The Deviled Egg Made Me Do It

by Holly Wilde

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

Muscles carved from a diet of lean protein are covered in curls of green hair that smell like chives.

Beating the beastly thing like he’s making an omelet, he strokes down to the tuft of pubic herbs before squeezing back up. The egg-shaped head tipped with tiny horns glistens as he fists himself.

I look over and see Damien filling the last one with his secret sauce. Squeezing the tip of his cock, a charming little flower of filling swirls into the boat. Setting it down beside the rest, he takes a pinch of paprika and sprinkles the spice effortlessly onto the top. The final touches have him reaching for my kitchen shears, which he uses to clip a bit of chives from the space just above his balls.

“So, what’s in this secret sauce? I’m pretty good at discerning flavors, and I’m curious if it’s nut-based.”