About bananas.
There's something special about them.
When I press one against my cheek, it's like a cool, comforting hand. No matter how sad or low I am, a banana is always there for me, like a mother's reassuring touch. I can hold her there as long as I need, stroking that soft, paper like leathery skin.
Even then, there is more than the gentle homelike feeling. The soft resistance as you irresistibly peel that pliant, yearning skin away, like undressing a lover for the first time. Yes, you are the first one for that soft, white skin that has ne'er before felt the silent caress of the sun. You should slowly savor every second, every precious inch of divine flesh. Then drive it slowly in to your hungry mouth, in small morsels, one slavering gulp at a time, feeling a shudder of satisfaction deep in your shoulders with every moment. As the yielding body sinks far within you, becoming one with your soul and spirit, reflect well on what had happened with a greedy contented smile on your face. Then, with still fruit-slicked fingers, reach hesitatingly once more for the fruit bowl. After all, two bananas are better than one.
