The Deviled Egg Made Me Do It

by Holly Wilde

“Damn, girl! Your ass is so fine it jiggles even more than that weird jelly thing your aunt brings to holiday meals.”

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

This monster is the most masculine man I’ve seen in a while. Muscles carved from a diet of lean protein are covered in curls of green hair that smell like chives. Because they are, and I just can’t wait to run my fingers through the tufts covering his chest. Tattooed pecs and biceps flex as he strokes his lower half, a horned cock covered in designs as intricate as the ones on his body. Mesmerized, I watch his hand wrap around a dick that’s as thick as a baguette and nearly as long. 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. Movement catches my attention, and I look down so see he has a tail like the true devil he is. Lumps string along like beads until they disappear into his back. The bulbs forming his tail are egg shaped, and there has to be at least twenty of them in all. Damien reaches down with his free hand and grips the tail to stroke in time with his cock.

I’m ready to learn how to be bad, one hole at a time.

I have to brace myself firmly against the wall as Damien thrusts both his cock and his tail in and out of me. There are about half a dozen eggs filling my ass when we start, but each time Damien pulls his cock out, a few eggs plop out as well. I feel like a chicken in a time warp the way I lay the oval bulges before sucking them back in.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m thanking the heavens for my deviled egg.

His tattoos, his horns, his muscles, everything about him screams that he’s a bad egg through and through, and I love him for it.

“So, what’s in this secret sauce? I’m pretty good at discerning flavors, and I’m curious if it’s nut-based.” “I guess you could say it’s something like that,” Damien answers while looking at me and raising his glass in my direction.