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I prowl the streets, eyes scanning for that telltale sign: the wet patch on a woman's pants. My prey today is clad in tight jeans, her arousal evident. I follow, my heart pounding in my ears. She enters a quiet alley, and I pounce, pinning her against the wall. Her breath hitches as I slide my hand into her pants, finding her soaking slit. She bucks against my fingers, her pants growing wetter as I bring her closer to the edge. Suddenly, she shoves me away, leaving me breathless and hard, my hunt cut short.