Tell Me a Lie

by Brianna Flores

"I know it's not real. I––you don't have to mean it. Just think of it as a lie. Please? Just tell me a lie, and I'm yours."

Just remembering that I made your boss tell me he loved me after he'd just met me.

🫣

It’s so fucking cute, and isn’t that just disgusting? I’m thirty-five years old and completely enamored with this barely legal kid.

Cute isn’t an adjective that I use a lot, but I look at him, and I swear I just want to barrel into him, sweep him into my arms, and fucking squeeze. Cute aggression is real, and it’s maddening.

He’s adorable. The clients are all idiots. I can’t imagine coming face to face with someone so beautiful and perfect and thinking anything other than just that. Perfect.

He really is the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and I feel like a lovesick teenager even thinking shit like that, but it can’t be helped.

He gives me a tiny smile, so fucking sadly sweet that I instantly know there’s no hope for me. I am obsessed with him, and there’s no way that’s changing anytime soon.

What’s wrong with me that none of my family loves me?

I wasn’t getting all up in his space and imagining feeding him my dick. No, I had the decency to do that from afar.

I have to tell my hole to behave. It won’t stop clenching. Empty is a feeling that I’m familiar with, but my butt is new to it. I feel bad for it. For my butt.

"Poor baby. Just needed this little hole filled, huh?"

"Why do you even have lube here, you perv?" I look over my shoulder, trying to see what brand it is, but can’t quite see it. "This is a place of work."

🤣

You don’t become the kind of person who goes to gay bars to find a stranger just to ask him to tell you he loves you without getting acquainted with the feeling of being unloved. That’s not normal. I’m not normal. I just want someone to want me. To want to keep me. To be sad when I disappear, not relieved.

"Your little hole is so fucking needy, just desperate for a cock, huh?"

"Tell me how much you want my cock, baby. Beg for it, and it’s yours."

"Don’t do that." He leans down to kiss me, his stubble biting at my skin just like I knew it would. “I like you loud.”

"Either way, you should definitely get a pair of those tiny running shorts."

So, I just nod and leave, having to walk around the desk and the people who are welcome in the room.

🥺

I have to believe that it’s just me. I’m the problem. Which, duh. I’m a homeless nineteen-year-old that he’s just helping out. It just happens to be convenient that I let him sleep with me.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

Mine.

I don’t mind telling him that I love him, lying to him. Mostly because I’m not all that sure that it is a lie.

Such a cock slut. The neediest little thing I’ve ever met. And it’s all for me.

He’s mumbling half-thought-out worships about my big dick but also just about me. Total bullshit about how I’m perfect and beautiful, how he swears nobody else even exists for him. Like, maybe I’m not the only one obsessed in this relationship.