Page 3 of Stalked By the Zookeeper

A family walks up to her booth, breaking my train of thought. A kid, couldn’t be older than eight, is bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited.

Sabrina bends down to his level, listening with genuine interest as he rattles off facts about the elephants he's eager to see. Her face lights up with every word the kid says, and it hits me—she'd be an incredible mother.

My chest tightens with a cocktail of desire and something else—fear?

No, not fear. Anticipation.

I’ve never been one to dive headfirst into relationships. Past experiences taught me to tread carefully, to hold back. But watching Sabrina with that kid stirs something reckless inside me—a whisper urging me to take a leap.

But then she locks up the booth and heads off for her break, and I lose my nerve.

Fuck me.

Later, in the solitude of my apartment, the images of her flicker behind my eyelids. The fantasy unfolds, raw and vivid. My hand moves over myself, rough and urgent.

My thoughts spiral, mixing reality with the fantasies that pulse through my veins like hot blood.

I picture her moving through my space, her presence filling up the small, often too-quiet rooms.

Sabrina in my shower, steam swirling around her like a seductive mist.

Sabrina in my bed, her body arched in pleasure, calling out my name in breathy gasps.

I groan, both from the pleasure and the torture of it all. The sound echoes off the bare walls, a testament to my solitude.

It's too much and not enough all at once. I want more—more than just these stolen glimpses and digital snapshots. I want all of her—her time, her laughter, her deepest desires.

The climax builds, an inevitable force that I can't—and don’t want to—stop. As it washes over me, it’s her face that's etched into the backs of my eyelids, her name a whisper on my lips.

The release is as intense as it is unsatisfying, leaving me aching for a reality where she's mine.

Afterwards, I lie back against the cool sheets, spent and frustrated. The silence of the apartment presses in on me, heavy with unspoken words and unrealized dreams.

I know what I want—God, I know—and it terrifies me because wanting something this bad means there’s more to lose.

I think of her beautiful face, and my cock twitches again.

Damn it, I just came and I’m already hard up for her again.

Fuck, Sabrina, baby, if you could only see what you do to me.

I start to stroke myself again.

In my mind, there's no distance between us. I imagine slipping a ring onto her finger, claiming her as mine.

Her belly swells with our child, and she's radiant, more beautiful than ever.

She's laughing, her eyes sparkling with the same excitement and love she shows every child at the zoo. Our kids scramble around our feet, a little zoo of our own in a house filled with laughter and warmth.

I imagine her little pink lips wrapped around my cock, those beautiful eyes looking up at me as she sucks me.

Oh fuck!

The thought drives me wild, my hand moving faster, the need clawing at me like an animal. The image of Sabrina, my Sabrina, taking me in her mouth, her hands passionate and exploring as they roam my body—it's fucking intoxicating.

I pull at myself harder, faster, the slick sound filling the room, mixing with my ragged breaths.

I throw my head back against the pillow, my eyes screwed shut as I picture her straddling me, riding me hard. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and she throws her head back in abandon, lost to the pleasure we give each other.

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