Closing out the year with one final recipe.
I had purchased some bananas a couple of weeks ago, fully intending to make some banana bread after they had gotten overripe. A few days later, they had indeed developed some blackness, and they were ready to make into some delicious banana bread.
But, you have to wonder, what would the world be like if there was no banana bread? The world would be filled with leftover bananas with no better place to go. And then on a day like today, New Years Eve…
Joanna was getting ready for the New Year’s Eve bash that night. Her friend Brittany always threw the best parties. Her giant condo at the top of a tall tower in the city had breathtaking views of the bay, beautifully azure during the day, seductively illuminated by city lights at night. Not only that, but she was a fantastic cook, and all of her food and drink was to die for. Warm, soft brioche bites with grilled shrimp and fire roasted salsa that transformed themselves into a magical amalgamation of butter and plump seafood melting in her mouth. Tiramisu mini-cupcakes topped with chocolate curls that, when popped into her mouth, released their rich, heavenly blend of mascarpone and eggs and hit her with just the slightest breeze of chocolate liqueur. Joanna must have gained five pounds for each of Brittany’s parties she attended.
As she gathered things in her purse on her way out of her apartment, Joanna noticed the bunch of bananas sitting on her counter that she hadn’t touched since she bought them four days ago. They were already getting brown spots, which meant that they were mushier than Joanna liked. Why hadn’t she eaten the bananas instead of getting eaten out by that hot guy from the club the other night? If only sex weren’t so awesome.
But now that the brownness had commenced permeating the skin, there was little she could do. If only there were a way to use up these overripe bananas, Joanna thought. Then she could whip up something really quickly in her kitchen and bring it to Brittany’s soiree, even if it didn’t come close to any of Brittany’s wonderful creations. She just liked to be able to contribute something. Sadly, she knew of no way to use up leftover bananas. With a shrug of her shoulders, she bolted out the door towards Brittany’s place, leaving the browning bananas on the counter.
When she arrived, the party had only been in progress a mere ten minutes. Its sole attendee, besides the hostess, was a handsome, tall, dark-haired man standing by the window, sipping a crystal-clear cocktail. A martini, stirred. It was one of Brittany’s signature drinks.
The usual pleasantries of hugs and smiles between the two women were exchanged. But Joanna had her sights set on the man at the window. Brittany introduced him as Michael, her next-door neighbor new in town. I’m sure he has no problem making friends, Joanna thought to herself, as he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to it. A gentleman and a hottie, what more could a girl ask for?
They ambled over to the couch, Joanna picking up a gimlet along the way, and sat down so close to each other that their legs had nowhere to go but on top of each other. Here, in this public yet intimate embrace, they talked and talked. While Brittany was attending to other party guests streaming in, Joanna and Michael only attended to each other. The rest of the room seemed to disappear from their visions, as they both revealed everything, from their childhood memories to their favorite books and sexual positions.
Talk of sexual positions always got Michael in the mood. Despite the fact that there were at least a dozen women in the condo right now that he would copulate with at the drop of a hat, he had his claws in Joanna now. After all this effort he had put in, how could he let her get away? It would be like mounting a massive struggle to land a giant sturgeon, only to release it back into the ocean.
The man on a mission took his mark by the hand and slipped out of Brittany’s condo stealthily. He led her to his condo next door. A bit smaller, but still just as luxurious. But that didn’t matter. Once the door slammed shut, so did their lips around each other.
Their shirts flew off with an urgency like they were on fire. Joanna stood topless before Michael, her ample breasts drawing his attention like the headlights of an oncoming car. Her curvaceous figure continued from her breasts down to her hips, which were frustratingly covered by her jet-black pants. She, too, noticed Michael’s well-chiseled chest, smooth and almost glistening in the dim overhead light. They simultaneously reached for each other’s waists while their tongues were still exploring each other’s tonsils, unbuckling and unzipping what needed to be unbuckled and unzipped.
As her pants fell to the floor, Joanna’s panties came into full view, with a large wet spot on the front, as if she had just spilled her gimlet directly onto her lap. Michael’s excitement was similarly obvious after his pants were freed from his hips, as he was standing at full attention in his underwear. The two of them whirled their way toward his bedroom, a tangled mess of moving flesh that might be seen in a ballet with a tiny stage and too many dancers.
He threw her onto his king-sized bed like an airport worker handling luggage. Her panties came off, and his tongue darted straight into her vagina shortly afterward. His explorations of her caverns with his tongue were slow but exhaustive. Every nook and cranny, places she didn’t think would ever be touched, he touched with his juicy tongue. She writhed and moaned in pleasure with every new crevasse he found.
Instinctively, she slid down under him and reached out for his penis, stroking it gently yet urgently. He turned his body to realign his mouth with her opening, and they continued pleasuring each other simultaneously. Their moans became synchronized soon after, their bodies undulating with pleasure. A wave of heat passing over her, she suddenly flipped him over, so that she was straddling his face. This inversion of power served to only heighten their desires, and the licking and stroking quickened.
They could not control themselves any longer. Penetration was imminent. Joanna plunged herself down upon his penis, shrieking in delight as she took him inside to the hilt. Her breasts bounced up and down with every thrust, and Michael closed his eyes, overcome by the sensations of pleasure from his groin.
It was as if they had both read the Masters and Johnson report, when they automatically seemed to shift into the lateral coitus position, her right elbow resting on his left, his left knee bent around her right knee. Their thrusting continued, sensually and passionately, as their moans grew more audible. Joanna hoped that Brittany and her guests couldn’t hear them next door, as her mind wandered during the feelings of falling that came with approaching orgasm.
The time had come. The pressure had been mounting for quite some time, and the impending opening of the floodgates was near. Ladies first this time, as Joanna growled, warm waves of bliss washing over her body like saltwater on a beach. Michael soon followed, shooting his load deep into the caverns that his tongue had explored minutes earlier. His fluids dripped out of her seconds later, evidence of the pleasure that they experienced together.
Joanna and Michael silently got dressed in the post-coital awkwardness. He suggested they go back to Brittany’s party, since there was still a bit of time before ringing in the new year. She agreed, and they returned to the party, somehow without anyone noticing they were gone. Her hair was a bit tousled, which made her a bit self-conscious. Do I smell like sex? she asked herself, as she became increasingly paranoid that the party’s patrons would know of their romp in the hay.
As the clock ticked down to the new year, Joanna couldn’t help but feel pangs of guilt. What had she done? She slept with a man she knew for barely an hour. But the thing that made her feel truly guilty hit her just now: they didn’t use a condom, and she let him ejaculate inside her. It was all she could think about, as the countdown started. When Michael looked at her, hoping she would kiss him at midnight, she looked away. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing what they’d done.
Joanna was visibly shaken by the experience. While everyone was cheering in the new year, she told Brittany that she wasn’t feeling well and left. It was all she could do to hold back the tears. Keep it together, she told herself. It’s not the worst thing in the world.
She made her way to the nearby pharmacy, which, thankfully, was still open on New Year’s. They did have Plan B in stock, and Joanna promptly purchased it. She rushed home and swallowed the dose. As she stood in her kitchen drinking a glass of water, she stared at the bunch of bananas, still browning on the counter. If only she had had a way to use those bananas. She wouldn’t have been so early to Brittany’s party. She wouldn’t have been seduced by that ejaculator Michael. She wouldn’t be in the mess she is now.
She had a warm bath and then crawled into bed. Hopefully this year will end on a higher note.
Thankfully, we live in a world where banana bread exists. And I happen to like this recipe, which I found here. I’ve halved the recipe, since the original makes four 7×3-inch loaves, and I wanted a single 9×5-inch loaf.
Sour Cream Banana Bread
2 tablespoons white sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
6 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 cups white sugar
2 eggs
3 very ripe bananas, mashed
8 ounces sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 tablespoon baking soda
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
- Preheat oven to 300F.
- Grease a 9×5-inch loaf pan. Mix together 2 tablespoons of white sugar with 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon, and dust the pan with the cinnamon sugar.
- Cream together the butter and sugar, and then mix in the eggs, mashed bananas, sour cream, vanilla extract, and ground cinnamon.
- Add the salt, baking soda, and flour, and stir until just combined.
- Pour the mixture into the dusted pan.
- Bake for about 75 minutes at 300F, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Mine actually took closer to 80 minutes, but that may have been from me opening the oven door and testing for doneness a lot near the end.
The batter. I love the smell of the bananas with cinnamon.
The loaf pan, which I greased and then dusted with cinnamon and sugar.
Then the batter goes into the loaf pan.
After about 80 minutes in the oven, it’s finally done.
The inside is nice and moist from the bananas, which you can definitely taste. The slight spice from the cinnamon is a really nice complement to the bananas. I really like this banana bread.