Silence

It's the little things that count. By themselves, each little thing is nothing, but once they all run together in a chain they can add up to a chance that may not come your way again. As far as Peter was concerned, that chance had come.

It was a hot and muggy night. Because of that Michelle had gone to bed with her window open, hoping the slight breeze would help cool her down. It was far too hot to use blankets, and her restless tossing had caused the sheet to drift away. The barest minimum of lacy baby-doll pyjamas was all she wore, and at times she felt that was too much. She slept, but lightly.

Peter had intended to be back at the boarding house about ten, but a signal failure had left him stranded for a while, and it was nearly midnight when he finally got home. The moon was full and the breeze was now an intermittently gusty wind.

Entering via the front door, a gust blew past him, surging happily down the hall and pushing at the doors. One door wasn't properly closed and opened with a little sigh.

Ever considerate of others, Peter reached for the door to reclose it as he passed. He glanced in as he did so, and that's when all those little things came together.

In the light of the moon he could see Michelle, asleep on her bed. After all her tossing and turning she had finished up on her face, knees bent under her and lifting her bottom into the air. Her baby doll pyjama top had somehow rolled itself up over her breasts, leaving them on full display to Peter's interested gaze.

As far as Peter was concerned, she was doing everything but giving him a written invitation, and he decided not to wait for that. He quietly closed the door - behind him.

Quietly stripping, Peter studied Michelle, planning his line of attack.

Actually, attack is rather a harsh word. Instead, let me say, Peter studied Michelle, trying to determine the best course of action to bring the greatest pleasure to both of them.

Sitting carefully on the side of the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping girl, Peter reached out and gently stroked Michelle's pussy through her baby doll pants. Not hurrying, he lightly scratched against the material, causing little tremors of sensation to ease their way into Michelle's sleeping mind.

Still sleeping, Michelle's body reacted, pressing lightly back against that insidious touch, seeking something more. Peter continued his feather-light assault while Michelle, without realising it, succumbed to the pleasure of it. Her dreams started moving in exciting directions.

Observing that Michelle was starting to move restlessly on the bed, Peter took the chance to ease her pants down. No panties under them, he noted happily. That would make things easier. Now he was able to play with her bare flesh, and had a better idea of where to touch.

Minutes passed while Peter continued his slow tantalising torment. Michelle was gasping slightly and muttering in her sleep, and a finger slipping inside her was met by damp heat and a restless squirming against him.

His erection truly ready for what was going to happen, Peter eased slowly behind Michelle, taking his time so as to not rouse her in an untimely manner. Finally he was in position.

Edging forward, Peter pressed his cock gently against Michelle's slit. Her lips were pursed and open, inviting him in. Gently he eased deeper into her. Finally in full possession of his prize, Peter started a slow pumping, relishing the way her pussy clung to his cock as he moved.

Michelle slowly woke, feeling strange. She'd had wet dreams before, but these had been something else again. She could still feel a man inside her, pleasing her. As she roused further from her sleep, she gave a horrified gasp.

She could still feel a man inside her because there was! Someone was having sex with her while she was sleeping!

Michelle gave a squeal, trying to work out what the hell was happening. She could feel someone taking his pleasure from her, apparently in no hurry, as he was just sliding in and out of her pussy and taking his own damn time about it. What was worse, she was being betrayed by her own body and was rocking in time to those sweet gentle thrusts.

Setting her hands firmly against the bed Michelle pushed upwards, hoping to dislodge whoever it was. What actually happened was that her hips stayed precisely where they were, a prisoner to the man pressing into her, while her chest cleared the bed. Not slow to take even further advantage of her, a pair of arms closed around her, hands clasping her breasts and squeezing them.

A slightly harder thrust had Michelle tumbling back down to the bed, her face hitting the pillow. Now her lover was leaning more heavily against her, preventing her from rising again, while his hands continued fondling her breasts and rubbing her nipples, while he had apparently not missed a stroke. He was still doing those long slow incursions, sinking deep into her body with each thrust, while to her chagrin, her body continued to rise to meet him, enjoying the feelings that were being engendered within her.

Twisting her head free from the pillow, Michelle tried to look behind her to see who was doing this to her. All she could see was a large shadow draped across her, moving in time to that slow pounding that was not so slowly driving her wild.

"Stop it!" she yelled, or at least tried to yell. The sensations flooding her seemed to be taking over her whole body, and it was all she could do to gasp out her plea.

"Who are you?" she begged to know. Once she found out, someone was going to have a tragic accident. She swore this would be so. And still that relentless motion rocked her, bringing here unwanted pleasure, and leaving her feeling helpless to fight it.

It wasn't that she was helpless to fight it, Michelle knew. It was just that her body didn't want to fight it, and was actively cooperating in her ravishment. She made a sound from deep in her throat, and even she couldn't tell if it was a groan of fury or a moan of pleasure.

Peter was enjoying himself. Since Michelle had woken she had become a lot more active, twisting and squirming under him, bringing more pleasure to him with her every movement. She'd made one or two token protests but now she was lying there, her bottom bobbing happily as her pussy accepted his homage to her womanhood.

Listening to the frustrated little mews escaping from Michelle, Peter guessed that she was ready to climax. Smiling he slowed the rate at which he loved her.

Michelle could feel her climax approaching. Very soon, she hoped, this would all be over and she'd be able to find out who this bastard was. She was going to kill him, truly she was. Soon, she thought, her climax in view.

When her assailant slowed slightly, Michelle was taken by surprise. Her climax was hovering there, leaving her balanced on a knife edge, but instead of driving home into her to help push her over, suddenly she was being held there, tantalisingly dancing on the brink, while desperate to topple over.

Peter grinned as he felt Michelle trying to hasten her coming. Idly, he wondered how long he could hold her there. Grinning, he worked at finding out, adjusting the speed and depths of his strokes, keeping her hovering on that excruciating edge.

All Michelle's attention was now on that cock that seemed to have balanced her on a needle point and left her there, just seeming to give her an extra touch whenever she seemed likely to fall. She was openly pleading now, desperate for that last push but unable to work out how to get it.

The slow torment continued, as Peter stroked slowly away, keeping up just enough friction to hold Michelle on the verge, leaving Michelle almost weeping with the pleasure of it.

Peter finally succumbed. Unable to control his own climax any longer he suddenly drove in hard and fast, squeezing Michelle's breasts hard at the same time. Ejaculating explosively, he flooded her while driving her over the edge into her own orgasm.

Michelle felt that first hard thrust with relief, happily toppling of the edge and into the abyss of her own climax. She could faintly hear herself screaming into the pillow while her lover pounded out his message of glory against her pussy, sending her into paroxysms of delight.

Michelle lay on the bed trembling, the after effects of the sex slowly draining away, leaving her glowing but lethargic and half asleep. Slowly realising that she was free to move, Michelle's hand darted out to switch on the bedside light, sitting up at the same time, her fury surging to the fore.

And there was no-one to vent it on. Whoever it was had gone while she'd been lying there relishing the glow. She had no idea who it was. One of the tenants or just someone who'd come in through the window? A friend or a burglar? And she had no way to find out. All she had was a silhouette of a largish man.

She didn't even have a voice to try and match. For the entire time he was ravishing her, her assailant hadn't said a single word. He had just appeared, ravished her, and then disappeared, all in silence.

"A ninja," she decided bitterly. "Striking out of the night and then returning to it."

Lying down, she slept.