This bitch has been gone for tinker's dam near a month now, he thought to himself as he watched Danielle through the window of his unassuming sedan. attend 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 yr now, his whole life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he cause an undiagnosed mental trouble ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, 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 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 mesh all around her house. He even planned out a schedule for her :

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

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

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

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

1845-1915 : SHOWER ( jerk off again )

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

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

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? netherworld yes, he's a attest"professional person"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 Hellene yogurt she dusts off every work ? more than than a cup by this point, he's sure. He knew her personal animation better than anyone, even her own family ; the dubitable men she occasionally takes menage at dark, the nights 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 stays in anatomy. Gym five times a week for an time of day or so, always comes back sweating bullets and needing another exhibitioner ( more sentence to masturbate to her ). Every piece of her agenda planned out meticulously, plans A through Z of her daily routine, so you can reckon the surprisal when he woke up one day to forecast out she was gone to"save the rainforest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her business firm for her whereabouts, taking some time to jack off into her sheets, checking every corner and crevice 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 hone body, the way the sunlight reflected off her au naturel figure in the rain 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 ground then buried them underneath sight of applesauce, called her many, many obscene name calling when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. Within the first off week he was going mad, a dog without a intention, so to speak. He contemplated if lifetime was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her garage with a jolly suicide note, turning on the engine and letting expiry release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to look goodness for Danielle and with a tone on the dashboard, ready to sour the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the following few week he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with harlot and nickel-and-dime pushers alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending whole Day trying to not get killed by the local Dominican pack, they recommended his eccentric to a apothecary, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more questionable activities on postulation. This disgraced pharmacist, essentially working as a freelance 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 tiny plastic bag.

"Under ANY fate, DO NOT sniff THIS. Shit is airborne and snorting the intact thing'll kill ya…"

The pill roller droned on and on, but this was really only the first step in the stalker's plan. The abridged rendering is that, during a picture cry with her house, he'll dump the non-lethal amount of money of pulverization into the air circulation system, knocking her out flat within a few proceedings. He'll have a very curt window to get inside her house and do whatever he wants to her while her family watches on-call ( muted of row, the last affair he wants to hear is her mother's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her dead body outside as he burns her sign of the zodiac down. In the area she was living and in the middle of an economic recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to lasting homelessness. Now this program does sound fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up design. But it is really congresswoman of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll stay at zilch to see this retaliation planned out.

Back in the present, he waits a few minutes, his heart buffeting and stew beginning to run down his side like he ran a marathon carrying a 20 kilogram backpack. nooky, it's getting hot and he feels flighty even before the literal deed ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the entirely thing, that little objet d'art of his rack intellect begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any hold, he has his strong-armer up and is briskly walking towards her house. Thank God no one cares what happens on this stretch of route, as he quickly glances around and leaps over her fence to reach her humming AC unit and ventilation motorcar. Doesn't help his nervus that it is hot as roll in the hay, the hottest summer on record for the by few twelvemonth, and the elbow grease begins staining his cover already. Hearing the sound of her sweet-scented voice chatting and laughing along to her kin, he sits back and listens for a few here and now, donning a balaclava so that her class will have no approximation who he is. Heading over to the external respiration shit, the stalker precariously empties just a dapple of the powder into the thenar of his gloved hand, holding his breathing place as he moves his stir hand over to the air thing, dropping it inside without a second thought.

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

opposite to some the great unwashed's experiences with meter, the thirty passes as quickly as the guy could reckon and without regret he smashes the window by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the dubiousness and blow from the video 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 video calling her kinsperson on the couch. Sure enough, the powder has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the lounge, 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 times. Pressing the mute button on their TV, he has a naughty mentation and writes his name on a nearby stick mainsheet of newspaper publisher, showing it shed light on as day to the family line. As soon as his intent becomes assoil, the family is cleared of their younger members, the men balling their fists, turning purple in rage as they shout muted menace of violence to the masked stalker. Some have their phones out, probably calling the police or something. Whatever the event, Danielle is finally his.

His mouth salivating like a starved dog when it sees a T-Bone steak, he reaches his violently shaking custody around her, caressing her supple anatomy for the first clock time, leaving slimy trails of his own hidrosis. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, someone too innocent for this domain or the succeeding. Whatever, the stalker is going to prove to her that life can get really to anyone really quickly. Flipping her top down, in a bit he has ripped the can of her denim in half, her plummet ass cheeks bursting out of the tear. He fumbles a bit with his own pants, having to silently chastise himself for having such frightful anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pants bunched up around his ankles and his hard-on rising. Before he thrusts himself into her, he spreads her ass apart until her SOB is clearly visible, surrounded by a"starfish"of slightly darker frame. He plays with the inner facing of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his finger's breadth before withdrawing his finger. He doesn't daring reek his finger and instead chafe the fragrance all over his dick, using his dick ( now"lubed up"with her nasty ass scent ) to slap any part of visible flesh on her body, including her face and arms. Now that he's actually doing it it seems really easy, like the homemade fleshlight he practiced on beforehand.

He lowers his grimace so that he's in line with her asscrack, diving his tongue into her asshole like Saddam's W.M.D. are hidden in there ( excuse the head rhyme ). Tastes a bit like asshole, but whatever, he has been waiting for this moment for a year. At the Lapp fourth dimension 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 point in lubing up for her pleasure, what's even the point. Spelling her public figure with his glossa as it licks her asshole, he spells her live on epithet with his finger buried inside of her, a short fun English activity before the primary case. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being aware, the minuscule bloodless puddle already staining the floor. Not caring how sloppy he leaves the crime scene, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his paw to cup most of it, using it to literally slap her in the human face so hard that he's afraid it might rouse her up. Other than a tiny, instinctive jerk, she settles back into sleep and he slacken his own asshole 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 putz is back to full hardness and he sticks it without a moment thought all the way into her ass. Probably a bad musical theme, as he soon realizes the reasonableness why mass always lube up. Yes he's stuck in her squeezing ass burrow and it feels like nothing on this terra firma, but he can't twist himself back out. His first endeavour actually hurts, cutting the tip of his phallus off from atomic number 8. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on Earth as a small ampoule of olive oil sits on the nearby coffee table. Leaning over, his sweaty pectus touching her back, he grabs the ampule and begins pouring it into her ass to let himself out. After initially seeming futile, he slowly starts to find impart and he allows himself to crawfish from her ass, pieces of cocksucker from her national profundity clinging to his peter. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head 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 metre and in a bit each thrust feels heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his dick. He wishes this moment can last forever, but he knows it'll be cut short either by his incoming sexual climax or the law. Whatever comes first, it doesn't stop him from rearranging her guts with no regard for her wellness, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some wind in his thrust, he makes sure enough to search her profundity, 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 feet being lifted off the solid ground every time he thrusts. Sliding his shaft completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her cheeks, spraying diddlyshit flecks all over her impertinence and scissure. By the tenth part minute her unhurt ass was red from his slapping, the outer ring of her ass swollen and looking rightly abused ( her inside probably look the same ), but the overall tenderness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to blockade coming at this point, he begins focusing on the random shit around her house : trying to count every one piece of theme from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the various framed pic of her and her house, the pencils scattered about haphazardly following to her laptop. No matter what he does, he does have to give into the fundamental urges eventually.

deciding to appease in her, he humps Danielle like a cony a few metre, his hip joint bucking involuntarily into her. His vision blurred a bit by hallucinatory stars and letting out a pharyngeal consonant groan that anyone else would surely see outside, he steels himself inside her as his cockhead wells up, shooting the first circle deep into her ass. The quietus of the ropes cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably necessitate surgical help 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 surely that Siren are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too severe ) and carries her sleeping body back out-of-door, laying her on the laborious ground while he puts the final measure of his programme into motion, taking out a modest bottle of clear fluid. This is the final natural endowment from the disgraced apothecary, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one last fourth dimension, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one last teasing good day to her family and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure enough to turn on the stove. With a movie of a match, he makes for sure to already receive a running starting by the clock time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole 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 gather. For all they know, he's just a occupy neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the wholly the true. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its sirens screaming as he says a few Good Book to the paramedical. Realistically, she'll just be fine, she just might have walking issues for awhile. As the house goes up in a brilliance and he drinks a feeding bottle of pee, he sees her family's car outside. Giving one net look back at his pretty, unconscious Danielle, he makes a mad hyphen towards his car, the next few irregular being a blur as he speeds off, watching the din in his prat view mirror.

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