I need you.
I didn't realize it until I saw you two weeks ago, walking down the street with those eyes. You were a vision, an epiphany. I had been alone for so long and I was getting to this state where I was just fine with everything. Settling in. Accepting the break up; accepting just being alone.
Then you. The way your hair moved in the wind and your eyes sharp and looked into the distance. Your hips moving is that sweet little rhythm, constrained as they were beneath the fabric. I won't try to flatter you, I'm just trying to get across that something about you was different than every other woman I'd seen in a very long time.
And when I smiled and you wouldn't even make contact, just kept walking on by, something else awakened.
I was wrong about you. You were just like every other woman. Always tempting and teasing, alluring and come hither until you get what you want. You're the kind that turns me down when I finally get up the guts to ask you out. You do it nicely enough, with mirth in your eyes, but you cant resist telling your friends about how the loser just made a move on you seconds later. Yeah, I've heard all the little choir of laughter of every group of girls just like you. I can't believe I thought you'd be any different just because you woke me up.
Maybe that's why you did it. Maybe that's why you brought me out of my numbness, just to get the thrill of it all as you ignore me. Well not today - you brought me back, bitch, and I'm going to show you what that entails.
Shrugging off my shame and doubt, I turn to stalk you as casually as I can muster. I don't have a lot of experience in this kind of thing, but it's easy enough. Your feet hit the ground just like every one else, and all I have to do is follow a few dozen feet behind you. I don't even know what I'm nervous about; I was invisible in front of you with a big, honest smile. Why would you see me from behind with a smirk?
No. You're not going to see me. You're not going to feel how hot my blood is right now until my skin is on yours. This is probably what you want. You and every other fucking whore that walks the street. You want to be followed home and absolved of all your crimes by becoming a martyr. You want to be fucked savagely by a nameless, faceless man who is nothing but a cock to you. I can't believe it took me up to this point to feel it.
Tonight, you're going to get what you want.
You're getting more comfortable now, less rigid in your posture and steps. We must be getting close to home. I'm looking forward to seeing it. For the first time in two years I have a little bounce in my step and it's all I can do not to whistle. Feels good to be back. Still, not a lot of use to me sticking around out here, ruining the surprise. So I head back to your mass chain and order a drink, wondering if it's yours. There's time to kill before it's dark enough. I sip it with a smile on my face and I think about tonight.
It's dusk enough to lurk. I observe you from outside and I realize that nobody else is home. I wonder, briefly, if you have a man and he's out of town. Is he with your kids? Are you single and alone and just whimpering for this or am I going to be the fuck you've been looking for ever since you got married? I get so excited that I stop caring about the details. I just stare at your shadow through the blinds, looking for any kind other of movement or light in the house and never taking my eyes off you.
Best foreplay I've ever had. Better than buying a drink for a girl and listening to her aspirations and expression. No, forced to concentrate on you, remember how you smell and watch you waiting for the sex I know we're going to have is so much better. My cock strains to the point that I consider releasing it, but I know better. I'll say it's just for a second, but I'll end pleasing myself. Can't do that. No, my little cunt, I am saving all this up for you tonight. You choose well in waking me up and I want to give you everything. So I slide it down the side of me leg instead and keep it bound their like a weapon, groaning into the night as I do.
Time passes by quicker than you could imagine. It's been hours, but not in my mind. No, by the time you turn out he light I've taken you a dozen times. I'm about to make my move in when I see a light go on further inside the house. I curse myself, thinking you're not ready for sleep yet. Maybe you're going to read or watch TV in bed, but you're not ripe yet and my motor is revved now. So I force myself away from your residence and walk a mile or so to cool down. As luck would have it, I find a local drug chain and, after a few minutes of shopping, I have a bag full of goodies for tonight.
I nearly skip back to you, my beloved little thing, and when I see the lights are off I quickly make my way in through your front door. I won't bore you with details. I didn't write this letter to explain how to jack a lock with a card or move in way that doesn't disturb a woman all alone in he dark house. I regret that I can't fill in the details about you with pictures and effects here. But I hear you slumbering, I can smell you from the hall, and if you still mean anything to me there's always tomorrow.
Maybe it's you, maybe it's the excitement of it all, maybe it's the way you made me fight you, knee you in the ribs and duct tape your wrists and ankles in place: but your pussy was perfect. From the moment I got to carefully open up it's outer folds and take a whiff, it was delicious. Such a deep, unique scent with so much moisture already pooling up. I don't really care if it was excitement or fear or "both." You were so wet for me already and so delicious. I want nothing more than to lick you until you come for me. Until I can drink you down and swallow and do it all over again. But how would that teach you a lesson? It's really not fair for either of us, but instead I snake up your body and wrap my arms around you. I slide one beneath your back and one over your chest and nuzzle my face into your neck.
"Shh, shh," I say reassuringly, "don't fight." I stuff two pairs of your panties down your mouth and I made sure the duct tape is wrapped extra tight." My tongue moves up and down your cheek, to and over your lips before I kiss them, ajar and with bits of fabric pouring out. But you don't stop screaming at me and my patience with the situation begins to wain. "Please stop screaming," I ask as nicely as I can, my right hand slides down to run over your neck. I pass the time waiting for you to stop by moving my hand up and down your neck, fingernail digging into your collarbone. I get lost in it, and soon find myself moving my hands up and down the length of your body, tracing invisible lines from the tips of your fingers to your navel. Your screaming doesn't subside, but it does become more and more muted.
"You're very beautiful, you know?" I wait a moment for you to respond but when all you do is look up at with me with wide eyes my disposition changes. No, you don't even appreciate what I'm doing for you now. So I raise my hand and I slap you across the face as hard as I can, your face contorting with it and another scream slipping out of the ad hoc gag. "I'm losing my patience with you, I really am, I'm trying to remain even but you're not making it easy." I bring my hands down to wrap around your throat and ask again. "You're very beautiful, you know that?"
