First post. Long time writer new to writing erotica. Would appreciate all feedback. Backstory: I've recently remet an old flame and it's absolute fire. I've been writing some really fucked up NC shit for her to hit both our buttons and it's been great. But as a writer I felt the need to branch out. I haven't sent this to her yet because I don't want to scare her off. Hah - dark af rape scenes? Yes please! Cosy erotica suggesting emotional entanglement? Let's slow this shit down!

Joking, it's fantastic with her and all is going well. But that's where this came from, a place of love and desire for a shared future, whatever that entails.

It was a milder Winter's afternoon and the watery sunlight carried enough warmth to make me roll up my sleeves. We walked down the high street near her house after work, arm in arm but still distant.
It had been a weary two months of accidents and surprises, workplace dramas and family issues on both our sides. We were both tired of our own and each other's and everyone else's problems and her strain was evident in the stiffness of her back and the grip of her elbow. Mine was a tightness in my shoulders and neck and a social irritation I was struggling to keep in check.
"Thinkin for dinner?" I asked in my tired voice.
"I'm not hungry," she snapped. I glanced at her and saw her immediately irritated with herself for lashing out and then a tightening of her features as she committed to her mood. Laughing internally at her knowing bitchiness I cast off my own irritation and became a clown.
"Not hungry? But you're so thin!" My Nonna voice is terrible. I turned to her and pinched her side. She slapped my hand away easily and kept walking. I wailed despondently after her: "You don't like my cooking?" She kept walking.
I rushed to catch up and passed her to block her way. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at me with annoyance. "Sorry ma'am," I said in a bad American accent. "Breast Inspection Squad." I put my hands on her waist and pushed her gently against the window of an Indian restaurant. The patrons seated at the table inside looked up as I put my hands on her coat over the suggested rise of her breasts and gave her a titular patdown.
She looked at me contemptuously but I could feel the hints of her smile. "Final check" I said as I put both hands behind her and gripped her entire butt in my hands for a moment. The table inside was agog. "Ok ma'am, carry on." She gave me her finest 'ha. ... ha.' look and kept walking.
I looked after her affectionately as she strode off with what I hoped was at least somewhat ironic posturing. I watched her walk for some seconds and reveled in the sight. I let her go and went into the restaurant to order some dinner.
Waiting outside I thought about her. I hoped - I thought that she had responded to my fumbling attempts to make her smile. I knew she would not hold onto the strictures of her current mood for long, not being one to wallow in any kind of self-pity. But I knew she felt constricted - by circumstance, by obligation and responsibility, and even by me - and thus I also felt constrained in my actions towards her, cautious.
Across the road the ice cream place was still open and I thought, fuck it. I went over and picked up some fancy vanilla and pistachio, by which time the food was ready. I picked up our curries and began walking the rest of the way to her house.
When I got there the door was unlocked and I could hear her in the shower. I put the food in the kitchen and sat on the couch to catch up on work emails. She was in the shower for a long time. When she stepped out I looked up. Without looking at me she walked the few feet to her bedroom and disappeared.
In life there are sometimes moments that last forever in one's mind despite lasting seconds in experience. As she walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, she kept her eyes downcast, but I saw just a glimpse of unwilling resolution. A smile, a softening, a twitch, I cannot pin it down, despite that the image rests vivid in my memory, but it was there. I thought I knew what she needed, and went and opened the ice cream and got a spoon.
When I entered her bedroom she was bent over in the modern human-putting-underwear-on stance, a bodily position seemingly designed to deny all sexuality. Her breasts fell awkwardly, her back curved ungraciously, her legs bowed as she pulled her panties over each foot. I felt something surge in my chest. Pulling on a t-shirt she turned to me. Still not meeting my eyes she said "look maybe we should-"
"I got ice cream!" I said in a happy voice.
For the slightest moment she smiled. "Yeah." I watched her put her sad face back on, sadly. "I'm-"
I didn't let her continue. "Ice cream!" I pulled her down onto the bed with a child's excitement, scooped up a big chunk of vanilla and held it over her lap at mouth height. She looked at me with feigned tolerance, the corners of her lips still downcast. "I'm really not hungry."
Meeting her eyes for the first time since I'd met her after work, I gradually made my face more comically sad. She smiled at me genuinely this time, but I could see the exhaustion in the lines around her eyes. The lump of ice cream slipped out of the spoon and splashed on her thigh and knee and began dribbling down her bent leg.
She made to leap up and anger took over her face, but I would not let her stand, my hand on her shoulder, and stood myself. She looked up at me. "I just had a shower!" Genuine irritation now flitted across her face, understandably. I widened my eyes and fell upon her thigh.
"Oh no!" I cried as I swallowed the chunk of ice cream. My hands gripped the underside of her thighs and I threw my head back. "Oh no! Ice cream!" I began tracing the mess down her leg with my tongue. I heard the sweetest sound, her giggling, as she tried to push me off her.
"Ice cream!" I pealed out in feigned horror. I sat back and pulled her foot to my mouth. I spoke in a voice half-imitating Frankenstein's Igor, or the clocktower's hunchback, "I will clean you mistress!" I shoved her foot into my mouth and pushed her back onto the bed, tonguing and lapping at her foot like a moron. She began to laugh, tickled perhaps by my tongue, so I pulled her foot out of my mouth and marvelled at it, before pushing it to the side, and pushing her other leg aside, and pushing myself forward to rest between her legs.
"Mistress! I will clean you!" I smiled openly at her now that she was smiling too and we shared a moment, then I buried my face into her panties and rubbed hard. "Clean! Clean! Clean!" She was laughing as hard as I drove my chin into her vulva and my lips into her clit. I looked up for a moment to capture the image of her smiling face, then I looked back down and pulled aside her panties.
As every time, I was caught aback by the primal beauty of her pussy and was stricken for a moment with aesthetic appreciation. But then I smelled her arousal and the spell broke. My tongue flicked out uncontrollably for a quick taste of the source of her wetness and she leaned back with that sensation, relinquishing her anxieties, at least for that moment. "Oh mistress..." I said, my bad Igor voice failing me further. "This may take some time."
I pushed her thighs back and held her beneath her knees, and pushed them even further apart. Her outer labia drew apart slightly but held, and her smell became more potent. Again I was struck by the immediacy and reality of the moment but I pushed that existential joy aside just like her panties. I licked at her inner thighs, left and right, left and right, tickling and caressing her alternately. She sighed with a quiet contentment that filled me up.
I settled my face between her thighs and began to lick up and down the soft skin between her thighs and her pussy, increasing the surface area of my tongue each time. I slowly edged towards her inner labia with each up and down stroke and my tongue felt her vulva get wetter through her glorious folds. It was not long before I could not contain myself - my tongue ceased searching her edges and plunged towards her core. Her moan was everything.
Pulling my face back again I let go her legs and pushed them as wide as I could, then leaned my body further in. With both hands I spread her pussy wide open and again was reduced to an animal as I saw, completely, the most beautiful sight. With a growl I buried my face into her sex. I remained the animal as I rubbed my face into her, desperate for her scent over me, in me, filling me. I lapped hungrily and consciously kept myself from biting at her softest parts, despite my primitive urge to lap and lick and bite and chew at this divinity, this source, this mana, my urge to kiss it and kill it and eat it and destroy it and fulfil it.
Her sounds were as water, air, and food to me as I clumsily and without thought celebrated her with my earnest face thrustings. I came back to myself and remembered my intent, so gave more intention to my tongue. It swept down her length, dwelled for a moment at her opening and then swept back up to her clit, and then again and again. For a moment her thighs clenched against the side of my head, and then her legs went wide again, and I took the opportunity to slip two fingers into her. She gasped and I held them still inside of her, stiff and rigid, as I continued to lick up and down her pussy, my tongue as hard as I could make it, my rhythm like a machine. I waited until I felt her tension resolve, and then I began to smoothly fuck her with my fingers.
Her body relaxed completely into me. Every posture and stance and held stress dissipated as her hips began to rock into my hand. I dedicated my tongue to her clit and continuted to push my hand inside her with clockwork efficiency. Her voice rose into short, deep gasps as she let herself fall into my mouth, as her buttocks raised her to my mouth, as her hips pushed her towards my mouth, and I kissed her like gorging. I sucked at her lips, I sucked at her opening, I sucked at her clit, I thrust into her over and over with my fingers, I felt her body thrash and convulse and held myself there.
Her butt fell back to the mattress and her legs fell even further akimbo as an orgasm threatened to rise with my mechanical thrusting and my loving adoration of her clit. She began to make desperate noises of pleasure and her arms threw back behind her head.
Her muscles gripped and released my fingers, once, twice, three times as she writhed against her mattress and her scream went silent and the velvet skin of her pussy thrashed against my lips. I continued making love to her with my face as her rhythms became less frantic, slowly lapping at her juices and gently touching her still-quivering clit with the tip of my tongue.
Her hands rested on the back of my head and her thighs relaxed further, falling flat. I looked up at her from my workplace. Her eyes were closed and she breathed evenly. I waited there for a moment, my face slick with her pleasure, her smell all of my senses, then I kissed her pussy like a colleague and lay down beside her. One of her arms moved to lay upon my stomach. I put my arm around her and pulled her to me and she moved easily and comfortable to lay claim to me with her arm.
We lay there in easy company for who knows how long, but after a while I "So I got vindaloo..."