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

Granted, she was just walking inside her house to take 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 all sprightliness ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, kids, friends, all of it just because he saw this wench at a coffee tree store ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some pocket-sized talking, but that was it. He practically lived in his car now, just watching Danielle occasionally and jerking off to her when he'd apprehension her raw via his intricate hidden cam network all around her business firm. He even planned out a docket for her :

530-600 : Wakeup and do all that cockcrow prison term ca-ca

615-645 : SHOWER ( self banker's bill : jerking off prison term ! )

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

1515-1830 : SHE'S cover, nighttime shit ( steal intellectual nourishment off her table, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : sentry TV, do play poppycock ( boring )

sleep is whenever : Stand by her window and hitch off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? Hell yes, he's a certified"professional"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 yoghurt she dusts off every work ? More than a cup by this point, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own crime syndicate ; the dubitable men she occasionally takes house at night, the Night where she cries herself to sleep, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature docudrama ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS girdle in SHAPE. Gym five meter a week for an hour or so, always comes back sweating bullet train and needing another shower ( to a greater extent time to masturbate to her ). Every piece of her docket planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her day-after-day routine, so you can imagine the surprise when he woke up one day to reckon out she was gone to"save the rain forest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her house for her whereabouts, taking some metre to jack off into her canvass, checking every nook and cranny but she was nowhere to be found until a voice mail came in from one of her fellow worker 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 exhibitioner, the way her ass and tit jiggled everytime she took a gradation ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her things out of spite, smashed some on the ground then buried them underneath galvanic pile of tripe, called her many, many obscene name when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the outset week he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to speak. He contemplated if life was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her service department with a jolly felo-de-se greenback, turning on the engine and letting death dismission him via carbon copy monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to wait good for Danielle and with a note on the dashboard, prepare to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in gossamer. For the next few weeks he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker niche of streetlife, talking with prostitutes and small-time perambulator alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole days trying to not get killed by the topical anaesthetic Dominican pack, they recommended his case to a pharmacist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable activities on request. This disgraced pharmacist, essentially working as a free-lance drug Cook now, took one face at him, said something snide about"stalkers ”, but then whipped up a gram of powder, which he handed to him in a flyspeck charge card bag.

"Under ANY circumstances, DO NOT sniff THIS. diddlysquat is airborne and snorting the total affair'll pop ya…"

The pharmacist droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the stalker's architectural plan. The abridged reading is that, during a TV telephone 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 second. He'll have a very short window to get inside her family and do whatever he wants to her while her category watches on-call ( muted of course, the go thing he wants to get word is her female parent's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her theatre down. In the area she was living and in the eye of an economic niche, this was essentially a one-way just the ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this programme does fathom fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up plan. But it is really representative of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll stop at zippo to see this revenge planned out.

book binding in the portray, he waits a few instant, his heart pounding and sweat beginning to run down his face like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. fucking, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the real deed ... nookie ! He considers calling off the totally thing, that trivial firearm of his tortured judgment begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any postponement, he has his goon up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretchiness of route, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fencing to reach her humming AC unit and ventilation system machine. Doesn't help his boldness that it is hot as fuck, the red-hot summer on record for the past times few eld, and the effort begins staining his dorsum already. Hearing the sounds of her honeyed voice chatting and laughing along to her kinsfolk, he sits back and listens for a few here and now, donning a balaclava so that her family will have no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the sneak precariously empties just a speckle of the powder into the ribbon of his gloved hand, holding his breath as he moves his shaking hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a back thought.

"Count to thirty ... turd should work out by then. Whatever you do, I don't want no links back to me…"

contrary to some the great unwashed's experiences with time, the XXX passes as promptly as the guy could bet and without sorrow he smashes the window by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the interrogation and jolt from the video family, he reaches inside the shattered window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living elbow room ”, in which she's video recording calling her fellowship on the lounge. Sure enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the couch, wearing some knit jeans and a t-shirt that left much to the imagery ... but he didn't need much to opine, he's seen her au naturel century of clip. Pressing the deaf-mute button on their TV, he has a naughty idea and writes his name on a nearby pin sheet of paper of composition, showing it clear as day to the family. As soon as his intent becomes clear, the family is cleared of their untested members, the men balling their fists, turning purple in passion as they shout dampen threat of force to the masked stalker. Some have their phones out, probably calling the police or something. Whatever the case, Danielle is finally his.

His mouth salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking bridge player around her, caressing her supple flesh for the kickoff time, leaving slimy trails of his own perspiration. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, someone too unacquainted for this world or the next. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that sprightliness can get veridical to anyone really quickly. Flipping her top side down, in a second he has ripped the seat of her jeans in half, her plank ass cheeks bursting out of the tear. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently chastise himself for having such frightful anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pants bunched up around his mortise joint and his erection rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her dickhead is clearly visible, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker form. He plays with the inner liner of her ass a bit, tracing his fingerbreadth around and darting into his finger's breadth before withdrawing his digit. He doesn't dare smell his finger and instead rubs the aroma all over his hammer, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass fragrance ) to slap any piece of seeable flesh on her body, including her aspect and coat of arms. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really easygoing, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his brass so that he's in melody with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Husayn's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the initial rhyme ). Tastes a bit like bullshit, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a yr. At the same fourth dimension he works his finger deeper into her ass, burying his digit 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 delight, what's even the point. Spelling her name with his tongue as it licks her asshole, he spells her live name with his finger buried inside of her, a little fun side action before the main event. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the small white pool already staining the flooring. Not caring how sloughy he leaves the offence setting, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his mitt to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the face so hard that he's afraid it might inflame her up. Other than a flyspeck, instinctive jolt, she settles back into slumber and he loosen up his own asshole just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his life-giving substance. The stalker admires his handwork a bit before his cock is back to replete rigor and he sticks it without a second sentiment all the way into her ass. Probably a bad melodic theme, as he soon realizes the intellect why masses always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass tunnel and it feels like nothing on this solid ground, but he can't pull himself back out. His foremost endeavour actually hurts, cutting the tip of his phallus off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on Earth as a small vial of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee table. Leaning over, his sweaty chest 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 give and he allows himself to adjourn from her ass, pieces of shit from her internal depths clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a moment to respire, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so smashed this sentence and in a bit each poking flavor heavenly, her prick having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this moment can last forever, but he knows it'll be cut short 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 wellness, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twirl in his thrust, he makes sure to search 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 yoke of windsock, her base being lifted off the priming coat every fourth dimension he thrusts. Sliding his cock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying shit flecks all over her cheeks and crack. By the one-tenth minute her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her interior probably look the Lapp ), but the overall tenderness of this DoS keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to stop over coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random darn around her sign of the zodiac : trying to depend every exclusive objet d'art of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen board, the assorted framed photos of her and her family line, the pencils scattered about haphazardly next to her laptop computer. No thing what he does, he does suffer to contribute into the primal urges eventually.

Deciding to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few times, his hips bucking involuntarily into her. His vision blurred a bit by hallucinatory maven 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 first rophy deep into her ass. The rests of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably require operative help to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't delight the second much as he's pretty for certain that femme fatale are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too firmly ) and carries her dormancy body back outside, laying her on the hard solid ground while he puts the final exam step of his architectural plan into movement, taking out a humble bottle of clear fluid. This is the final gift from the disgraced pill pusher, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one last sentence, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one finish teasing goodbye to her sept and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to turn on the stove. With a picture of a match, he makes sure to already have a running start by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the unscathed way going up and belching smoke. His eyes watering from the dryness, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the house, in which a minuscule crowd is beginning to gather. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbour who saved Danielle, you and I know the whole truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its sirens screaming as he says a few Son to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be okay, she just might have walking upshot for awhile. As the business firm goes up in a blaze and he drinks a bottleful of water, 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 future few irregular being a blur as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his parent view mirror.

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