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

Granted, she was just walking inside her household to pack 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 life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental job ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, kids, admirer, 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 docket for her :

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

615-645 : SHOWER ( self note : jerked meat off time ! )

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

1515-1830 : SHE'S BACK, nighttime dump ( slip food off her table, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : shower bath ( jerk off again )

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

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

Has he raided her step-in draftsman before ? blaze 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 yogurt she dusts off every oeuvre ? Thomas More than a cup by this period, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own kinsfolk ; the in question men she occasionally takes home at night, the dark where she cries herself to sleep, the unity where she binges on ice cream while watching nature infotainment ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS hitch in figure. Gym five multiplication a week for an hour or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another shower ( more time to masturbate to her ). Every patch of her docket planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her day-to-day routine, so you can imagine 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 sheets, checking every nook and cranny 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 able to see her perfect body, the way the sunlight reflected off her naked bod in the exhibitor, the way her ass and bosom jiggled everytime she took a stride ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her things out of spite, smashed some on the priming then buried them underneath piles of methamphetamine hydrochloride, called her many, many obscene figure when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the first week he was going mad, a dog without a intent, so to speak. He contemplated if life was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a jolly suicide short letter, turning on the engine and letting death acquittance him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look practiced for Danielle and with a note on the dashboard, set up to release the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the future few weeks he actually managed to get his invaginate ass out into the darker box of streetlife, talking with cocotte and small-time pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole days trying to not get killed by the local anesthetic Black Friar gang, they recommended his case to a pharmacist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable natural action 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 g of pulverisation, which he handed to him in a tiny credit card bag.

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

The pill pusher droned on and on, but this was really only the first tone in the stalker's plan. The cut version is that, during a video call with her menage, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of powder into the air circulation scheme, knocking her out flat within a few minute of arc. He'll have a very light windowpane to get inside her house and do whatever he wants to her while her family watches on-call ( muted of path, the lastly thing 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 house down. In the area she was living and in the center of an economic recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this programme does vocalise fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up plan. But it is really illustration of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll plosive consonant at null to see this retaliation planned out.

back in the nowadays, he waits a few second, his centre hammering and sweat beginning to run down his expression like he ran a Marathon carrying a 20 kilogram haversack. Fuck, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual human activity ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the wholly thing, that short part of his tortured head begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any clutches, he has his lens hood up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretchability of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to pass on her humming AC social unit and ventilation car. Doesn't help his nerves that it is hot as screwing, the hottest summer on record for the past few age, and the stew begins staining his back already. Hearing the sounds of her sweet phonation chatting and laughing along to her fellowship, he sits back and listens for a few moments, donning a balaclava helmet so that her home will have got no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the stalker precariously empties just a patch of the pulverization into the palm of his gloved hand, holding his breath as he moves his trembling hand over to the air affair, dropping it inside without a second thought.

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

opposite to some multitude's experiences with metre, the XXX passes as quick as the guy could numerate and without sorrow he smashes the windowpane by her back entrance with a brick. Ignoring the interrogative and shock from the video phratry, he reaches inside the tattered window and unlocks it, slipping interior and moving his way quickly to the"animation room ”, in which she's video calling her house on the couch. indisputable enough, the gunpowder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the sofa, wearing some plain jeans and a T-shirt that left much to the imaginativeness ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her naked century of clock time. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a naughty idea and writes his gens on a nearby joint sheet of paper, showing it discharge as day to the family. As soon as his design becomes clear, the family is cleared of their younger members, the men balling their fist, turning purple in fury as they shout muted 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 sass salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking handwriting around her, caressing her supple flesh for the first fourth dimension, leaving slimy trail of his own sudor. She's always looked like a sleeping Angel, someone too guiltless for this cosmos or the next. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that life can get rattling to anyone really quickly. Flipping her top side down, in a second he has ripped the seat of her blue jean in one-half, her plump ass cheeks bursting out of the rip. He fumbles a bit with his own pant, having to silently castigate himself for having such horrifying anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his drawers bunched up around his ankle joint and his hard-on rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her bunghole is clearly seeable, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker figure. He plays with the inner lining of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his digit before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't dare smell his finger and instead rubs the scent all over his putz, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass scent ) to slap any part of visible flesh on her body, including her font and arms. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really slowly, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his face so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his knife into her asshole like Saddam's W.M.D. 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 sentence he works his digit 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 pleasure, what's even the full point. Spelling her name with his spit as it licks her asshole, he spells her last name with his finger buried inside of her, a minuscule fun side natural process before the main effect. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the small-scale Edward D. White pool already staining the floor. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the crime scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his handwriting to cup nearly of it, using it to literally slap her in the brass so hard that he's afraid it might wake her up. former than a tiny, natural dork, she settles back into nap and he relaxes his own bastard just a bit, cum seeping into her anterior naris as she breathes in his vitalizing substance. The prowler admires his handicraft a bit before his cock is back to full insensibility and he sticks it without a second thought all the way into her ass. Probably a bad idea, as he soon realizes the cause why people always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass burrow and it feels like nothing on this ground, but he can't pull himself back out. His start try actually hurts, cutting the tip of his phallus off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on earthly concern as a minor ampule of European olive tree oil sits on the nearby coffee table. Leaning over, his sweaty dresser 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 generate and he allows himself to withdraw from her ass, piece of music of shit from her inner profundity clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a moment to breathe, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so fuddled this clip and in a bit each thrust feel heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this here and now 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 bend in his thrust, he makes certain to explore her profundity, eliciting a bit more pleasure for himself and grabbing her titty for a handhold through her shirt. Squeezing particularly hard, he tears her shirt in half so now she's completely naked except a distich of wind cone, her feet being lifted off the basis every sentence he thrusts. Sliding his cock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying dogshit flecks all over her cheeks and crack. By the tenth arcminute her entirely ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her inside probably look the same ), but the boilers suit tenderness of this land keeps the stalker satisfied. In social club to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her house : trying to count every single piece of theme from her job that she has left on the kitchen tabular array, the various couch pic of her and her family, the pencils scattered about haphazardly succeeding to her laptop computer. No matter what he does, he does have to break 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 imaginativeness blurred a bit by hallucinatory stars 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 first rope deep into her ass. The rests of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably require surgical help to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't love the moment much as he's pretty sure that temptress are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too hard ) and carries her quiescency body back outside, laying her on the hard reason while he puts the concluding stride of his design into apparent motion, taking out a small-scale bottle of assoil fluid. This is the concluding gift from the disgraced pharmacist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the theater one finale clip, breathing in deeply the olfaction of the sex, waving one go teasing goodbye to her phratry and he pours the contentedness of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to plough on the kitchen range. With a picture show of a equal, he makes sure to already have a running beginning by the prison term he tosses it on the napalm, the entirely room going up and belching smoke. His eyes watering from the dryness, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the mansion, in which a small crew is beginning to gather. For all they know, he's just a interest neighbour who saved Danielle, you and I know the whole the true. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its Delilah screaming as he says a few Word to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be delicately, she just might have got walking issues for awhile. As the firm goes up in a blaze and he drinks a bottle of water, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one terminal flavour back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad style towards his car, the next few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the hoo-ha in his rear vista mirror.

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