Date with a Demisexual Pt. 02

##Katherine

I led him into the most personal space I had, much more than my bedroom. There was art all over the walls, from framed pieces to pins to nude artwork. My futon sat opposite my giant desk, with my computer, drawing tablet and chair. I turned on the lights, moody LEDs I preferred over harsh room lights. I put my hands on my chair and tried not to catch on fire from embarrassment. His eyes flitted to the artwork on the walls, the fan art and queer personal pieces. I even had a print of two naked gals fucking on the wall. That piece was next to a abstract piece of someone's ass. That wall was opposite the wall with the plushies. This room was like peering into my mind, instantly knowing the things I liked aesthetically and personally. He muttered, "There's so much good art here. Is any of it yours?"

I tittered out a nervous, "No. The longer I look at my own work, the more I hate it."

"I can relate to that. What's the futon for?" He was still processing the art on the walls as he talked.

"Decompression. I've found I prefer to dissociate in my creative space." I answered, still holding my chair.

"I usually dissociate in the kitchen. Especially when I'm cooking." He chuckled.

I understood that. I did that too sometimes. He came up next to me, "That's a pretty nice setup. I have a Wacom that's about the same size."

I deflated a little, talking about the technical aspect of my art never bothered me. "I've had these for years. I just keep updated parts on the computer and updating drivers on the Huion. I did have to send it in once to replace a couple buttons and have gone through a few styluses."

"Me too. Though the Wacom is somewhat new. It was a Christmas present to myself after I got the teaching gig."

"I find such things to be worth it. I usually experience a bump in workflow after I get new equipment. Mostly because I've just been putting up with something laggy or difficult. Though I haven't replaced anything major in years."

"So you've been doing digital art for a while?"

"I guess. Only 10 years or so I think. And most of that has been experimenting and finding shit that works."

"That's art in a nutshell I think. 10 years is a long while."

I sip at my wine finally, "It's just a hobby."

He settled on the futon, looking comfortable in it. He looked at me like I was a puzzle to solve, something fun and curious on his face. "Do you do commissions? Or post online?"

Fuck. This is why I hated talking about the art itself. Long story short, how do you tell someone you draw porn for fun?

I was vague but not untruthful. "Sometimes. I mostly draw for myself." It was true. I opened commissions once a year because of how involved they were. I did post on social media and Patreon constantly but none of that was SFW. I deferred, trying to redirect back to him, "What about you?"

He got a little giddy, pulling out his phone. "I don't do commissions, since I mostly do typographical pieces. But I love lettering and so I'll post practice stuff online all the time. Wanna see?"

I was curious. I picked up the phone from his hand. The piece was colorful and bold, the lettering professional and clean. The text was clearly hand written and made to look like a font. It was beautiful and an ode to his skill as a graphic designer. "It belongs on a billboard, on a building in Times Square."

He blushed, "Thanks. I'm not quite that good yet. Though I have done some work for Infinity that's on big websites like google."

"That's incredible. You deserve it. Your work is very clean and bright."

I sat down next to him on the futon and he showed me some of his queer work. Words like *Love is Love* on pastel flats. I lavished him in compliments, "You're an amazing calligrapher and your eye for composition is keen. Thank you for showing me."

He turned red, "Thanks. Spoken like an artist herself. I'd love to see your work if you're willing to show me."

I turned scarlet. There it was. My lip drew in between my teeth. He was a professional and I made money selling paintings of sex. Okay concentrate. Surely there has to be something recent that's not racy as all hell. My last piece was off the table, there was even a cock in it. What about a recent commission? That would still be months old now. My last background piece was like a year ago. Haven't I drawn anything kind of appropriate lately? My last Patreon poll led to a picture of an enby in shibari. Jeezuz. Dio was right. I really was a smut queen.

Tristan got nervous again in my silent self agonizing. "You don't have to. Please don't feel pressured. I was just curious."

It only made my anxiety and guilt worse. He shared his artwork with me and that's just as personal. He's not going to think I draw porn. He's going to think I don't like him that much or something silly. I could already see the gears turning in his eyes, trying to come up with reasons I didn't want to show him. None of them good. I took a breath, telling myself that this was all my own insecurities and bias. I showed hundreds of people on the internet what I draw, including the dicks. Surely I could show one guy I really liked. I should probably warn him though. It might not be his thing.

I took another steeling breath, trying to shake off my nerves. "Sorry. I just...honestly you're a professional artist and I'm not."

He jumped in, turning to face me on the futon, "Please. It's not like that. There are tons of artists who are better than me and don't do it for a living. I also just do simple shapes and words. I can't draw animals or people for shit."

I swallowed. "Thanks. I draw people, actually. Lots of queer people."

"That sounds amazing."

"I really like drawing expressions and humanoid creatures. That's what started all of this. I like giving representation to queer people and people of color in art where it's rare to see. I like showing appreciation for their bodies and identities through art, celebrating their...sexuality and love for each other." Goddess it sounded like I was romanticizing my art. I mean everything I drew was consensual and wholesome, even the heavy kink. That is how I felt about it. I wanted to show the complexity in queer intimacy, in polyamory and in kink. I wanted to shed clear, positive light on it, promoting good sexual health. Which is why I drew a lot of condoms, a lot of body hair and diverse bodies.

"The world needs more all that, honestly." He said thoughtfully.

I just came out with it. I was making it a bigger deal than it was. "I draw queer, kinky erotic art."

He looked at me, brain processing all this. I basically just told him I draw porn. Which was stigmatized in the art community. I'm sure he had seen his fair share of trans fetishization in art forums too. It infuriated me, the misrepresentation there.

His voice was small, "When you say erotic art, do you mean like nudes?"

God this was a rabbit hole. My anxiety was pinging high too. "Yes. Also people having sex. People being intimate with another. People being tied up. Impact play. Etc."

It was silent for a moment and I took another sip of wine.

Finally, bashfully he asked, "Can I see?"

My anxiety was hitting the fuck it stage. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my drive. The poll piece with the enby in rope would be a good piece to show him. It was popular online. I pulled the artwork up and passed him the phone. He sucked in a breath. I tried not to think about it. I drained my wine, finally having the stomach space for the liquid. He followed suit, his glass empty.

He passed back the phone, red all the way to his ears. "That's incredibly hot, Katherine. It's venerate and romantic. I especially like the flowers in the ropes."

I uttered a quick, "Thanks." I used the wine as an excuse to escape the room with him. I took a few breaths, pushing my anxiety out the soles of my feet. I grounded myself and poured more wine.

He met me at the threshold to the studio door. He was still red and his voice was tinged with guilt, "I should probably get going."

My mom reflexes kicked in, "Are you okay?"

He averted his gaze, "Yeah. I'm just really hard right now and I told myself I wouldn't ask you for sex."

His words were like a drop kick to my stomach. He wasn't embarrassed. He was turned on. A lot. All my anxiety rushed out of me, leaving me speechless before him. A switch kicked on in my brain, all the desire my brain has been trying desperately to ignore for hours came alive all at once. And goddess my skin burned with it, my pussy ached with it and my body screamed for him. I had been ignoring my want of him for weeks, trying to focus on getting to know him. I tried desperately not to think of the way his mouth tasted, the way his hands felt on my skin. I knew myself enough to know what my Demi-brain would accept at this point. I still couldn't take off my clothes. I still couldn't let him go down on me. But I would give anything to put my mouth on his cock. My pussy clenched at the very thought of it.

My eyes drifted up only to catch him staring at my cleavage. He looked away.

I clearly wasn't thinking when I blurted, "You should let me take responsibility for it. Since I'm the reason you're so hard."

He said my name as I went back into the studio. I put the glasses down. I sat down on the futon again. Goddess I was a mess. I backpedaled, "Sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything."

He took a couple steps in, then stopped, "What do you mean responsibility? I'm just horny all the time because of the T."

I scrunched my shoulders together. My own arousal was making my words smoother than they would have been. "Yes. But right now, you're hard because of that picture. That I drew."

He sat down next to me. "Not just the picture Katherine. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

My brain guttered. I stared at the grey carpet in my studio.

He continued, rubbing at his fingers, "I've loved talking to you, being able to text you. You're funny and sexy. I don't want to ruin that because..."

I cut him off with my own admission, "I feel the same. I find you intensely attractive. I haven't been able to get you out of my head. The way you kissed me and touched me."

His breath hitched and his eyes fell to my cleavage again.

My horny brain won. Amid the anxiety and messy Demi feelings, my desire won out. I wanted him in my mouth so bad, it twisted my guts into knots. My body was alight with my desire of him, painfully pulling my skin away from my bones. I pulled my dress down so he could look at more of my tits pushed up in my bra. "You aren't asking me. I'm offering." I paused leaning toward him with my lips parted. I shook in my need of him. "So may I please suck your cock, Tristan?"

He stopped breathing. His fingers twitched and his lips opened. He asked, "May I touch your face, Katherine?"

I nodded, my heart blooming at his question. Even in his raging desire, he still asked. His hands took my face and he begged, "God. Please Katherine. Please suck my dick."

I slipped to the floor on my knees. I put my hands on his thighs. I didn't have the patience to fool around. I reached up his pants, taking the button at the waist in my fingers. I slowly unbuttoned his khakis and unzipped them. He was wearing cute unicorn boxers. Of course he was. I had the presence of mind to ask, "Do you get bottom dysphoria with oral sex?"

He shook his head, "Just no fingering okay?"

I nodded. I remembered something else. "Do you want me to use a dental dam?"

He said, "If you want to. I tested negative on my last test which was 2 months ago and I haven't slept with anyone else."

I remembered he mentioned this before. I said, "I'm fine without it if you are."

He nodded and I slid his pants off. Oh goddess above. His legs were shapely with all the hiking he did and smattered with fine brown hair. His ankle length socks were striped blue and pink. A trail of curly brown hair descended to a patch above the v leading to between his legs. He held his sweater just slightly below his belly button, self-conscious of the binder. He was sexy as fuck. It made me want him even more.

I started my worship of his body with the tops of his thighs. I planted heavy kisses on his skin, warm and reddened with his arousal. I kissed a trail up his legs, swift and pressing. I beckoned him to scoot forward. I slowly opened his knees. He was slick and hard, his body demanding his release. His flesh was glazed with his wetness and engorged with blood. It was gorgeous and tempting, practically begging me to put my mouth on him. I gently nipped the insides of his thighs. His hand caressed my cheek, sliding down my jaw. I caught his fingers with my lips, holding his eyes as I put those fingers in my mouth. I was teasing him and I knew it. I sucked on his fingers, feeling them press against my tongue. He didn't know it was a tease for me too. I pressed my thumb into his hair, slowly sliding it down his labia and slit. He shuddered, his fingers curling against my tongue and toes curling. I let his fingers touch my tonsils, feeling how deep I could go. He moaned my name, sending a pulse through my cunt.

I took the entirety of my tongue and licked him from taint to pubes. Goddess he tasted good. He was all salt and sugar, syrup and something heady, human. He shook and noise escaped his throat. He would never think he was unattractive if he could see himself the way he looked above me. I teased his slit, tonguing the lips there to catch more of his wetness on the tip. I couldn't get enough of the way he tasted. I kissed his bottom lips with mine, lavishing him in my love of his body. I took my tongue up him again, this time stopping to suckle on his folds. His voice barked, "God you are a tease."

He wasn't wrong. I was teasing him, drawing out the time before my tongue touched his cock. I gave him some more kissing and suckling before I gave him what he really wanted. I spread his sopping folds and admired his cock. He was so fucking hot and I couldn't wait to hear him yell in pleasure. I glided my tongue along his folds, tasting more of him and grazing his urethra before landing on his stiff cock. I gave it the smallest, gentlest lap of my tongue. He almost came out of his skin, his moan echoing off the walls of my studio. He gripped the futon as his back arched. I started slow, licking him in small steady strokes. I put my hand on his stomach and pushed him back so he could watch me work. I was dripping in my panties, my mouth on him making me hard and wet just like him. I swirled my tongue around his dick, listening for changes in his voice. I sucked on him a little, gently just with my lips. His voice was breathy, loud and constant as I pleasured him with my mouth. I moved my tongue around his dick, feeling which angle would drive him over the edge. He sat up, caressing my hair. I ran my tongue directly over his dick again, teasing it with the tip of my tongue. He cried out again, his hand gripping my hair.

I teased that dick of his until he couldn't breathe. Then I spat on my fingers and massaged the entrance between his cheeks. He cursed, "Fuck, Katherine." I would totally rim him too but I would have to ask permission and my mouth was busy. He mewled, "Please...please let me touch your tits."

I stopped my tongue long enough to say, "Clothes on." I went back to flicking my tongue over his cock. His hands wandered down my front until they found the orbs on my chest. He gripped me roughly, causing me to pant on his dick. He squeezed my breasts in his fingers as I licked his cock.

He held my head up, "Let me look at you." My eyes were swimming in my own arousal, my lips and chin covered in his precum. I bit my lip as I stared at his pretty amber eyes. His eyes roamed my face and drove down to my tits. He took my cleavage in his grip and I heaved a breath. "Are you turned on, Katherine?"

I couldn't lie. I breathed a, "Yes."

"Why?" It was a purr.

I gave him a seductive look, "I like sucking your dick. You taste incredible."

He hissed in a tight breath, his face red and eyes shining. I went back to tongue kissing his dick and massaging his entrance.

I found his spot, flicking his cock on it's side with my tongue. He whined as I drove him onto a ledge. I focused on that spot, licking with vigor as I found my prize. He gripped my hair, his legs tensing as he arched his back. I wouldn't let up my tongue lashing until he came. He did. Oh goddess he did. He fucking yelled as he found his orgasm in my mouth. His body bent as his toes curled. I watched his groin pulse and twitch as he came in waves. His red face was scrunched in rapture as he rode his orgasm out. When it finally let him go, he slumped against the futon, breathing hard. I licked his cum from my lips, from my chin. He cursed again.

I was definitely going to be stiff, the arthritis in my back and knees barking from the position I was in. I grunted hard as I got to my feet. He looked at me in his afterglow, peaking and languid. "You alright."

I chuckled, "Yeah. Just an old lady." I stretched my arms and back.

"That was amazing. Like fucking hell, where did learn to use your mouth like that?" He gave me his praise as he stretched his legs.

"Practice makes perfect. It helps that I enjoy doing it." I finally got the barking to stop, stretching the stiffness from my limbs.

He pulled on his pants. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

I nodded. He kissed me gently, chastely. Then he kissed me hard, letting me know how much he appreciated what I did for him. He held my face and said against my lips, "God. Please Katherine let me do that for you sometime."

I smiled, thinking it might be sometime soon.