Frank's chief pastime was cruising around the highways looking for junkies passed out in delapidated restrooms.
Whenever he'd find one Frank would carefully and methodically undress them, putting all the textile layers peeled off into a plastic shopping bag, then bind their wrists together and fuck them in the ass.
Frank's prick was pretty long and rather thick, so his ravishments always included a lot of bloodletting. Junkies are usually constipated anyway, and anuses aren't exactly resilient to wear & tear. It made no difference to Frankie if he was fucking a boy or a girl, tho if the lady had tits worth the mention he enjoyed sinking a little pocket knife into her fatty flesh, leaving little blood driplets running off her chest to match the tearing in her asshole. Men always bled there, and so did most women, with the exception of one middleaged and well used whore. That time Frank used his little knife to start her up a little and it was alright from there on.
Once he was done, ten or fifteen minutes later, he'd peel off his outer condom, the one that contained their shit and blood, tie it up and add it to his trophy collection. He'd then slide off the inner one and carefully spread his juice all over the bloody, pulsating hole of the unwitting and likely unwilling partner. He'd rub it in well, stick it in as far as his plastic covered finger would go. Frankie had short, fat, stubbly fingers.
He'd then use his pocket knife to separate the shoe soles from their shoes and leave. Later in the week he'd drop their clothes into one of those washing machines places they had by his local community college. In the rare cases the junkies had some money in their pockets, like maybe a quarter or two he'd use that to pay for the cycles. In the much more frequent cases they had specs of white dust greedily collected in wrapped up bags he'd just leave that somewhere prominent, like sitting on the door of a washing machine. Once the washing was done he'd take the clothes to some "vintage" shop like they call used clothes stores now and try to get enough from the sale to pay for a couple of condoms, which wasn't always easy. If it didn't work, he'd just hit the campus, fish one or two out of those huge tanks they had for the purpose, but Frankie didn't really like doing that.
One day stopping at a little convenience store forsaken in the desert his eye caught on a little novelty item : a tiny tin bell suspended from a thick imitation-brocade black choker. He was immediately entranced with the thing, bought out the entire store stock. Ninety eight plastic brocade cum tin bell arrangements. For the next year and a half or so, Frank enjoyed the faint tinkle of the bell while exerting himself at the task of trashing the delicate muscular ring closing the digestive tract of his theoretically fellow humans.
Of course, he was called the Ditch for entirely unrelated reasons.