We’ve all heard the eons-old sex lore that says ingesting large quantities of pineapple will make a man’s cum will taste sweeter. Well, I could use a little more fruit in my diet, so I put this myth to the test by feeding my boyfriend Dan an all-pineapple diet for seven straight days. It backfired miserably, because now every bee in Brooklyn is thirsting for the sweet nectar of my boyfriend’s otherwise mediocre penis. That’s right: his dick is literally covered in bees right now.
Dan’s dick is currently so smothered in Yellowjackets that I can barely even see it. I can’t go down on him without swallowing at least four bees—and that’s a conservative estimate. I’ve been stung on the roof of my mouth upwards of a dozen times, but that’s love…I guess?
We thought this would be a fun way to add a little tropical pizzazz to our love-making. Now, I’m not sure where this full-fledged beehive ends and his ballsack begins. The Queen Bee has made her home at the base of his cock, so venturing past mid-shaft is a definite no-go. Dan is starting to genuinely worry about his reproductive future, and I can’t blame him.
Also, we can’t go anywhere in public without Dan incessantly swatting at his crotch, even though I tell him to be calm or they will sting him. It’s embarrassing for sure, but even more problematic is how much it angers the bees. The swarm of angry bees has ruined countless parties ever since we began dabbling with pineapple.
What can I say? Spring has sprung, and after consuming five pounds of pre-cut pineapple, Dan’s dick is the sweetest flower on the Eastern seaboard.
This all began as a way to make BJ’s a tad more manageable. Now, Dan and I are waist-deep in a sexual assault lawsuit with our local pest control company. Apparently they don’t have a “system” in “place” for “freeing human genitalia from the clutches of a rapidly growing and possibly mutating bee colony.” It’s things like this that really remind you what’s important in life, like having a boyfriend with a dick that isn’t covered in bees.
If I’ve learned anything from this situation, it’s this: Don’t believe everything the magazines tell you about sex. More often than not, you’ll end up in a makeshift hazmat suit, batting your lover’s junk with a broom until you can at least get a glimpse of it. This is our current form of sex (which, at this point, is doing it for me, but it surely cannot last).
So, trust me: Your boyfriend’s jizz tastes fine just the way it is. Appreciate what you have, and for the love of God, do not anger the bees.