The Deviled Egg Made Me Do It

by Holly Wilde

He peeks at my backside before shaking his head, “It’s hard to tell through those jeans, but I’m pretty sure that juicy fruit is hiding something up there.”

“So, Shelby, what do you have next for me to do?” My body is screaming for me to answer him with only one word. Me. I want him to do me.

I won’t lie, a part of me was scared he would taste sulfuric or curdled. In reality, his kiss is warm and salty, like creamy fresh mozzarella.

My egg man is ready to get fully undressed, and show me just how hard boiled his body really is.

I feel like a chicken in a time warp the way I lay the oval bulges before sucking them back in.