This bitch 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 house to take a nap, but there's a lot of story to get behind here. This guy has been stalking Danielle for approximately a yr now, his entirely life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he possess an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, kids, friends, all of it just because he saw this biddy at a coffee shop class ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some small talk of the town, 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 house. He even planned out a agenda for her :

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

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

700-1500 : Worktime ( drop clip fantasizing about her )

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

1845-1915 : rain shower ( jerk off again )

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

Sleep is whenever : Stand by her windowpane and jerk off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her step-in drawer before ? Hell yes, he's a indorse"pro"now. Has he went inside her star sign while she was sleeping and watched her from there ? Uhhhh….YEAH ! Has she unknowingly eaten his cum from those monumental containers of Greek yogurt she dusts off every work ? more than than a cup by this point, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own family ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the nights where she cries herself to kip, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature documentary film ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS halt in physique. Gym five metre a hebdomad for an 60 minutes or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another shower ( Sir Thomas More prison term to masturbate to her ). Every piece of her schedule planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily routine, so you can imagine the surprise when he woke up one day to figure out she was gone to"preserve the rainforest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her house for her whereabouts, taking some time to jacklight off into her mainsheet, checking every corner 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 capable to see her pure body, the way the sunlight reflected off her naked flesh in the exhibitioner, the way her ass and bosom jiggled everytime she took a dance step ... NONE of that for a calendar month ! He stole some of her things out of nastiness, smashed some on the land then buried them underneath loads of trash, called her many, many obscene public figure when he was absolutely indisputable no one was watching. Within the first week he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to speak. He contemplated if biography was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her service department with a passably self-annihilation Federal Reserve note, turning on the locomotive and letting last release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to count soundly for Danielle and with a note on the fascia, ready to change by reversal 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 cyprian and small-time carriage alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole solar day trying to not get killed by the local Dominican gang, they recommended his case to a pharmacist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more refutable activities on request. This attaint druggist, essentially working as a free-lance 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 flyspeck charge card bag.

"Under ANY fortune, DO NOT snuff THIS. Shit is airborne and snorting the entire affair'll defeat ya…"

The pill pusher droned on and on, but this was really only the first footstep in the stalker's program. The abridged version is that, during a picture Call with her menage, he'll plunge the non-lethal amount of pulverisation into the air circulation organisation, knocking her out flat within a few minutes. He'll have a very short window to get inside her house and do whatever he wants to her while her family watches on-call ( muted of course, the shoemaker's last thing he wants to take heed is her mother's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her eubstance outside as he burns her house down. In the area she was living and in the middle of an economic recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to perm homelessness. Now this plan does vocalize 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 arrest at nil to see this revenge planned out.

binding in the stage, he waits a few minutes, his middle pounding and elbow grease beginning to run down his face like he ran a Marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. ass, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the literal deed ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the unit thing, that fiddling piece of his tortured mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any hold, he has his cap up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretchiness of road, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to touch her humming AC building block and ventilating system machines. Doesn't helper his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summer on platter for the past few years, and the sweat begins staining his back already. Hearing the speech sound of her sweet voice chatting and laughing along to her sept, he sits back and listens for a few consequence, donning a balaclava helmet so that her family will have no melodic theme who he is. Heading over to the ventilation system shit, the stalker precariously empties just a spot of the pulverisation into the thenar of his gloved hand, holding his breathing spell as he moves his shaking hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a secondment thought.

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

Contrary to some mass's experiences with prison term, the thirty passes as fast as the guy could enumerate and without ruefulness he smashes the windowpane by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the questions and electric shock from the TV family, he reaches inside the shatter window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's video calling her menage on the lounge. for sure enough, the pulverization has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the couch, wearing some knit jeans and a t-shirt that left much to the imagination ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her bare C of times. Pressing the mute release on their TV, he has a naughty thought and writes his gens on a nearby stick canvas of paper, showing it crystalize as day to the fellowship. As soon as his intent becomes readable, the syndicate is cleared of their younger members, the men balling their fists, turning purple in craze as they shout dampen scourge of ferocity to the masked stalker. Some have their telephone set out, probably calling the police force or something. Whatever the fount, Danielle is finally his.

His mouth salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking hand around her, caressing her supple flesh for the firstly time, leaving worthless trails of his own sudor. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, mortal too devoid for this existence or the following. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that biography can get literal to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a second he has ripped the seat of her jeans in half, her plummet ass buttock bursting out of the tear. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently objurgate himself for having such horrible anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pants bunched up around his mortise joint and his erection rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her asshole is clearly seeable, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker figure. He plays with the privileged lining of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his finger before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't dare smell out his fingerbreadth and instead rubs the scent all over his cock, using his shaft ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass odor ) to slap any while of seeable figure on her trunk, including her face and weapon. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really easy, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his face so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Hussein's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the alliteration ). Tastes a bit like shit, but whatever, he has been waiting for this present moment for a twelvemonth. At the same sentence 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 distributor point in lubing up for her pleasure, what's even the distributor point. Spelling her name with his tongue as it licks her bunghole, he spells her live name with his finger buried inside of her, a little fun position natural action before the chief result. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the small white pool already staining the floor. Not caring how waterlogged he leaves the criminal offence scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his manus to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the boldness so hard that he's afraid it might awake her up. Other than a tiny, instinctive jerk, she settles back into sleep and he relaxes his own arse just a bit, cum seeping into her nostrils as she breathes in his life-giving substance. The prowler admires his handcraft a bit before his shaft is back to replete hardness and he sticks it without a second persuasion all the way into her ass. Probably a bad idea, as he soon realizes the intellect why people always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass tunnel and it feels like zippo on this Earth, but he can't puff 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 earthly concern as a small-scale ampule of olive oil sits on the nearby burnt umber 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 fall in and he allows himself to crawfish out from her ass, patch of shit from her internal depths clinging to his dig. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a bit to breathe, stab himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so mean this time and in a bit each drive feels heavenly, her whoreson having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this moment 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 guts with no esteem for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twist in his knife thrust, he makes for sure to explore her depths, eliciting a bit more joy for himself and grabbing her teat 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 sock, her feet being lifted off the ground every time he thrusts. Sliding his shaft completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying shit patch all over her cheeks and crack. By the tenth hour her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her interior probably look the like ), but the overall tenderness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In gild to stop coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her firm : trying to matter every single piece of report from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the various put picture of her and her family, the pencils scattered about haphazardly adjacent to her laptop. No thing what he does, he does have to give into the primordial urges eventually.

deciding to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a lapin a few clock time, his hips bucking involuntarily into her. His visual modality 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 relaxation of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably involve surgical supporter 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 sure that sirens are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too hard ) and carries her sleeping organic structure back outside, laying her on the hard earth while he puts the final exam footfall of his programme into motion, taking out a small bottle of shed light on fluid. This is the final natural endowment from the shame druggist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the planetary house one live on time, breathing in deeply the olfactory sensation of the sex, waving one finish teasing goodbye to her family and he pours the subject of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making for sure to turn on the stove. With a motion-picture show of a match, he makes for sure to already have a melt starting line by the prison term he tosses it on the napalm, the unscathed elbow room going up and belching Mary Jane. His heart watering from the dispassion, he sweeps Danielle off her substructure and runs out of the house, in which a small crowd is beginning to gather. For all they know, he's just a concerned neighbour who saved Danielle, you and I know the entirely 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 words to the paramedical. Realistically, she'll just be mulct, she just might have walking matter for awhile. As the menage goes up in a hell and he drinks a bottle of water, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one last spirit 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 hoo-ha in his rear view mirror.

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