Bisexually Banged By These Sentient Plastic Easter Eggs Who Eat Me Out From Both Sides While Im In A Standing Position Which Is A Pretty Cool Move

Polly is feeling uninspired, not just with her art, but with her whole life. Fortunately, she’s got an Easter breakfast to attend with some friends, and she’s hoping a little socializing will kick her inner muse into high gear.

The party features and adult Easter egg hunt, and soon enough Polly finds herself frantically searching for these small plastic eggs that have been hidden around her friend’s backyard. She searches deep into the forest, and soon enough comes face to face with two incredibly attractive, sentient eggs.

The three of them soon fall into a hardcore bisexual encounter, but when the content of these eggs are revealed, it will change everything Polly knows about Easter… and inspiration.

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling bisexual human on sentient plastic Easter egg threesome action.

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BISEXUALLY BANGED BY THESE SENTIENT PLASTIC EASTER EGGS WHO EAT ME OUT FROM BOTH SIDES WHILE I’M IN A STANDING POSITION WHICH IS A PRETTY COOL MOVE

By Chuck Tingle

Gazing at this canvas before me, I feel the profound weight of disappointment. It’s hardly the emotion I was going for.

Beauty and awe were at the top of my list, to be honest, so what I’ve ended up with certainly gives me pause. Of course, the frustration I feel probably has more to do with my own mental state than the objective quality of this painting I’ve produced, but no amount of telling myself this truth seems to make any difference.

I cross my studio, getting closer to the canvas and its vibrant, zigzag lines that pop with electric oranges and blues. Instead of taking in this piece from afar, I get right up against it, gazing into the hues with profound intensity. I’m mere inches away from my work.

I’m desperately hoping the new position will reveal something powerful, some unseen take that I’ve missed until this very moment. Unfortunately, nothing comes.

“More of the same,” I announce.

It’s not that this little piece of abstract design is bad, I’ll give myself enough credit for that. The problem is that it’s certainly not good either, and at this point in my career I’m starting to ask a very simple question: what’s the point?

There are a few simple answers to this question. The point is to make a living, the point is to express myself, the point is...

I trail off, none of these responses making me feel any better. In fact, the more I sit here thinking about my own art, the more I want to tear this piece from its easel and crack the wooden frame over my leg.

Fortunately, I’m stopped by the electronic ringing of my phone, not prompted by some unknown caller, but by the alarm I always set before heading off into my art zone.

When I’m really focused on my work I have a tendency to lose track of time, to let the piece completely overwhelm me at the expense of the rest of my life. I used to come into this studio in the morning and then step outside to realize that the sun was already going down, and I’d already skipped two meals without even knowing it.

Today, my alarm is a little more practical: I have somewhere important to be.

Thrilled to have a break from the self-loathing, I put my paints away and close up shop, exiting my studio and strolling over to the car. It’s still quite early and the sun has just began to creep its way over the distant mountains, casting this Montana landscape in a beautiful golden glow.

It’s a special morning, a date that people across the globe celebrate by hiding colorful eggs and gathering for delicious breakfasts. I’m not particularly religious, certainly not enough to believe in the Easter lore, but even I am heading to a little

social gathering this morning.
I climb into my vehicle and throw it in drive, taking off up one of the nearby

roads.
I’m doing everything I can to leave my bad mood behind, to keep all of that

disappointment and artistic frustration locked away back at the studio. The last thing I want to do is burden my friends with all of this inner torment.

Still, it’s hard to keep these thoughts at bay. Despite my best efforts, I can feel the terrible ache come creeping back through the cracks of my mind, a faint voice calling out in the background.

None of this matters, it says.

I let out a long sigh, shaking my head as though this maneuver might rattle these judgements from my skull.

It’s not long before I’m pulling into the driveway of my friend’s house, finding myself greeted by a whole assortment of other cars. The place is quite nice, sporting a vast yard and a lush, colorful garden that stretches off in every direction.

I stroll up to the front door, but before I can even knock it flies open and the host, Michelle, erupts with her greeting.

“Polly, you’re here!” she cries excitedly, hurrying over to meet me with a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could make it. You’re just in time.”

“Just in time for what?” I ask, but before I can get an answer my friend has pulled away and is motioning for me to follower her back inside.

I continue along, entering a massive foyer and then strolling down a hallway to the living room. This new locale sports a glorious view of the grounds through its floor to ceiling windows, a sprawling field of green that stretches on and on even farther than I expected. The room is full of a dozen or so close friends, all of whom cheer excitedly at my arrival.

“Hey!” I call out with a simple wave, addressing everyone at once as I join the group. Everyone is standing in a semi-circle, facing Michelle as she clears her throat and turns to address the group.

“Thank you for coming to this year’s Easter egg hunt!” she announces proudly.

More cheers from the group. This is my first year attending so I’m not entirely sure what to expect, but based on everyone else’s enthusiasm I assume I’m about to have a good time.

“As you can see, there are no kids around for this particular activity,” Michelle continues. “That’s because we are having ourselves an adult Easter egg hunt.”

The applause takes a break, replaced instead by an exaggerated choir of

ooo’s.

“I know most of you have been here before, but we have a few newcomers

this year. You first timers are probably wondering what you might find in your eggs,” Michelle says, savoring the moment as her gaze slowly moves from one guest to the next, making her way around the room. “You might find some cash. You might find some chocolate milk tucked away in there. You might find...” she trails off, a mischievous expression crossing her face. “You know what, let’s keep it a surprise.”

“Where are the boundaries?” someone calls out.

“Anywhere outside,” Michelle replies. “Eggs are hidden across the entire property.”

“When do we start?” another voice chimes in.
Michelle laughs. “We just did.”
It takes a moment for the group to translate what this means, a brief, silent

pause that swiftly erupts in a cascade of frantic action. The next thing I know, everyone is rushing for the back door, scrambling to be the first one out in the yard. A stack of baskets have been placed nearby, and each guest scoops up one from the pile as they begin their journey.

Taken off guard, I’m one of the last ones outside. I immediately begin to scan my surroundings, frantically searching for my first egg. Someone is already collecting the little plastic orbs that have been hidden along the edge of the house, and I’m not interesting in hunting for their scraps. A hedge nearby is also being thoroughly rummaged through, with mixed results.

Suddenly, my heart skips a beat. My eyes lock onto a single polka-dot covered egg that sits tucked against the edge of a nearby birdfeeder. My first find of the day.

I immediately hurry over to the feeder, excitedly preparing my basket to receive its first prize, but before I get a chance my approach is headed off by another guest. I flinch awkwardly as this other partier zooms past me, reaching into the bird feeder and scooping up the target.

I’m just not quick enough.

Scanning my surroundings, I suddenly realize the best strategy might be to branch out a bit, to separate myself from the crowd and start exploring distant parts of the yard. What I can’t match in speed, I’ll make up for with my keen powers of observation. I am a painter after all, and my attention to detail is pretty damn good. I should have no problem pointing out these colorful little ovals where others might’ve rushed on by.

Focusing on my new plan, I take off into the garden, sprinting as fast as I can in an effort to put some distance between myself and the others. The plants whip past me on either side, a blur of emerald leaves and vibrant, colorful flowers. I duck and dodge along this path, disappearing into what eventually becomes a little forest on the edge of Michelle’s property.

When I finally slow down and glance around, an unexpected realization hits me: I might’ve ran too far. This little glen feels completely removed from the previous setting, and the other egg hunters are so far behind me that I can’t even hear them shouting or hurrying around the yard.

I’m all alone.

I take a moment to slow things down, scanning the trees for any sign of these colorful plastic eggs. My vision passes over the scene from left to right, sweeping across the lush greenery and then immediately stopping when I see what appears to be two enormous eggs floating behind some nearby trees. I can see these rotund shapes ballooning out from either side of the trunks.

“Uh... I think I found you,” I announce. There’s a slight pause.
“Which one?” comes a voice.
“Both.”

With that, the eggs come sprinting out from there hiding places, greeting me warmly. The first one I see is pink and yellow, covered in swirling lines from top to bottom and sporting a warm, welcoming smile. She immediately hurries over and offers me a hug.

“I’m so glad you found us!” she cries out. “I’m Ellen.”
“Polly,” I reply.
The other egg, a purple, star-covered oval with a serious expression and

perpetually concerned eyes, offers me a handshake. “Wilbur,” he says. “Nice to meet you,” I offer, accepting the shake.
These eggs are very different from one another, but there’s a shared

commonality that I immediately notice as my gaze drifts back and forth between them. They’re both very, very attractive.

“What?” Ellen asks, noticing my awkward expression.

“Oh, sorry,” I laugh, shaking my head as I struggle to collect my thoughts and act normal. “I didn’t mean to stare, I just...”

She raises her eyebrows. “You just what?”

I’m not sure what to say here, trying to think of an excuse but coming up short. Finally, I simply decide to go with the truth. These eggs are part of an adult hunt, after all. They can handle my admission.

“You’re both just really cute,” I admit.

Ellen and Wilbur immediately exchange glances, this quick look communicating something important between the two of them. It’s such a stark moment that Ellen even nods, as if hearing the other egg’s silent words inside her head.

“What?” I ask.
Now it’s the Easter eggs’ turn to get awkward.

“Nothing,” Wilbur replies, a little too quickly.

“No, really,” I press. “I told you what I was thinking. Now, you’ve gotta tell me.”

Wilbur lets out a long sigh, recognizing that I’ve made a fair point. “Okay, fine,” he eventually begins. “We also think you’re very attractive.”

The second he says this I can feel my whole body react, my breath catching in my throat as I sudden realization washes over me. I can still hear Michelle’s explanation of the day’s festivities bouncing around in my head, her words repeating over and over again.

This is an adult Easter egg hunt.

My friend had given plenty of examples about what to expect, but she’d trailed off a bit at the end. It was like she was saving the really good stuff, letting it be a surprise. I’m not realizing what that surprise actually is.

“Oh, okay,” I blurt, my body language immediately shifting. I saunter towards the hovering Easter eggs, exaggerating the sway of my hips as I go.

Their eyes track my movement, laser focused on my body. When I reach the eggs I gently trace my fingers along their hard, curved shells, playfully teasing them as the erotic tension builds. There is no longer a question about what I want, the carnal charge of this moment now undeniable.

“Happy Easter,” I coo. “I’m glad I found you both.”

Suddenly, Ellen is kissing me, the swirled egg losing herself in the moment. Our lips meet in an eruption of passion, hands immediately getting to work as we explore one another’s bodies. My attention starts at the top of her oval, rubbing her symmetrical form and slowly making my way lower and lower.

Ellen works me with similar diligence, stripping away my clothing and tossing it to the side. My skin tingles in the cool morning air, each layer peeling away until I find myself completely naked.

It’s not long before I sense Wilbur’s presence behind me, the egg floating into position and wrapping his arms around me. I turn my head to the side, meeting his lips with mine and delivering yet another passionate kiss. I can feel the egg’s enormous cock swelling and pressing against my backside, an impressive rod.

Still, I keep my attention focused on Ellen, enjoying the sensation of being sandwiched between them. I quickly lose track of who’s hands are doing what, but eventually it becomes clear when Ellen slides down my body.

The gorgeous egg creeps her way across my form, kissing along my neck and then giving my breasts some attention as she plays with my nipples. She continues onward, her lips tracing along my stomach as she teases me with the prospect of something more and then finally descends all the way down.

Soon enough, Ellen is gazing up at me with eyes of desperate yearning, her mouth hovering over my pussy as I ache for her touch. I can feel my hips

subconsciously pushing towards her, the desire I feel manifestation itself through the subtle movements of my body.

Ellen finally has mercy, diving in and lapping away at my waiting clit. She drags her tongue in long, satisfying movements, finding a pace and then sticking to it as I grind back against her. In the meantime, Wilbur begins to kiss across my neck and shoulders. The handsome egg takes his time with me, just as patient as Ellen was, gradually drifting lower and lower across my frame.

I’m not entirely sure what his plan is, but it quickly becomes apparent once he’s reached a crouching position. He’s hovering on the same level as the other egg.

“I’d love to eat that ass,” Wilbur states bluntly.
“Fuck yeah,” I groan.
The egg doesn’t hesitate, getting to work and devouring me from the other

side. I reach back and place my hand on the back of his head, pushing him even deeper as his tongue slides its way into my asshole, filling me up.

I’m now being orally serviced from either end, my legs trembling as I struggle to remain upright. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, but it’s not just the physical senses that are overwhelming me. The very idea of finding myself in this position is gloriously carnal, something almost absurd in its construction but undeniably fun. I almost start laughing with joy, but a surge of pleasure causes me to focus up.

I can already feel the first hints of an orgasm brewing at the pit of my stomach, the sensations spilling across my frame and causing my arms and legs to quake with anticipation. I use the eggs on either side of me to find a balance, pushing closer and closer to the edge of orgasm as soft whimpers begin to escape my lips.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I mumble. This simple phrase spills out of my mouth over and over again, escalating in volume until I’m crying out and the top of my lungs. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

The climax hits me hard, this surge of sensation causing me to buckle forward. I let the feeling wash through me, first trying to fight against it but then finally giving into the moment and losing myself in this tidal wave of bliss. The eggs continue lapping away at me from either side, refusing to let up until I’m entirely finished.

When the orgasm has finally passed I push them away, but only for a moment.

“Oh my God,” I groan. “That was so good. I need you to fuck me.”

I climb down to their level, pushing Ellen back and climbing up over the egg. I lay my body against her and continue making out with this large oval object, my hands exploring her body with diligent enthusiasm. I’m desperate to give back

the pleasure I’ve just received, and while I’m not entirely sure that’s possible, I’m ready to give it my best shot.

My hand creeps its way down the front of the egg, tickling across her gentle curve until I’ve found what I’m looking for. I immediately get to work on her most sensitive area, moving my digits at the pace we’ve already established and watching as her body reacts to my touch. She’s loving this.

Once we’ve found a rhythm, I glance back over my shoulder and lock eyes with Wilbur.

“What are you waiting for?” I growl.

The handsome egg springs into action, drifting down into position behind me. He aligns his massive cock with the slick entrance of my pussy, teasing me for just a moment and then slowly pushing deep.

A startled yelp escapes my lips as I brace myself against his weight, talking a big game but not entirely prepared for his size. Fortunately, the sentient Easter egg takes his time with me, allowing my body a moment to adjust to his girth while I continue making out with Ellen below. Eventually, Wilbur begins to rock his hips against me, the two of us finding a groove as any discomfort melts away and is replaced with a pleasant, fulfilling warmth.

It’s not long before the three of us have fallen into a perfect sync, our bodies passing the pleasure back and forth in an ever escalating feedback loop. Our moans grow louder, filling the forest with a chorus of pleasure.

I can feel my muscles clenching and releasing, preparing themselves for the second orgasm of the evening. The egg below me is shaking in turn, clearly operating on a similar timeline as we push toward this inevitable eruption.

By now Wilbur is slamming into me with everything he’s got, the plastic egg completely succumbing to his animalistic passion. Yet, despite all this, his technique is still perfect. He’s still hitting me inexactly the right spot, still carrying me along on this carnal journey.

Eventually, the sensations within me are too much to control any longer. I throw my head back and let out a wild, unbridled scream, the climax erupting within me little a brilliant firework display.

Ellen soon joins me, my finger-work finally carrying her over the edge. She meets my wild cries with an erotic harmony of her own, grinding hard against my hand as she accepts every bit of this glorious sensation.

Now only Wilbur is left, but his timing is impeccable. The second Ellen and me are finished he pulls out and erupts with a massive Easter egg load, painting my rump with his pearly seed. It comes in a series of hot, sticky ropes, his seed running down the back of my legs in long, thick streaks.

When the three of us finally finish we collapse into the grass, utterly exhausted. I use a few leaves to wipe away the cum, then lay back and gaze at the

sparse glimpses of beautiful blue sky I can see through the trees above.
“That was really wonderful,” I finally state, a simple but confident review. “Amazing,” Ellen adds.
“Glorious,” says Wilbur.
I sit up, admiring the plastic eggs. I can’t help but chuckle to myself, shaking

my head in amazement. “This is next level,” I say. “I knew there were adult prizes in there, but I never would’ve expected a threesome.”

The eggs hesitate, suddenly appearing much more awkward than I expected. “What do you mean?” Wilbur asks. “You haven’t even opened us up.”
I furrow my brow, confused. “Why would I open you? I already got my

prize.”
The handsome egg cracks a smile. “That... wasn’t a prize.”
“We just wanted to fuck you,” Ellen chimes in.
“Oh!” I blurt, the whole thing suddenly falling into place. “I just thought...

I’m sorry.”
The eggs laugh in unison, sharing a knowing look.
“That’s okay,” Wilbur says. “I guess it’s your lucky day, you’ve still got

some adult prizes waiting.”
I crawl over to the egg, feeling along his waist until I discover a faint crack

that runs in a straight line around his circumference. “Right here?” I question. Wilbur nods.

“Will it hurt?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
I carefully push my nails into the slit, then lift. The plastic egg splits in half,

his top disconnecting to reveal something truly unexpected hidden within the cavity of his body. A strange box rests before me, rectangular and about the size of a standard birthday cake. It’s constructed with solid, varnished wood, and on the top of the box is an enormous crimson button.

“What is this?” I ask, carefully setting the plastic egg’s top half aside and lifting the prize from within.

“That’s The Big Red Button,” Ellen informs me. “It’s an important part of The Erotic Tingleverse, at least within these nearby layers.”

“The what?” I question.

“The Erotic Tingleverse,” she repeats. “A collection of timelines stacked on top of one another to create a collection of erotic worlds, arranged in such a way that these worlds get progressively more gay as you move deeper. Of course, there’s also The Horror Tingleverse, but that’s pretty far away on this stack. You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“I have no idea what any of this means,” I admit.
“That’s fine, it’s a lot to take in,” Ellen replies. “Especially so close to the

end of the story. If this happened in the first few pages then maybe it could all make sense by the end, but word count is working against us.”

“What does any of this have to do with a Big Red Button?” I ask.

Now it’s Wilbur’s turn to chime in. The plastic egg reaches out and grabs his bottom half, hoisting himself up and then reconnecting with his other side to create a completed oval once more.

“If you press that button you’ll immediately leave this layer of reality, transporting to a deeper, gayer layer of The Tingleverse.”

“In your case, more bi,” Ellen adds.

“That sounds nice,” I admit, then hesitate. “But, I’d have to leave this timeline behind?”

The eggs nod.

I think back to this morning, remembering just how frustrated I’d been with existence. My art wasn’t resonating at all, and a change was clearly needed. This change, however, is pretty fucking big. Maybe too big.

“You seem torn,” Ellen observes.
“I’m just...” I start, then trail off. “What would you do if you were me?” “Oh, I’ve pressed the button twelve times now,” Ellen reveals. “That’s how I

got here. Just so you know, this timeline is pretty bi already. Comparatively speaking.”

“I’ve been through thirty four layers,” Wilbur explains.
“And?” I press.
He considers this. “Starting over on a fresh layer of reality can be nice,” the

living Easter egg explains. “But, after all this time, I don’t think I’d press it again. It’s really easy to get frustrated with the things we create, to believe they’re not good enough, but after all the timelines I’ve seen, there’s one thing that sticks with me.”

‘What’s that?” I ask.

“We’re a lot better than we give ourselves credit for,” he reveals. “Everything we create, whether it’s a painting or a song or an Easter egg hunt with friends or a walk in the park or a hardcore fuckfest with sentient plastic eggs, it’s all an important part of what makes each timeline special and unique. It’s all worth so much.”

I consider this a moment, then hand the big red button back to Wilbur. “I think I’m good,” I say. “Instead of heading to the next reality, I’m gonna see what I can add to this one. I have a feeling when I get back to the studio I’ll find something to like about that painting I was working on.”

“The fact that you even made a painting in the first place is worth celebrating,” Wilbur says, taking the box. “The rest is just extra credit.”

I sit with this for a moment, appreciating his words. Eventually, my gaze

drifts back over to Ellen. “Wait... what was inside you? Another Big Red Button?” Ellen laughs. “No, I’ve got one of those little bullet vibrators.”
I raise my eyebrows, glancing back and forth between them. “Round two?” The sentient Easter eggs nod excitedly. I pull them towards me, the three of

us erupting in yet another passionate round of kisses.