The Stalker        Author’s disclaimer:   The characters depicted in this story are all 18 years of age or older. The language used is designed to reflect the state of mind of the central character.   The sole and heel of my 4” stiletto courts meet the Underground platform in unison giving of a satisfying click. Steadily I work my way along revelling in the rhythm of my feet on the echoing granite.   There is an art to wa...

The Stalker (Part 2) – A Masturbatory Interlude     I’m trying to walk away but it’s so difficult. I’m placing one foot in front of the other; toe to heel with perfect 6” gaps, my head is raised and my eyes fixed forward but my mind is entrapped by the soft eyed temptation that pants nosily behind my stiff back. I’ve become entangled by the cleverness of my own designs and the wantonness of my pussy.   I step onwards; wal...

The Stalker – Part 3        I don’t think I’ve spent many happier mornings at work. I slump unseen behind the ‘privacy screen’ at my workstation and although my computer screen flickers before me, all my eyes can see is his pulsing, trapped cock standing exposed in the morning light. Sliding down in my seat, I replay my morning’s adventure; the weight of his cock on my tongue, the touch of his pubic hair against my skin,...

The Stalker (Part 4) – Tag Teamed      I have never been comfortable with the fact that my employer keeps a confidential personnel file on me; it has always felt like a gross invasion of my privacy and the security arrangements to prevent unauthorised individuals from accessing it inadequate. Therefore, a little while back, I decided to liberate my file and relocate it to the safety of my own home. There is little of inte...

The Stalker - Part 5       Interlude   There is a picture that hangs in my living room, dominating its surroundings. It is famous and I’m sure it will be familiar to you. It is called “Le Dejuner sur l’Herbe” and was painted in 1863 by Edouard Manet. The original hangs in the Musee d’ Orsay in Paris where they have a security system adequate enough to prevent its liberation, so unfortunately mine is a cheap print ... thou...

The Stalker – Part 6     Stale beer and chips.   “So you got some beers then, hun?”   They are slumped on my gorgeous couch; worn, scuffed trainers soiling the carpet beneath their feet, denim clad legs thrown wide, crotches thrust forward, bollocks and cocks pressing against the unattractive, well-worn fabric. Robert has flung his arms possessively wide along the top of my cerise cord upholstery, has his head cocked to o...

The Stalker – Chapter 7     If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man You win some, lose some, it's - all - the same to me   Lemmy, in all his Jack Daniels fuelled wisdom, has decided that my skull is to be the venue for Motorhead’s latest gig.   The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say I don't share your greed, the only card I need is   And as the black, leather-clad, skinny jeaned trio launch in...

The Stalker – Epilogue 1     The twin metal shards beneath my heel clatter discordantly down the concrete steps and onto the platform, their normal staccato rhythm off-beat and out of time. Carefully I place one foot the required 6 inches before its partner in a perfectly straight line willing my hips to wiggle and my pert, toned buttocks to undulate seductively beneath my fitted skirt.   Gradually, I make my progression...