Deep Dreams Banana Bizarre

-I've decided to start writing my dreams down. They're usually always sexual, but some are so bizarre I have to share them here. --bluefox07

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I am the banana.

I am the delicious, long, thick virile banana. I sit in the bowl on a lovely mahogany table with all my friends. Here is the mango, and the juicy orange coupled with some sumptuous red apples. Why, there are even some tart green apples (you saucy little teases, you) and a sensual peach. Still, amongst all these amazing choices and temptations, I remain a banana. I am bold and yellow against my cousins, and I wait to be chosen.

You want me, don't you?

You can't resist.

In comes a beautiful blonde woman. She is exquisitely gorgeous, long wavy golden hair with alabaster skin and the greenest eyes I have ever seen. The fact that, as a banana, I can't possible have eyes to look on her with is not lost on me. Yet, I look anyway. Her body is trim, her bosom full and accentuated by a simple white, v necked top. Her hips sway rhythmically as she approaches the table. She places one slender hand to the table and the other to her chin, her delicate brows cocked in careful consideration.

She looks at me and smiles.

I am the banana, baby.

Come to me. You know you want me.

The time has come and I am ready. She runs her fingers over the apples and then the fuzz of the peach (oh, the subtext...). Finally, she grasps me firmly by the midsection and I am hers. She looks at me hungrily, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips. She's chosen me! Of all the others in the bowl, she's picked me. Her fingers trace down the sides of my skin, feeling my impressive length, smooth texture and preparing for the inevitable.

She peels my skin back and reveals me, so firm and proud, such a prime example of what a real banana is supposed to be. She raises me to her mouth and begins eating me. Oh the joy! Oh the rapture! Her lips wrap around me with each successive bite. She even releases a throaty little moan of approval. I am indeed delicious.

I am succulent and sweet.

I am the envy of my fruity brethren.

I am the banana.

What woman wouldn't want to put her delicate fingers around my solid and delectable form? How could she possibly resist the inviting allure of my phallic shape and the promise of such sweet rewards to accompany the act of consuming me? Why wouldn't she want to press me against her lips and lick me, suckle me into her mouth and relish the experience? Is it taboo to enjoy the banana that is I?

I am virility.

I am the essence of sex.

I am the banana.

Behold the look of fulfillment in her eyes! This may just be the encounter she has been waiting for her whole life, and I am the one who has given it to her. She acts as though nothing but my seed can satiate her carnal desires, the hunger deep within her. I can feel the need with every motion, every tremble of her lips. She wants me this badly, and I will give my all to her.

And then I realize, I am shrinking. I am no longer what I was. She is consuming me, using me for all I'm worth. She's tossed my peel away and I am naked, alone and only half of what I used to be. She's using me up and doesn't even seem to care. She taking and taking and taking... everything I am. Isn't it enough?

Is this really what I wanted?!

I'm only one banana!

I won't last forever!

My God, I'm down to two bites left. She eyes me ravenously, her green eyes alive with the orgasmic gleam of hideous consumption. She's in charge and she knows it. I've been fooled! I have been sucked into a ploy that seemed so beneficial to us both, but now I can see that it is all about her. She is the sole benefactor of this arrangement. Had I only known! She's going to use me and she doesn't give a damn who knows about it. She's going to enjoy every minute of it. Her tongue touches me and I can feel the hunger, her appetite. She swallows me whole and then I am gone.

All that remains is a lonely peel, the shell of the thing I once was.

I was the banana.

I am the banana no more.