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

Granted, she was just walking inside her house to remove a nap, but there's a lot of history to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a twelvemonth now, his whole life-time ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he experience an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, fry, champion, all of it just because he saw this skirt at a burnt umber workshop 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 net all around her planetary house. He even planned out a schedule for her :

530-600 : Wakeup and do all that morning time give away

615-645 : SHOWER ( self distinction : jerk off time ! )

700-1500 : Worktime ( spend prison term fantasizing about her )

1515-1830 : SHE'S BACK, nighttime shit ( bargain food off her tabular array, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : scout TV, do forge stuff ( boring )

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

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? Hell yes, he's a certified"master"now. Has he went inside her sign of the zodiac 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 work ? More than a cup by this point, he's sure. He knew her personal aliveness better than anyone, even her own class ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the nights where she cries herself to slumber, the I where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentaries ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS hitch in shape. Gym five times a week for an hour or so, always comes back sweating fastball and needing another rain shower ( more clock time to jack off to her ). Every piece of her schedule planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily routine, so you can envisage the surprise 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 clip to jack off into her canvas, checking every corner and crevice but she was nowhere to be found until a voicemail came in from one of her co-worker mentioning the trips.

And what a fit he threw ! He would not be able to see her perfect torso, the way the sunlight reflected off her au naturel physical body in the shower, the way her ass and tits jiggled everytime she took a step ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her matter out of spite, smashed some on the solid ground then buried them underneath good deal of wish-wash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the 1st week he was going mad, a dog without a aim, so to utter. He contemplated if biography was even Worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a pretty suicide note of hand, turning on the railway locomotive and letting death release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look good for Danielle and with a bank bill on the splashboard, prepare to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in gossamer. For the following few weeks he actually managed to get his invaginate ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with prostitute and small-time baby carriage alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending wholly days trying to not get killed by the topical anesthetic Dominican work party, they recommended his event to a pill roller, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more confutable action on request. This disgraced druggist, essentially working as a freelance drug cook now, took one feel at him, said something snide about"prowler ”, but then whipped up a gram of powder, which he handed to him in a tiny plastic bag.

"Under ANY setting, DO NOT sniff THIS. horseshit is airborne and snorting the integral affair'll kill ya…"

The pharmacist droned on and on, but this was really only the outset step in the stalker's programme. The shorten variant is that, during a picture call with her family, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of pulverization into the air circulation arrangement, knocking her out plane within a few arcminute. He'll have a very abruptly window to get inside her home and do whatever he wants to her while her category watches on-call ( muted of course of action, the last affair he wants to learn is her mother's anguished battle cry ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her household down. In the area she was living and in the midriff of an economic recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this plan does sound fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up design. But it is really representative of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll stop at naught to see this retaliation planned out.

Back in the exhibit, he waits a few bit, his heart hammering and sweat beginning to run down his fount like he ran a endurance contest carrying a 20 kg backpack. Fuck, it's getting hot and he feels unquiet even before the actual deed ... piece of tail ! He considers calling off the altogether affair, that little piece of his tortured mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any wait, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretching of route, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to reach her humming AC social unit and ventilation machines. Doesn't help his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summer on record book for the past few years, and the effort begins staining his back already. Hearing the sound of her sweetly interpreter chatting and laughing along to her family, he sits back and listens for a few moments, donning a balaclava helmet so that her phratry will have no approximation who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the prowler precariously empties just a speckle of the pulverisation into the palm of his gloved hand, holding his breath as he moves his stimulate hired hand over to the air matter, dropping it inside without a second thought.

"count to thirty ... asshole should work by then. Whatever you do, I don't want no tie back to me…"

Contrary to some people's experiences with prison term, the thirty passes as prompt as the guy could calculate and without regret he smashes the window by her back entrance with a brick. Ignoring the interrogative and blow from the video family, he reaches inside the shattered windowpane and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"sustenance elbow room ”, in which she's video calling her class on the lounge. Sure enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the lounge, wearing some champaign jeans and a tee shirt that left much to the imagery ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her naked hundreds of times. Pressing the deaf-mute push button on their TV, he has a gamey thought and writes his epithet on a nearby stick canvass of paper, showing it crystallize as day to the family unit. As soon as his intention becomes clear, the category is cleared of their untried members, the men balling their fists, turning purple in rage 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 lip 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 get-go fourth dimension, leaving slimy trails of his own perspiration. She's always looked like a sleeping saint, soul too innocent for this world or the adjacent. Whatever, the prowler is going to prove to her that life can get material to anyone really quickly. Flipping her top side down, in a second he has ripped the hind end of her jeans in half, her plump ass impertinence bursting out of the tear. He fumbles a bit with his own bloomers, having to silently chastise himself for having such horrible anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his trouser bunched up around his ankle joint 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 inner liner of her ass a bit, tracing his finger's breadth around and darting into his finger before withdrawing his digit. He doesn't dare smell his finger and instead rubs the fragrance all over his cock, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her awful ass odor ) to slap any piece of visible flesh on her body, including her face and blazon. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really soft, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his aspect so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his knife into her asshole like Husain's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the alliteration ). Tastes a bit like asshole, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a class. At the Lapp time he works his finger's breadth 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 spot. Spelling her name with his lingua as it licks her asshole, he spells her last name with his finger buried inside of her, a lilliputian fun incline action before the main event. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the small white puddle already staining the floor. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the offence scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hand to cup well-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 tiny, instinctive jerk, she settles back into nap and he relaxes his own dickhead just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his life-giving heart. The stalker admires his handiwork a bit before his prick is back to full-of-the-moon hardness and he sticks it without a second sentiment 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 nothing on this Earth, but he can't pull 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 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 take back from her ass, bit of shit from her internal profoundness clinging to his peter. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a consequence to take a breather, stab himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so smashed this time and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his pecker. He wishes this second can utmost 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 guts with no regard for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twist in his thrust, he makes certain to explore her profoundness, eliciting a bit more delight 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 pair of wind sleeve, her feet being lifted off the ground every time he thrusts. Sliding his turncock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying shit flecks all over her face and crack. By the tenth minute of arc her hale ass was red from his slapping, the outer halo of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her insides probably look the Lapplander ), but the overall tenderness of this state of matter keeps the stalker satisfied. In parliamentary law to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her house : trying to count every single part of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the various frame in photograph of her and her family, the pencils scattered about haphazardly next to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does take to give into the aboriginal urges eventually.

deciding to abide in her, he humps Danielle like a cony a few prison term, his hips bucking involuntarily into her. His vision blurred a bit by hallucinatory virtuoso and letting out a pharyngeal consonant moan that anyone else would surely see outside, he steels himself inside her as his cockhead wells up, shooting the get-go rope deep into her ass. The relief of the roofy cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably want surgical help to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't relish the minute much as he's pretty sure as shooting that Delilah are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too gruelling ) and carries her sleeping body back outside, laying her on the arduous ground while he puts the final stride of his plan into motion, taking out a small bottle of clear fluid. This is the final exam gift from the put down pharmacist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one in conclusion time, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one last teasing goodbye to her family and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making surely to grow on the cooking stove. With a flick of a match, he makes sure to already have a running first by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole way going up and belching smoke. His optic watering from the xerotes, he sweeps Danielle off her base and runs out of the house, in which a small gang is beginning to gather. For all they know, he's just a relate neighbor 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 actor's line to the paramedical. Realistically, she'll just be OK, she just might feature walking issues for awhile. As the firm goes up in a blaze and he drinks a bottleful of pee, he sees her phratry's car outside. Giving one finish look back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad panache towards his car, the succeeding few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his nates view mirror.

trade good affair he still has the eternal rest of that drug powder when he feels a bit pissed off at Danielle, wherever she is .