Vin!""Mwah?" he asked through a mouthful of meat and bread.
"I can't believe yer eatin' that," Nathan admonished him. "A burger, fries, and a coke: there is absolutely nothin' nutritionally worthwhile in that pile of so-called food."
Vin swallowed, then pulled the top bun off his burger and lifted up the small piece of iceberg lettuce to show his friend.
"That is the sorriest excuse for a vegetable I've ever seen." Nathan shook his head, obviously disappointed that Vin would even consider that an adequate argument in his favor. "Ya might not care today, ya might not even notice tomorrow, but one day all this junk is gonna catch up to ya and yer gonna end up like that pimp Wickes we brought in last week."
"How's he doin' anyway?" Vin asked before stuffing a fist full of fries into his mouth.
"The docs think he's gonna recover from the heart attack and should be able to stand trial. But, perp or not, Vin, that's what happens when ya eat crap all the time, and then one day ya get up and try to run — Wickes is lucky that heart attack didn't kill him on the spot."
"Reckon he might not be feelin' so lucky knowin' he's gonna spend the rest of his life behind bars."
"That's not the point and ya know it. Aw, Vin. Ya just oughta be eatin' better is all. And I'm just tellin' ya 'cuz I care."
He washed down his lunch with a large mouthful of soda before replying, "I know, Nate. Thanks."
That night, on the way home from work, Vin stopped to buy a few groceries — the place was more convenience store than supermarket, being not only downtown but also in the no-yet-and-probably-never-will-be-renovated section of downtown, just on the edge of the area the cops referred to, and not in a kind way, as Purgatorio.Inside, there was a large bank of glass refrigerator cases along the back wall — most held various brands of beer and soda. But the one in the far corner held a few small containers of milk, sour cream, cottage cheese, sliced American cheese, that sort of thing. It suited Vin's meager needs, but he did have to wonder where the families in Purgatorio went to buy their groceries — real groceries — since all this little store held were the smallest sizes at the most expensive prices.
Vin grabbed a quart of milk in a container that looked like it should have contained a sports drink. Nathan would be pleased that at least someone cared enough to try to get kids to drink their milk by making it look cool. Even if the same volume cost twice as much as the sugar-water equivalent.
Near the counter there were some baskets that held a small selection of fresh fruit and vegetables: apples, potatoes, bananas, carrots, oranges. Vin decided to appease Nathan by buying some. He selected a few apples and bananas.
The basket he placed on the counter also contained three packs of beef jerky, a box of frosted, blueberry Pop-Tarts, a box of Capt'n Crunch With Crunch Berries cereal, and a six-pack of Guinness beer (which, in and of itself, was a meal-in-a-bottle that Vin was sure Nathan would have a hard time arguing against).
Once back at his apartment, Vin put the beer and milk away in the refrigerator, but left the other items in the grocery bag on the counter. He took one of the beers and a banana over to the couch where he plopped down and turned on the television. He flipped slowly through the channels, intent on finding something to watch, but it was Friday night. The night of the worst network ratings, the night the networks had given up on, unless you were eight and interested in a teenaged witch, or eighty and enjoyed staring at Dick Van Dyke in scrubs. There wasn't even a sporting event or interesting-looking movie to watch.What was a guy without a date supposed to do?
Vin took another sip of beer. "Hi," he then said to the bottle. "Come here often?" The bottle didn't reply. "Well, I do." Vin glanced around the room. "Not much of a crowd tonight, huh?" He took the bottle's silence as agreement.
Then he took another sip.
Vin left the television resting on VH-1; they were actually playing videos at the moment — the current one Vin recognized and liked. He turned the volume up just a little bit before taking another mouthful of beer.
He then picked up the banana, rolling it over in his hand, checking the coloring. He did like fruit and vegetables, despite what Nathan thought. But, they just weren't all that convenient. Take bananas, for instance, he liked them firm and yellow, with a tinge of green remaining around the top and bottom. He liked their flavor and texture at that stage of ripeness. What he hated were bananas when they were all speckled or, worse, completely brown. He found the soft fruit completely tasteless and entirely not worth the effort. But, that's usually the state he found them in whenever the craving would come on for one. If he didn't eat them right away, he tended not to get to them in time and they would end up in the garbage. It was a shame, a waste.
But this banana, it was perfect. Exactly the right color. Exactly the right firmness. He rolled the fruit over in his hand again. And it was a good size. Not one of those tiny ones that left you still hungry. No, this one was long and thick. It wasn't even curved like so many bananas were. Except for where the stem attached, this one was pretty straight.
Vin began to smile as he ran his thumb over the smooth skin; his own skin was this smooth.... He looked around the room again: he was still alone. He glanced down at his beer bottle: it seemed perfectly content to just stand there on the coffee table, ignoring him in favor of watching videos.
Vin dropped the banana onto the couch and stood. He loosened his belt, then undid the button on the waistband of his jeans and unzipped the fly. The fabric fell to the floor without much coaxing; his briefs followed. He stepped out of the garments, and then plopped back down onto the couch.
Then he resumed watching videos with his beer bottle, as his hand found his exposed cock. The tissue was still a bit soft, so he began rubbing himself up and down, enjoying the rush of blood to the organ, the feeling of increased heat against his palm. He added a little spit and continued, slowly, not wanting to rush the only activity on his schedule for the evening. Up and down he stroked, occasionally plying his thumb over the tip or running it under the fleshy ridge.
His other hand soon found his balls and began to knead them, absently at first — a small squeeze or a rub to send a quick tingle through his body. He moved his fingers along the canyon of soft skin between his thigh and his crotch, casually brushing against his balls and his cock.
As his breath began to quicken, as the aching pleasure filled his loins, Vin brought his left hand back up to his mouth, this time only wetting his fingertips. He then began to work over his nipples, slowly swirling around the dark areolas, alternating from one nipple to the other as his right hand still stoked up and down his long shaft.
Then, as the nipples began to harden, he brought his other hand up — first wetting his fingertips — then used one hand on each nipple to squeeze and worry the flesh until the nubs were rock hard and so sensitive. One tweak sent tingles down his body; another sent his cock into a spasm. He flicked his finger over a bud, sending more waves of sensation coursing over him.
Even as the sensations grew, spread, even as he reveled in the pleasure he was giving himself, Vin still felt empty, incomplete. But he did want this. His cock was straining; his guts were burning. The torture alone was sweet. And he wanted more.
He stuck a finger back into his mouth, coating it with spit, then rolled onto his stomach so he could reach his ass. He wiped the wet digit over the surface before slipping it inside the puckered opening. He swirled his finger around, alternately clenching and relaxing his rectal muscles, enjoying the feeling of them along his finger.
Then he reached back and grabbed the banana off the couch. Vin stuck the fruit deep into his mouth, slathering it with saliva. Removing it, he spit as much liquid into his free hand as he could, then he wiped it over his ass. He reached back with the banana in hand and pressed the little brown tip against his hole.
The angle was awkward but not impossible. He pressed the firm tip against himself while bearing down, trying to open his muscles enough to permit entry. Finally, he was able to move the banana inside of himself. It didn't go far, so he removed it, and then dribbled more spit into his hand, rubbing it over his ass once more. Then he tried again. He pushed harder this time as he bore down and finally ... finally he felt the fruit inside of him.
He rested for a moment, taking in deep breaths, trying to relax as he realized how impatient he was being with himself. A lover would have spent more time priming his entryway, would have been gentler. Hell, a lover would have had a better angle from which to work. But beggars can't be choosers.
Vin wrapped his hand tight around the banana again and shoved, pushing it deep inside of himself until he felt the fruit catch and stop. He added more spit to both his skin and the banana's. Then he pulled the banana out a little ways before moving it back inside, out and back in, again and again, adding a little more force each time.
He could feel the long, firm length deeply filling him. He could feel the friction of the yellow skin against the tight muscles of his ass. His arm quickly grew tired, so he shifted and began using his other hand. Though not left-handed, he was agile enough to continue thrusting the banana in and out of his ass, pushing deeper each time, deeper until he felt the fruit pressing against his prostrate, sending waves of pleasure over him.
But he couldn't hold the new position long. He switched hands again — adding more spit in the process — so he could continue his slow thrusting. He wondered if he could make himself come this way, just by shoving the banana against his gland. It certainly felt good, though he wished he had someone to do it for him. Or, better, to have someone or something up his ass as he pounded into someone else.
But these thoughts only made Vin impatient again. The thrusting was sweet, but again he wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted it now. He wiggled his free hand between himself and the couch to find his own hard cock, and, when he did, he wrapped his strong fingers around it.
He began stroking up and down the shaft, trying to time the movements to the thrusting of the banana in and out of himself, but it was too difficult, the angles too awkward, putting too much strain on his arm and shoulder muscles to allow him to maintain any effective cadence.
For a moment, he concentrated on the banana alone, shoving it as fast and as hard as he could into himself, then pulling out quickly and repeating the process. In hard, out fast, in deep, out and twist, then in again, deep, deeper, all the way in until it felt like the only thing protruding must be the short stem.
Then he abandoned the fruit inside of himself and concentrated on his cock. Vin raised his ass high, to give himself room between his crotch and the couch to work. He then plied his slickened hand to his hard shaft, pumping quickly up and down, squeezing and releasing.
Now. He wanted this now. As he beat his cock hard, his whole body undulated with his efforts and he felt the banana wiggle slightly deep inside of him, the little brown tip grazing back and forth over his prostate. He increased his cadence, gripping his dick tighter. He gritted his teeth, first pleading with his body for the come, and then demanding it.
Now.
NOW.
NOW!
Until everything spasmed, each nerve ending exploding all along his cock as well as deep inside his gut. He dug his teeth into the fabric of the cushion. The orgasm was so intense it hurt. Pain shot along his shaft with each upward and downward movement of his hand. He had to stop. But a moment later, he wanted to feel it again. He moved his hand and his entire body cramped. He gasped at the sudden pain, and then breathed again as the pleasure followed. When it ebbed, he moved his hand once more over the sensitive surface of his cock. Again, his muscles clenched as pain receptors fired, demanding an end to the sweet torture.
Vin ignored them and pumped himself again. And again. Until, finally, all the nerves in his body were spent, dulled, as his cock grew soft inside his fist.
He lay on the couch, his face pressed against the cushion, his ass still raised though not quiet as high, until exhaustion overcame him. And he slept.
Vin finally woke, but his shoulder was still sound asleep. He wiggled, trying to restore blood-flow and feeling to it, only to be ambushed by the painful sensation of a thousand pins and needles jabbing the entire area. When the pain subsided, Vin tried to roll onto his side, but was suddenly reminded of the banana, still stuck up his ass.
Unlike a man, the banana hadn't gone soft after sex. He had to wiggle it, twisting slightly, in order to ease it free. Then he held up the long fruit and was surprised to see that it appeared completely intact. The outside was still perfectly yellow and unblemished. But, inside, he could feel that it had gone soft and been deeply bruised in several places. He turned it over in the palm of his hand, amazed at how well the flesh hid the damage he'd done to it. Then he tossed it halfway across the room, into the wastebasket next to the recycle bin.
It struck him then, the irony: usually he was the fruit being used and then tossed away.
~ fade ~
May 2001Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.
Characters from "The Magnificent Seven," were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.
Thanks to my beta reader for all of her help and encouragement!