There's A Banana In The Tailpipe
Since my wife shows an interest in sex extremely infrequently (you wouldn't guess it by our three kids), I have been largely left to my own devices over the years. Sometimes I get . . . well, you know . . . curious.
(BTW, will someone please explain to me what the deal is with all the wives out there -- mine in particular -- who love sex until a few years into a marriage? Please, please unlock this mystery for me. Yes, I want to keep things new (please again). And yes, I want to experiment - quite desperately in fact. And oh, how I love to eat that kitty cat. Simply love it. Oh, but wait, what's that you say? All you want to do is missionary? And you don't really want foreplay? Well, shoot, I guess I'll have to say I'm down with that, too, especially when given the alternative of the fabulous Ms. Rosie Palm. But _no_ sex? Oh, sorry, I mean once a month? (I count once a month as possibly more torturous than none at all.) Well, Ow, you're standing on my manhood. And while you're at it, _please_ explain exactly wtf is up with being all kissy and flirty and pressing all up against me . . . when we are anywhere _but_ the bedroom? That makes me mental! It's like whispering into my ear, "Oh, honey, I can't wait to take you to the Promised Land." Then you blindfold me, tell me you're taking me to the airport, and then, when you remove the blindfold and I see we're on a bus headed for Cleveland, you say with surprise: "What Promised Land?")
Anyway, back to my curiosity. One of the things Ive been curious about is those pornstars. I'll let you know that I make it a point not to buy porn -- those internet trailers offer up plenty for my humble needs. But even so, I can't help but feel some guilt about those poor, exploited pornstars. They're people too. (Of course, the guilt typically doesn't set in, at least not in any sort of cogent sense, until after I've gotten my rocks off to the freebies they star in.)
(Ok, a second tangent: Guys, I know you know what I'm talking about here since I know you all beat off -- maybe there's 5% of you don't feel the need to master your domain, but from you I seek the same information that my wife (and around 90% of other wives, based on the posts I've seen) evidently also possess: wtf is the deal? But back to my tangent -- ladies, if you're married and you two aren't having sex (again, once a month does not count), I need to tell you something: when your hubbie goes off to "check on some work stuff" or "send some emails" or "fix the computer," especially if he does this after crawling in bed and realizing that yet again he isn't getting any, guess what he's doing? He's slappin' it, just like me. Don't feel bad, don't feel guilty (you're not a bad wife and can't control your desires any more than he can), and don't feel mad. At the very least, feel glad that he's not out there on the prowl. But again, don't feel bad; he's been working his nightstick since long before you met him and it's nothing personal.)
Back to the pornstars. I confess, I've rubbed one out more than once as some hot chick plays hide the salami in the back door. Moaning in passion, she seems like she's en fuego, I mean, she seems to _really_ be enjoying herself. But is she? Is it possible to enjoy having a massive ramrod jammed repeatedly, though perhaps not with complete abandon, up your ass? I dunno. Sometimes they bounce up and down on that thing like a pogo stick, shuddering in apparent orgasm. But the physics of it . . . makes it hard to tell. And you have to keep in mind those pornstars are pretty good at pretending to have orgasms.
Well, as someone who has some scruples about the whole thing -- and, as I say, ample time for solo experimentation -- I decided that before I would ever again take pleasure in what could potentially be the coerced suffering of another human being, I would find out if this really was a from of torture, and if so, no mas! That's right, no more porn for me, since most of it seems to involve anal these days (go figure). Of course, I had to carve out a small exception for those BDSM chicks who get off on spanking, bondage, and electroshock nipple twisting while getting hammered by some dude in a Hannibal Lecter mask. I will still beat off to them no matter how this experiment turns out.
Hmmm, I thought, Now how am I going to go about finding out what it feels like to have a big, long, wide thing stuck in my butt? The obvious answer is right here on CL, but I wasn't about to go on m4m and get pummelled by some burly buttmaster. Too scary. Plus, I'm married and that would be cheating. You'll note that I could have bypassed this whole porn dilemma altogether by just going out and getting laid, but decided (uh, when I got married) that I'm not going to do that. So how about a cucumber? We didn't have any. Plus, those things are pretty big. Even bigger than pornstar dicks. But wouldn't you know it, there was a whole bowl full of bananas right there next to the sink. I sized them up and, being intimately familiar with the size and heft of my johnson in my hand, I got one that was just a bit bigger than my own tallywhacker. I figured that proportion-wise, I should pick one bigger than my own unit because those pornstars are typically getting nailed by people bigger than them, so in all fairness -- and if this experiment was really going to be worth anything -- I too should get nailed by a banana bigger than me.
I went upstairs and got one of the Magnum condoms from my beside drawer. Yes, those Magnums, For Extra Size. Back in the long-lost days of sex, a girlfriend and I realized that the regular size didn't go all the way down to the base, and it really should for absolute protection. I've been a Magnum man ever since. And did you know condoms have an expiration date? Well, to illustrate the time over which my robust sexuality had been repressed to the point where I was planning to shove a banana up my ass in order to jack off with a clear conscience to women getting banged up the ass, these babies were a couple years out of date. I mean, sometimes my wife and I do get it on (see the once a month reference above), so that may be misleading. But when we do, we either practice the old pull-out move or use what I now realize is an out-of-date rubber (she's still not back on the pill after number 3). The point is, if your pack of rubbers expires, you're not using 'em fast enough.
So now you see that this bigger-than-me-sized banana meant that I really did have my work cut out for me, what with me being Magnum-sized and all.
(Tangent No. 3: But it's not like I'm some freak of nature or anything. At about 8", I probably don't even need the Magnums, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I spent my younger years so paranoid about knocking up a girlfriend I was determined to unroll that sucker _all_ the _way_ to the _base_. When the condom dudes say "base of the penis," they _mean_ "base of the penis." My Magnums never failed me.)
At this point you might be wondering why I need a rubber in order to shove a banana up my ass. Am I worried about catching some sort of fruity STD? (ha! good one.) Well, number one, rubbers are nice and smooth. And number two they're lubricated. Even Biggus Dickus and the other pornstar ass raiders are kind enough to use lube. So, I lay on my back. I unroll the protection onto my banana. I bring my legs up like a pornstar, and I begin to push it in with an iron grip. Wow, this is cool, I think. Not too bad. I notice that the hard little end of the banana where the peel all comes together is a little uncomfortable, even though it's covered by the latex shield. Even though real dicks don't have a hard, square-edged point at the tip, I reason that it's a fair trade-off since I get to be the one driving this banana and can therefore take my time, whereas the poor little pornstar on whose behalf I'm conducting this experiment is at the mercy of Mr. Dickus, the piledriving stud, or whatever other human jackhammer the "director" scooped up off the street that day.
Slowly, I get it deeper. Then, as I begin to make some real progess, the weirdest thing happens: I begin to feel like a slut. And I like it. My slutty instincts taking over, I realize I need a better angle if I'm going to get this bad boy all the way in me. I roll back onto my shoulders so my ass is sticking straight up and it helps. And of course, this position makes me feel even more slutty. This is weird. This is awesome. I realize that if I was a woman, I would likely be the biggest slut on the planet and I would love it. I strain and grunt, trying to shove this giant banana into my ass. By way of historical context, I will note that I have enjoyed having a few girlfriends who diddled around down there while giving me head (ladies, in case you didn't notice, it felt _good_), and have even done the same while beating off. But this was a whole different ballgame. It hurt. It required serious concentration to keep the door open and relaxed. I began to have some genuine admiration for those pornstars and their amazing sphincter control. And as a result of my competitive nature, I was compelled to get that damn thing in. The more I pushed, the further it moved in, and the sluttier I felt, and the more it hurt.
Now for the next weird twist: as good and slutty as I felt, I had not even the slightest hint of wood. My mellow little buddy, Willie McFloppy, registered zero sexual response whatsoever. Nada. I would have thought that feeling slutty meant I was getting turned on, and that I would reach down there and find a rabidly throbbing Strongus St. Brute, Intrepid Seeker of Ovaries. But nope, just little Willie. So weird. And then a thought crosses my mind: What a ridiculous scene - how fucked up is _this_? I'm lying on my back, jamming a banana with a rubber on it up my ass while my wife is in the next room sleeping.
At that point, I decided my little experiment was a success and called it quits. I made one final plunge, marked the depth with my finger, and removed the banana. As I pulled it out, my sphincter, which had (obviously) been relaxed, involuntarily squeezed together and forcefully ejected that thing, forcing my whole arm to jerk and my elbow to snap due to my firm grip on the would-be projectile. Damn!, I thought, It sure would feel good to bang somebody up the butt if butts can squeeze like _that_. No wonder so many people are trying to tap that ass. I made a mental note to try and find ways to convince my wife that anal sex is great. I'll keep you posted on my progress, buy don't hold your breath (the thunderous parting of the heavens followed by the hand of God reaching down to help little Bobby win his next checkers game against his imaginary friend might serve as an indication that there is actually room in the universe for such a possiblity as my wife wanting to have anal sex). Anyhow, I checked the depth marker of my finger and I'll be damned if I didn't get that sucker 4-5 inches up there. Wow. That was only my first try! I guess I have a future if this whole career thing doesn't work out.
Oh, and I almost forgot: after I pulled it out, it didn't smell bad. Not at all - just latexy. I know this because I smelled it. Why on earth did I do that? I did it as a result of the following reasoning: (1) when I pulled it out, I was still in slut mode and therefore thought, What should I (a slut) do next?; (2) naturally, being in slut mode, I remembered the fact that the pornstars generally will slobber all over the very phallus that has just been deep within their butts immediately after removal; (3) stop that train! Slut mode or no, slobbering all over the banana that I just pulled out of my own butt was absolutely and completely beyond consideration -- sure, I've reamed girls while eating them out (some to their delight, others to their dismayed shock as their knees slam together and effectively box my ears) -- but this was just too gross, too demeaning . . . even I have standards (and if a guy who just shoved a banana up his ass thinks something's too demeaning, that's saying something); (4) I figured I could find out how bad it must taste just by giving it a little sniff (did you know 90% or so of your taste is actually what you smell?). The end result: not so nasty after all, just latexy and a little funky. Still, no way in hell was I going to put a butt plunger in my mouth.
Buuut, now that the whole fellatio train of thought was yelling "all aboard," I decided I ought to jump on. Lord knows I've busted to the sight of those poor little pornstars performing that neat trick of going balls deep, so I might as well be a man of the people in that regard as well. With that in mind, I peeled off the condom and decided to try and deep throat my banana, sans jus d'booty. And I got that thing pretty much all the way in - way further than I got it up my ass! The little hard part at the end irritated my throat a little (the "I'm driving this banana" rationale was equally applicable here, I thought), but I was able to suppress my gag reflex easily enough and really get after it. Viola! Now I won't feel so bad beating off to deep throaters either! Success on all fronts! So fellas, you can put down your bananas, cucumbers, electric toothbrush handles, remote controls, travel shampoo bottles, or whatever else you can think of: I've got this one covered. You're clear for takeoff; fire at will.
Of course, my experiment only covers the purely physical aspect of things, not the emotional scarring of being objectified and treated like crap, the financial ripping off that surely goes on and gets the porn-site producers rich, and not to mention a whole slew of other stuff. But hey, I'm not Superman. I'm just a man with a sense of decency and fairness and a good imagination. And besides, they don't make any money off those trailers I watch for free.
So what's the upshot of this little caper I pulled off? What does it all mean, beyond the fact that pornstars may well enjoy anal sex, or least are likely not being tortured? What does it mean for me on a personal, psychological, emotional level? Shhheeeiiiit. Fucked if I know.
- Location: DC
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