This is one of the more degenerate things that I’ve written, but I’m pretty proud of the detail. It’s not necessarily for the weakest of stomachs, so proceed as you wish, but you’ve been warned.

Scott McMarsh
Photo by Jeswin Thomas on

“She gets home from the gym every night at 7:30, preheats the oven for whatever dinner she’s cooking for the night, undresses in her room while leaving the curtains drawn, then she gets into the shower,” the man repeats to himself in his head. “Gym at 7:30, preheats over, undresses for shower, gets shower. Altogether, that probably doesn’t take longer than five minutes. She showers for fifteen minutes if she doesn’t shave her legs, thirty if she does. It’s Tuesday and the last time she shaved them was Saturday, so she should be shaving again tonight.”

The man’s phone vibrated. He silenced it and lifted the dim screen close to his face. It read 7:30. He waited for the sound of a 2013 Dodge Dart to come into the driveway. Approximately three minutes later, the car pulled up. He listened to her close the door, fuss with her keys and open the front door to her house. Lights started shining through the windows, and she walked straight to the kitchen and preheated the oven.

“Gym, oven, undressing.” He repeated to himself. His heart started racing and his eyes focused on her open bedroom window. She entered and took her hair out of the bun that it was in. The way that she put her hands behind her head and shook her hair out through her petite fingers made his heart race faster and his face feel warm.

She stripped out of her pants, revealing red underwear with lace on the sides, his favorite. Sweat stained the top of the underwear and it could be seen where her thighs touched, right around her crotch. The woman lifted her shirt over her head and underneath was a teal sports bra with a logo that he could never seem to make out. She stripped out of her sports bra, showing perky breasts that he fantasized about every night for the past two years. The nipples were small and always pointed when she got home from the gym. Usually by the time she got out of the shower, they were soft and scrumptious how he liked them.

As the woman stepped out of her underwear, her unkempt vagina shined through the pubic hair that covered it. He used to only be attracted to woman with Brazilian waxes, but the second he discovered this gem of a woman, his opinion changed.

He would often think about think about what her vagina tasted like when they both went to the same gym. She was the most beautiful of God’s creations, but he could never build up the courage to ask her out. Back in the days when he still went to the gym, he’d run on the elliptical when she lifted weights, toning her already perfect ass, or he’d lift weights when she used the treadmill so that she might notice him.

After months of waiting for her to look at him, he showed up to the gym and waited in his car. At 7:20, she walked out to her car and that’s when he discovered that she drove the Dart. He thought that following her would have been too obvious, so night after night he would park in different parking lots that he knew were in the direction of her house and watch where she went. In two weeks, he had her address.

The house was beautiful, and it was clear that she lived alone without pets after one week of scouting. He saw the woods and foliage behind the two-story house and starred through the windows until he knew which room was her bedroom. That’s when he found out that she stripped every night after the gym with her curtains up and her beautiful body revealed to whoever was lucky enough to watch from the woods below. After that, he stopped going to the gym and instead started coming to her house every night and watching, learning her schedule perfectly. “Gym, oven, shower,” he repeated, even though she was already about to jump into the shower.

It was already pitch-black and there was a layer of snow on the ground but that didn’t stop him from pulling his rock-hard penis out of his pants and stroking it as he starred at her perfect body. Thinking about her all the time became a chore for him since he couldn’t seem to stop no matter what he tried. He tried online dating apps, asking out woman that he met at the bar and at one point tried a prostitute, but all she did was make him get a shot of penicillin. Eventually, he decided that none of the alternatives would help and he resorted to camping out in the trees, watching her undress and thinking about the taste of her pussy.

With the pair of binoculars that he had stashed away there on one of the earliest nights he sat in the tree, he got a closer look at her body. She had freckles all up her arms and back, and it might have been a core day because she kept reaching her arms up and bending backwards to stretch her abs. The way that her hard nipples reached to the sky with her was enough for him to stroke his cock harder and faster, until he ejaculated off the tree. It fell to the ground into where hundreds of other piles of ejaculate rested.

He zipped up his pants and continued to watch as she walked to the shower, turned on and tested the water, then got in. Scaling down the tree as carefully as he could, he landed on the ground and ran to the sliding glass back door. He tried the handle but it was locked, but he had seen her lock herself out of her apartment one time before, so he opened the shell of a small turtle statue that sat beside the door and grabbed her key. The key slid into the lock and clicked to a satisfying open. Carefully, he put the key back into the turtle and stepped inside the house.

The water heater was roaring from the basement and the sound of water hitting the floor above silently calmed him. He knew that his plan was going perfectly. The floorboards were quiet, so he hardly made a sound as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. She slept in the master bedroom, which was off to his left, and the bathroom was connected to that. The door was wide open, and he could hear singing that attracted him like a siren. Even though he had just masturbated, his penis hardened again. He reached his hand into his pants and stroked it a little bit, making it rise even more. He could listen to her voice all day if he had the time, but he only had about twenty-five more minutes to finish up.

“I’m in love with the shape of you. We push and pull like a magnet do,” she sang loudly, and with the grace of an angel.

He walked into her room and sniffed her pillow. It smelled exactly like what he thought it would, the scent was a mix of lavender and vanilla. The dirty clothes that she had stripped out of were laying on the floor beside the bed, and he picked up her red panties, inhaling deeply to get every odor inside. He slipped the underwear into his back pocket and did the same with the sports bra.

The song that she was singing changed to Thriller, “It’s close to midnight. Something evil’s lurking from the dark. Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart.” The lyrics turned to mumbling as she forgot the words. He sniffed her pillow again and then crept towards the open bathroom door.

Steam rose to the ceiling and covered the mirror with a dense fog. He knew that she never turned the fan on to get the steam out, and he had always worried that she’d get some mold and then have to move or spend a few nights somewhere else. Her singing was captivating, and the scent of lavender and vanilla froze him in place as he smelled and enjoyed it.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, bumping his hand against his now fully-erect penis and opened YouTube. Clumsily, he typed “”Psycho Violin Screech” and clicked the first video. It started playing but his phone was still silent. With a quick move, he paused the video and restarted it, then pulled the knife that he had strapped to his leg out of its holster. He set the phone down on the sink and turned the volume up.

He pulled the dirty panties out of his back pocket and breathed in deeply again, letting her aroma tickle his lungs. His penis was throbbing and kept telling him to hurry up. Quickly, he hit play on the video and the sounds rang through the bathroom. She stopped singing and her hand touched the shower curtain to look out, but it was too late.

He plunged the knife into the curtain repeatedly, keeping pace with the violin. She screamed, but they stopped when he jabbed her in the throat and blood spattered the curtain and tile walls. Blood ran down the drain just like it did in the movie and the woman collapsed to the ground. The video stopped and he pulled the curtain back to see his work.

Her throat, arms and hands had all been sliced and stabbed. He admired the woman’s chest but cursed himself, realizing that he had stabbed right through the nipple of her right breast. Up close, he began admiring the body, letting the shower pelt her and wash the blood away. There were more freckles on her back than he had ever seen before, and her pubic hair was actually designed into an imperfect star.

Blood stopped pouring from her wounds and he carried her to her bed, laying her on the pillow that he had smelled earlier. He crawled into bed with her and curled up under her limp arm. “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” he said to her. “I always wanted you to notice me, but I never knew what to say. Oh God, I’m being ridiculous. I just want to enjoy this moment.” He smelled her newly washed hair and rubbed his hand on her half-shaven leg.

“I don’t think it’s too early to tell you that I love you. I know we just met, but I’ve been thinking about you constantly since I saw you. I never believed in love at first sight until you came around. Now I’m a true believer, and I’m laying here, cuddling with you. I never thought this moment would come, but I’m so glad it did.”

He kissed her left nipple while rubbing her legs and face. “Your hair is softer than I ever would have guessed. It’s like a field of wheat. I know it’s wet, but I can still tell that it’s beautiful. And that star? Magnificent! It’s scrumptious. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see it up close. Your pussy is God’s finest work, only in competition with your ass and breasts.

“I love you so much. I’ve never been happier than I am right now and it’s all thanks to you. I’d like to show you how much I love you.” He took off his pants and underwear, his dick throbbed, and he stroked it a few times. “May I?”

She didn’t answer.

“You won’t regret this. You’re perfect in every way and you’ve made me the happiest man alive.” He inserted his penis into her vagina, and pumped repeatedly, playing with both her intact and split tits. “Do you like this? I don’t want to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.” Still no answer. “Just tell me if I’m doing anything that you don’t like. I want you to be as happy as I am.”

For ten minutes, he made love to the lifeless, cold vagina until he came inside of her. “I know I should have pulled out, but now that we’re together, I can’t wait to have kids. They’ll be perfect. If we have a boy, we can name him Bailey. I’ve always loved that name. If it’s a girl, what about Zoey? Oh, who am I kidding. You can name the kids. I’ll do whatever you want.

“We could get a dog, too! Can you imagine that? Both of us playing in the backyard with our dog and kids? You have a great yard, so I can just move in here and then I’ll build a fence for you so that the dog can’t get out. I like border collies. What do you like?” The body shifted as he turned to look her in the eyes as he asked the question. “It’s okay if you don’t tell me now! Just think about it and let me know. But I’m tired. Are you ready for bed?” He paused and waited for her answer, staring deeply into her blank eyes. “You look exhausted yourself. Let’s get some sleep.”

He adjusted her so that she was the little spoon and fell asleep with a smile on her face. The next morning, he woke up and smelled her, noticing the lavender, vanilla and rotten flesh. He breathed deeply and then rolled her to her front, having sex with her again before he showered and made breakfast for two.

“This is amazing,” he said to her as he brought the plates of food to the bedroom. “I still can’t believe we finally met. I hope you like eggs and toast. I didn’t see much else around your house so I made what I could. Truthfully, I’m not the best cook, but now that I have you, that won’t be a problem! I’ve seen you make all sorts of things and I’d love to learn how to do them with you. I’ve always thought that cooking is one of the most romantic things that a couple can do together.”

He ate his food and starred at her plate, “you must not be very hungry. That’s okay. Or, is it that you don’t like my cooking? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you! I was just trying to help. I’ll go try again!” Sprinting at full speed, he went to the kitchen and tried again, making the eggs sunny side up instead of scrambled, and toasting the bread a little less than last time. “Is that better?” he asked when he went back to the bedroom.

On the bedside table, her phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Vanessa’s phone?”

“Yes, it is. Can I ask what you’re calling about?”

“She hasn’t come into work today and she’s not the type to not come in without notice. Is she around? Can I speak with her?”

“She’s a little busy right now. Can I take a message?”

“Um… yeah. Just tell her that her boss called.”

“Will do! Thanks.”

He hung up the phone. “Your boss called,” he said. “It’s not a problem though. I’m sure he’ll understand. I mean, who is he to interrupt true love?

“Hey, I think I’m going to go outside and start putting together a fence so that we can get a dog. It shouldn’t be too hard. Do you have any wood in your basement or garage?” No answer. “That’s okay. I’ll go look around. Worst-case scenario, I just dig holes for the posts now and get some later.”

There wasn’t any wood around the house, so he grabbed a shovel and ran outside, digging quickly so that he could impress Vanessa. He kept saying “Vanessa” out loud, happy that he finally knew her name. As he was digging the third hole, a cop car drove up to him.

“Hey,” the cop said. “Is this Vanessa’s house?”

“Yep!” he said excitedly. “Why do you ask?”

“I got a call from her boss and he asked me to check in. What’s your name son? And can I ask what you’re doing out here with a shovel?”

“My names Tyler. Vanessa and I are going to get a dog, but we need a fence first. I’m digging holes for the posts.”

“Okay Tyler. Do you mind if I talk to Vanessa? Her boss seemed quite worried and I’m sure he’d be happier if I could let him know that she’s feeling okay.”

“That’s not a problem officer. Let me get cleaned off a little bit before we go inside so I don’t track dirt through the house.” He set the shovel down and walked to a spicket on the side of the house and washed the dirt off of his hands and arms. “You can park your car in the driveway if you want. Then I’ll show you around.”

“Thanks,” the cop said, with caution in his voice. “Let me call a buddy of mine first.”

A few minutes later, another cop pulled up and they all walked around the house. “This is the living room and kitchen,” Tyler said, extending his arm as if he was holding a tray of drinks. “She’s probably upstairs though. She might still be asleep.”

One cop took point while the other stayed behind. When they got to the top of the stairs, Tyler ran ahead. “One second. Let me give her a heads up so that she doesn’t get scared.”

He walked into the room. “Hey babe, just a heads up, we have some company that want to check on you. It’s not a big deal. They just want to say hello.” He walked back to the door and signaled the two cops to come in. “She’s still a little tired so don’t expect much talking from her.”

The cops walked in and their faces turned green. The mutilated body was laying still in the bed and semen had stained the sheets between her wide legs. The cut on her breast was completely covered in blood and colored with different shades of red, purple, green and white. Her skin was turning a noticeable blue and the smell was so strong that one of the cops audibly gagged. They both drew their guns and aimed at Tyler.

“Get on the ground now! You’re being arrested for the murder of Vanessa Stonebraker!” One cop pushed him to the ground when he didn’t immediately follow their instructions and they handcuffed him. They dragged him to his feet and left the room, leaving the rotting corpse to lie until someone else could come pick it up.

“You know what has a nice ring to it?” Tyler asked the cops. “Vanessa Cope. I can’t wait for her to take my last name.”

Truck Stop

The air wedge slid silently into the space between the truck door and the window weather stripping. Jonas pumped up the wedge just enough to fit a five-foot bendable rod through the narrow opening and into the cabin of the semi. With some finesse, the hook at the end of the rod grabbed the truck’s door lock, a small, vertical cylinder that, when pulled straight up, will unlock the door. He struggled to see clearly in the moonlight and carefully worked to avoid scratching the interior window as he pulled the rod up. Click! The door unlocked.

At the rest stop that Jonas had come to, there was only one sedan that left shortly after Jonas arrived. There were seven trucks and the one that he was working to unlock was the seventh in line. Now that the door was unlocked, that wasn’t the end of his job. He retrieved his air wedge and bendable rod, slipping them into the small red toolbox that he had sitting on the ground next to him with the words “Harold & Co.” scribed on the outside.

Jonas walked back to his tow truck and placed the toolbox in the passenger seat. He went into the popular truck stop and listened to the dripping of recently running shower heads and the shower curtains blowing in place from the cross breeze created by the opening at the front and back of the building. A quarter dinged its way down a vending machine and a stream of coffee started pouring into the disposable foam cup that Jonas set there. He took a deep breath in as the coffee assaulted his senses, evaporating the crust from his eyes and the oil from his creased, aged hands.

A familiar beep rang from the machine and the coffee finished it’s piddly drip into the cup. Jonas picked it up, placed the rim of the smooth foam on his upper lip and smelled the cheap Colombian mixture. He sat down in a stained green loveseat that was straight out of the 70’s and let the pointed springs poke his denim-covered thighs and ass and laid back into the stain of many locksmiths before him.

Again, he smelled the coffee, listening to the dripping and dropping of the shower heads, waiting for it to cool enough so as to not burn his mouth, but so that he could feel the heat inch down his esophagus. Several minutes passed and he dipped his pinkie into the rejuvenating serum. Just like the final porridge, it was just right. He smelled it one last time and lifted the cup to his mouth, tipping it back and swallowing the almost burning drink.

He pulled his flip-phone from his pocket and opened it. The time was 2:22 AM, and he had no messages. It was late but, with no family to be pulled from, Jonas didn’t mind coming out here at this time of night. Outside, he watched the flickering bulbs of streetlamps hanging overhead, creating a stream of light around the sidewalks that led him from the building to his tow truck and to the semi’s that he was equipped to unlock. With a second and last deep breath, he tipped the remaining contents of the cup into his mouth and put the cup under the nozzle of the coffee machine, adding another quarter.

Jonas pushed himself up from the dated loveseat with a grunt and his hands pushing from his thighs for support. He got up and stretched his arms into the air as high as he could, then bent down to touch his toes, then rocked left to right to stretch his core. He pushed the door open as the stream of coffee started pouring back into the cup. The cold breeze touched his face, his warmed body welcoming the change in temperature. He took in a deep breath, smelling the dew turn to frost on the unkempt grass growing along the sidewalks and buildings outskirts.

The seventh truck in line, the one that he had just unlocked, was unmoved. Jonas walked closer, examining the six trucks before and nothing caught his attention. He was almost done for the night and he had already finished the hardest part of this job. A semi blew by the stop, driving up the highway at 70-something miles per hour, but there were no other cars in sight.

He went back to his tow truck for the small red toolbox and carried it back to the seventh semi. Walking back to the truck, he thought about the cheap coffee waiting for him inside and hurried along, his walk turning to a trot. At the door to the seventh semi, he put down the toolbox and opened it, pulling out some jumper cables and a rubber mallet.

Quickly, quietly and carefully, he gripped the handle to the door and yanked it, the squeaking sound of a truck with well over 500,000 miles pierced his ears. He pulled himself up to the cabin and closed the door behind him gently. The door didn’t close completely, but it was closed enough so that a good gust of wind wouldn’t move it and cause noise, and so that no cool air would disturb the task at hand.

The cabin was dirty, but neat. The faux-leather seat was worn and rubbing off at many places. A stereotypical hula girl bobblehead wiggled slightly on the dashboard with the movement that he was causing. The odometer was at 673,993 miles and a minifridge, surely full of lunch meats, soda and beer (as so many of the independent truckers drove with,) was whirring its engine inside to keep everything cool. The microwave on top of it was black with wooden accents, and the smell of splattered foods flooded Jonas’ nose, making him crave the scent of the sweet coffee waiting for him.

There were two beds, organized one over the other towards the back of the cabin. The top one was used as storage for memento’s, such as a birthday card signed by the trucker’s daughter, a brownish orange stuffed fox and a collection of family photos. Jonas was surprised by the overwhelming beauty of the trucker’s wife, as most of the wives are sexy enough to be bridge trolls and only marry truckers because no one else will take them. He picked up a framed picture from the top bunk and pulled it close to his eyes to see better in the moonlight. Rubbing his thumb against the woman, imagining that he pushed her hair back, he fantasized about having a family with her and if he was the one with a young daughter at home, but then he shook the thoughts away, afraid to get caught up in the make-believe like he so often does when he’s doing his job.

He set the framed picture back down and his attention came to the bottom bed, which was inhabited by a snoring 40-something year-old man who was sleeping in Star Wars pajamas and a white blanket. The man snored, held it for eight seconds, then let it out, this time waiting only four seconds before he repeated the imperfect cycle. Jonas stared at the man’s balding head and kneeled down in front of him. The back of his hand rubbed his smooth head, and he savored every instance of touch that was gifted to him by himself. He ran his hands down the man’s face, pausing slightly when he stopped snoring, but continued when the snoring started again.

His skin was soft, and it reminded him of his childhood, when his parents were around to give him the cozy life that he wanted, but then those thoughts were replaced by what he had come here to do. He took the jumper cables and wrapped them around his hands as tightly as he could and held them above the man’s throat. He waited for the man to let out his last snore, and then forced the cables into his Adam’s apple. The man’s eyes shot open with bloodshot tiredness and fear in them, and he gripped for the cords, desperately pulling them back from his throat but to no avail, leaving deep cuts from his fingernails where he tried to rip them away.

The man reached for Jonas, but he was carefully positioned right outside of his reach, watching as his bloodshot eyes widened with the knowledge that tunnel vision was taking hold. Trying to lash out as hard as he could, the man reached for Jonas’s neck, almost getting hold, but Jonas was able to react fast enough and force him back into his small bed.

Defeatedly and weakly, the man reached his hands up and searched the upper bed for the picture of his family. He grabbed it with wobbly and unsteady fingers, and held it close to his face, moving it back and forth, obviously trying to focus in on the image of his beautiful family. Jonas knew the deed was done when the man dropped the picture onto his chest and it slid to the floor, breaking the glass covering his family.

He waited another thirty seconds, but then pulled back form the man whose eyes looked like they were about to pop from his head. Jonas reached down and got the picture from the frame and slid it into his chest pocket. He opened the door that he had come through and took a step out, taking one look back to see his handywork, and then, picking up his toolbox, walked back into the bitter cold, thinking only of the coffee that was waiting for him inside. He walked by the other six semis’, smiling at the thought of how productive this stop had been. He dropped the toolbox back off at his truck, happy that he didn’t need to use the mallet here and walked back inside to the uncomfortable green loveseat that he had been in before.

Jonas lifted the coffee cup to his upper lip and smelled the serum, then dipped his pinkie in to test the temperature. When he decided that it was cool enough, he took a sip and felt the burning inch down his throat, vanish behind the picture of the recently deceased trucker and his family, and drop into his stomach.