Page 8 of Jealous Stalker

I moved deeper into the house, heart pounding in rhythm with the silence, the air thick with her presence.

There was a hoodie slung over the back of a chair—navy, oversized, soft-looking. I picked it up like it was fragile. Pressed it to my face. Breathed her in. Vanilla. Shampoo. Girl.

That scent carved its way into my bloodstream like a drug.

I pressed it to my mouth. Closed my eyes.

I could’ve come just like that. From the smell alone. From the knowledge that she wore it, maybe even slept in it, her warmth still buried in the fabric.

But then I saw something else.

Something better.

Half-tucked beneath a pile of clean laundry near her dresser. A scrap of pale blue lace.

Her panties.

I stared.

My throat clenched. My cock ached behind my zipper, stiffer, more painful. They were delicate. Like her. The thought that they’d framed her pussy. My pussy, made my dick jerk and spew pre-cum. Made me groan like some feral, wounded animal into that scrap of fabric.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t need to. My balls straining to gush somewhere warm and tight, I took the panties. Slipped them into my pocket like they were mine. Because they were.

Becauseshewas. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

And later, alone in my dark apartment, I wrapped the lace around my fist.

Breathed her in. And fisted my cock slow and brutal. Prolonging the agony while I fixed my gaze on the two dozen photos of her pinned to my walls.

Then I went one better.

I pictured her stretched across those white sheets, trembling thighs parted, mouth gasping my name—my real name, even though she didn’t know it yet. Pink lips parted. Breathless. Pinker pussy begging to be filled.

She would cry at my size, no doubt. I was a big fucker, packing nine inches of solid steel. But I would make it good for my princess. And who knows, she might welcome a little pain along with the pleasure.

Cry as she begged for more inches. Inches I would gladly give her.

Anything…everythingfor my princess.

As long as she let me nut deep, deep d—of fuck.

When I came, I destroyed that delicate fabric.

Not out of disrespect. But devotion.

Becauseno onehas ever made me feel this sick. This feral. This alive.

This hers.

It was an honour to drain my balls into her panties.

But I didn’t intend to rest until I drained my load deep in her beautiful pink cunt. And now her roommate was out of the way, the clock had truly started counting down.

My chest is tight tonight.Not from jealousy. Not even from rage. It’s…a new feeling that’s been slowly creeping up on me.

Old doubt creeping back, reminding me why I’ve stuck to the shadows, unwilling to step into the light. Sure it’s the place I’m most comfortable.

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