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. 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 totally life ruined because of his hyper-obsession. Did he have an undiagnosed mental trouble ? Probably, considering he threw away his wife, kids, friend, all of it just because he saw this doll at a coffee workshop ONCE. Afterwards he even talked to her a bit in the parking lot, some low talk, but that was it. He practically lived in his car now, just watching Danielle occasionally and jerking off to her when he'd collar her nude via his intricate hidden cam network all around her menage. 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 clock time ! )

700-1500 : Worktime ( expend fourth dimension fantasizing about her )

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

1845-1915 : shower ( jerk off again )

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

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

Has he raided her panty drawer before ? sin yes, he's a certified"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 monumental containers of Greek yogurt she dusts off every work ? Thomas More than a cup by this point, he's sure. He knew her personal biography better than anyone, even her own family ; the in question men she occasionally takes home at Night, the nights where she cries herself to log Z's, the ones where she binges on ice cream while watching nature infotainment ... but she always, and he means ALWAYS stays in shape. Gym five clock time a week for an hr or so, always comes back sweating bullet train and needing another exhibitor ( to a greater extent fourth dimension 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 reckon out she was gone to"save the rainforest"or some shit like that. He frantically searched her menage for her whereabouts, taking some time to jack off into her plane, checking every nook and cranny 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 torso, the way the sunshine reflected off her au naturel frame in the shower, the way her ass and tit 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 basis then buried them underneath piles of trash, called her many, many obscene names when he was absolutely sure enough no one was watching. Within the number one calendar week he was going mad, a dog without a purpose, so to address. He contemplated if life sentence was even worth living without Danielle anymore, and considered locking himself in her service department with a moderately suicide notation, turning on the locomotive engine and letting death release him via carbon monoxide. He was right there too, freshly-showered and cleaned to calculate good for Danielle and with a preeminence on the dashboard, ready to turn the key then he stopped, seeing some old beakers covered in cobwebs. For the succeeding few hebdomad he actually managed to get his introverted ass out into the darker corners of streetlife, talking with prostitutes and nickel-and-dime zori alike until he got what he wanted. Finally, after spending unharmed Clarence Day trying to not get killed by the local anesthetic Dominican gang, they recommended his case to a apothecary, as long as they got to use his car for some of their more refutable activeness on asking. This shamed 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 circumstances, DO NOT sniff THIS. hoot is airborne and snorting the intact thing'll pop ya…"

The druggist droned on and on, but this was really only the offset step in the prowler's plan. The abridged version is that, during a telecasting call with her class, he'll plunge the non-lethal amount of pulverization into the air circulation system of rules, knocking her out monotonic within a few minutes. He'll have a very short window to get inside her theatre and do whatever he wants to her while her crime syndicate watches on-call ( muted of grade, the hold up thing he wants to listen is her mother's anguished cries ), and when he's done he'll gingerly leave her consistency outside as he burns her menage down. In the country she was living and in the center of an economical recession, this was essentially a one-way ticket to permanent homelessness. Now this plan does sound fucked up and let's admit it, it is a fucked up programme. But it is really example of this guy's fucked up mindset, and he'll stop at cypher to see this revenge planned out.

backbone in the present, he waits a few minutes, his sum hammer and sweat beginning to run down his aspect like he ran a Marathon carrying a 20 kilo backpack. piece of tail, it's getting hot and he feels nervous even before the actual deed ... FUCK ! He considers calling off the whole thing, that little piece of his tortured mind begging him to not go through with it but before it can get any hold, he has his hood 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 reach her humming AC building block and airing political machine. Doesn't help his nerves that it is hot as nookie, the live summertime on track record for the past few eld, and the perspiration begins staining his backrest already. Hearing the sounds of her sweet voice chatting and laughing along to her family, he sits back and listens for a few bit, donning a balaclava so that her family will have no estimate who he is. Heading over to the ventilation shit, the stalker precariously empties just a maculation of the powder into the palm of his gloved deal, holding his intimation as he moves his shaking paw over to the air affair, dropping it inside without a second thought.

"numeration 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 time, the 30 passes as quick as the guy could count and without rue he smashes the windowpane by her backdoor with a brick. Ignoring the questions and blow from the video family, he reaches inside the shattered windowpane and unlocks it, slipping inside and moving his way quickly to the"life room ”, in which she's video recording calling her household on the couch. Sure enough, the pulverization has dissipated and she lies completely passed out on the couch, wearing some plain blue jean and a t-shirt that left much to the imagery ... but he didn't need much to imagine, he's seen her raw hundreds of times. Pressing the deaf-and-dumb person push button on their TV, he has a naughty persuasion and writes his name on a nearby stick sheet of paper, showing it exculpate as day to the fellowship. As soon as his intent becomes unmortgaged, the family is cleared of their younger phallus, the men balling their clenched fist, turning purple in rage as they shout dull scourge of violence to the masked stalker. Some have their telephone 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 flesh for the firstly fourth dimension, leaving despicable trail of his own perspiration. She's always looked like a sleeping angel, someone too innocent for this world or the next. Whatever, the prowler is going to rise to her that life can get real to anyone really quickly. Flipping her upside down, in a second he has ripped the ass of her jeans in half, her chubby ass cheeks bursting out of the bout. He fumbles a bit with his own gasp, having to silently chastise himself for having such horrifying anxiety-shakes, but he nonetheless manages to get his pants bunched up around his articulatio talocruralis and his erecting 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 inside lining of her ass a bit, tracing his finger around and darting into his fingerbreadth before withdrawing his finger's breadth. He doesn't dare smell his finger and instead fray the aroma all over his dick, using his turncock ( now"lubed up"with her awful ass scent ) to slap any piece 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 business with her asscrack, diving his lingua into her asshole like Saddam's WMDs are hidden in there ( excuse the head rhyme ). Tastes a bit like shit, but whatever, he has been waiting for this bit for a class. At the like time 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 name with his natural language as it licks her asshole, he spells her last name with his finger's breadth buried inside of her, a piffling fun side bodily function before the independent outcome. He looks down and sees that he has actually come without even being mindful, the small white pool already staining the floor. Not caring how sloughy he leaves the criminal offence shot, it'll all be gone anyway, he uses his bridge player 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 bantam, instinctive jerky, she settles back into quietus and he make relaxed his own whoreson 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 peter is back to full moon inclemency and he sticks it without a mo view all the way into her ass. Probably a bad idea, as he soon realizes the understanding 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 puff himself back out. His low attempt actually hurts, cutting the tip of his penis off from oxygen. Looking around frantically, he is the luckiest guy on solid ground as a little vial of Olea europaea oil sits on the nearby umber mesa. Leaning over, his sweaty breast 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 pull in one's horns from her ass, while of whoreson from her internal deepness clinging to his shaft. However, he stops from fully withdrawing himself, leaving just the head buried in her, and, giving himself a moment to rest, stab himself all the way back inside her. Thankfully, it's not so tight this prison term and in a bit each jabbing look heavenly, her asshole having molded perfectly around his cock. He wishes this consequence can in conclusion 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 regard for her health, which is exactly what he's doing. Adding some twist in his thrust, he makes for sure to explore her astuteness, eliciting a bit more pleasance for himself and grabbing her bosom 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 sock, her feet being lifted off the ground every time he thrusts. Sliding his prick completely into her ass, he occasionally takes it out to slap her brass, spraying shit scrap all over her cheeks and crack. By the tenth minute her unharmed 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 overall tenderness of this state keeps the stalker satisfied. In order to intercept coming at this distributor point, he begins focusing on the random dump around her house : trying to look every unmarried piece of paper from her job that she has left on the kitchen table, the diverse border photo of her and her mob, the pencils scattered about haphazardly succeeding to her laptop computer. No matter what he does, he does own to yield into the aboriginal urges eventually.

Deciding to rest in her, he humps Danielle like a rabbit a few times, his hip joint bucking involuntarily into her. His vision 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 rests of the circle cover her internally so deeply and thoroughly it would probably involve surgical assistance 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 trusted that siren are coming, so he picks up Danielle ( which isn't too toilsome ) and carries her sleeping body back outside, laying her on the hard primer coat while he puts the terminal step of his plan into motion, taking out a small bottleful of clean fluid. This is the final exam giving from the disgraced apothecary, what is essentially a container of homemade napalm. He walks into the house one stopping point fourth dimension, breathing in deeply the smell of the sex, waving one last teasing goodbye to her syndicate and he pours the contents of the bottle out all around her kitchen, making sure to change state on the stove. With a flick of a match, he makes sure to already have a execute head start by the time he tosses it on the napalm, the whole room going up and belching smoke. His eyes watering from the xerotes, he sweeps Danielle off her feet and runs out of the house, in which a small crowd is beginning to meet. For all they know, he's just a refer neighbor who saved Danielle, you and I know the whole accuracy. Shrugging off the thanks and reassurances from the crowd, he runs up to a nearby ambulance, its sirens screaming as he says a few Logos to the paramedics. Realistically, she'll just be delicately, she just might have walking issues for awhile. As the house goes up in a blaze and he drinks a nursing bottle of water, he sees her house's car outside. Giving one net looking back at his pretty, unconscious mind Danielle, he makes a mad elan towards his car, the next few seconds being a blur as he speeds off, watching the ruction in his backside sentiment mirror.

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