Banana Bread

The egg sat in the bowl, perfect in its daisy radiance, swimming in a slick halo of albumen. It was the visual music of life, it’s thin skin vibrating upon touch like the steel string of his guitar. He hated to destroy the peace of the moment, but the egg had some work to do with the oil and oat bran in the mixing bowl. The oil, of course, had experienced the length of his cock before dribbling into the bowl. The essence of him mixed well with the bran. Next, the wanton egg.

He took the simple spring egg beater and pummeled the egg into a light bubbling froth of light yellow. This was not done with anger, but with the love of creation. The fluff of protein and fat would hold everything together, would make a browned loaf fall out of the baking dish like a baby. He stood above the bowl and ceremoniously poured the bubbly liquid over his meaty sex, felt the flowery soft color dripping off his balls and into the bowl. She watched.

Then, it was the soda, the powder, the salt, the vanilla, and the bananas. The bananas were ripe and fragrant. Sweet in taste and smell, soft and pliant in texture, they released their mottled skin like lingerie peeled off a lover. They lay in a separate bowl, their penis curves arching into the thick fragrance of the vanilla, touching the acrid bite of the salt. Before her eyes, he forked the tender fruit into a slippery thick lotion that wanted, only, for her essence. One tablespoon of her, one measure of her pheromone power, one thin stream of her water, that’s all that was needed before the fecund fruit could flow off of him and into the caldron. He collected her tenderly, adding her formula with an alchemist touch. Then, it was up to him.

The formula, the nectar, the potion flowed over his straining tool, slicking it like her pussy. She watched as spurt upon spurt flew into the mixing bowl, along with banana, vanilla, salt and piss. His stomach tightened and he called out, invoking the muse of the life-giving property of bread. After calling to the gods, he stirred the pot, folding the flour, the ground seeds of fertility, into the fermenting unity of light and energy and life that would become a simple loaf of banana bread.