“What about this?” I asked, turning around and holding up his roommate’s jar of peanut butter (sorry, Nick).
“Well that would be interesting,” he laughed as he pulled up my shirt and kissed my collar bone.
It all started when my “boyfriend” (I use that term loosely) and I decided to stay in for an evening. Our friends had begged us to go out, but like any well-intentioned college students, we canceled our plans last minute decided to do what every almost-couple does when they stay in: have a lot of weird, lazy sex.
We have been dating for a little over seven months, which means that while the sex was good, it was time to kick things up a notch. Which would have been easy enough — we were no strangers to a little light spanking or awkward attempts at BDSM. But as soon as we said we weren’t going to make it to the shitty, overcrowded bar all of our friends were going to, we immediately passed his blue bowl back and forth. Ten minutes, three hits, and some dry-mouthed making out later, he said the thing you never want a guy to say.
“Let’s try something different.”
First of all, rude? Nothing makes you feel more like a wet mop than a guy saying he “wants to try something different.” But I tried not to let the marijuana get to my head and stayed calm. I like different! I like fun! And considering we were both high and horny, this could mean one thing and one thing only: we were going to utilize food in our sex-play. Now I’m a big fan of using snacks during sex. A little whipped cream here, some chocolate sauce there. Throw in an extra large pizza and some ranch and I’ll orgasm in a minute flat. I felt my heart race (was that from excitement or the weed?) and my stomach growled in agreement.
We stood in the empty apartment kitchen and stared at the pantry. Considering he was a 21-year-old boy who lived with other 21-year-old boys, picking were slim.
“How about uh, pasta?” he asked, turning his bloodshot eyes on me in question.
“And what? Put it up my vagina?” I asked, slightly offended while somewhat intrigued.
“I don’t know…” he said, taken aback by my retort.
Realizing I didn’t need to be a total C U Next Tuesday, I reached for the one and only thing that could possibly be used in the bedroom — his roommate’s peanut butter.
After a few seconds of “maybe we shouldn’t use Nick’s delicious nut spread for our sex games,” we agreed that this was the best idea and returned to his darkened bedroom.
“So, do I put it on you or…?” he asked while ripping off his clothes.
“Well…” I hesitated, pulling my own pants off unceremoniously. “I think maybe I’ll put it on you?” Visions of yeast infections danced in my head, and I shuddered at what would happen if we tried to shove peanut butter up my lady cave.
I tossed the jar on the bed and pushed him down next to it. His breathing hitched as I kissed him deep on the mouth and let my hand snake down his body. He grabbed my ass roughly as I bit him softly on the side of the neck.
What are you going to do to me?” he murmured in my ear, making me stop dead in my sexual tracks.
What am I going to do to you? I repeated dumbly in my head.
“I’m going to put peanut butter on your balls,” I stated lamely, staring into his red, high eyes.
And that’s how you’d come to find me hunched over my boyfriend, figuring out how best to spread creamy nut butter all over his, well, nuts.
“Should I just, use my hands?” I asked, glancing from the jar to my naked boyfriend laying in the bed, penis up.
“I uh, I guess,” he answered hastily, glancing at me with excitement.
I dipped my fingers in the sticky mess and pulled out a large brown glob. I immediately plopped it in my mouth and reach for another fingerful. Shit this was going to be good. I looked down at his body, ready to rock his world with my mediocre oral skills. I tried not to focus on the tiny hairs poking out of his pubic region as I spread the peanut butter along his shaft.
“Ohhhhh that feels good,” he moaned, making me immediately recoil. I wasn’t going to jerk him off with fucking peanut butter. “Put a little on my balls,” he groaned with his eyes still closed.
I spread the rest of the substance on his genitals and sat back to admire my handy (geddit?) work. The longer I stared at the soft, squishy brown stuff covering his junk, the more I didn’t want to lick it up. But then he glanced up in expectation and I knew what I had to do. It’s fine. I told myself, as I pulled my hair back into a messy bun. You love peanut butter. And this will make the blow job a million times easier. I nodded curtly at my common sense and bent forward as a whiff of peanuts hit my nose. See? It’s not bad! I coached myself, as I licked the spread off of his erect penis.
It wasn’t until I sat back to catch my breath that it hit me. My saliva had made the peanut butter on his penis become runny. The brown sludge was dripping off of him and dipped into every crevice. I couldn’t look away but I also couldn’t go back down there. As I gazed at his balls, pruney and covered in a fine layer of hair, with sticky brown stuff caked in the nooks and crannies, I felt the peanut butter I had just slurped down rise up my throat.
“What’s wrong?” he panted, sensing my hesitation.
I tried to swallow back the bile that was making its way up my throat. I had to look away. I had to get out of there.
“It looks like literal shit,” I shouted, before running out of the room and making it to the toilet just in time.
When I came back ten minutes later (after throwing up everything I had eaten in the past week and using half of his bottle of mouthwash), I found him hunched over his penis, wiping it up with a tissue.
“I’m sorry,” I panted, unable to look at the offensive balls still somewhat covered in what looked like baby diarrhea.
“It’s okay,” he said, tossing the tissue in the trashcan and reaching for another, “it does look pretty gross.” He glanced up at me and smirked, before pushing the brown covered napkin under my nose “Smells pretty good, though.”
After another round of dry heaving from me, a shower for him, and the agreement to throw the jar of peanut butter away (and if Nick asks, we don’t know *what* happened to it), we did what any sane couple would do on a night in — we ordered pizza, watched Netflix, and agreed that we were too lazy to have real sex. So if you’re ever faced with the “we want to spice things up in bed and we want to use food to do it” dilemma, there are a few things to remember. Stick to the classics, like whipped cream. There’s a reason they’re a cliché. Maybe don’t get so high that you picture the food on your boyfriend’s body to be fecal matter. And above all, make sure to use something that isn’t brown, sticky, and very, very reminiscent of shit.
At least he didn’t have a nut allergy..
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