“Creepy Jeffrey” is the working title of this story. I barely remember writing it and never planned to publish it, but time gives an odd sense of perspective on my writing, I find. As you read, you’ll notice some words are highlighted. It was part of a writing challenge where we were given a list of random, unconnected words and charged with using as many of them in a story as possible.

Anyway, I was looking for something else in my files this morning and forgot how much I liked this little freak show. I hope you do, too.


Jeffrey started at the sound of keys in the door lock, and in a panic, crammed the silky panties he was holding into his pocket and snapped off the light. As quickly and quietly as he could, he closed the wicker laundry hamper and looked around. His only egress blocked, he eyed the closet, and with no time to spare, opened the louvered doors and shoved her clothes aside, doing his best to squeeze his bulk into the tight space.

Amy entered the bedroom laughing, leading a strange man by the hand. Jeffrey scowled, his hand clenching into a fist around her soiled underwear. That she held him at a distance was an uncomfortable reality for him, but it didn’t stop him from fantasizing about the life they would have together, or about how once he got her alone she’d see that he was all the man she’d ever need.

This tall man was no one Jeffrey knew, and Jeffrey didn’t like him in the least. He narrowed his eyes and watched as Amy switched on the small bedside lamp and carefully adjusted the lampshade where he had knocked it askew in his haste to hide. The man’s features were plenty clear in the soft light, and Jeffrey took note of the strong jaw, aquiline nose, and long forehead and decided he looked like a horse. Especially when he smiled and showed off his impossibly straight, white teeth. He stifled a derisive snort and nicknamed the interloper “Ed”, remarking mentally that he looked to be seriously lacking in “horseanality” and pressed a chubby fist to his sweaty upper lip to keep from laughing at his own wit.

Ed was wasting no time with Amy, and Jeffrey could feel his face burning red as Ed pulled her close, running his hands over her body, along her wide, womanly hips and around the soft, luscious globes of her ass. He squeezed the soft handfuls, and Jeffrey was dismayed to see her respond so willingly. He saw her press closer, her mouth on his, her hands disappearing between their bodies. Though he couldn’t see, Jeffrey knew by the way Ed gasped and closed his eyes that she’d touched his manhood, and the thought disgusted him, though he couldn’t ignore the throbbing between his own legs.

He was bent uncomfortably in the small space and the air was close. He could feel a dank wetness growing beneath his arms and he felt stifled in his track suit, but there was no way he could move. He’d be forced to watch her be taken by this unworthy man, and there was nothing he could do about it. Again, he clenched his fist and felt her panties, and slowly pulled them out of his pocket.

They smelled so good.

He raised them to his nose and inhaled slowly, savoring her scent. Ed was sliding her skirt up, and Jeffrey could see that she was wearing a matching pair. He throbbed again painfully, and even though the thought of Ed touching her was enough to make him sick, the sight of her ample ass under the sheer fabric was making him come undone. When Ed tugged on the panties and made them ride up between the soft cheeks, he had to exhale hard into her danties.

Amy was practically begging for it. She pushed Ed onto the bed and he got his first glimpse of Ed’s equine endowment, and with a self-conscious blush, rubbed his own small member through the polyester of his too-snug sweat pants.

He didn’t know how much he could stand.

It seemed Amy didn’t either. She had pulled off her top and Jeffrey watched as Ed opened her bra with a practiced snap of his fingers. The chesticles he’d admired through tight sweaters were free and bouncing and bare, and with a healthy dose of self-loathing, he slipped a moist hand into his pants and pulled his own erection free. He tugged it and closed his eyes tight as he felt it drool, his seed seeping out against his will. He knew that he should not be indulging in the sin of Onan and instead should be saving it for her. He didn’t want to watch her fornicate with a dirty, horse-faced man with his toothy smile and grotesquely large genitalia. He didn’t want to have to relieve his longing for her into a used pair of her panties. He wanted to go out there, pull her off Ed and get down one knee. He would propose matrimony to her, and she would accept gratefully. He’d send Ed packing, and they would finally be together. He would wait until their wedding night to take her, of course.

He imagined as he had so many nights in the past, how she would remove her white wedding white gown, her white thighs parting for him, and he would be the one to open her, and they would become one flesh. Then, on a day known only to God, she would ovulate, and he would use his seed to plant a baby inside her. He was stroking faster and harder at the thought, watching Ed enter her easily and her legs go around his back. They didn’t even undress. He took her like a whore, and he felt tears in his eyes as Ed worked inside her, plowing the furrow that was to be his alone.

Jeffrey couldn’t stop. He was thrusting inside his own fist, his clear fluids mixing with her scent, soiling his precious treasure. He was going to spill his seed, hiding and watching. He was dirty and sinful. She made him dirty. She forced him to sin with her wanton ways. He wanted it to end, to be able to clear his head, but it was taking too long. Amy was bucking and moaning, and she cried out as if in pain. Jeffrey came undone at last, and with a soft cry of his own, shot his load into the scrap of silken fabric. He was crying in earnest, silent tears running down his face as he tucked his spent penis back under his waistband. He dropped the ruined panties heedlessly onto a pile of jumbled shoes and wiped his eyes and a string of mucus from his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

As Ed reached his own climax with a simian grunt, his foot hit the nightstand. Jeffrey saw the lamp wobble, and heard a crash. Apologetically, Ed got up quickly, and retrieved the bits of ceramic from the wood floor. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Amy laughed and tossed the bits into the small wastebasket. “It’s nothing. Just a thing this guy from work gave me once. I thought it was kind of sweet.”

“Another guy, huh? A sweetie of yours?”

It was Amy’s turn to laugh. “Not hardly. He’s a good guy. I think he’s a little…special,” and she pointed to her head.

Ed nodded, and dropping his pants to the floor, climbed back into bed with her.

Jeffrey seethed. He knew the figurine. It was a little cat. She said she liked cats. It was holding a little balloon that said “I luv u furever” on it. He had looked in every gift shop in town trying to find just the right trinket to express his sentiments, and she had tossed it out like garbage. He had gifted it to her in the fullness of his love, and she just threw it away.

Enraged, he threw the closet door open and burst into the room. He could barely see, and his sobs were the last thing either of them heard as he grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and brought it down hard on Ed’s head. Once. Twice. The third blow drew blood and silenced Ed’s cries even as the plug came free from the outlet and the room was plunged into darkness. Amy was still screaming and crying, and Jeffrey kept swinging until no one was making any noise. Or moving. Or breathing.

* * * * *

That Sunday morning, the pastor stopped Jeffrey after services and asked after his special girl and inquired as to when he’d have the pleasure of meeting her. Jeffrey smiled a doleful little smile. “Oh, Pastor,” he said. “She turned out to be a…” his voice lowered into church-appropriate tones, “…well, a fallen woman of low morals. It didn’t work out.”

The pastor smiled gently. “I understand, my son. You did the right thing.”

“Thank you, Pastor.” Jeffrey walked away, and the smile of the righteous passed over his lips. Under his breath, he muttered, “For the Good Book says, ‘If a man comes upon a maiden who is betrothed and has relations with her, you shall stone them to death.’”