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BANANA split what happened you

========================================================
The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual
content and is meant to be read only by adults. If you
are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by
this type of material, please do not read any further.
========================================================

"Banana Split"

by DG
"DG? Deej, honey? Are you awake?"

I slowly opened my eyes. Cindy was crouched over me, her face
framed by the waving fronds of a palm tree, the glossy sheaf of
her hair brushing softly against my cheek. There are much, much
worse sights to wake up to. I was napping, or had been napping,
on the warm sands of a remote tropical island. Cindy and I were
stranded in paradise, you see.

"What is it, babe? Headhunters? A tiger?"

"I want a coconut."

"So have a coconut."

"I can't find a nice one on the ground. Can you climb up and
get me one?"

I sat up with a sigh, and found myself facing a stretch of ocean
so blue it should smell like chlorine instead of brine. It wasn't
easy working up any sort of indignation in this setting, but I
gave it a shot, just for forms sake.

"You want me to risk my neck climbing up into a palm tree like a
giant monkey, when there's fruit all around us? You can't walk
ten feet without tripping over a kumquat. You could swing a dead
cat anywhere on the island and knock down a week's supply of
bananas."

She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way that she has. "But
I'm thirsty. I've got this wild craving for coconut milk. Come
on, you did it yesterday."

This was true. Like a big show-off, I had demonstrated the
proper technique for clambering up into the dizzying heights of a
coconut palm. My fellow castaways - writers, pleasure seekers,
and various hangers-on associated with the esteemed Guild of
Internet Erotica Writers - had been duly impressed. They had
enjoyed the coconuts I cut down, anyway.

I stood up and stretched, casually surveying the picturesque
little inlet we had discovered. Sheltered from the steady
pounding of the big Pacific rollers by a crusty wall of coral,
shaded from the strong tropical sun by overhanging palm trees and
mangroves, it was a quiet little slice of heaven. We had taken
off on our own after lunch to do a little exploring, just
wandering aimlessly, and had chosen this secluded spot for a
swim, and that had segued quite naturally into a siesta. Now it
was late afternoon, and I realized I was hungry.

I said "All right, I could use a snack too. You go pick us some
of the easy stuff, and I'll go after that most dangerous of all
prey, the coconut in its lair."

"You won't regret it," she said with a smile, bumping her warm
hip against mine. "I'll make sure of that."

Cindy was wearing my white cotton undershirt, and nothing else.
I was wearing silk boxer shorts and a dress shirt with the sleeves
ripped off. One problem with being a castaway is that you don't
get to select the outfit you're going to wear.

When the whole ruckus had started, we had been enjoying a formal
dinner on board our cruise ship. Cindy had dressed up in a tight
little black sheath that was totally impractical for rowing a
lifeboat, or for any activity more vigorous than lifting a fork to
her mouth. I had been wearing a beautifully-cut gabardine wool
suit that made me feel like James Bond. I could cry to look at it
now - you don't want to know what sea water does to gabardine.

Anyway, Cindy has a talent for making any outfit look terrific,
and my undershirt was no exception. I was particularly fond of
the way her perky nipples poked against the soft, sheer fabric.
The fact that it just barely covered her ass was nice too. I
watched her fondly as she strolled off into the jungly
undergrowth, admiring the way her slim, tan legs and dark hair
contrasted with the white cotton. Cindy was one delectable
female, unless you happen to prefer the full-figured type.

I grabbed a short length of rope with a loop on each end and
found a palm tree that looked promising. The trick, which I
picked up from the Nature channel, is to put your wrists through
the loops with the rope around the tree, as if you'd been arrested
by the beach patrol. Then you can easily hold yourself in
position by putting your bare feet against the trunk and leaning
back against the rope. You climb the tree by sliding the rope up
the trunk in quick little twists as you take small steps. Just
don't look down, and don't do it on a windy day.

I made it to the top of the tree and managed to hack off several
ripe coconuts with the knife conveniently supplied in our
lifeboat. Then I took a moment to enjoy the view and get my
bearings. Shading my eyes against the glare, I spotted the larger
cove where we had made our landfall and set up camp, a few miles
away. Here and there along the ribbon of white beach were little
groups of people chatting and relaxing, playing in the surf, and
generally enjoying themselves.

The Guild's annual Spring Workshop is really just an excuse for
a bunch of hedonistic friends to get together and party, and we're
not about to let a little thing like being stranded on on a tiny
island interfere with our fun. As my buddy Bear put it, people
pay through the nose for adventure travel these days, and we're
getting to experience the real thing for free.

Officially we're still lost and awaiting rescue, but I don't
think anyone is in a big rush to be found. No ragged "HELP" signs
are laid out on the beach with rocks. No towering bonfires are
waiting to be lit at the first sight of a ship. I overheard Taria
talking furtively on a cell phone yesterday, rescheduling her Lit.
101 class, but I'll bet she hasn't called the coast guard. A
plane flew overhead this morning, and from the way people ducked
out of sight you would have thought it was a Japanese Zero making
a strafing run.

As I was preparing to climb back down, I noticed some strange
activity in a nearby clearing. What appeared at first glance to
be the death struggles of a huge, fleshy insect turned out to be
one of my male colleagues engaging in an athletic, sweaty bout of
our favorite recreational activity with two of the nymphomaniac
cheerleaders Bear had invited along. I made myself more
comfortable and tried to pick up a few pointers.

My eavesdropping was rudely interrupted when Cindy called up to
me. "DG! Come on down, I got us all sorts of stuff. What are
you looking at?"

"Non-indigenous wildlife," I said as I shimmied back down the
tree. "Here's a riddle for you: what has twelve tangled limbs,
four bouncing breasts, and lots of school spirit?"

"Ah yes, the cheerleaders," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't they ever sleep? I have no idea how they manage to keep
their grades up." I couldn't tell whether she disapproved or not
- Cindy can be hard to read at times.

I looked with interest at the piles of freshly-picked fruit laid
out on the sand. Ripe bananas, tender kumquats, furry little
kiwis, luscious mangoes, and various other juicy delicacies that
we haven't quite identified, none of us being a botanist or a
chef.

"Check out those bad boys," said Cindy, pointing proudly to what
looked like bananas fed on Miracle-Gro.

"I think they must be plantains," I said, examining the bunch.
Each shiny, yellow-green fruit was easily twice the size of an
average banana. "Not good eating unless you cook them. I can
certainly see how they might catch a young woman's eye, though."

"Hah. How about these?" She pointed to some oval green fruit
with a dull, waxy skin.

"Pussyfruit," I said with a lewd grin.

"Exsqueeze me?"

"You heard me - pussyfruit. That's what Kim calls them, anyway.
Go ahead and cut one open, they're yummy."

Cindy took the knife and sliced the end off one. The inside
meat was a lovely, dark pink color, with a moist, rubbery texture.
The open fissure running down the center of the fruit added to the
resemblance. Cindy laughed and scooped out a glistening glob with
her finger. "Mmm, it is good. Tastes a little like watermelon."

"I always knew you'd like pussyfruit."

"OK, wise guy, lets eat."

I punched holes in a few of the big hairy coconuts, and we
settled down to our high-fructose picnic. Cindy put a coconut to
her mouth and tilted her head back for a long drink. Milk
dribbled down her chin and throat. "Ahhh," she said finally.
"That hits the spot."

"Careful of my undershirt," I said around a big mouthful of
mango. "I'm thinking of dressing up for the big luau tonight."

She giggled fetchingly and then, after delicately licking her
fingers clean, she peeled off the t-shirt, folded it neatly, and
set it aside.

"Much better," I said, suddenly a little hoarse. Despite the
fact that we had been skinny dipping together just a few hours
ago, the sight of her naked, loose-limbed form sprawled casually
on the sand made my chest tighten and brought a familiar straining
feeling to my loins.

As she daintily stuffed juicy mouthfuls of fruit into her mouth,
she gazed knowingly at my shorts. "Whatcha thinking about, big
guy? Those naughty cheerleaders?"

"Nope. Actually, I had this sudden mental picture of your cute
little face all flushed and contorted with the joyful confusion of
lust as I reamed your tight, hot cunny with one of those
plantains."

"Is that right?" Cindy's used to me blurting out stuff like
that. As a writer, I try to get overripe baloney like that out of
my system quickly so it doesn't end up in my work.

"Yeah, pretty silly. Sorry."

"Hmm," she said noncommittally. I saw her steal a glance at the
plantains.

"I mean, being so petite and all, you couldn't really handle
something that big, it would spread you open like a..." The
metaphors never come fast enough when I really need them.
"...like a chicken laying a goose egg."

"Shows how much you know. Just because you're not hung like a
plantain, don't think I wouldn't enjoy it."

I smiled. "Hung like a plantain, I like that. Very colorful."
We looked at each other and started to laugh. Then she took a
fresh coconut and tipped it up over her head. The stream of
coconut milk missed her mouth by a mile, splattering against her
throat and dribbling down her chest.

"Oops," she said. "Now look what I've done."

"Allow me." I eased her back onto her elbows and began to lick
the milk off her neck, working my way down along the channel
between her firm little breasts. The cloying sweetness of the
milk blended nicely with the tang of sea salt and the familiar
taste of Cindyskin.

More coconut milk splashed against the side of my face and
coated her right breast. Some of it went into my ear.

"Damn, this one just doesn't pour straight. Sorry about that."

"Let me try." I took the nut and upended it over her torso,
liberally coating her breasts and stomach and making sure that
plenty dribbled down into the furry little crevice between her
thighs. "Jeez, what a sticky, sloppy mess," I said, tossing the
coconut aside.

"You really know how to flatter a girl." She pulled my head
down and held it firmly against her elegant bosom. I licked the
milk off her breasts with long slow strokes of my tongue, making
sure to occasionally bump against the hard, protruding nubs of her
nipples.

"How do I taste?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"Delish. Kinda sweet, though. You need a little something." I
found a ripe little kiwi fruit and squeezed it over Cindy like I
was wringing out a sponge. She shrieked in mock horror as green
kiwi juice and pulp spurted everywhere. Then she rubbed it into
her skin, giving her nipples an extra little pinch in the process.
I took my time lapping up the fruit cocktail, running my tongue
all over her smooth tan skin until she was shiny and clean. She
spent most of the time giggling and squirming, especially when I
ran my tonguetip along the taut bumps of her ribcage, but when I
was done I could see in her eyes that her motor was warmed up and
idling fast. The most casual of observers would immediately note
that the same was true of me.

"Your turn," she said. She selected another coconut and
carefully poured a thin stream of milk onto the swollen head of my
cock. It trickled down my shaft and around my balls, following the
path of least resistance all the way down into the crack in my
ass. Yes, it tickled.

Cindy knelt in front of me and sucked eagerly on my coconut-
flavored lollipop, quickly cleaning off the milk. I picked up the
nut and poured on a fresh coating, and she sucked and licked and
slurped happily as I splashed the sweet, sticky juice onto my cock
and balls, getting plenty of it on her face.

Finally she released my happy organ and looked up at me with a
wet, sticky smile. "OK, I think I've finally satisfied my craving
for coconut."

My cock strained up toward her mouth as if of its own accord.
My balls twitched impatiently. "That's nice for you, but..." I
looked down meaningfully.

She got a mischievous look in her eyes. "What you need is some
pussy...fruit." She picked up the one she had sliced open
earlier, and slid it over my cock. The inside felt cool and
slick, with mushy little ridges. Not much like the real thing,
but pleasant just the same.

"Interesting vacation this is turning out to be," said Cindy.
She started moving the fruit up and down on my cock, making a
pulpy squelching noise. "I thought I'd be shopping, getting my
nails done, and hanging out by the pool, and here I am on a
deserted island helping my husband sodomize a helpless piece of
fruit."

"Well, you make your own fun. A little faster, please?"

Cindy picked up the pace, and I leaned my head back and groaned,
trying to push myself over the edge. But the fruit was
disintegrating on the inside, disgorging a juicy, sloppy mess all
over my balls and thighs, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't
quite manage to get off.

"I'm afraid you've worn this one out," said Cindy, tossing the
loose, waxy skin aside. "You were just too much of a man for that
poor -"

"Enough! I need it bad, woman - can't you see that? Do
something!"

"Don't you want to see me fuck a huge banana first?" she asked
sweetly.

I swallowed hard.

"When you put it that way..." I grabbed the bunch of plantains
and broke off a relatively straight one. I hate to belabor the
point, but it was much bigger than what Cindy was used to. As far
as I know, anyway.

She eyed it a little uncertainly. "I think I need to warm up on
something a little more manageable."

"Like a banana?"

She put her hand on my chest and pushed me back. "Don't be
silly." She lifted a leg over my bent knees to straddle me, and
then slid down the slope of my upper thighs until we made contact.
A sinuous little wriggle, and she smoothly impaled herself on my
sticky coconut palm. Her pussy was a decadently tight embrace of
warm velvet, and I let out a moan and strained up against her. We
moved together in our familiar coupling rhythm for a delicious few
seconds and then she cruelly stood up, leaving me high and dry.

"That ought to do it, thanks hon."

"All right, bitch," I growled. "I'm gonna give you a fruit-
fucking you'll never forget."

With the menacing uberbanana gripped in my fist, I guided her
onto her back and spread her thighs.

"Be gentle," she squeaked.

I was, in fact, quite gentle as I pressed the head of the waxy,
yellow-green plantain against her moist pink slot. She twisted
and shifted a little, making fine adjustments, then said "take me."
I pressed a little harder, and the phallic fruit slid smoothly
into her muscular confines.

"God," she said. And then, a little louder, "Oh God!"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning keep going."

The huge organic dildo slid in a few more inches, spreading
apart her moist pink folds in a fascinatingly obscene way. I slid
it back out, and then slowly worked it back in even farther, as
she continued to loosen up and adjust.

"Oh Gaawwd!" she moaned.

"So is this like a religious experience, then?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

I obediently shoved the plantain in and out of her pussy, and a
pleasantly hydraulic sucking sound began to accompany her guttural
grunts of pleasure. A few times her eyes shut tight and her body
stiffened, but I couldn't tell if she was really coming or not.
After a few minutes of groaning, heavy breathing, and terse
instructions ("faster," "slower," and "stop twisting, dammit!" are
the ones I remember) she finally pushed my hand away and let the
plantain squirt out onto the sand.

"Had enough?" I asked.

She shook her head. "It's driving me crazy, DG. It feels good,
but I can't get all the way off. I need to come. I mean, I
really need to come."

I could have said "Join the club," but I went with "What's your
pleasure?" instead, figuring she would want to be mounted and I
could finally release the pent-up tension in my balls.

"Eat me." She spread her legs in lewd invitation. "Please."

I selected a ripe banana and began to peel it, trying to appear
casual. "Lemme just grab a bite first."

"Dee-Gee!"

"OK, OK, just a second. I've got an idea." I took the peeled
banana and pressed it against her crotch.

"You're not going to satisfy me with that," she protested.
"Hey, that tickles!"

I finished pushing soft banana up inside her pussy. "How does
that feel?"

"Sticky and mushy and not very satisfying."

"Maybe if I ate the banana now?"

Her face lit up with anticipation. "Now you're talking. Chow
down on my banana split, big guy."

"I thought banana split is what happened to you before," I said
with a grin. She wasn't much in the mood for wordplay, though, so
I sprawled forward and went to work. I licked up all the little
chunks of banana that I could reach with my tongue, and then I
took mercy on her and moved up to her sensitive, swollen clit.

"Oh yes..." she whimpered, as I swirled around it. "Right
there, sweetie."

She came with a shuddering groan, and I was rewarded with a
mouthful of warm banana mush as her pussy clenched and spasmed.
For some reason, I was reminded of the experiments where the
pigeons learn to peck on a lever to get a food pellet. I slurped
up the banana and then went back to her clit. Sure enough, the
same thing happened again, this time accompanied by a full-
throated cry of pleasure.

After a record-tying fifth orgasm, the banana was completely
gone and so was Cindy. She lay in a limp puddle on the soft sand
with her eyes half-closed, staring at me with a look of utter
bovine satisfaction on her face.

"Tha wush great, hon. Gonna take...little nappie."

"What! What about me?"

She grunted, and one shoulder twitched in what I could only
assume was a shrug. "Jus...do whatever you wan. So....shleepy."

Wonderful.

I rolled her onto her side, and spooned myself in behind her.
My aching erection quickly buried itself in her wet, sticky pussy,
and I wriggled into a position where I could drive myself into her
tight cunt with short little thrusts.

After thirty seconds or so Cindy started to come out of her coma
and push back against me, grinding her cute little ass into my
groin. Almost immediately, I felt the delicious burning rush move
up my shaft and then the beach seemed to spin around us in slow
circles as I pumped about three gallons of semen up inside her.

After a short breather, Cindy arched her long neck around and
gave me a kiss.

"We better go for a swim before the juice dries and we get
permanently stuck like this," she said. "People would talk, even
here."

So we helped each other to our feet and walked hand in hand into
the clear, refreshing water of our own private corner of paradise.
The End, "Banana Split"

1998 by DG (Dionysian1)

Author's notes:

1) I also wrote an introduction to the orgy which explains in
detail how we all ended up on the island. The title is "A Cruise
to Remember," and you can find it at the above url.
2) Please visit my web page: http://baird.pair.com/dg.htm
3) This is the second in an ongoing series of stories featuring
DG and Cindy. All the stories are on my web page.
3) I love getting email - write me at dionysian1@hotmail.com
if you've got anything to say.



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