The Wizard's Helper

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.

We're still going to get to the good part, if you're not into it, you may be dismissed.

When I was way too young I met someone who set my expectations way too high... who... I don't think either of us were ready for each other then.

And I think when the story didn't have a climax or a happy ending both of us were a little....

Mind fucked.

There were major plot problems.

The first one being- I had no real idea what this mother fucker looked like and even more importantly - no idea who this muuuuch older man writing these heartfelt reviews on my Etsy page - actually fucking was. It was less a catfish thing, it was a... are you a dangerous person, thing? Are you actually a bad guy? Did I get tricked by the child snatcher? I understood chitty chitty bang god damn it, why am I entertaining this? I wasn't sure if the mystery man was hot like a fire after a cold swim or hot like ohhh shit, petunia, get the fire extinguisher this is not good. Fire bad. Fire... good? Fire.... Is fire.

Uncertainty is NOT my kink. After I wasn't into sexually exploiting my gorgeous friend who only wants to be friends and claims to only be into dick....

I remembered the fuuucking mystery Etsy page man. Bluepokeball84.

Now I just told myself that Blue haaad to be a bad guy. He must be to entice a girl only really legal in the state Blue lived in at the time. Did he do his research to know the legal consequences of his actions without too much thought of the moral ones? At this time, Blueballs could maybe possibly foresee the "men aren't shit" era that was to come in the 10 years that would pass.... But I was here for it, honey. Except... after Elle, nothing made me feel the same desperation.... Except....

No Blueballs haaaad to be a fuckin...

Ahhhhhhhhh.

I kept telling myself everything a smart woman would. Even if he was a good man wouldn't she need to be scared about x, y and z? Why would someone who is 33 go for someone who is 19? I think even extreme age gaps are fine but not until around....25. The brain development and all that. Wouldn't he just always want someone younger, hotter, mailable?

Young and hot sure. I was honestly just entering my prime at 29. I knew that.

It had been a long time since the days where those Etsy reviews made me want to keep doing the work I enjoyed doing...

I wasn't sure if Blueballs knew that...

At first, I was furious.

Then I was heartbroken.

And now....

When I have nothing to go off of but a beard, a bald head and I think I remembered a few tattoos....

I've never dated anyone with nice tattoos.

I was undeniably delusional.

Over a man? With a penis? Thaaaat was not. Exactly. Nope. Nope. No way. I could be a stubborn little fucker.

I was positive I wanted another woman. Some days I'd even go to the beach and look for seashells specifically to give to the next woman who could make me forget all about Elle.

I wasn't interested even in the sexiest woman I could think of that I could run my best well meaning game on. And that is an incredibly sexy woman. Yet...

The eyes without a face of the mystery reviewer who couldn't even pick up the phone?

When we have a thing like FaceTime?

Was I okay?

Maybe. Maybe not. Are we ever?

So I went seeking a distraction from the unacceptable sexual fantasy that I would never admit was potentially romantic. Even if it was, I didn't need him to pick me. I earned my backbone and was not about to let him break it. So I went searching for new distractions instead of getting some real work done because I couldn't cum and again, get the laundry folded like a regular person... without thinking about what maybe the Blue man would be like... he didn't know any of the secrets I kept safe under my clothes... but honestly... how could he fucking resist them? A man will be a man. I wasn't impressed by men. Then why the fuck was this essentially complete stranger attractive enough that I was too sexually conflicted to even get my toys out of the drawer half the time. I'd take off my panties and furiously play with my tiny clit, I'm secretly obsessed with my own pussy, getting close to no where most times. Soaking wet and severely repressed I found myself not so softly screaming how delusional I

was to be this fucking horny for someone I didn't know anything about. I didn't know if the Blue man was chubby or skinny or muscular. Now, I damn sure knew he had the best game a man had ever ran on me before. I honestly hadn't got into chess. I was prone to being impatient. I didn't want to play chess or any other games. It didn't matter. It was too late. I wasn't playing a game. I was knowing down all the pieces. I was trust falling... the risk of being a moth to a flame... a risk I chose. Do we have free will? Was the Blue man even a master at manipulating energy? It started to scare me... and yet... I knew I wanted to knock down all the pieces of the game and know what the Blue man had in his pants... I honestly don't give a fuck about what I'll find.. I need it... and I want it so fucking bad.... I wasn't into calling men Daddy but he... was undeniably my fucking daddy.... It didn't matter anymore if he could ever meet the expectations he so teasingly and more than possibly knowingly set for the sexually frustrated Aquarius rising fairy mermaid daydream of a shooting star woman...

I couldn't do this. It was horrible for my mind. I need to protect that...

but I was way too fucking curious what the wayward almost lover tasted like.

Tasting a man? With... a PENIS?!

Ohnonononono. This wasn't happening.

That mostly always made me feel disgusted. Idk why I've ever even done it before. I neeeevverr wanted that ever again, I was basically a lesbian now right?

Then why was the fantasy of getting to finally swallow this straaaaangeee man's cum the only thing that finally got me...

To fold the fucking laundry?

I'd never been into getting strange. Then you get older and you say...

It's time to get good and hard and soaking and throbbing and the strangest kind of strange.

Now go wash your filthy fucking hands.