Asexual 01: An Erotic Love Story

Author's note: If you have read my previous stories - this isn't very much like them. This is a romantic story about two people getting to know each other, and finding out what their relationship can be like. But don't worry - it does feature sex.

# # #

Markus rang the doorbell seven minutes early.

He was wearing different textures of black: a silk shirt with lace edges, a long brocade jacket, Cuban heels and comparatively plain pants.

The door was solid, but he could still hear the sharp clicking of Christina's heels on a wooden floor.

She was a femme fatale in red — a sleeveless mid-thigh bodycon dress cut to accentuate her wide hips, narrow waist and a substantial expanse of cleverly exaggerated milk-white, faintly freckled breasts. Her lipstick was a darker red, her hair lighter. Her heels, which increased her already impressive height until she was slightly taller than Markus as he stood a step below floor level, almost matched her lipstick.

He glanced up and down. Smiled. "You look stunning," she said.

She almost smirked, looked self-conscious for a second, then said: "Thank you. You look... handsome."

"You can say it," he said.

"Alright, you look sexy. Damn sexy."

"Thank you."

"You don't mind?"

"I made an effort, I'll damn sure expect a compliment. Are you ready?"

"Two secs."

She dashed back into the house, returning five seconds later with a crimson bag and a set of keys.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they were putting their seatbelts on.

"Cottage."

"No shit!"

"Shit."

"Wow."

Christina lapsed into silence. Markus paid attention to the road but gave Christina a couple of quick sideways glances. The drive was little more than five minutes.

"Are you OK?" he asked gently.

"We're on a date," she said.

"Yes."

"We're on a date because, after knowing each other for six months, we've got feelings for each other."

"I certainly do."

"OK, here's the thing." She took a deep breath.

Markus swung into a parking space three metres from the restaurant's door in a quiet outer suburb.

"I don't know how to go on a date without trying to seduce you. I don't think I've done it before," Christina said.

"What, never?"

"Pretty sure. Which may be why I've never had a relationship longer than six months, I am prepared to accept that. I've never been without a boyfriend longer than two months, but I've never found one worth keeping. Do you know how long it took me to work out how to wait until at least the second date before having sex?"

"Can't say I've ever had the problem," he said with a grin.

"Can I apologise in advance if I forget and do something that squicks you out?"

He turned towards her as he took his seatbelt off. "You're not going to squick me out. And you're not going to offend me unless you start saying 'Oh come on, you just have to try it properly, I bet I...'"

"Oh, God, I never would! Honest!"

"Thank you. There you are, then. Look, I'm asexual. That doesn't mean I'm aromantic — hence this date — and it doesn't mean I can't appreciate how good you look, and it definitely doesn't mean I don't appreciate the effort you've gone to for this date. I'm not sexually attracted to you, and I'm not going to be. But I don't want you to ever change yourself for me. If you enjoy flirting with me, flirt with me. Believe it or not, I enjoy knowing someone is lavishing that attention on me. Sex appeal is meaningless to me, but I do appreciate someone making an effort to be attractive to me, and I do appreciate beauty."

She blushed furiously, tried several times to say something, then said: "You know, that's the first time I can remember a date has told me I'm beautiful and sounded like they meant it?"

"Then they all missed what was really important," Markus said.

She grinned, clearly finding composure again. "Oh, not the only important thing. But I'll take it. Are we ready?"

She got out of the car before Markus came around to open the door for her. They linked arms to walk the short distance inside.

Cottage was in an old house with many rooms, each with two or three tables. It was a quiet night and they were alone in their room.

Christina's eyes were all over Markus when she was not looking at the menu. Markus's eyes were calmer but also appreciative. In the oblique light of candles, Christina's nipples betrayed that although she was controlling her seductive impulses, she was not cold to Markus's charms.

He was charming: Warm, complimentary and attentive. They spoke of many things — updating each other on their lives, retreading old ground and even, despite the depth of a still young but solid friendship, finding new things to know about each other.

Every so often while Markus was talking, Christina would bite her lip and make a visible effort to restrain herself. Once, she leaned forward onto her elbows, her back bent a little forward to display her cleavage, caught herself, then, with an equally visible effort, stayed in place.

She saw Markus notice, but he kept his attention on her face and seemed to have no trouble doing so.

A few more times, she drew attention to her cleavage with subtle hand movements, looking away, or the way she got up when going to the toilet.

Markus did not react to any of it, although the appreciative look he gave her when she returned from the bathroom did not go unnoticed, or unappreciated.

When she sat down, with plates cleared and desert still on the way, she drew her arms in to press her breasts together.

"Are you testing me, or yourself?" he asked with a grin.

"Maybe both," she said with a coquettish toss of her head.

She cleared her throat. "Look, I'm sorry. I've never knowingly met an asexual man before, and... I'm curious. I'm still working out what it means."

"You're not used to not being a sex object?"

"No, dammit! Look, if I could turn it on and off at will I absolutely fucking would, but I'll admit this is a little disconcerting. You should be drooling over me by now. It's frustrating." She said it with a pout but made it clear she was joking.

He grinned again. "Sorry."

She laughed. "Oh, don't be, not your fault. It's a new experience. I don't get many of them. Not since I finally got a threesome with two men last year."

She sobered up so quickly, Markus blinked in surprise.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, shut her mouth. Took a deep breath while looking down at the table. She spoke without looking up again. "To be honest, every relationship I've ever had has been about sex, really. Not relationship plus sex, but sex plus anything else. It's just such a big part of who I am. Every boyfriend I've had, I've fucked at least once a day. I don't really know how to have a relationship without it."

Still looking down at the table, she added: "But everything is telling me I want to try it with you."

He put his hands over hers.

Her lips twisted into a lopsided grin. "You must get this a lot," she said.

"Once or twice," he said. "But thanks for the compliment. The thing is: I'm physical, I'm just not sexual. I enjoy kissing. I enjoy touch. I need hugs. Inside an intimate relationship, I enjoy knowing that someone is touching me for their own satisfaction and enjoying my body. I don't have any aversion to sex. I've had sex. I just have no interest in it for its own sake. I have no desire, I don't get aroused by erotic things and I don't miss it."

"You get erections?" she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes, interested despite her funk.

He shrugged. "Sure. Randomly. When I wake up, usually. Sometimes when a girlfriend plays with it, which is fine if she likes it but always feels nasty if I think she's doing it because she thinks she should. Sometimes I masturbate, because it feels nice. But I have never yet seen or read the pornography that can give me an erection or make me horny, and I've never been hard for a girlfriend."

She put her head on one side, her eyes just a little wider. "But you have had sex?"

He shrugged again. "Sure. It's nice to give someone an orgasm."

"But you don't miss it? You're not looking to do it again?"

"Don't see the point, unless it's someone I love and it makes them happy."

"But if it was... then..."

"Have you ever given a lover a massage just because you wanted to make them feel good?" he interrupted her.

"Sure."

"Like that."

"Gives a new meaning to 'erotic massage'," she said, lips quirking in almost-laughter.

"I have done," he said.

She coughed. "You sit there, looking like that," she began, but broke off when the waitress bought in their deserts.

Christina gave the young waitress an almost-automatic appreciative lightning-fast once-over. Markus did not.

Christina cleared her throat when they were alone again. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," she said.

Markus seductively sucked fudge brownie off his spoon at her, and got a glare in return.

"So, suppose I do want to have my hands on you," she said, still glaring. "What do you like?"

"Massage," he said cheerfully. "Scalp, foot or shoulder. You're welcome at any time."

"Hmph," she said, turning her attention to her own plate.

# # #

"Come in," Christina said as she unbuckled her seatbelt outside her house. "I realise I can say that without fear of moving too quickly."

He grinned. "Do the voice," he said.

"What?"

"Do the voice."

She lowered her head to look up at him, pushed her breasts forward and said, "Come in," in the sultriest voice she could manage.

They were both laughing as they walked to her front door, Christina adeptly lifting her heels off the gravel path.

"Make yourself at home," she said as she lead him to the living room in the middle of the house. "Have a seat." She waved at a sofa on her way to the kitchen. "Bathroom is that way, bedroom back there, that's pretty much the tour."

"I want to see your coffee machine," he said, following her. "Show me the coffee!"

Christina lit up. She even rubbed her hands together gleefully.

Coffee had been their first online bond, as they agreed on the merits of simple techniques, conical burr grinders, and roasts that didn't cremate the beans.

Making coffee transformed Christina from graceful to efficiently determined. Instead of sashaying, she stalked. Instead of moving gracefully, she looked like a hunter. Still in heels and a slinky, revealing dress, she measured beans using diet scales before grinding them using a gleaming glass-and-stainless-steel grinder.

"That looks even more like a dildo than most grinders," Markus said when the temptation got too much.

Christina lifted it higher to look at it critically. "I have met a cock this big. It didn't work out. Never been tempted to get that much dildo, although my wand is about this size."

"Yes, but aren't they supposed to be external?"

"Usually."

Her coffee machine, which looked older than the house, oozed rich golden crema into a glass cup.

As Christina made herself one, Markus enjoyed a moment of communion with the glass, cradling it in his hands under his nose until it had cooled a few degrees.

"That was fantastic," he declared as she leant against the counter holding her cup like an ad for Italian espresso. "So much caramel and chocolate. Bits of citrus, which I have to say I appreciate. Not too winey."

She looked smug. "Thank you." She drained her own glass, then pulled a couple of bottles of cold water from the fridge. "I hope you don't mind if I kick my shoes off and sprawl on the couch."

On the couch, she sighed happily as she wriggled her bare toes.

Markus was not much slower taking his boots off, and his socks followed. "Here, move up and give me your feet," he said as she settled on the end of the couch.

Christina moved with alacrity to get her feet into his lap.

His fingers soon had her groaning with pleasure.

"Have you ever dated someone with a foot fetish?" he asked as he gently twisted the ball of her foot.

"You don't mind me talking about my former boyfriends?" she asked lazily.

"No, I'm interested."

"Foot fetish? No. But most didn't mind a bit of foot action." She shifted the foot he wasn't holding to rub against his crotch.

He smiled faintly.

She sighed and settled her leg back across his lap. "I've almost forgotten what a flaccid cock feels like. I'm sorry, this is really weird again."

"Hey, I don't share your interest, but I can be interested in it," he said as he found a spot on her sole that made her groan and go limp.

"If you can do this once a day, I'll be fine with that and my wand," she said, her voice slightly strained as her head lolled backwards off the sofa.

"Go ahead, masturbate as much as you like," he said as he flexed her foot.

"You're a prince among men," she said.

He smiled faintly again as he shifted feet.

"You're making me feel guilty," she said a few minutes later.

"Hmm?"

"You're my guest and you're doing all the work."

"Well?" he prompted without stopping.

She sat up with an effort before moving back on the sofa, pulling her feet away from him. "Switch," she commanded.

She was not much shorter than him and her sofa was long enough for her to lie on comfortably, so he was able to relax without falling off the end.

Her fingers were strong and assertive, and soon he was making his own happy noises.

She grinned as she worked on his feet, a touch of the light of sexual hunger returning to her eyes as her gaze roamed over his recumbent body, lingering occasionally on his crotch or the way his pants fell over his not-unimpressive thighs.

She moved from one foot to the other, then worked on both together. Her gaze returned to his crotch, her top lip quirking before she shrugged and settled back to concentrate on his feet.

Abruptly, she stopped and pushed his feet off her lap.

"Come with me," she said, standing up.

Markus, regaining his balance and sitting up with an effort, followed her slowly as she marched out.

The house had a long room, almost a corridor, along one wall. In the middle, Christina swung out a massage table with a couple of towels sitting on it.

Markus raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

Christina lay a towel over the table. "Get your kit off and lie down," she said, putting the other towel, still folded, back on the table. "While I," she put back on her sultry pose and voice, "go and slip into something more comfortable."

Grinning, Markus began unbuttoning his shirt as she marched out.

Dead Can Dance started wafting in from another room.

He was lying down, naked but for a towel over him, when she came back in. "More comfortable" turned out to be a light cotton knee-length dress that swirled about her legs as she walked. The effect was nice even for someone who didn't appreciate its eroticism, or the way it gathered under her breasts like a wonderbra. Where he was lying, he couldn't even see above the waist, but he could see her carrying a bottle of oil.

"You're not carrying any injuries, are you?" Christina asked as she opened the bottle. "Bruises?"

"No," he said, slightly muffled by the padding cradling his cheeks.

Christina had strong fingers and knew what she was doing. Markus, whose feet had already been impressed, was impressed anew. She took her time, worked steadily and, if she caressed a little more than a regular masseuse might, Markus had no complaints about that.

She worked over his back, then his arms, before rearranging the towel so she could start on his legs.

She sighed. "Can I say your sexuality is a loss to women?"

"Only if you add 'and men'," Markus said. "I'm equal-opportunity indifferent. And only this once."

"I'm sorry," she said, while her hands worked steadily over one calf. "That was inconsiderate of me, wasn't it?"

He didn't say anything, which was answer enough.

She was silent until she started on his other calf.

"Are you equally asexual with men and women?"

"Yes, but I'm only romantically attracted to women," he said.

"Ah. OK."

She was silent again until, moving up his legs, she moved the towel to get to his glutes and exposed his tight boxers.

"Aw, spoilsport," she said as she started to massage him through the fabric.

He chuckled. "Weren't you worried about going too far on the first date?"

"Well, if it's not going to be an issue," she said archly, "I just wanted to see your butt."

The CD had ended by the time she stopped. "Is there anything else you'd like?" she asked.

He had to suppress laughter. "Under the circumstances, coming from you..."

"Well, I can hope," she said. "Handjob? Blowjob? Sitting on you?"

He pushed his arms above his head stretch. "I'd like you to change places with me," he said before pushing himself up and half-rolling to swing his legs off the table.

Christina automatically glanced at his crotch, caught herself, and looked away hurriedly.

Markus was even better-looking from the front than the back. His torso and arms weren't built as much as his legs but did have a hint of muscularity on supple leanness, and a tight stomach under clearly defined pectorals.

Christina bit her lip and whimpered.

Markus spread his arms and grinned. "You may touch me."

Christina whimpered again and stroked his chest.

"Would you like me to leave so you can masturbate, or lie down so I can give you a massage?" he asked.

Christina's hands balled into fists on his chest, her eyes rolled up and she made a frustrated gargling sound that morphed into: "Damn you! Seriously, fuck you, you bastard. I'm taking my clothes off and lying down here because I want you here more than I want to come, and fuck you for ever making me say that. Jesus!"

"I'll go and change the CD," Markus said as he walked off.

Christina was lying down by the time he came back, her upper back naked above the towel.

"How firm do you like it?" he asked.

"Do me hard," she said.

Markus took his own time, determined to give as good as he got. Christina was more vocal, occasionally sighing or gasping or groaning or murmuring encouragement. She sounded almost orgasmic when he worked on her lower back, over her kidneys.

He was a little slower, more caressing, on her legs. Occasionally, she shifted as if squirming on the table.

She had not left underwear on. He massaged her glutes as thoroughly as she had massaged hers.

"Markus, stay here tonight," she said.

He moved his hands back to her lower back, just gently stroking. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm not going to try and fuck you. I just want to cuddle you and fall asleep. Please?"

He was silent for a minute, as his hands continued gently massaging her back, easing out of the massage. "Are you really sure you want that? Being chaste with me?"

"Yes. I do. I will give up my night-time wank for you."

"You didn't even tell me to fuck off," he said, mildly.

"Please?" she said in a small voice.

"You'd give up sex to be with me?"

"Sex, yes. Don't ever expect me to stop masturbating when you're not here. Or even when you are here. Maybe when you're in the shower."

He bent down to kiss the top of her head. "I would never ask you to. Yes, I will stay tonight. Now, my offer to you: would you like to turn over?"

She was silent for a second. "What?"

He stroked her back, definitely caressing not massaging, then moved his fingers lightly along her flanks, brushing close to where her breasts swelled out from underneath her. "Would you like to turn over?"

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

Very slowly, she shifted on the table, pulling one arm under her as she used the other to turn over.

Her breasts looked impressive as she pushed herself onto her side, then flattened over her chest and to the sides when was lying on her back.

He pulled the towel away, tossing it to one side. She had not shaved her groin completely, leaving a neat leaf shape above her vulva.