Banana Creampie Gangbang

I love porn, and there was a time when I thought it could never get old.

(To read this article in its original form at Exotic Magazine, click here.)

After I lost my job several years ago, I was lost and confused. My career trajectory had been derailed, all my happy plan balloons had burst. But porn never left my side; porn was always there for me. And one day, between my third and fourth orgasms of the day, it occurred to me that people actually study sexuality academically... could I be one of those lucky people to devote myself to my love of porn and masturbation, rather than pretending I didn't spend hours in bed for days cumming until my pussy ran out of lubrication?

In an effort to legitimize my masturbation lifestyle, I went to graduate school.

At first watching porn in a room full of smart and sexy colleagues was delightfully awkward. While some people intellectualized the experience during breaks, ("Oh it's so revolutionary to be turned on together and realize it's no big deal!"), others quietly snuck away to fuck in the library or simply masturbate in the bathroom.

Eventually, the novelty wore off. The program is specifically designed to desensitize us. You wouldn't want your sex therapist gasping when you confess you want strangers to kick you in the balls, would you? None of my classmates will, and it isn't just because we've explored a lot of things in our personal lives.

We kept watching until one day, somewhere around the third day straight of nothing but gay porn (I took a lot of bathroom breaks during those days.), I turned around and looked at my classmates. The people who hadn't fallen asleep were either checking their phones or staring blankly at the projected, wall-sized sex scene.

A 20-person gangbang with literal piles of men, apparently in an Egyptian tomb, rolled on as we yawned. Suddenly it felt like you've seen one penis, you've seen them all. Occasionally, people would snap awake as they suddenly remembered they had porn to watch. But what a bummer, this again?

Then it happened: the banana creampie gangbang. I told you our program is designed to desensitize us. I can't even tell you the stuff we were obliged to watch through arguments of, "This makes me uncomfortable," responded with, "Why does it make you uncomfortable? That's your problem. If you don't like this, you'd better watch more of it so you get used to it!" And we would watch more porn.

The banana creampie gangbang was the last video we watched that semester and it united us against it. It wasn't just the idea of food porn. We'd just watched a three-way where one woman licked ice cream out of another's hole. We gasped when the ice cream got pushed up the vagina; we sex doctors may not be judgmental, but we don't like yeast infections and that's a good way to hurt yourself!

Nothing could have prepared us for the banana creampie gangbang.

It started innocently enough. A "trucker" with no shirt on swaggered into a cafe, where a "waiter" wearing an apron over a shirtless chest took his order. The trucker said to the waiter slowly and seductively, "I'll just have a slice of your... banana cream pie." And apparently this is Middle American code for hardcore anal sex, who knew? Try it next time you're at a truck stop.

Slowly, the two men started rubbing creampie on each other's bodies, licking it off. The cook came out of the back with more creampies and more cock. The owner showed up, angry about the mess everybody was making. We realized now that all surfaces were covered in plastic--almost as if this restaurant specialized in raucous creampie gangbangs.

The sex grew from experimental and tasty to hardcore and weird. Pie was shoved in faces, spit in mouths. How did so much pie end up on the wall? Creampie used as lube makes some sense, even if it might cause an infection... wait, was that a rodeo clown?

A whole banana was slowly pushed up somebody's asshole, which seemed like a decent idea until the ass took a bite and swallowed the banana. We screamed in horror as it disappeared inside him. The guy tried to poop the banana into another man's mouth, and we all understood how poop fetishes get started, and nobody in the room thought that was too weird, but now this guy is having trouble pushing the banana all the way out! Or is he simple teasing this guy? There's no way to know!

Can colons digest food? Where did all these other people come from, are they more customers? Was there a noticeable lag in products arriving at their destination as all trucks were rerouted through this cafe in Kansas? Where did they get all these creampies? Do they serve anything else at this restaurant? Those sorts of plot questions may seem irrelevant, but more practical ones lingered--do all these actors have food fetishes? Do they all enjoy having banana cream pie squirted out like diarrhea from somebody's ass into their mouth? There seem to be an awful lot of them. How much were these guys paid? Maybe they were volunteers? Does it hurt when banana cream pie gets in your eye socket? What does OSHA have to say about all this?

Ten minutes before this movie started, students were realizing the seemingly impossible had happened; we were bored of pornography! But now, fifteen minutes into the seemingly endless banana creampie gangbang, my heart rate was up, my friends and I exhausted ourselves with screaming. Mission accomplished: just when we thought nothing could get to us anymore, we had a simultaneous breakdown. But unable to look away from the horror, we were left with no choice but to accept our creamy, banana-flavored futures.