Tell Me a Lie

by Brianna Flores

When I'd spotted this giant Adonis back at the bar, I'd felt like I was setting myself up for failure. He's so big and so beautiful.

"Please, Lucas. I need you inside me."

He looks like sex but acts like innocence personified.

He sobs and fuck. Jesus, fuck, I thought he was pretty before, but him crying actual tears on my cock is just… Fuck.

"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."

Ugh, painful.

Mostly, it’s nothing. Just a lot of blankness. A hollowness that feels both empty and somehow like it fills me to the brim. I’m alone a lot.

My body straightens when he looks at me, lights up like a pathetic little daisy who couldn’t bear to bloom without this man’s sunny attention on 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 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.

My poor dick misses the hell out of him and his tight hole.

He’s not confident in himself, but I am.

The SWEETEST.

His ability to handle me and my quirks makes me want him more. To my hopeless little brain, it feels like we’re made for each other.

It hurts. Just being me, it hurts.

She could be saying anything! I’m too small, too ugly for him, too weird, too young. He’s so out of my league it is laughable.

His insecurity kills me.

He slept with me, and now I’m turning into a stage-five clinger. I’m one of those people. Those people do nothing but embarrass themselves. So, yeah, okay. It’s pretty fitting. But still.

"Oh my god!" She removes her palms from her face slowly, and I want to roll my eyes at her. "You like him." "What are we, in fucking middle school?" And then she's laughing, a loud, annoyingly unattractive sound, and it feels like I'd do anything to shut her up.

I like how much smaller than me Sage is, and maybe the age gap is bigger than I'd typically go for, but it just adds to this eerie need to care for him.

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

My brows crease at the sight of him looking dejected. He's been like this nearly all week. He still smiles when prompted, but the second eyes are off of him, he folds into himself, and it's like he dims.

My heart hurts.

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.

I’m a whiny, slutty, and totally deranged mess, and it’s all his fault, so he better be ready to handle it.

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

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.

Oh. God, he just makes it too fucking easy to obsess over him.

The sight of my big dick over his pretty little cock has pleasure dripping down my spine.

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

"Such a fucking nympho."

"Cock makes you crazy, pretty baby." "Yours."

Gosh. So sexy, he is so sexy. He’s warm, his bed is cozy, and he’s feeling me up and it all feels so good.

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.

The only thoughts running through my mind are all about Sage. Sage calling him, talking to him, seeing him. Sleeping with him. Fuck no.

Oooo, he's jealous.

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.

"I love you," he murmurs just as his fingers are prodding at my entrance. "Nobody ever has," I whimper, my hips giving just the barest jerk as he sinks inside me.

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.

Who gives a fuck about morning breath when we both just ate come directly out of his asshole, right?

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.

Good lord.

"It’s not about what I think you need, Sage. I just want you to know what this is to me. If you can’t believe it, I’ll wait. I’ll show you because I do. I love you."

He’s danger, but also safety. The reason I’m panicking, but at the same time, I feel like he could maybe stop the panic. If I let him.