The Project

Finding myself separated from my friends at Reading Festival, I headed for the bar. A man barged me with the crate balanced on his shoulder, but my disgust turned to delight as I saw that – of all the people – it was an old flame. Mr A, my ex-boyfriend’s best friend, had been the object of my warmest and wettest desires throughout my relationship. The bar was too loud to chat, so we headed back to his ‘one man’ tent where it would be quiet. For a while.

Once inside, he stopped my mouth with a long kiss. I reached down his back and ripped his shirt off, while he tugged at my buttons. Pressing our faces together, we franti¬cally peeled our clothes away from our damp skin. Purring, I lay back as he kissed my neck, breasts, stomach, and headed lower. But before I knew he’d started, he knelt back and dragged me closer by my thighs (not exactly elegant, but good sex rarely is). He fumbled with a condom and I rolled it on, only to find – oh, joy! – he was as bent as a baby banana. I tried to remember the penis he’d had in my fantasies as he entered me with all the sensuality of a sledgehammer.

Wellies in the air, I watched shadows fall on the tent as Mr A panted on top of me. I moaned politely and closed my eyes. I would never normally stand for this, but I couldn’t face the reality that the man of my dreams could be so terrible in bed. Plus, whenever I tried to point out how little I was enjoying myself, he put his hand over my mouth. But something had to give, and it wouldn’t be my vagina.

‘Darling, you can stop worrying that I’m about to scream with ecstasy. In fact, my concern is rather the opposite. I feel like I’m having my genitals fondled with sandpaper. Please, either tell me you’re joking and perform properly, or put it away.’

He looked crestfallen, and his banana shrivelled like a snail retracting its horn. ‘Could you suck it or something? Just to finish me off?’

It took mere moments for me to dress and dash back to my tent, makeup smeared across my face. There was little comfort to be found in my sleeping bag, so I rummaged in my bag, only to produce a bunch of baby bananas.

MADEMOISELLE DE JOUR
SEX EDITOR