I knew I needed to do everything in my power to remain neutral.
This was not a grand perhaps I had believed in for a good part of my life.
I knew that's what it had to be.
A perhaps.
I wasn't desperate. Not in the slightest. It'd been longer than a year and a half since I'd let anyone... and that was fine. It wasn't like if I wanted to I couldn't have. It didn't bother me for a long time because I thought it must be kinda normal. Then I got so tired of just... getting fucked. Honestly since I started watching porn, the only thing that makes me physically drip was lesbian porn. It couldn't be just any lesbian porn though nonono. I have to find the women sexy, they can't look too much like anyone I know, there had to be some kind of something like pretend passion or at least pleasure. I mostly preferred clean shaved pretty pink pussy... I was open to maybe hooking up with a man if I wanted to but had zero romantic interest in them ever again. I just have a bias to keep me safe...ish.
One thing I can say, when it comes down to taking care of my own needs, I wasn't indecisive. I am highly particular. Aren't all Virgo women? Then the day came that I decided to open my heart up again, knowing how seductive I can be on accident. The women who I could smell were smelling me left me more than surprised. I didn't know women that sexy would ever consider me... sexy? Too bad random sex with strangers, no matter the caliber of weaponry in their panties, still didn't make me as hot as...passion. The friends I honestly tried to give a fair chance could never ever truly make me feel that. Passion. Lightning bolt passion. I almost married someone because I felt too bad to leave him... Then it became the right choice for me to break up with him. I knew how I was supposed to feel when I'd meet someone worthy of marriage when I fell for Elle. Elle was beautiful and it had little to nothing to do with what she looked like. Definitely more than something but definitely not anything at all.
Even simply admiring the other woman's beauty made me understand my own in a healthier way than I ever had. The beauty of Elle is the way I didn't give a fuck what the green eyed blonde reaally looked like naked if Elle felt the same way. Now Elle went to grad school, had sparkling morals, and not only was she spiritually outspoken in ways that I couldn't help but want to eat up- her face card was lethal. She was Layla and Eric Clapton. However...
Elle just wasn't into me. I wasn't sure if Elle reaaaallly wasn't into eating pussy or if Elle was letting me down as kindly as of course she would. I wasn't going to push this at all, I open heartedly accepted it. The problem was that thinking about Elle's perfect tits bouncing while I fucked her with a strap on...without getting anything back from her...I just had it that bad... was the closest thing to passion I had maybe ever felt....
Until Elle rejected me. This didn't hurt as much as it released. I wasn't going to sexually fantasize about a woman who wasn't directly opening her body up to the world to be jerked off to by any kind of stranger. Even cute brunette strangers with freckles and blue eyes who are essentially fae creatures...yeah I care about getting rejected but I can more than handle it. I enjoy a healthy amount of constructive criticism. Especially from someone I respect. I would love to just tongue fuck me if I could. I wasn't interested in anyone who didn't look at me like the sun didn't shine out of my ass. It wasn't a narcissistic tendency. I'm highly empathetic but I have a healthy ego. The last time I remembered genuinely looking at someone the way I looked at Elle...
That ego was shattered.
We don't need to go into that story, it's honestly boring and been told by boring, mediocre (bad) writers before. We're not here to put you to sleep... quite...
like that....
you dirty mother fucker.
I'm almost to the good part.
Are you alright with a slow burn?
Good. Take off your fucking pants.
Get comfortable, you fucking perv.
Passion was a missing ingredient in all of the sex I had ever had before. It was always just about getting to the point... which I honestly kind of prefer doing for myself. When passion is your kink it can be real fucking hard to just make yourself cum and then go fold laundry like a normal person. Maybe...
That partially conjured up the kinkiest romantic connection I ever had... but never had... and still lost.
