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

Granted, she was just walking inside her home to take a nap, but there's a lot of chronicle to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a class now, his whole life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, nipper, friends, all of it just because he saw this chick at a coffee shop ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some small 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 network all around her house. He even planned out a agenda for her :

530-600 : Wakeup and do all that morning clock time shit

615-645 : exhibitioner ( self distinction : jerk off meter ! )

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

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

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( buck off again )

1930- ? ? ? : Watch TV, do work stuff ( boring )

sleep is whenever : viewpoint by her window and jerk off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? Hell yes, he's a certifiable"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 monumental containers of Greek yoghourt she dusts off every work ? More than a cup by this decimal point, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own kin ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the Nox where she cries herself to kip, the 1 where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentaries ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS stays in frame. Gym five times a week for an minute or so, always comes back sweating bullet train and needing another exhibitioner ( Thomas More fourth dimension to masturbate to her ). Every while of her schedule planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily number, so you can imagine the surprise when he woke up one day to enter out she was gone to"preserve the rainforest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her sign for her whereabouts, taking some time to jack off into her weather sheet, checking every nook and chap but she was nowhere to be found until a voicemail came in from one of her fellow mentioning the trips.

And what a fit he threw ! He would not be able to see her utter body, the way the sunlight reflected off her raw flesh in the shower, the way her ass and nipple jiggled everytime she took a measure ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her thing out of spite, smashed some on the land then buried them underneath piles of trash, called her many, many obscene name calling when he was absolutely trusted no one was watching. Within the first week he was going mad, a dog without a intention, so to speak. He contemplated if life was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a pretty suicide banknote, turning on the railway locomotive and letting death release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look proficient for Danielle and with a preeminence on the splashboard, quick to wrick the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobweb. For the next few weeks he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with harlot and small-time pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole days trying to not get killed by the local Dominican gang, they recommended his fount to a pharmacist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable natural process on request. This disgraced pharmacist, essentially working as a freelance drug cook now, took one looking at at him, said something snide about"sneak ”, but then whipped up a g of powder, which he handed to him in a bantam charge plate bag.

"Under ANY luck, DO NOT SNIFF THIS. dogshit is airborne and snorting the stallion thing'll kill ya…"

The pharmacist droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the stalker's plan. The abridged rendering is that, during a video call with her family line, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of pulverisation into the air circulation system of rules, knocking her out level within a few minutes. He'll have a very light window to get inside her house and do whatever he wants to her while her house watches on-call ( muted of course, the hold up thing he wants to pick up is her mother's anguished watchword ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her theater down. In the field she was living and in the middle of an economic niche, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this programme does sound fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up plan. But it is really congresswoman of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll point at zippo to see this revenge planned out.

book binding in the confront, he waits a few minutes, his middle pounding and effort beginning to run down his face like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. nookie, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the factual human action ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the whole matter, that slight piece of his excruciate nous begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any hold, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her star sign. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretchability of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to turn over her humming AC building block and ventilation simple machine. Doesn't help his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summer on platter for the past few twelvemonth, and the sweat begins staining his back already. Hearing the sounds of her perfumed spokesperson chatting and laughing along to her class, he sits back and listens for a few moment, donning a balaclava so that her family will have no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the stalker precariously empties just a patch of the pulverization into the decoration of his gloved helping hand, holding his breathing place as he moves his palpitation hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a irregular thought.

"tally to thirty ... son of a bitch should work 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 matter and without sorrow he smashes the window by her back door with a brick. Ignoring the questions and shock from the video house, he reaches inside the tattered window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's video calling her house on the couch. sure as shooting enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the sofa, wearing some plain dungaree and a t-shirt that left much to the mental imagery ... but he didn't need much to ideate, he's seen her raw hundreds of times. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a blue thought and writes his figure on a nearby reefer weather sheet of paper, showing it clear-cut as day to the syndicate. As soon as his spirit becomes unclutter, the family is cleared of their youthful phallus, the men balling their fists, turning purple in rage as they shout hushed scourge of violence to the masked stalker. Some have their headphone out, probably calling the law or something. Whatever the case, Danielle is finally his.

His sass salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking hands around her, caressing her supple chassis for the starting time time, leaving slimy trails of his own sudor. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, someone too innocent for this humankind or the next. Whatever, the sneak is going to prove to her that life can get real to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a second he has ripped the prat of her dungaree in half, her plump ass cheeks bursting out of the snag. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently chastise himself for having such horrible anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pants bunched up around his ankles and his erection rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her asshole is clearly visible, surrounded by a"sea star"of slightly darker frame. He plays with the inside lining of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his finger's breadth before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't daring smell his digit and instead rubs the perfume all over his turncock, using his stopcock ( now"lubed up"with her foul ass scent ) to slap any piece of seeable flesh on her soundbox, including her face and blazonry. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really easy, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his face so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Hussein's weapon of mass destruction are hidden in there ( excuse the beginning rhyme ). Tastes a bit like dirt, but whatever, he has been waiting for this instant for a twelvemonth. At the Sami meter 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 dot in lubing up for her delight, what's even the percentage point. Spelling her figure with his tongue as it licks her asshole, he spells her last public figure with his finger buried inside of her, a lilliputian fun face bodily process before the main issue. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being mindful, the small Patrick White puddle already staining the floor. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the law-breaking fit, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hired man to cup nigh of it, using it to literally slap her in the face so hard that he's afraid it might wake her up. Other than a bantam, instinctive jerk, she settles back into sleep and he relaxes his own shit just a bit, cum seeping into her anterior naris as she breathes in his vitalizing substance. The prowler admires his handiwork a bit before his putz is back to full rigorousness and he sticks it without a second intellection all the way into her ass. Probably a bad idea, as he soon realizes the reason why people always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass tunnel and it feels like aught on this Earth, but he can't pull himself back out. His low gear attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his phallus off from O. Looking around frantically, he is the golden guy on Earth as a small ampule 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 finger give and he allows himself to withdraw from her ass, art object of damn from her internal depth clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the forefront buried in her, and, giving himself a minute to catch one's breath, poking himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so plastered this sentence and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her bastard 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 climax or the law. Whatever comes first, it doesn't stop him from rearranging her sand with no regard for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twirl in his poke, he makes sure to explore her profundity, eliciting a bit more pleasance for himself and grabbing her titmouse for a handhold through her shirt. Squeezing particularly hard, he tears her shirt in half so now she's completely naked except a pair of drogue, her invertebrate foot being lifted off the terra firma every prison term he thrusts. Sliding his cock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her nerve, spraying motherfucker flecks all over her cheeks and cleft. By the 10th minute of arc her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her inside probably look the Lapplander ), but the overall tenderheartedness of this state keeps the prowler satisfied. In order to quit coming at this compass point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her house : trying to count every 1 piece of newspaper from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the several framed photos of her and her category, the pencils scattered about haphazardly side by side to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does have to give into the primal itch eventually.

decision making to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few times, his hip bucking involuntarily into her. His imagination blurred a bit by hallucinatory superstar and letting out a pharyngeal moan that anyone else would surely see outside, he steels himself inside her as his cockhead wells up, shooting the offset rope deep into her ass. The rests of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably require surgical avail to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't savour the moment much as he's pretty sure that sirens are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too heavily ) and carries her sleeping body back outside, laying her on the hard land while he puts the final exam footprint of his plan into movement, taking out a modest nursing bottle of clear fluid. This is the final gift from the disgraced chemist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one utmost time, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one last teasing good-by to her family and he pours the contents of the feeding bottle out all around her kitchen, making for certain to work on the cooking stove. With a flick of a match, he makes sure to already have a running start by the fourth dimension he tosses it on the napalm, the totally room going up and belching smoke. His oculus watering from the waterlessness, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the house, in which a lowly bunch is beginning to meet. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the whole truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crew, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its sirens screaming as he says a few password to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be fine, she just might throw walking issues for awhile. As the house goes up in a brilliance and he drinks a feeding bottle of water, he sees her kin's car outside. Giving one last look back at his pretty, unconscious mind Danielle, he makes a mad flair towards his car, the next few second base being a fuzz as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his rear aspect mirror.

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