Cyber Staler Wanted

When I first pressed the button to review the post, I knew or at least had a pretty good idea of what I would get. An onslaught of emails purporting to be the one I'm looking for or worse yet one after another telling me "I know what you really need." Really? I think not. It is very unlikely that the venue I chose would give me the exact result I was looking for. I knew that, which means that I had a safety net. No way the type of individual I was seeking would happen to see the post, so no chance of it ever coming to pass. Right? I pushed the enter button to submit and decided to wait and see.

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I read the post over, and then once more just to make sure I had it right. I was so curious as to the kind of woman who would leave such an open door. Couldn't be your average slut or whore, they'd be getting dick by the mouthful. Couldn't be a mealy mousy plain Jane type of girl. No this had to be whole different kind of breed. Sure the attention grabbing, center of the universe attitude could definitely be any woman or every woman for that matter. I had to know if there was something deeper, so began the hunt.

Her post was simple and straight to the point, "Cyber stalker wanted." Obviously I read on- Underestimated housewife seeks cyber stalker to stroke her ego. I don't want physical contact; I'm very faithful. I don't desire to make new friends. I realize this is selfish, but this is what I'm looking for. I just want someone to make me feel like I'm worth getting to know.

I can only imagine the responses she got with that one. I'm not sure what she was thinking only that she must have been frustrated or desperate or maybe a little of both. I was positive that while I could fit the bill, I might surpass her ideas of what a cyber stalker could be and just how far into her I might be willing to dive. If I were going to do this I would have to commit 100%. All or nothing, that's the kinda guy I am.

I started by responding to her email under the guise that I needed to confirm something related to the account she posted under. All I needed her to do is call the 1-800 number, no surprise she did. When people see those first four digits, they automatically trust. They have no idea how easy it is to get one. Once she called I did a reverse look-up and found her address, being willing to go to her house was part of the 100%.

By back searching her name and email address which she listed on the post for people to respond to, I found several aliases she uses and a few different email accounts. Myspace, facebook, twitter- people put it all out there. You can find out the innermost about a person, more than you would from three or four dates. I felt it was time to get to know her. Where should I start, go to her house? Maybe figure out where she works? Yeah, yeah I know she said "cyber stalker," but you can't always get what you want. I decided to keep my distance for the moment and just float around the net undetected. I gathered info from her accounts, from posts her friends and family left, but most importantly details left in her writing. She was literally an open book. Anything you wanted to know and almost everything. There was only one thing missing in all of this readily available data, no real description. No pictures anywhere, no way of knowing what she looked like.

Even without a visual image at first, she was a lot of fun getting to know her. I felt vindicated in knowing she wasn't your every day diva. Housewife, self-proclaimed "Rocker mom" (apparently none of the kids played soccer), cashier; all the surface stuff was pretty average. Every housewife/ mom wants to feel like she's the exception to the rule. They all want someone to make them feel younger, better than the day before, less tired. I have spent my time catering to a woman's physical needs. Making a woman cum is easy once you learn the cues. It's not being conceited to say it comes easily to me. Getting to know a woman mentally and being able to manipulate them from a distance, that takes a whole new skill. She would be easy to get to, first mentally then a little close encounter.

I gathered from her voice that first day when I mentioned the post the start of fear. I heard her swallow hard and imagined what her throat looked like at that moment. I thought about the flush that would spread from her face to her chest. The tightening in her stomach and the squirm between her thighs would surely lead to a wet spot in her seat. It made her uncomfortable to speak about the post out loud. It was very difficult to keep the phone call brief, but I knew I had to keep it professional. Hanging up I wondered how long she thought about the phone call. Did she immediately push it from her mind or did she hold it there for a while? Did she scrutinize every possibility or take it for granted that the call was just what I said it was? That minor detail was the difference in when she started to feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck. It would be when she would make sure she was completely clothed even when she was supposed to be alone. I could see her being startled by the smallest noises, watching her from an imaginary darkness as she peered into the room from her fortress of blankets to see what might be looking back. Something tells me she's the kind of woman that tried to dismiss it and yet found the thought lurking around every corner. Perfect.

So after I gathered the information I needed I started the cyber part of the stalk. I emailed her short little bursts of fear. The first one was short and simple, "I think you got what you wanted." Next a longer one detailing all the things I wanted to do to her, "Unbuttoning your nightgown, one button after another over the course of the hours of darkness. Spending the whole occasion watching your body becoming exposed one button at a time. Enjoying every moment, hour after hour watching you sleep until I slip out just before you wake up. Your eyes flying open suddenly just as the door closes, to find your nightie open completely. Maybe your husband did it, probably not." Then I would send her questions about details I already knew. What kind of car do you drive? Where do you work? What color are your panties today?

I could almost hear her breath catch in her throat with that last one. The penetrating idea that I actively thought about her underwear only leads to the conclusion that I desired what was in them. Mind fucking has always been my favorite. I knew her so well I could pinpoint the exact words that make her cream and make her want to cum. And the best part of it all was that nothing I could say would be taboo. This is exactly what she asked for. Somebody to know her, somebody to play her, somebody to lead her mentally without being physically controlling; she wanted an emotional orgasm. I was just about ready to take her there. It would be like a key turning in a lock. That instant would cement and schedule my first physical contact with her.

The email would be simple. To my girl- I know what you've been wanting. I 'm ready to give it to you. All you have to do is say yes. You know I want you, I think about you night and day. I can't wait to hear my name on your lips. You have never felt the things I can make you feel. Without knowing exactly what I'm offering, with no comprehension of how far this might take you, before you've heard the terms; trust me. Say yes!

I signed a name to the bottom of the email, whether it's mine or not doesn't really matter. If she sent the one word back, it would be all I needed to move forward. I had very little doubt about the outcome of this; I didn't know how long it would take. It wouldn't be instant; she would take her time thinking about it. She would read the email over and over again. Inner squeals, tightened thighs, and the ever-present wet seat would however make the decision for her. She would barely feel her fingers touching the keys on keyboard. Like being touched by a stranger for the first time, they would carry her to a new place. Even after I got the one worded email back, I waited patiently before contacting her again. I thought of her frantically checking the email, waiting for the next request or question. I wanted her to sweat it out; no pain, no gain. It was a week before she had emailed me, unsigned I might add. I waited a full two more before I did anything, and even then it was subtle.

Upon coming out to her car on her way to work on the following Wednesday, a single flower clenched beneath the windshield wiper. It wasn't extravagant, nothing gaudy like a rose. It was definitely not something that just found its way and became entangled. Or was it? She couldn't be sure and she couldn't ask anyone how it got there. Several looks around to see if anyone was watching, almost late for work, she smelled the flower, smiled and climbed in. I followed her to work, and smiled to myself as she turned back to the car to bring the flower in with her. She deserved a reward; I dialed her work number and watched her answer sweetly. "Are you wet yet," I whispered into the phone.

"Excuse me," I could hear her voice struggling to come out.

"You heard me, are you wet yet? You've answered me yes before, do it again. Are.... you...wet...yet?"

Then I heard the exact two things I expected; first very softly, "yes," then dial tone. Perfect.