Rachel feels the little hands caressing her feet, pressing alternately into her arches and following the outlines of her ankles.

She is lying on her back in the spacious bed, surrounded by the darkness of the night, dreamingly facing the ceiling.

Her mind is idling along, it feels like her very brain is padded in the comforting sheets.

Her mild dullness is outweighted by the feeling of the tiny hands returning to her left arch, and…... a kiss on the pad of her sole.

The arms diligently come back to work, on her ankles, her inner calves, moving closer and up, trailing her muscles, caressing her sensitive skin.

The touches feel so pleasant, so soft, intimate.

She shifts the weight of her hips from side to side, spreading the knees slightly, more, opening up the space in between her muscular thighs.

In tantalising slowness the little hands move along the new path, teasing her radiating skin, caressing, pushing and probing it all the way up.

She rolls her hips forward, tilting, craving for the touch of the nightly invader.

Finlay she sences his presence close to her womanhood but the hands hold short of her lips. They trace just the outlines, following where she had shaved earlyer, drawing along the lines and wrinkles of her skin, up and down.

A powerful shudder moves through her body, she opens her legs further, inviting the little guest to carry on his adventure.

And so he does, the delicate hands finaly find her sensitive folds, gripping and pressing along the soft surface.

A jolt strikes through her as the skin surrounding her clit is grabbed, involuntary she tilts her hips up again.

The culprit holds on and travels along and with a slight smack he ends up nesting against her most sensitive spot, like he did in the thong.

Little feet and hands go to work on her still closed lips, causing them to start leaking the wetness inside.

The feet pressing in between while the hands grab and hold on, balancing his advances against her now gyrating movements.

Eagerly she rises and spreads her knees apart, opening up and drawing him in.

Her core is tingeing all over, inner muscles loosening up to elicit the foreigner.

She feels the delicate legs pushed inside, she clenched involuntary, grabbing them, drawing the morsel closer.

The nightly predator becomes her pray.

No, he always was.

The fly finds willingly into the venus trap.

Likewise, her powerful body will surround and consume this tasty treat.

She arches her back as he wiggles his hips, grabbing hard for her clit now.

Like the trap she closes her powerful legs and pulls her prize in.

He holds on, the little fingers grabbing at her hood, the pull on the very top of her most delicate spot cause her to spam in delight, once more, contract eagerly and again.

He fights.

She wins.

His hands lose their grip, as his body gets forcefully drawn down, inch by inch.

The movements are still energetic but in the end he becomes utterly submerged.

She is so heated up by now there will be no holding back.

Her kegel-trained muscles tenderising him with now crushing force, squeezing and pressing the joy out of his body.

Her cheeks and thighs press in a perfect rhythm, breaking his form and resistance.

But there is still movement, fighting her, fighting for her, for her orgasm.

She acknowledges his spirit and grinds hard, her core clenching, her thighs squeezing, scissoring.

Her wetness increases tenfold and she cant´s say if its still her lust or if she has already smushed him so far.

Her orgasm is building up and her frequent clenches intensify while the craved sensation begins radiating through her body like growing waves on a beach.

She knows she will milk him dry, she´ll queeze the very essence out of his body.

Finally, she is swept away by the orgasmic multitude, the emotional waves pulsing and crashing down while the little lover deep inside yields.

He breaks and snaps in her violent assault, bursts open, crumbles under the pressure of her lust.

Slowly the incredible feeling fades, and like the waves on the beach consume a trampled sand castle, his remains diminish in the abating pulses of her still clenching vaginal walls.

He is liquefied and washed away, absorbed by her needs.

Supple satisfaction sinks down on her like a thick, warming blanket, replacing the fainting sensations in her core…..

“chris…., Chriiiissss!”

She opens her eyes, sweating and hit by disorientation.

Her call still echoing through the room.

It is yet dark, the sun pronounces its appearance only by dim red light on the horizon.

To her left lies Ivy, propped up on one arm, facing her with a puzzled, worried look.

“Everything OK darling?

Bad dream?”