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

Granted, she was just walking inside her menage to take a nap, but there's a lot of story to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a year now, his unhurt life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he make an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his married woman, kids, 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 raw via his intricate hidden cam network all around her house. He even planned out a docket for her :

530-600 : Wakeup and do all that forenoon metre shit

615-645 : SHOWER ( self note : jerking off meter ! )

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

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

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : spotter TV, do function stuff ( boring )

Sleep is whenever : standpoint by her window and yank off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? snake pit yes, he's a certified"pro"now. Has he went inside her home 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 employment ? more than a cup by this item, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own kinsperson ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the dark where she cries herself to sleep, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentaries ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS girdle in condition. Gym five times a week for an time of day or so, always comes back sweating bullet and needing another shower ( more time to masturbate to her ). Every piece of music of her docket planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily function, so you can envisage the surprise when he woke up one day to compute out she was gone to"save 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 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 utter body, the way the sunlight reflected off her naked flesh in the shower, the way her ass and knocker jiggled everytime she took a step ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her things out of spite, smashed some on the ground then buried them underneath mass of chicken feed, called her many, many obscene figure when he was absolutely indisputable no one was watching. Within the maiden week he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to speak. He contemplated if life was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a middling suicide Federal Reserve note, turning on the locomotive engine and letting death discharge him via carbon paper monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look trade good for Danielle and with a note on the splasher, ready to bend the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the next few weeks he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with prostitutes and nickel-and-dime pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole days trying to not get killed by the topical anaesthetic friar preacher gang, they recommended his grammatical case to a pharmacist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable activities on petition. This disgraced druggist, essentially working as a free lance drug Captain Cook now, took one look at him, said something snide about"stalker ”, but then whipped up a gram of gunpowder, which he handed to him in a tiny plastic bag.

"Under ANY circumstances, DO NOT sniff THIS. hoot is airborne and snorting the entire thing'll toss off ya…"

The pharmacist droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the stalker's design. The abridged adaptation is that, during a picture birdcall with her class, he'll dump the non-lethal sum of gunpowder into the air circulation organization, knocking her out flat within a few proceedings. He'll have a very short windowpane to get inside her household and do whatever he wants to her while her phratry watches on-call ( muted of course, the net thing he wants to take heed is her mother's anguished rallying cry ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her eubstance outside as he burns her mansion down. In the area she was living and in the middle of an economic recess, this was essentially a one-way slate to perm 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 stopover at nothing to see this retaliation planned out.

Back in the pose, he waits a few moment, his heart hammering and elbow grease beginning to run down his face like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. screw, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual deed ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the unit matter, that slight small-arm of his tortured mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any clench, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her theater. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretch of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to reach her humming AC whole and ventilation auto. Doesn't supporter his brass that it is hot as nooky, the hottest summer on phonograph recording for the past few years, and the sweat begins staining his back already. Hearing the sounds of her sweetened voice chatting and laughing along to her family, he sits back and listens for a few moments, donning a balaclava so that her family will have no idea who he is. Heading over to the airing diddlysquat, the stalker precariously empties just a speckle of the powder into the medallion of his gloved hand, holding his breathing space as he moves his palpitation manus over to the air affair, dropping it inside without a second thought.

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

opposite to some people's experiences with clip, the XXX passes as quick as the guy could count and without regret he smashes the windowpane by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the questions and shock from the video recording family, he reaches inside the tattered window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's TV calling her sept on the couch. Sure enough, the pulverisation has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the lounge, wearing some knit dungaree and a t-shirt that left much to the imagery ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her naked 100 of times. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a naughty persuasion and writes his name on a nearby stick weather sheet of theme, showing it clear up as day to the household. As soon as his intention becomes bring in, the folk is cleared of their younger fellow member, the men balling their fist, turning purple in fury as they shout muted threats of violence to the masked prowler. Some have their phones out, probably calling the police 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 material body for the first time, leaving slimed trails of his own sudation. She's always looked like a sleeping holy person, mortal too innocuous for this world or the next. Whatever, the stalker is going to rise to her that life history can get literal to anyone really quickly. Flipping her top side down, in a second he has ripped the bum of her blue jean in half, her plop ass impertinence bursting out of the bust. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently chastise himself for having such horrifying 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"starfish"of slightly darker flesh. He plays with the inner facing of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his digit before withdrawing his fingerbreadth. He doesn't dare smell out his finger and instead chafe the scent all over his cock, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass scent ) to slap any bit of visible material body on her body, including her nerve and blazon. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really easy, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his facial expression so that he's in blood with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her whoreson like Husayn's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the initial rhyme ). Tastes a bit like shit, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a year. At the like time he works his finger deeper into her ass, burying his finger's breadth up to the knuckle in there. Yeah she's pretty dry, but he has always masturbated dry and there's no spot in lubing up for her delight, what's even the stop. Spelling her name with his tongue as it licks her mother fucker, he spells her last name with his finger buried inside of her, a little fun side activity before the main event. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the low white pool already staining the trading floor. Not caring how slipshod he leaves the crime picture, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hand to cup most 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 sleep and he decompress his own son of a bitch just a bit, cum seeping into her nostril as she breathes in his life-giving substance. The stalker admires his handiwork a bit before his cock is back to full hardness and he sticks it without a second gear cerebration all the way into her ass. Probably a bad approximation, as he soon realizes the reason why masses always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass burrow and it feels like nada on this earthly concern, but he can't pull himself back out. His outset attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his penis off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on Earth as a small ampul of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee board. 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 find give and he allows himself to move back from her ass, bit of shit from her internal profundity clinging to his prick. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a second to breathe, knife thrust 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 pecker. He wishes this moment can shoemaker's last forever, but he knows it'll be cut poor either by his incoming orgasm or the law. Whatever comes first, it doesn't stop him from rearranging her intestine with no regard for her wellness, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some plait in his thrust, he makes sure to search her profoundness, eliciting a bit more pleasure for himself and grabbing her pap 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 air-sleeve, her feet being lifted off the land every time he thrusts. Sliding his cock completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying shit flecks all over her cheeks and crack. By the tenth minute her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her interior probably look the Saame ), but the overall soreness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her family : trying to depend every single piece of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the diverse framed photos of her and her syndicate, the pencils scattered about haphazardly next to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does have to leave into the fundamental urges eventually.

deciding to ride out in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few times, his rosehip bucking involuntarily into her. His vision blurred a bit by hallucinatory stars and letting out a guttural consonant moan that anyone else would surely see outside, he steels himself inside her as his cockhead wells up, shooting the first gear rope deep into her ass. The rests of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably ask operative help to get rid of all of it ; she'll be shitting cum for awhile. However, he can't enjoy the present moment much as he's pretty sure that sirens are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too knockout ) and carries her sleeping consistency back outdoor, laying her on the hard ground while he puts the final examination step of his plan into motion, taking out a small bottle of clear fluid. This is the last gift from the discredit apothecary, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one last clip, breathing in deeply the feel of the sex, waving one lowest teasing adieu to her fellowship and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to turn on the stove. With a flick of a match, he makes sure to already give birth a running start by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole room going up and belching smoke. His eyes watering from the dryness, he sweeps Danielle off her infantry and runs out of the business firm, in which a small crowd is beginning to accumulate. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the unit truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its Siren screaming as he says a few password to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be fine, she just might have walking result for awhile. As the theatre goes up in a blaze and he drinks a feeding bottle of water, he sees her sept's car outside. Giving one finis feel 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 rear horizon mirror.

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