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."

He just can’t help it that he’s awkward. And I happen to find that part of him endearing. 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 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.

"You fucked an eighteen-year-old you met at a gay bar and then hired him as your employee?"

I do have a crush on an eighteen-year-old—my employee. Sage.

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.

Sickening. It feels like it’s true. It feels like I deserve that label, like I am that word, so often, and it’s times like this when it’s just so hard to ignore. If nothing is wrong with me, why don’t they love me?

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.

Obsession. It’s an obsession. It’s unhealthy and borderline creepy, and I hate myself for it. It’s also pretty juvenile. I don’t think I’ve ever had it this bad, felt such an inescapable urge to just claim anyone.

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

I’m deranged. It’s not just his cock that makes me crazy. It’s just him, but he’s. Not. Mine. And it shouldn’t be so difficult to remember that.

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.

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.

I’m basically his slave. He turns into a cat in heat wherever my cock is concerned, but the way I fall to his every goddamn whim? He may as well just collar me and call me his bitch. So, of course, when he asks me to finger fuck his used-up hole gently, that’s exactly what I do. I adore that he even wants it, that he likes it as much as I do.