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Sexuality in Conversation

Pie Felicia: Does Sex With An Apple Pie Beat Out the Real Deal?

When American Pie was released on July 9, 1999, I had just turned 10-years-old. I didn’t understand what was the hell was going on, so I laughed when my cousins did, not fooling anyone.

Since its release, the film bore three sequels starring the original cast (American Pie 2, American Wedding and American Reunion) and several others that went straight to DVD (Band Camp, The Naked Mile, Beta House and The Book of Love). Despite any missteps the franchise might have made (and boy, were they made), the franchise left behind a legacy—one that hilariously and accurately details the male sexual experience.

The franchise’s most iconic moment—you know the one—occurs when Jim (the film’s protagonist) comes home to witness an apple pie his mother had baked in the middle of the kitchen unattended. Prior to this, Jim, a curious virgin, is told by a friend that having sex with a woman feels like “warm apple pie.” He decides to put this theory to the test and penetrates the pastry on the kitchen island. Before he can finish, Jim’s session is cut short when his family walks in while he’s still inches deep in the dessert.

To celebrate the film’s 19th anniversary (which makes it legal drinking age in Canada), I decided to recreate this memorable scene for Playboy. That’s right, I’m going to have sex with a pie and decide for myself if coitis with the all-American dessert feels anything close to having sex with a woman.

First, I headed to the grocery store, where I cautiously combed each aisle in search of my temporary soulmate. Due to the inherent shame of the process, I’m sure I appeared as though I was about to do something very illegal. I felt like people knew why I was there. They could see the crumbs on my dick already. I felt so much shame, in fact, that I passed each available checkout and opted for self-checkout instead.
By the end, the pastry looks a mess, adding to the subsequent shame of it all. Crust bits and crumbs lay everywhere, like shrapnel after a plane crash.
My purchase was a total knockout: a pre-made, pre-baked apple pie with cinnamon. The description on the box seductively read: “A country-style pie made with sweet, juicy apples in a flaky crust.” To reheat, all I had to do was toss it in the oven for 15 to 20 minutes. The box instructs to let the pie stand for five minutes before serving, but because I wasn’t using the pastry for its intended purpose, I decided to let it stand for 10. I’d been getting good use of my penis lately, and I didn’t want this potentially dangerous experiment to ruin things—or worse, send me to the hospital.

When the pie was sufficiently baked and had cooled, I realized I hadn’t designated a spot to do the deed. So, because I’m a gentleman, I politely escorted the pie to my bedroom and delicately placed it on my bed.

Because looking at a pie isn’t the most erotic of experiences, I turned on some porn to warm up. The pie had an actual, penis-sized hole in the middle of it, so I figured that’s where I was going to start. Soon, my penis was in the pie, and the first thrust felt…it actually felt good. Like, really good. It was a little too warm to feel like the real deal, but I was taken aback by how true to life the sensations were. Those screenwriters really knew what they were talking about.

However, it quickly became transparent that pies are not designed for penetration. The pastry is too shallow to have any real fun with, and you can only have sex in the missionary position unless you’re fine leaving a catastrophic mess. (Trust me, I know how weird that sounds—my penis is in the pie while I’m typing this.)

While those initial thrusts felt great, those that followed didn’t deliver the same impact. I quickly made a mess of the pie, and soon there was no canal of sorts to keep me in place or to apply pressure to my member, which is conducive to climax. Before long, it felt like I was penetrating a thick, creamy soup—something I blame on the pie manufacturer for a definite lack of apple filling. Because this pie had cinnamon, I was surprised there was no pain. There was also no orgasm.
The longer I stared at it, the worse I felt for the pie. A lot of hard work went into making it, and the thing could have fed a family on a quiet Sunday evening.
Before, during and after the experience, I felt like an idiot. A real fool. My penis was in a pie, after all, so that’s exactly how I should have felt. But it was certainly a learning experience. Pies, I’ve found, are much better to eat than they are to fuck. You can’t cuddle a pie after you make love to it. You can’t kiss it or stroke its hair. You can’t ask it for a glass of water in the middle of the night. It just lays there. No thank you’s. No reciprocation. Nothing.

By the end, the pastry looks a mess, adding to the subsequent shame of it all. Crust bits and crumbs lay everywhere, like shrapnel after a plane crash, and my penis was covered in a sweet, caramel-colored mucus with the odd apple bit glued to my shaft.

The longer I stared at it, the worse I felt for the pie. A lot of hard work went into making it, and the thing could have fed a family on a quiet Sunday evening. Instead, it was being ravaged by a man writing a story. But it’s not all bad, I guess. As someone who has used near every male masturbator out there, I can say that apple pie is a more realistic and affordable alternative, primarily due to its heat and organic materials. The pie cost me $6.99 whereas the average Fleshlight retails for around $70. Of course, with pies you’ll only get one use out of them, maybe two if you’re careful. So I guess a Fleshlight is the better investment over time.

But, ultimately, yes: Apple pie does kind of feel like a real woman. But only for the first few thrusts. Start to finish though, the experience definitely pales in comparison, so don’t think an apple pie will ever make for a suitable substitute. But should you give it a shot? I mean, I don’t regret it. So why not?

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