Page 16 of Stalking Christmas

I watch with unhinged glee as she cums, her body going rigid as she forces her face to remain neutral, and avoid giving away what she’s doing to herself. I have to get out of here and release my cock from its tight confines. I’m so close to embarrassing myself right here, and then I will give away that it’s me, or at least make her think that I’m some deviant. I am, but I don’t want her to know that just yet. I start to pack up my items, pulling out a couple of hundred dollar bills and dropping them on the table, to cover the mostly untouched food. As I’m heading for the door, her text comes through, and I know I’m not making it to the car before I cum.

How do I earn more questions?

I rush towards my parked Mustang, throwing my laptop bag inside on the passenger seat, and yanking my zipper down, to free my engorged cock that’s dripping with precum. I savagely stroke myself right here in broad daylight, in a parking lot filled with other vehicles, and pedestrians walking on a sidewalk, not even six feet from my car. It doesn’t take me more than a few tight strokes before I’m cumming all over my hand, and lap. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Head to ‘the hole’ after your shift at the diner is done. Go to the last booth at the end in the back. It will be marked with an ‘x’ on the door. Strip naked, put on the silk blindfold, and press your sexy assinto the hole. If you obey and please me, I’ll give you two more questions, my sweet little temptation.

I throw my head back against the backrest of my seat, and try to calm my racing heart, while my cock sits at half-mast, entirely exposed to anyone daring to look closely inside. My windows are mostly tinted, but you can still see through the front windshield, and right now, I’m indecent.

How will I know it’s you and not some other man? Anyone could be there and touch me.

Her question instantly infuriates me, with images of other men daring to touch what’s mine. I would mercilessly murder anyone who even lays eyes on her naked flesh. She’s mine, and I don’t fucking share. The last man that touched her lost his hands for doing so, and the other fucker is only still breathing because I couldn’t get my hands on him at that moment, but I have plans for him, and much like his vehicle, he’ll be filled with holes soon enough.

No one will touch you but me, little temptation. The last man that did, you currently have his severed hands buried in your backyard.

I can picture her reaction to my confession. She’ll be terrified now that she realizes I sent those to her, and that I’ve had access to her all along.

Just remember, little temptation, you’re now an accomplice to the crime I committed. You buried the hands, rather than reporting them. Tick tock, I’ll be waiting.

I lick the palm of my hand, getting a taste of my salty cum, and instantly missing the taste of Chrissy’s sweet pussy.Soon. Soon, I will be covered in her juices as I fill up all her holes. I put the car into drive, heading off to put my plan into motion; it’s only a few short hours before I’ll have her in my grasp. It’s time to move up my plan and take what’s mine.

Merry fucking Christmas to me.

Chapter 19

The Gift

The rest of my shift moves slower than the glaciers melting in the Arctic, and I’m ready to crawl out of my skin with anxiety. You would think, with the orgasm that I gave myself, I would be relaxed, but instead the opposite has happened. It feels like my skin is on fire, and every move my body makes, makes me highly aware of how sensitive and sore my pussy is. Even my nipples seem to be chafing against the fabric of my bra. My body is wired tight in anticipation of what will transpire at‘the hole’in a few short hours, with a masked man who could very well try to end my life.

Has common sense tried to prevail uselessly, where I’ve attempted to reason with myself about how bad of an idea this is?Yes.Do I plan to listen to any of that reasoning?Not a fucking chance.The thrill is what’s igniting an out-of-control inferno within me. I’ve never felt like this before, never wanted to risk everything for a moment of excitement. Lately I’ve been feeling like my life was dull, lacking purpose, and filled with constant struggle. While this madman doesn’t really change the latter two, he does give me something to look forward to, other than going back and forth between my two shitty jobs, just to be able to barely survive.

The danger speaks to me; it whispers sweet, enticing words of seduction, calling to the parts of me that I keep hidden, deep inside, from the world. The ones that hunger for the touch of a masked stranger, doing inexplicably naughty and depraved things to me. “Girlie, what is up with you today? You’ve gone from being snappy like a gator, to antsy, and jumping around like a damn meerkat with a bladder infection. Give it a rest, will ya? You’re giving me a headache.” Dolores walks by as I’m clearing the last of my tables before my shift is over, and debating on whether I should heed common sense, and self-preservation, and head home, lock my doors, and pray he doesn’t come to find me.He will. The doors were all locked last night, and that didn’t stop him. Toothless, a giant one hundred and fifty pound cane corso wasn’t even the slightest deterrent.

“Whatcha got a hot date or something?” She croaks in her deep, smoker’s voice with sarcasm. Her question has me stilling in my motions, and I end up choking on my own saliva, much to her horror. She races over, and pats me hard on the back with one of her veiny hands, and knocks the wind out of me. “Was it a bug? I’ll bet it was, just like the one I saw this morning.Huge, I tell ya!I told that cheapskate Carl to call the bug people, but he keeps telling me I’m seeing things.”

Fucking gross, I really have to stop working here, and I shouldn’t consume anything Carl cooks, ever.“Nope, air just went down the wrong way. I’m good, thanks.” I put space between our bodies, grab my discarded rag, and head to throw it in the bin to be washed. I have never been comfortable around others crowding my personal space. I know it stems from my childhood trauma, and my time in the foster care system. I should work on it, but right now, I have too many other things on my mind.

I grab my tips for the day, including the hefty one that Nic once again left me. What is a guy with that kind of money doing in a place like this, not once, but twice, within the same week? If he’s not out here scoping out the neighborhood to bulldoze it, then what’s he accomplishing? His confirmation that he’s going to see Daisy at the club tonight, almost makes me want to call in sick to my shift, so that I don’t have to experience the soul-crushing emotions of being rejected, while being forced to watch that shit go down.You’ll probably be murdered at ‘the hole’, so no worries about having to watch your roommate get asked out by the rich guy you’re lusting over.She’s about to get herPretty Womanmoment, and I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up looking like a character from theScreamfranchise. Some bitches have all the luck, I guess.

I guess that’s one silver lining, but seriously, I hope this guy isn’t psycho-psycho, like notDahmereat me, psycho. I can handle a little masked, rough kink play, but I’d like to still be breathing at the end of it. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out but don’t look at it, as I throw my apron in my locker and start shoving on my jacket. I stare back at the apron that I wiped my arousal-wet fingers on. I should probably take that home and wash it; it has to be some kind of health violation or something. After another second of debating, I close my locker, leave it behind, and head for the front door. Fuck it, it matchesthe rest of the nasty place, plus we don’t have any laundry detergent at home.

“Hey, Dolores, that guy who was in here earlier, the prissy big one. Have you ever seen him before the last time I served him and his brother in here?” I don’t know what prompts me to ask her that question. I should be worrying about meeting up with a masked stalker, and not the large, hot dude who wants nothing to do with me. My phone buzzes again in my grip as I hold the door open, and Frank slips through, muttering his thanks, while trying to get a close-up glimpse of my tits through the opening of my jacket.Dirty old perv.I shake my head at his antics, and return my attention to Dolores, who’s also giving him the stink eye.

“Never, girlie, but if he comes in again, I’m taking his table. I saw what he tipped ya, big spender, that one.”

Fucking great, I’ll lose the guy to Daisy, and the future tips to Dolores; it pretty much sums up my life, nothing but bullshit all around. “See ya tomorrow, Dolores!” I holler as I walk out the door, and finally take a look at my phone.

Don’t bother to run home instead of here, all you’ll do is piss me off, and I’ll end up fucking you harder and leaving more marks on your skin.

The second text is just a GIF of a clock ticking. Jesus fuck, this unhinged bastard is impatient to get his hands on me. The defiant part of me wants to do precisely the opposite of what he’s instructing me. If I had the money for a motel, that wasn’t infested with bed bugs and cockroaches, I would go hide out with a bottle of cheap Merlot, but I don’t, and I can’t risk him taking his anger out on Daisy if I do.

So, instead of doing that, I send him back a photo of me giving him the finger. I know I’m just tempting fate at this point. They can write that in my obituary.‘Here lies Chrissy Cranbrook, anornery bitch who tempted fate one too many times, and lost her life as a result.’

I burrow into my jacket, the biting cold wind pushing against my body, as I make my way down to the bus stop. Some part of me knows this is beyond fucked up. I’m about to take a city bus to a place where a man I don’t know, who broke into my house yesterday, and drugged me and my roommate, can fuck me, in hopes that I can get some answers about who he is.Yup, my sanity is all up there for sure.

Here goes nothing; I hope I’m still alive at the end of this day. If not, I hope Daisy adopts Toothless. Fuck, I should send her a message now, telling her she’s Toothless’ backup momma.

Somebody better play‘Songbird’at my fucking funeral, or I’m coming back to haunt everyone.

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