• Emily Ainscough

The Banana Brute

Updated: Oct 17

TW: This is a post about oral sex. It is unnecessarily crude.


For reasons I can't yet divulge, (damn Emi, you're such an enigma!), I've been on quite an exciting journey of reflection lately about my sexual personality. It takes lots of different ingredients to make a sex life, some of them emotional, some of them playful, some of them undiscovered, some of them complex, some of them raw, and a lot of them sweaty. Today I'm going to focus in on one of the many sub-categories of sexual experience. Oral sex. (The big BJ! The slobber-slobber! Playing the skin flute! The great tango of genitals and mouth! Head! Bobbing for apples!Taking a trip down under!)

Some people don't partake in oral sex at all (which is great!) some people exclusively take part in oral sex (also great!), and some of us enjoy it in moderation as part of a balanced diet of other sexual nutrients ;) Whatever your relationship with oral is, that is completely legitimate. Practice saying things like "No, thank you", "I don't fancy that right now","Would you like to go down on me?" or "I would like to go down on you if that's something you enjoy". If you have a sexual partner at the moment, get talking about it! Do you wish you were having more oral sex? Do you wish you were having less? Are they really bad at it? Maybe you are too! Give each other tips (eyy ;)) and talk about it, it's a healthy (and sexy!) conversation to have. Also, if you're getting funky with someone and you propose a bit of mouth action and are met with dissent, don't ask why (at least not then and there and especially not if it is someone you don't know that well yet). As you'll see here today, there are many reasons people don't want to do different sexual things, and they don't have to justify themselves. It could be serious, it could be silly, and it is none of your business unless they want to share that with you.

Well, as a general rule of thumb I don't partake in oral sex because it isn't really for me. I have to be really close to someone to let them take a sip of my coffee in case they transfer any saliva, so you can see how sucking at a sloppy sex-stick might not be my idea of carnal bliss. And then there's receiving it, which in theory is fine for me, but then they expect me to kiss them afterwards ... no, thank you. The best way I can describe that is like when some people don't like their gravy touching their peas. Now, lots of people actually find that cross-contamination and smushing of liquids and bodies the very thing that is so sexy about it, every one is different and that's one of the things that makes sex so wonderful.

If you were a fly on my bedroom wall (you lucky ducky) you'd often hear guys suggesting to go down on me and hearing this in response: 'Look, if it really is for your pleasure, if you really get off on it and its not because deep down you think it'll do something for me then by all means, tuck in! I'll lie back and think of England and then you can go mouthwash and clean yourself up'. RE giving you'd also hear a lot of "Erm ... no thank you ... I've just eaten."

In a new relationship I lead with the expectation that it is never going to happen, and then if one day the mood takes me (as once in the bluest of moons it does) it's a nice sexy surprise for them should they want it.

I thought for a long time that the reason I don't like to go down on people is because there's something in that dynamic of just giving them pleasure that felt degrading to me. (For some people, just giving can feel powerful, it's true that the same action can bring to mind different emotions for different people. It's also true that some people find 'degrading' sexy, as long as they are with the right person and in a safe environment. But that's not true for me). So for ages I had it in mind that the reason I didn't like to give blow-jobs was quite a personal, profound reflection of the nature of my sexual condition and how I see myself in a sexual dynamic. What I've realised today, is that it is less to do with that, and more to do with the way a boy I went to school with ate bananas. Let me elaborate.

Brandon Shorthouse (aka Brandon the Banana Brute), was a boy (now man) that I went to primary school with, and he always had a banana packed for him in his 'Ben 10' lunch-box. When the bell for dinner time rang, I would have to mentally note where he was sitting in order to position myself facing away from him, for fear I would catch a glimpse of his sickening display of banana consumption. Of course it was almost always the case that just when I was confident he must have finished and I stood up to go outside to play, this was the very moment he had selected to scoff his daily dose of potassium. I'm going to describe it now, but be warned, this mental image will scar you for life and potentially put you off bananas, and fellatio, for a long time.

Little Brandon would firmly seize the browning-banana in his overly enthusiastic five-year-old grasp and snap the top off (to open it) just a little too far down the stalk, meaning it created a tiny slit through which almost liquidized banana-mush would seep. As he exposed the bruised nude baton of sludge, some of that slightly liquidized banana-goo would inevitably fly towards his face and the faces of those sat near him, landing in almost undetectably small blobs that would stay there, un-wiped until home time. Then he would quite forcefully shove the banana into his mouth, not really caring how much of it went inside and how much overflowed around the edges of his lips and teeth and wouldn't wait until he had chewed and swallowed that mouthful before bombarding his face with another brutal load, creating a mouth-based traffic jam of banana mush. Banana on his face, banana on his hands, banana everywhere. I'm not being melodramatic to tell you that I honestly had to swallow my own saliva to stop myself vomiting when I saw it. (Brandon's name has been changed but if you're reading this now and know I'm talking about you, I thought you were a lovely child the other 23 hours of the day, and I am sure your lunch time habits have matured with age.)

Well into my teens the only way I could eat a banana was by cutting it up with a knife and fork and to this day I only eat bright green ones to avoid any potential mush-mouth-combo. So yeah . . . that's why I don't give blow jobs. Boyfriends of the past and future have Brandon to blame for that. At least you know it wasn't about your willies boys, they were all beautiful and clean and I'm sure to some people incredibly appetizing, but to me they'll always be overly-ripe bananas, threatening to cover my face, and my whole world, in their sticky, manly mush.

I suppose somewhere in this story is the message that sometimes things aren't as deep as you thought they were, (pun fully intended). So if your sexual partner/s don't fancy doing some stuff, don't take it personally, it literally could be anything (or nothing) stopping them.

I hope you enjoyed delving into my traumatized psyche today ;) From now on, I'll be posting every Monday! So keep an eye on your inbox for new content, and for god's sake, eat fruit in private you animals.



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