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

Granted, she was just walking inside her theater to take a nap, but there's a lot of history to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a year now, his whole aliveness ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental trouble ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, Kid, 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 talk, 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 household. He even planned out a agenda for her :

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

615-645 : shower ( self note : jerk off sentence ! )

700-1500 : Worktime ( pass meter fantasizing about her )

1515-1830 : SHE'S spine, nighttime whoreson ( buy nutrient off her table, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : vigil TV, do work clobber ( boring )

Sleep is whenever : standstill by her window and jerk off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? Inferno yes, he's a certify"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 Grecian yogurt she dusts off every piece of work ? More than a cup by this gunpoint, he's sure. He knew her personal aliveness better than anyone, even her own family ; the dubious men she occasionally takes household at Nox, the nights where she cries herself to sleep, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature infotainment ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS arrest in chassis. Gym five times a week for an 60 minutes or so, always comes back sweating hummer and needing another shower ( Thomas More time to masturbate to her ). Every opus of her schedule planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily act, so you can guess the surprise when he woke up one day to figure out she was gone to"bring through the rain forest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her house for her whereabouts, taking some time to jack off into her canvas, checking every nook and cranny but she was nowhere to be found until a voicemail came in from one of her colleague mentioning the trips.

And what a fit he threw ! He would not be able to see her unadulterated trunk, the way the sunlight reflected off her raw build in the exhibitioner, the way her ass and tits jiggled everytime she took a step ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her things out of spitefulness, smashed some on the ground then buried them underneath piles of trash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the offset workweek he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to speak. He contemplated if life was even Charles Frederick Worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a middling self-destruction note, turning on the engine and letting death release him via atomic number 6 monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look good for Danielle and with a note on the dashboard, ready to twist 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 corners of streetlife, talking with prostitutes and small-time pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending hale Clarence Shepard Day Jr. trying to not get killed by the local Blackfriar gang, they recommended his case to a pill roller, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more confutative bodily function on request. This take down 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 powder, which he handed to him in a bantam plastic bag.

"Under ANY context, DO NOT SNIFF THIS. Shit is airborne and snorting the entire thing'll kill ya…"

The pill pusher droned on and on, but this was really only the low tone in the stalker's plan. The contract version is that, during a video call with her family, he'll underprice the non-lethal amount of pulverization into the air circulation system, knocking her out matte within a few hour. He'll have a very light windowpane to get inside her theater and do whatever he wants to her while her mob watches on-call ( muted of course, the last thing he wants to take heed is her mother's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her house down. In the area she was living and in the heart of an economic recess, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this plan does vocalise 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 nothing to see this revenge planned out.

Back in the portray, he waits a few minutes, his philia pounding and sweat beginning to run down his face like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. Fuck, it's getting hot and he feels spooky even before the literal deed of conveyance ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the completely matter, that little piece of his tortured thinker begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any custody, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her sign. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretch of route, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to reach her humming AC unit of measurement and ventilating system machines. Doesn't help his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summertime on record for the past times few class, and the sweat begins staining his back already. Hearing the sounds of her sweetness voice chatting and laughing along to her syndicate, he sits back and listens for a few consequence, donning a balaclava helmet so that her family will have no theme who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the sneak precariously empties just a fleck of the powder into the palm tree of his gloved handwriting, holding his breather as he moves his stir hand over to the air affair, dropping it inside without a second thought.

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

reverse to some people's experiences with time, the 30 passes as quick as the guy could reckon and without regret he smashes the window by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the motion and shock from the video house, he reaches inside the shattered windowpane and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"sustenance room ”, in which she's video recording calling her family on the lounge. certainly enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the couch, wearing some plain jeans and a T-shirt that left much to the resource ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her naked hundreds of clip. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a spicy idea and writes his name on a nearby stick weather sheet of theme, showing it clear as day to the family. As soon as his intention becomes light, the kinsfolk is cleared of their younger members, the men balling their fists, turning purple in rage as they shout muted menace of violence to the masked sneak. Some have their phones out, probably calling the law 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 hands around her, caressing her supple shape for the 1st time, leaving slimy trails of his own sudation. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, mortal too innocent for this worldly concern or the next. Whatever, the sneak is going to try out to her that life can get real 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 drawers, 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 erecting rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her asshole is clearly visible, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker pulp. He plays with the interior lining of her ass a bit, tracing his digit around and darting into his finger before withdrawing his finger's breadth. He doesn't daring smell his finger and instead itch the scent all over his cock, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her filthy ass aroma ) to slap any opus of visible flesh on her physical structure, including her typeface and weapon system. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really loose, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his face so that he's in line of business with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Husain's W.M.D. are hidden in there ( excuse the initial rhyme ). Tastes a bit like damn, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a year. At the same time he works his finger deeper into her ass, burying his finger's breadth up to the knuckle joint in there. Yeah she's pretty dry, but he has always masturbated dry and there's no level in lubing up for her pleasure, what's even the point. Spelling her name with his spit as it licks her arsehole, he spells her hold out epithet with his finger's breadth buried inside of her, a fiddling fun slope body process before the chief issue. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the small egg white puddle already staining the storey. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the crime scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hand to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the aspect so hard that he's afraid it might wake her up. Other than a tiny, instinctive jerk, she settles back into sleep and he make relaxed his own arse just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his vitalizing substance. The stalker admires his handiwork a bit before his cock is back to full hardness and he sticks it without a second opinion all the way into her ass. Probably a bad melodic theme, as he soon realizes the reason why people always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass burrow and it feels like nothing on this globe, but he can't drag himself back out. His first attack actually hurts, cutting the tip of his penis off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on globe as a small vial of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee tabular array. Leaning over, his sweaty chest touching her back, he grabs the ampule and begins pouring it into her ass to let himself out. After initially seeming futile, he slowly starts to palpate give and he allows himself to withdraw from her ass, pieces of shit from her internal depth clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a moment to catch one's breath, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so soaked this time and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her cocksucker having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this moment can endure forever, but he knows it'll be cut brusque either by his incoming sexual climax or the law. Whatever comes first, it doesn't stop him from rearranging her guts with no regard for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twirl in his thrusting, he makes sure to explore her depths, eliciting a bit more pleasance for himself and grabbing her boob for a handhold through her shirt. Squeezing particularly hard, he tears her shirt in half so now she's completely naked except a couplet of wind sleeve, her feet being lifted off the dry land every time he thrusts. Sliding his shaft completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her face, spraying motherfucker fleck all over her cheeks and crack. By the 10th mo her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her interior probably look the same ), but the overall tenderness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to halt coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random bullshit around her house : trying to calculate every single slice of report from her job that she has left on the kitchen tabular array, the respective entrap pic of her and her menage, the pencils scattered about haphazardly next to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does consume to give into the primal impulse eventually.

Deciding to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few fourth dimension, his pelvic arch bucking involuntarily into her. His vision 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 first rope deep into her ass. The rests of the Mexican valium cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably postulate surgical help to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't enjoy the moment much as he's pretty surely that sirens are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too knockout ) and carries her quiescency body back exterior, laying her on the strong ground while he puts the final stone's throw of his architectural plan into apparent movement, taking out a pocket-sized bottle of clear fluid. This is the final gift from the degrade pharmacist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one close time, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one stopping point teasing bye to her family and he pours the subject matter of the feeding bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to sour on the cooking stove. With a flick of a match, he makes for certain to already take in a work starting line by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole room going up and belching grass. His eyes watering from the sobriety, he sweeps Danielle off her invertebrate foot and runs out of the household, in which a small crowd is beginning to pucker. For all they know, he's just a relate neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the hale truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the gang, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its sirens screaming as he says a few dustup to the paramedical. Realistically, she'll just be o.k., she just might birth walking issues for awhile. As the menage goes up in a blaze and he drinks a bottle of water, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one cobbler's last look back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad dash towards his car, the next few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his rearward view mirror.

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