Wake Up

Rachel was not fully awake when she felt his fingers in her hair and at her throat. She started quickly, then eased. His familiar smell. A groan escaped her lips, in sleepy protest, "Oh, Miguel, don't scare me like that."

"Hm, love?" he whispered back in mock question. He eased onto the bed. Still in her dreaming daze, she inhaled him. The sweat of Miguel's work was still on his skin. Home from the night shift and clearly horny. Oh Jesus. He was already naked as he pressed himself, closer, against her back. She felt his hard erection against the soft curve of her ass, her panties and the nightslip a thin and useless barrier.

She groaned again. "Miguel..." He pressed hard against her again, fingered away her straw-blond hair, kissed the nape of her neck and breathed in her ear. "Hm," he responded, in that way that was part question and its own answer. Still sleepy, she swatted back at him. More protest. "Miguel, come on, what time is it?"

In answer, he lifted the edge of the slip along her thighs. Groaning again, Rachel rolled away from her onto her belly. "No, Miguel. I am still tired..."

She heard his breathing deepen and felt the pressure of his weight as he shifted to mount her. She moved to roll away again, but he put the force of his thick body across her back, pressing her down into the mattress. His hands, rough and callused, were down at her waist. She gasped as he quickly pulled her slip up and away, and swore as he brusquely ripped her panties away. She bucked to raise him from her back, but that only brought her perfect hole closer to his insistent, ready cock. He grunted, and swiftly entered her...only to find her dripping, wet and waiting.

Miguel whistled low then, and whispered darkly, "You lying, little whore." He pulled her roughly up onto her knees and back, deep upon his thick shaft.

Rachel looked back at him, her green eyes dark with her own lust, her face framed by the tangle of her hair. "Did you wake me to insult me or to fuck me?"

Grabbing her waist tightly, Miguel thrust sharply and deeply into her slit, making Rachel cry out. He battered her cunt then: fast, sharp thrusts that spoke little of the love he had whispered in her ear. Rachel whimpered, panted and dug her nails into the sheets to weather the welcome assault.

When he tired of the feel of the thin gown between them, he ripped it as he had the panties, cursing and tearing it from her soft skin, bruising her. Rachel bucked wild against him then. These moments aroused her: his dominance, his callousness, his careless taking of her as if to fill some low, base need. Her tight pussy dripped with pleasure. His cock swelled in answer.

Rachel heard then the sharp change in Miguel's breathing, the short gasps and calls, and then the deeper rhythmic slap of his hips against her ass as he approached his climax.

"Rachel! Oh god Rachel!"

She felt his hot load fill her cunt, his deepest thrusts as if to bury himself in her. Then he fell away from her, groaning, limp on his back, his breathing labored, labored, then slowing...

Rachel crumpled to the bed, used, her cunt hot with her own drippings and his cum, and her skin slick from their fucking. Dawn filled the room with its half-light and shadows receded from the bed. She looked over at Miguel then and found him looking back at her. His dark eyes soft in the morning light, loving and tender, and his breathing quiet with his release.

He raised a hand, somewhat weakly, and stroked her wet back. "Good morning, my love. Time to get up."

Rachel sighed and smiled. "Finally, some recognition that you are not the only one who works around here."

-- END --