Asexual romance

There's lots of talk on here about sex, especially in the context of adult/child relationships. But personally, I have little interest in sex. Sure, it makes for good fantasy material for self-pleasuring acts, but in reality, I'm far more romantic than sexual. I get more than enough pleasure from perfectly innocent cuddles, hugs, playtime, and the like. And I have had occasion for such innocent quality time with little girls I've been in love with. I thought it would be a struggle to refrain from molesting them, but there was no struggle. I felt no desire to even try to touch them inappropriately. For this reason, I doubt I would have a sexual aspect to a relationship with an LG even if it were legal and socially acceptable to do so.

I am not exclusively a GL. I have had rewarding relationships with adults, even rewarding sexual relationships with adults. But sex is something I'm very lukewarm to. I've little interest in having it, and when I do, I usually get very little out of it. I get far more out of cuddles, hugs, and other nonsexual intimacies even with adults. I am not a full asexual, since I do self-pleasure and do occasionally enjoy sex with other adults. For a time, I was driven to be as sexual as others my age were being, in their hormone-driven quest to "get laid." But I found I tended to get more out of a relationship when there was little or no sex involved.

So, knowing I was a GL, for years I feared losing control around the LGs. But when I finally got the chance to spend time with them, I found my only interest was asexual romance. My heart ached to have even that much, even then; it ached to have that two-way love, to know she felt the same way for me as I did for her, and to have every cuddle, hug, and touch mean all the more for that knowledge. But I dared not let any of them know my feelings.

Now I pine for the days I worked with LGs, and hope to do so again someday. Even that much, that delectable agony, would bring me joy. A bittersweet joy, an agonized happiness, is better than unhappy misery. I long for it, I need it like I need food and water. The agony of feelings kept to myself burns my soul with torturous pain, but I feel more alive then than I do without it. And sex? Tis a curiosity to me, like how many angels can dance on the head of a pin; ultimately, it means little.