Banana split

She slipped into the kitchen, restless, the marble cool under her bare feet. Lingering over the fruit bowl, her fingers wrapped around a thick banana, and a sly smile curled at the corner of her mouth. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of the silk of her bra and the lace edge of her panties grazing her skin. The hem of her babydoll slip rode higher as she climbed onto the counter. One knee bent, she pulled the fabric aside and dragged the chilled fruit along her inner thigh. A shiver ran through her. She pressed the curved tip against her bare lips, teasing the sensitive skin until it glistened. Slow and deliberate, she guided the banana inside, inch by inch, until the stretch made her breath hitch. Her free hand rose to her breast, pinching the tight nipple through the lace. She rocked her hips, taking the fruit deeper with each motion, the kitchen quiet except for the soft, wet sound of her satisfaction. When her legs started to tremble, she worked the banana faster, chasing the heat that coiled tighter and tighter. The climax hit hard, rushing through her in sharp waves, leaving her panting against the countertop.