Freshly Brewed Coffee

6.8K 39 9
                                    

Disclaimer - I don't condone anything said or done in the story below. This is a work of fiction, to be read by people over the age of 18. Contains noncon, bondage, rough sex, stalking ; in addition to other dark kinks. Reader's discretion is not only advised but also highly recommended.

------------------------------------

The night air is crisp and chilly. I fold my arms in a vain attempt to preserve my warmth. I inhale deeply – the sweet scent of flowers, ferns and tree bark fill me. The full moon shines brilliantly tonight, illuminating the night sky brightly – that may be problematic, I think to myself.

I am calling this off.

This is fucking crazy. What if I get caught? What if I hurt her?

I just want her to be mine. She drives me fucking crazy. Every day. 8:00 AM. Grande iced coffee. Oat milk and sugar. Tops it with cinnamon at the self-serve station and stirs. Then she smiles at me as she leaves the shop.  What a beautiful, carefree smile—she is so innocent, so carefree and young. Rinse and repeat. Like clockwork.

Every. Fucking. Day.

Her body is perfect for me. A beautiful ass hugged impossibly tight in those black jeans or her leather skirt. Slim waist. Perky, 32B tits. Lips, so full and luscious that I cannot help but imagine them wrapped around my cock. Gorgeous, big eyes, burgundy colored hair. No older than 22.

One morning after failing to build up the courage to ask her out *again*, I decided to go for a drive. I do not even know if I originally intended to follow her, but that is exactly what I did.

Then it became a regular thing for me. Now I know where she works. Where she likes to eat. Where her friends live. Where she gets her hair done. I guess I know her entire schedule.

And I know Thursday nights, she stays home alone. She likes to watch Shameless on Netflix and stay up way too late. Sometimes she takes naughty photos on her phone. I wonder who she sends them to..

I pull the hood over my head and don my sunglasses and a black surgical mask. I pull to test the tautness of the rope. Unbreakable.

Time to do this.

My heart pounds but my feet stay in place.

Fuck this.  What am I doing? I am going to go home, jerk off, and drink myself silly. That is way more legal.

But just as I resolve to go home. I see her.

Wearing nothing but a loose red striped shirt and slutty lacy panties that disappear between her ass cheeks.

She is taking another photo of herself.

My cock swells with lust and rage. Who is she sending it to?

She. Is. Mine.

I am halfway across the yard before I realize what I am doing. She has no cameras, no alarm system—I've checked.

So young and naive.

She likes to leave her kitchen window open during the day when the weather is cooler. But she never remembers to lock it at night. I place the screen to the side and climb into the house in less than thirty seconds.

My heart pounds, I am starving for air but breathe as slowly and quietly as possible. I hear the television playing and ignore it in the living room.

Her house is neat and clean. But sparsely decorated. All of the lights are off except for her bedroom. I have to take off my sunglasses, I cannot see anything with them on. I hear shuffling in her room.

My excitement grows. I am at the point of no return. Soon she will be mine. I will use her just as I fantasized for months.

I peek around the door. She is still at the standing mirror, currently trying to take a selfie while she pushes her breasts together with an arm folded across her chest.

The Misogynist (Republished)Where stories live. Discover now