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

Granted, she was just walking inside her star sign to assume 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 unharmed animation ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he hold an undiagnosed mental problem ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, kids, friends, all of it just because he saw this doll at a burnt umber shop ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some modest talk, but that was it. He practically lived in his car now, just watching Danielle occasionally and jerking off to her when he'd snap her naked via his intricate hidden cam network all around her star sign. He even planned out a schedule for her :

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

615-645 : SHOWER ( self bill : jerked meat off meter ! )

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

1515-1830 : SHE'S book binding, nighttime shit ( steal intellectual nourishment off her board, she'll never notice )

1845-1915 : shower ( jerk off again )

1930- ? ? ? : sentinel TV, do wreak stuff ( boring )

sleep is whenever : viewpoint by her window and buck off while staring at her sleepy face.

Has he raided her step-in draftsman before ? the pits yes, he's a manifest"professional"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 massive containers of Greek yoghourt she dusts off every work ? More than a cup by this spot, he's sure. He knew her personal life better than anyone, even her own phratry ; the dubious men she occasionally takes home at night, the nights where she cries herself to slumber, the ones where she binges on ice emollient while watching nature docudrama ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS stays in SHAPE. Gym five times a week for an hour or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another shower bath ( more time to fuck off to her ). Every bit of her agenda 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 jacklight off into her bed sheet, checking every nook and cranny but she was nowhere to be found until a voice mail 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 chassis in the rain shower, the way her ass and pap jiggled everytime she took a whole step ... NONE of that for a month ! He stole some of her things out of spite, smashed some on the earth then buried them underneath piling of trash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the first week he was going mad, a dog without a design, so to utter. He contemplated if life history was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her service department with a pretty self-destruction note, turning on the locomotive engine and letting death release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look honorable for Danielle and with a note on the dashboard, ready to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in gossamer. For the next few week he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker box of streetlife, talking with harlot and small-time pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole Day trying to not get killed by the local Blackfriar gang, they recommended his case to a druggist, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable activities on request. This demean pill roller, essentially working as a freelance drug cook now, took one feel at him, said something snide about"stalkers ”, but then whipped up a gram of powder, which he handed to him in a tiny plastic bag.

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

The apothecary droned on and on, but this was really only the first stone's throw in the prowler's plan. The abridged version is that, during a telecasting call with her family, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of pulverization into the air circulation scheme, knocking her out compressed within a few minutes. He'll have a very little window to get inside her house and do whatever he wants to her while her family watches on-call ( muted of course, the finish affair he wants to hear is her mother's anguished watchword ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her body outside as he burns her firm down. In the sphere she was living and in the heart of an economic recession, this was essentially a one-way slate to lasting homelessness. Now this plan does sound fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up program. But it is really representative of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll stop at nothing to see this revenge planned out.

book binding in the present, he waits a few minutes, his middle pounding and sweat beginning to run down his face like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kg backpack. Fuck, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual human action ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the unhurt thing, that fiddling piece of his torture mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any cargo deck, he has his hood up and is briskly walking towards her home. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretch of route, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to get to her humming AC social unit and ventilation machines. Doesn't supporter his nerves that it is hot as fuck, the hottest summer on track record for the retiring few years, and the sweat begins staining his dorsum 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 so that her family will have no idea who he is. Heading over to the ventilating system shit, the stalker precariously empties just a dapple of the pulverisation into the palm of his gloved hand, holding his breathing place as he moves his shaking handwriting over to the air matter, dropping it inside without a 2nd thought.

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

contrary to some mass's experiences with prison term, the 30 passes as prompt as the guy could depend and without sorrow he smashes the windowpane by her back door with a brick. Ignoring the questions and blow from the video category, he reaches inside the shattered window and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"living room ”, in which she's video recording calling her family on the couch. Sure enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the couch, wearing some plain denim and a tee shirt that left much to the vision ... but he didn't need much to guess, he's seen her bare hundreds of times. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a naughty persuasion and writes his name on a nearby gravel sheet of report, showing it assoil as day to the family. As soon as his intention becomes clear, the folk is cleared of their younger members, the men balling their fist, turning purpleness in rage as they shout damp terror of violence to the masked stalker. Some have their sound out, probably calling the police or something. Whatever the case, Danielle is finally his.

His rima oris 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 foremost time, leaving slimy trails of his own perspiration. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, person too impeccant for this universe or the side by side. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that living can get tangible to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a second he has ripped the keister of her jeans in half, her plank ass face bursting out of the bout. He fumbles a bit with his own knickers, 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 visible, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker flesh. He plays with the intimate facing 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 scratch the scent all over his shaft, using his cock ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass scent ) to slap any piece of visible flesh on her physical structure, including her look and weapon system. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really loose, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his cheek so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Saddam Hussein's WMD are hidden in there ( excuse the alliteration ). Tastes a bit like dickhead, but whatever, he has been waiting for this consequence for a year. At the same prison term he works his finger deeper into her ass, burying his finger up to the knuckle in there. Yeah she's pretty dry, but he has always masturbated dry and there's no pointedness in lubing up for her pleasure, what's even the point. Spelling her name with his lingua as it licks her shit, he spells her live gens 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 cognizant, the lowly white pool already staining the floor. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the crime scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his hired man to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the aspect so hard that he's afraid it might fire up her up. Other than a petite, natural jerk, she settles back into sleep and he relaxes his own asshole just a bit, cum seeping into her nostril as she breathes in his life-giving essence. The stalker admires his handiwork a bit before his cock is back to wide callosity and he sticks it without a instant 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 nil on this Earth, but he can't twist himself back out. His beginning attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his penis off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the golden guy on land as a small vial of olive oil sits on the nearby chocolate table. Leaning over, his sweaty chest touching her back, he grabs the phial 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 shit from her internal astuteness clinging to his dig. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a bit to take a breath, thrusts himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so pixilated this time and in a bit each jabbing feels heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this moment can in conclusion 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 guts with no gaze for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twist in his drive, he makes sure to research her depths, eliciting a bit more pleasure for himself and grabbing her titmouse 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 animal foot being lifted off the earth every prison term he thrusts. Sliding his putz completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her nerve, spraying SOB maculation all over her impudence and snap. By the tenth instant her whole ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her insides probably look the Saami ), but the overall softheartedness of this nation keeps the stalker satisfied. In purchase order to barricade coming at this point in time, he begins focusing on the random hoot around her firm : trying to count every single patch of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen tabular array, the various framed exposure of her and her home, the pencils scattered about haphazardly succeeding to her laptop computer. No subject what he does, he does hold to give into the primal urges eventually.

Deciding to stay in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few prison term, his articulatio coxae bucking involuntarily into her. His vision blurred a bit by hallucinatory headliner 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 roofy deep into her ass. The rests of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably need surgical assist 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 siren are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too severe ) and carries her sleeping body back outdoor, laying her on the hard soil while he puts the final step of his plan into motion, taking out a minor feeding bottle of clear fluid. This is the final gift from the disgraced druggist, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the firm one last clip, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one last teasing goodbye to her category and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to wrick on the range. With a pic of a mates, he makes for certain to already have a execute start by the metre he tosses it on the napalm, the wholly room going up and belching smoke. His middle watering from the dryness, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the house, 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 whole Truth. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the gang, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its femme fatale screaming as he says a few words to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be fine, she just might suffer walking issues for awhile. As the house goes up in a brilliance and he drinks a bottle of water, he sees her category's car outside. Giving one last look back at his pretty, unconscious mind Danielle, he makes a mad dash towards his car, the adjacent few mo being a blur as he speeds off, watching the commotion in his hindquarters view mirror.

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