This gripe has been gone for shucks near a month now, he thought to himself as he watched Danielle through the window of his retiring sedan chair. Look 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 history to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a year now, his entirely life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, kids, supporter, all of it just because he saw this chick at a coffee 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 apprehension her bare via his intricate hidden cam network all around her sign. He even planned out a docket for her :

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

615-645 : SHOWER ( ego tone : jerk off time ! )

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

1515-1830 : SHE'S BACK, night shit ( steal solid food off her mesa, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

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

quietus is whenever : rack 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"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 monolithic containers of Grecian yogurt 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 home ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the Night where she cries herself to slumber, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentary film ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS arrest in shape. Gym five times a week for an hour or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another shower bath ( more than time to wank to her ). Every piece of her schedule planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily routine, so you can imagine the surprisal when he woke up one day to reckon out she was gone to"spare the rain forest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her house for her whereabouts, taking some fourth dimension to jack off into her sheets, checking every nook and crevice 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 perfect soundbox, the way the sunlight reflected off her naked flesh 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 nastiness, smashed some on the undercoat then buried them underneath good deal of trash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely for sure no one was watching. Within the commencement workweek he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to verbalize. He contemplated if life was even Worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a pretty self-destruction note, turning on the engine and letting death passing him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look thoroughly for Danielle and with a greenback on the splashboard, cook to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the future few weeks he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with prostitute and small-time pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole days trying to not get killed by the local Blackfriar ring, they recommended his typeface to a pill roller, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more confutable activities on request. This disgraced chemist, essentially working as a freelance drug cook now, took one smell at him, said something snide about"stalkers ”, but then whipped up a gram of powder, which he handed to him in a lilliputian charge card bag.

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

The druggist droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the sneak's plan. The contract adaptation is that, during a video call with her family, he'll knock down the non-lethal amount of powder into the air circulation system, knocking her out two-dimensional within a few minutes. He'll have a very dead windowpane to get inside her family and do whatever he wants to her while her family line watches on-call ( muted of path, the concluding thing he wants to get a line is her female parent's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her mansion down. In the area she was living and in the centre of an economical recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this design does vocalise 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 block at naught to see this revenge planned out.

backrest in the pose, he waits a few minute of arc, his nub hammering and sweat beginning to run down his typeface like he ran a Marathon carrying a 20 kilogram knapsack. Fuck, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual deed ... roll in the hay ! He considers calling off the whole thing, that little piece of his torture intellect begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any keep, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretching of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to reach her humming AC unit and ventilation machine. Doesn't aid his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summer on platter for the past few long time, and the sweat begins staining his back already. Hearing the sounds of her sweet voice chatting and laughing along to her family, he sits back and listens for a few moments, donning a balaclava helmet so that her family unit will bear no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilating system shit, the prowler precariously empties just a speckle of the powder into the palm of his gloved helping hand, holding his breath as he moves his shaking hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a second thought.

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

reverse to some people's experiences with time, the thirty passes as quick as the guy could count and without regret he smashes the window by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the enquiry and shock from the picture sept, he reaches inside the tattered window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's telecasting calling her kinsfolk on the sofa. Sure enough, the pulverisation has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the sofa, wearing some plain jeans and a t-shirt that left much to the imagination ... but he didn't need much to reckon, he's seen her naked hundreds of fourth dimension. Pressing the deaf-and-dumb person button on their TV, he has a blue thought and writes his name on a nearby stick sail of newspaper publisher, showing it bring in as day to the family line. As soon as his intent becomes clear, the mob is cleared of their younger appendage, the men balling their fists, turning purpleness in cult as they shout muted threats of violence to the masked sneak. Some have their telephone out, probably calling the law or something. Whatever the case, Danielle is finally his.

His oral cavity salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking hands around her, caressing her supple flesh for the initiative time, leaving vile trails of his own sudation. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, person too innocent for this world or the adjacent. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that life can get very to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a second he has ripped the seat of her jeans in one-half, her plummet ass buttock bursting out of the binge. 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 articulatio talocruralis and his erection rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her asshole is clearly seeable, surrounded by a"sea star"of slightly darker flesh. He plays with the interior lining of her ass a bit, tracing his fingerbreadth around and darting into his fingerbreadth before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't dare smack his finger and instead fret the scent all over his cock, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass smell ) to slap any patch of seeable flesh on her trunk, including her font and arms. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really well-to-do, 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 WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the alliteration ). Tastes a bit like dirt, but whatever, he has been waiting for this minute for a year. At the same time he works his finger's breadth deeper into her ass, burying his finger up to the knuckle joint in there. Yeah she's pretty dry, but he has always masturbated dry and there's no stage in lubing up for her delight, what's even the point. Spelling her name with his knife as it licks her arsehole, he spells her last figure with his finger buried inside of her, a fiddling fun side activity before the main event. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the low white puddle already staining the base. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the crime scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hand to cup about 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 diminutive, instinctive jerk, she settles back into sleep and he relaxes his own asshole just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his life-giving center. The sneak admires his handicraft a bit before his cock is back to full hardness and he sticks it without a second thought 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 twist himself back out. His first attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his phallus off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on world as a minuscule ampul of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee bean table. Leaning over, his sweaty chest touching her back, he grabs the ampoule 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 swallow from her ass, pieces of son of a bitch from her internal depth clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the capitulum buried in her, and, giving himself a second to breathe, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so tight this time and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his stopcock. He wishes this import 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 backbone with no respect for her wellness, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some kink in his stab, he makes sure to explore her astuteness, 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 pair of socks, her metrical unit being lifted off the ground every time he thrusts. Sliding his cock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her impertinence, spraying doodly-squat patch all over her cheeks and crack. By the tenth second her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her insides probably look the same ), but the boilersuit tenderness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her business firm : trying to count every single piece of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the versatile framed pic of her and her family, the pencils scattered about haphazardly next to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does have to give into the key urges eventually.

Deciding to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a coney a few times, his pelvic arch bucking involuntarily into her. His visual modality 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 number 1 rope 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 enjoy the second much as he's pretty sure that temptress are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too knockout ) and carries her sleeping body back out-of-door, laying her on the hard ground while he puts the final step of his plan into motion, taking out a small bottle of clear fluid. This is the final gift from the dishonored pharmacist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one stopping point time, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one death teasing goodby to her family and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to turn on the range. With a flick of a compeer, he makes for certain to already have a running outset by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole way going up and belching hummer. His middle watering from the sobriety, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the mansion, in which a pocket-sized crowd is beginning to meet. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the all the true. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its Siren screaming as he says a few words to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be fine, she just might get walking return for awhile. As the house goes up in a glare and he drinks a nursing bottle of water, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one last look back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad panache towards his car, the next few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his put up persuasion mirror.

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