables during intercourse didn’t seem so bad. This is what love does to you. Bring on the penis shaped food.
***Like you’ve never bought a cucumber and thought to yourself, “Oh. I wonder what this would feel like in me?” ***
I had no cucumbers or carrots, but there was a nice, slightly curved banana. We brought it to the bed. Mr. Banana began to lick me, everywhere. He bit the side of my inner upper thighs, so that I’d pull back my legs more. He juggled my clit between his tongue and his thumb, while his other fingers began to thrust into me, digging out my wetness. It was rough, and I laid back to enjoy my impending orgasm.
He warned me he was going to use the banana. I laid back and looked at the wall, knowing I was about to really enjoy this experience, especially since the banana was about 2 inches bigger than he was in length, and maybe half an inch thicker in girth. Delicious.
Mr. Banana began to fuck me with the banana. It felt different from what I expected, maybe softer? I felt it go in me 4-5 times, and heard him grunt in visual stimulation, as I enjoyed and moaned in approval.
“Shit.”
“What?” I look up, through my breasts, down my stomach and at his face in between my legs. “What’s wrong?”
***Out of body experience begins.***
I see the banana peel next to his body. I see him show me half the unpeeled banana. I watch as my face goes from pleasure to horror in 3 nanoseconds flat.
“YOU FUCKED ME WITH AN UNPEELED BANANA!?”
“Well, yeah. I wanted to eat your juices.”
Part of me thinks, “Aww.” The other part of me wants to break up with him.
We go to the bathroom and begin to fish out half a banana out of my super wet pussy. It only takes a few seconds to figure out that this won’t work as broken little chunks of bananas would be fished out, while the rest swimmed in me. It’s 5 am. I wonder how soon I could call my gynecologist, without being disgusting and inappropriate.
At 7am, I call my doctor. “It’s an emergency!”
I go to her office. My action plan was to tell her straight out the problem, with no introduction as to how it happened, to prevent the high risk of judgement. “I have banana stuck in me and it won’t come out.”
Without skipping a beat, she announced she’d flush the chunks out of me. (Fantastic! There must be more food freaks in my neighborhood. She knows what she’s doing!) The flushing induced contractions, and I begin to give birth to pitiful pieces of mashed banana.
The yeast infection that followed killed for the next few days.
After the entire ordeal was over, I broke up with Mr. Banana.
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