Hi again. This is the last Easter thing, we promise. There were just a few straggling innuendos we wanted to pop off before the holiday weekend arrives. So, without further ado...
Imagine this: It's Sunday morning; you are risen — and so is bae. *wink* As a thick shaft of sunlight flops across his face, he turns his head, opens his eyes, and flashes that charming, cheeky-ass grin you love. "Hey, babe, wanna hear a joke?"
Duh.
"What's the difference between you and a bunch of Easter eggs?"
You honestly don't know. "What?"
"Eggs get laid and you don't."
You pounce on top of him in a fit of horny faux-rage. "Oh yeah, mister? Maybe you won't get to go on your keister hunt after all!"
"Wait, wait, I've got another one," he says.
You bat his perky Peep to and fro. "I'm listening."
"What did the egg say to the pot of boiling water?"
Again, you're stumped. "Idk, tell me."
"It's gonna take me awhile to get hard — I just got laid by a chick! Get it??"
You do. You also know that it's basically the same joke as the first one and that y'all really don't have much time before the kids wake up and you have to start getting everybody ready for church. So you lean down and bite his lip. Hard.
"Mmm, I see my Easter honey likes to play rough..." he says, as he flips you on your back and slides on top. "Kinda makes me wanna do what bunnies do with you, yeah?"
You lick your lips, toying with all the sweet somethings you could whisper in his ear — about his eggs in your 'assket, Easter ~coming~ but once a year, going down your rabbit hole — but, in the end, you opt for something simple: "First, you have to tell me how I like my eggs."
His eyes widen. "Well, uh, shakshouka-ed ever since you read about it in the Times, but—"
You put a finger to his lips, shake your head, then smile.
"No, silly," you say. "Cream-filled."
Happy Easter to you and yours,
Dude A Day
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