Is it True?

"YOU'RE FUCKING SOMEBODY ELSE AREN'T YOU?!"

Here we go again, here he goes again. His guilty conscience screaming and accusing me of his indiscretions. Denial was ready, but then somebody else spoke.

It was me. My voice spun tales he secretly prays are true

The blood drained from his face while tears collected in his eyes. I could hear the hurt lodge itself in his throat.

To visualize my arch for someone else. Their hands all over me around my neck, and squeezing my nice soft ass. Their arms draped around me pulling me in and me pushing back. ME fucking another the way I'd fuck him in the places I used to fuck him. To fathom my infidelity so lucidly as if he sat in the room and watched.

I wanted him to, no he needed to feel what I've felt. The cold embrace of betrayal with it's perfume of doubt and toxic insecurity. To know the monster he called for.

My tale reaches it's orgasm as he stares at me. The fear has settled on his face and tears carve rivers down his cheeks. I know one question plagues him, "Is it true?" he asks.

With a satisfaction in my eyes and venom on my tongue I say- "You wanted the truth right, so does that sound like a lie?"