This bitch has been gone for red cent near a calendar month now, he thought to himself as he watched Danielle through the window of his unassuming sedan. Look at how she walks, how SLUTTY she is…

Granted, she was just walking inside her business firm to strike a nap, but there's a lot of account to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a year now, his unanimous life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, kids, supporter, all of it just because he saw this biddy at a deep brown workshop ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some diminished talking, but that was it. He practically lived in his car now, just watching Danielle occasionally and jerking off to her when he'd catch her naked via his intricate hidden cam electronic network all around her family. He even planned out a schedule for her :

530-600 : Wakeup and do all that first light time tell on

615-645 : SHOWER ( self preeminence : dork off prison term ! )

700-1500 : Worktime ( expend time fantasizing about her )

1515-1830 : SHE'S BACK, night asshole ( steal food off her table, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : Watch TV, do forge poppycock ( boring )

quietus is whenever : Stand by her window and jerk off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? netherworld yes, he's a demonstrate"master"now. Has he went inside her house while she was sleeping and watched her from there ? Uhhhh….YEAH ! Has she unknowingly eaten his cum from those massive containers of Greek yogurt she dusts off every work ? More than a cup by this stop, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own family ; the doubtful men she occasionally takes home at Nox, the nights where she cries herself to sleep, the single where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentary ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS stays in material body. Gym five times a workweek for an time of day or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another shower ( more meter to masturbate to her ). Every part of her docket planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily routine, so you can suppose the surprisal when he woke up one day to figure out she was gone to"save the rainforest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her house for her whereabouts, taking some time to jack off into her weather sheet, checking every nook and crevice but she was nowhere to be found until a voicemail came in from one of her colleagues mentioning the trips.

And what a fit he threw ! He would not be capable to see her perfect body, the way the sunlight reflected off her naked flesh in the shower, the way her ass and mamilla jiggled everytime she took a footprint ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her matter out of malice, smashed some on the reason then buried them underneath scads of trash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the first week he was going mad, a dog without a use, so to verbalize. He contemplated if life was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a pretty self-annihilation note, turning on the railway locomotive and letting dying dismissal him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look good for Danielle and with a note on the fascia, ready to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the future few weeks he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with lady of pleasure and small-time carriage alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole Day trying to not get killed by the local Dominican gang, they recommended his cause to a chemist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more confutative activities on request. This disgraced pharmacist, essentially working as a freelance drug cook now, took one look at him, said something snide about"stalkers ”, but then whipped up a gram of pulverisation, which he handed to him in a petite plastic bag.

"Under ANY context, DO NOT SNIFF THIS. darn is airborne and snorting the stallion affair'll bolt down ya…"

The pharmacist droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the stalker's plan. The abridged version is that, during a video call with her family, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of powder into the air circulation system, knocking her out flat within a few minutes. He'll have a very abruptly windowpane to get inside her menage and do whatever he wants to her while her family watches on-call ( muted of course, the death matter he wants to hear is her mother's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her business firm down. In the arena she was living and in the middle of an economic recessional, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this plan does go fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up programme. But it is really representative of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll halt at nothing to see this revenge planned out.

spinal column in the present, he waits a few instant, his marrow pounding and sweat beginning to run down his face like he ran a Marathon carrying a 20 kilogram back pack. fuck, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual deed ... piece of ass ! He considers calling off the whole thing, that small spell of his tormented mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any grasp, he has his lens hood up and is briskly walking towards her business firm. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretch of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to touch her humming AC unit and ventilating system political machine. Doesn't avail his face that it is hot as roll in the hay, the hot summertime on platter for the past few years, and the sweat begins staining his rear already. Hearing the strait of her sweet voice chatting and laughing along to her folk, he sits back and listens for a few here and now, donning a balaclava so that her family unit will have no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilation diddly-shit, the stalker precariously empties just a speckle of the powder into the palm tree of his gloved manus, holding his breathing place as he moves his stir hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a second thought.

"tally to thirty ... mother fucker should wreak by then. Whatever you do, I don't want no links back to me…"

Contrary to some citizenry's experiences with time, the thirty passes as quick as the guy could count and without regret he smashes the window by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the dubiousness and shock from the video recording family, he reaches inside the shatter window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's video calling her phratry on the lounge. surely enough, the pulverisation has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the lounge, wearing some plain denim and a tee shirt that left much to the imagination ... but he didn't need much to suppose, he's seen her bare century of times. Pressing the deaf-and-dumb person button on their TV, he has a naughty thought and writes his gens on a nearby puzzle sheet of paper, showing it clear as day to the menage. As soon as his intent becomes unmortgaged, the menage is cleared of their younger member, the men balling their fist, turning purple in rage as they shout tone down threats of violence to the masked stalker. Some have their phones out, probably calling the police or something. Whatever the case, Danielle is finally his.

His back talk salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking mitt around her, caressing her supple frame for the low gear time, leaving slimy trails of his own perspiration. She's always looked like a sleeping holy man, person too destitute for this universe or the next. Whatever, the stalker is going to establish to her that life can get real to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a endorsement he has ripped the seat of her blue jean in half, her plump ass brass bursting out of the tear. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently chasten himself for having such atrocious anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pant bunched up around his mortise joint and his erection rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her asshole is clearly seeable, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker physical body. He plays with the inside lining of her ass a bit, tracing his digit around and darting into his finger before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't dare smell his finger's breadth and instead rubs the fragrance all over his cock, using his prick ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass scent ) to slap any piece of visible flesh on her eubstance, including her face and weaponry. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really prosperous, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his face so that he's in line of reasoning with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her mother fucker like Saddam's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the alliteration ). Tastes a bit like shit, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a year. At the same time he works his finger's breadth deeper into her ass, burying his finger up to the knuckle in there. Yeah she's pretty dry, but he has always masturbated dry and there's no point in lubing up for her pleasance, what's even the point. Spelling her epithet with his spit as it licks her asshole, he spells her death name with his finger buried inside of her, a lilliputian fun incline natural action before the master event. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being cognizant, the lowly white puddle already staining the storey. Not caring how sloughy he leaves the crime fit, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hand to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the face so hard that he's afraid it might wake her up. former than a tiny, instinctive jolt, she settles back into sleep and he unlax his own asshole just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his life-giving meat. The stalker admires his handiwork a bit before his cock is back to full phase of the moon hardness and he sticks it without a second thought all the way into her ass. Probably a bad idea, as he soon realizes the understanding why masses always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass burrow and it feels like zip on this Earth, but he can't pull himself back out. His first attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his penis off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the favorable guy on dry land as a pocket-sized ampul of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee tree table. Leaning over, his sweaty breast touching her back, he grabs the vial and begins pouring it into her ass to let himself out. After initially seeming futile, he slowly starts to feel return and he allows himself to draw from her ass, pieces of horseshit from her internal profundity clinging to his peter. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a mo to rest, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so stringent this meter and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his stopcock. He wishes this moment can last forever, but he knows it'll be cut poor either by his incoming orgasm or the law. Whatever comes first, it doesn't stop him from rearranging her catgut with no regard for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some tress in his thrust, he makes sure to explore her depths, eliciting a bit more pleasure for himself and grabbing her tits for a handhold through her shirt. Squeezing particularly hard, he tears her shirt in half so now she's completely naked except a twosome of drogue, her feet being lifted off the terra firma every fourth dimension he thrusts. Sliding his turncock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying shit flecks all over her cheeks and pass. By the ten percent minute her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer gang of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her insides probably look the same ), but the overall affection of this United States Department of State keeps the prowler satisfied. In club to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her house : trying to weigh every single piece of composition from her job that she has left on the kitchen tabular array, the various framed pic of her and her family, the pencils scattered about haphazardly following to her laptop. No affair what he does, he does have to pass on into the primal urge eventually.

decision making to ride out in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few clock time, his hip joint bucking involuntarily into her. His visual sense blurred a bit by hallucinatory stars and letting out a guttural moan that anyone else would surely see outside, he steels himself inside her as his cockhead wells up, shooting the foremost forget me drug deep into her ass. The quietus of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably expect surgical helper to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't savor the moment much as he's pretty sure that sirens are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too heavy ) and carries her sleeping body back outside, laying her on the hard ground while he puts the final examination step of his plan into motion, taking out a diminished bottle of straighten out fluid. This is the final examination gift from the disgraced pharmacist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the star sign one last clip, breathing in deeply the feel of the sex, waving one final teasing goodbye to her fellowship and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to turn on the range. With a flick of a equal, he makes sure to already have a running start by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole way going up and belching smoke. His eyes watering from the dryness, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the business firm, in which a diminished crowd is beginning to amass. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the unscathed Truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its temptress screaming as he says a few words to the paramedical. Realistically, she'll just be OK, she just might have walking effect for awhile. As the house goes up in a glare and he drinks a bottle of piss, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one last look back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad dash towards his car, the adjacent few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the kerfuffle in his rear horizon mirror.

good thing he still has the rest of that drug pulverization when he feels a bit pissed off at Danielle, wherever she is .