Moonlight

Mike, my husband, was offered free accommodation for a week out on the coast. The place was a little holiday house in a small town and was normally rented out pretty much full time. The mate of his who owned the place had marked out a week in early summer for his own holiday and then forgot about it. It was in his diary, after all, and it's not like he was going to walk around constantly reminding himself that he was taking a break at his holiday house in summer.

This meant that when his diary coughed up the reminder it was an 'oh shit' moment. His wife was very pregnant and guess when the baby was due. That's right. Smack bang in the middle of that week. And there was no way known that she was going to be that far away from her doctor at the critical time.

Andy, that's the mate, didn't see any real profit in seeing if he could rent it for that week and told Mike he could have the week if he wanted it. So that's how Mike and I finished up with a free holiday out on the coast.

The cottage was a pretty little place with both back and front verandas. The back veranda gave a magnificent view of the coast. Seeing that view I was of the opinion that the architect should have put the main bedroom at the back of the house with a huge picture window framing the coast.

After we'd been there a couple of days I woke up in the middle of the night feeling restless. The night was warm, it was summer after all, and although there wasn't much humidity the air felt a trifle stifling. I decided to slip out onto the back veranda to enjoy the view and perhaps catch a slight breeze coming off the water.

There was a full moon, meaning that I had a good view, even if there were a lot of mysterious shadows. The moon and the contrasting shadows just added a touch of romance to the scene.

All I was wearing was a flimsy nightie. The heat forbade anything heavier. There was a gentle breeze and it fluttered and rippled my nightie as it brushed by me.

"Well met by moonlight, fair Titania," said a deep voice from the shadows.

As you can guess, that made me jump slightly. I hadn't known there was anyone around, let alone someone capable of misquoting Shakespeare.

"Ah, I believe the actual quote is ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," I observed, looking to see where the strange voice was coming from.

"Only because Oberon was a conceited bore," came the prompt reply, and I found myself silently agreeing.

"Where are you?" I asked slightly irritated that I couldn't see him. He was in the shadows somewhere but he blended in well.

"Right here," he said with a chuckle. "Don't let it worry you. I can see you well enough. The moon's behind you and it highlights you quite nicely."

How nice for you I thought. At least I thought that until he made his next comment.

"It shines right through whatever that things is you're wearing, showing everything."

I nearly turned and bolted indoors at that comment but then common-sense tapped me on the shoulder. There was no way that he could tell that the nightie was all I was wearing.

"Oh my, how wonderful for you," I said dryly. "You can see the silhouette of a woman."

"I have to agree," he said. "It's a marvellous silhouette."

I didn't reply, turning to contemplate the scenery. I saw no need to bandy words with some stranger who misquoted Shakespeare. I did keep one eye on the shadows in case he chose to emerge.

He did emerge but I didn't see him until he seemed to appear right next to me. I mean, one moment I was by myself and the next I had company. (I worked out later that he'd come up from the side and hopped over the railing when my head was turned away.)

I gasped and he smiled. I know he smiled as I saw the gleam of his teeth. Even on the veranda he was standing in a shadow.

"Training to be a Ninja?" I asked, a little sarcasm creeping into my voice. I think that was fair enough as he startled me, appearing like that.

"Not really. I was thinking about your complaint that I could only see your silhouette and decided to see what I could do to resolve this."

I had time to say, rather indignantly, "I wasn't complaining," when he grabbed the hem of my nightie and lifted it straight up. He moved so fast that my arms were jerked upwards before I could resist and my nightie was draped over the veranda rail and I was now showing everything. Literally, because I was facing him and the moonlight was full on me.

"You're right," he said. "That's much better. How does it feel to be naked in front of a strange man?"

I was spluttering in indignation. Being a non-violent type I didn't punch him on the nose but he'll never come closer without actually being punched. How did I feel, indeed? (Wickedly excited, to tell the truth, not that I'd ever let on.)

"How dare you?" I managed to say, almost trembling with my indignation.

"Quite easily," he said, and you avoided the question. "Maybe I should rephrase it. How does it feel to be naked in front of a strange man, knowing he's going to make love to you?"

OK. Kick the indignation, the outrage, and the wicked excitement, up a notch.

"You wouldn't dare. If you lay one finger on me I'll scream and my husband will be down here kicking your butt, Ninja skills or no Ninja skills."

"Who are you trying to kid?" he asked me. He reached over and lightly pressed a nipple, grinning when it promptly responded. "You won't scream because you'd have to explain why you're out here in the middle of the night, naked, talking to a strange man. It's possibly that he might find that sort of thing suspicious."

Looking at it from Mike's point of view I could see that he might. Time for me to go to back to bed, I decided.

I pushed him to one side, intending to go inside, and he caught my wrist and swung me around. Now it was his turn to push me and I was now leaning over the rails, him standing close behind me.

"Just relax," he said, his hand brushing against my bottom and moving between my legs.

Now there's a contradiction. Just relax and grab their pussy at the same time? It doesn't work like that. As soon as his hand touched me I tensed up and tried to push away from the rail he had me pressed against. This, I found, meant that I pushed myself very firmly against his hand. Please remember just where that contact was. I gave a gasp and tried to move away from him but there was nowhere to go and his hand was keeping busy the whole time.

I protested vigorously, even if I had to admit it was also quietly. I really didn't want Mike waking up. I suspect that part of the reason my protests didn't seem to be registering with this stray Ninja was because my struggles were a little on the feeble side. It's hard to struggle with real meaning when his hand was doing such delightfully wicked things to me.

It wasn't as though I really thought he'd try to have sex with me. He was just chancing his arm and getting a bit of touching in but at the worst you could only call it sexual harassment, or possible indecent assault. I mean I was making it plain that I was saying no.

It came as a bit of a shock to me when my reasoning proved faulty. I was taken completely by surprise when his cock suddenly said 'hi, I'm coming in, ready or not'. One moment he's touching me in forbidden ways, the next he's opened the door and is steering his cock in.

I just froze for a moment, which is apparently long enough for a determined man to plunge his cock deep.

"You take that out," I whispered urgently, "or I will scream so loudly I'll wake the whole neighbourhood."

He laughed, his arms going around me to fondle my breasts.

"You won't," he said, "and we both know it. You might have been able to explain being outside naked with a strange man, but not when that man is in the middle of fucking you."

He was right, which he promptly underlined by pulling back and giving a very firm thrust, his cock raising all sorts of wonderful feeling within me.

From that point on I was effectively silenced. Not that I could really attribute that to him. It was more of a case I've always lost my voice once a cock gets underway. I just seem to switch all my attention to what that cock is doing, forgetting anything I might want to do.

Another effect of concentrating on what a cock is doing is that I just naturally respond and assist that cock. This meant that while Ninja-boy was doing his best I was responding with just as much enthusiasm. Not because I wanted to, but because it's my nature to do so. Or something like that.

Basically it meant he was giving it to me hot and strong and I was responding the same way, my hips twerking away and pushing to take him, letting him sink in just as deep as he wanted as often as he wanted.

Losing my voice doesn't mean that I'm silent. It just means that all those little noises I make are unintelligible, which means that they might be mistaken for sounds of enthusiasm, which I'd like to point out that they weren't in this case. Certainly not.

Not that Ninja-boy needed my encouragement. He was his own one-man cheering squad.

"Oh, yes, baby," he was going. "You're doing great. Keep it up. Bounce that bottom. Come on. You can do better than that." He just went on and on and on, cheering himself along, and his cock went on and on in time to his voice.

I didn't even need to guess when things were coming to a finish. I was getting informed as he went.

"Oh, that's the way," he carolled. "Just a little more. You're nearly there. Just a little more oomph and it'll be a case of 'thar she blows'."

He started speeding up a little at that point, leaving me struggling to keep up with his sudden enthusiasm, and then I climaxed. Quite silently, thankfully, apart from a long soft groan as that beautiful feeling swept over me.

He gave my breasts one last caress and then he withdrew, leaving me leaning heavily against the rail, breathing hard. I slowly straightened up and just as slowly turned, wanting to tell him just what I thought of his dastardly behaviour. He wasn't there.

I couldn't believe he was gone again. He must have taken off running while I was still catching my breath. How can you verbally castrate a man if he won't stay there for the cutting remarks? I said a couple of rude words, quite loudly. And repeated them when a laugh came out of the shadows.

I swore a third time when it dawned on me that I probably wouldn't even recognise him if I saw him during the day. His face had been largely shadowed. I might have caught glimpses but not enough to be able to say 'it was you'.

I headed in to have a shower and go back to bed. While I was under the shower, thinking about what happened, I'd remember what Mike would say after a difficult day and it cheered me up. "Doesn't matter. At least I got laid."