Wednesday October 6, 1976 12:08 a.m.
Once again, Lester knew that the projectionist seemed to be late in getting his shit together and didn't bother getting to the moviehouse on time. Despite the rather unwelcome invasion of his space the week before, Lester had come back to the Phoenix Theater. This week came with a new show: "Satan's Little Sluts." When he had first read the shoddy marquee before entering the theater, Lester considered it odd that they were beginning the Christmas seasonal things early this year since he had thought that it had said "Santa's Little Sluts." It was strange how each year, not just the pornographic theater seemed to gear up a little bit earlier, but the more "legitimate" businesses in town. Lester wondered if someday, the day after Christmas would be the official "early bird" or "first start" of the next year's Christmas shopping season.
Then again, it wasn't like Lester really had anyone to shop for anymore these days. Not to mention, with his meager factory salary, he could barely afford to keep himself fed and sheltered. His rather large extended family seemed contented enough in not acknowledging his existence with even so much as a Christmas card. Maybe that was for the best since it meant that he didn't have to feel bad about not getting them anything. If he was a great man like his father, everyone he had met at past family reunions would have gotten some small, but well-made gift like a fancy pen with the family name engraved on it or a letter-opener. If Lester was even just a good man, he would have gotten a toy for his daughter.
Lester kicked a stray bit of concrete on the sidewalk into the gutter before entering the theater and purchasing his ticket. It was the sort of object whose sole purpose in its short life was merely to be destroyed, torn to shreds by the "usher" in front of the doors. Why on earth would he be thinking of Christmas now? It seemed more appropriate to think of Halloween, considering the title of the "film" he was about to see.
Once again, as Lester entered the darkened theater, he surveyed the area while avoiding any possible eye contact. As usual, it was a sparse crowd of the usual degenerates. Sometimes he wished he could see well enough to see if he recognized anybody. Then again, the ability to recognize faces in a place like this came with the risk of being recognized himself. The last thing he needed was to lose his job over something this petty. Yet nonetheless, any sense of morality or decency he had wasn't able to dissuade him from returning. It wasn't like he really enjoyed himself there, but something kept drawing him back into the decaying walls of the Phoenix Theater.
The movie had already started. Three women in tattered black cloaks with hoods obscuring their faces, but with enough tatters around to reveal cleavage and leg, stood in a circle with a star drawn on the floor with lit candles. After some random chanting, the camera shook to make it look like there was an earthquake happening on the screen. Then there was an explosion from what may have been some sort of smoke machine followed by the women being put in some sort of catatonic trance, each falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Once the smoke had cleared via a fade to black transition, the three women awoke to a figure standing before them. As the camera panned up, it was revealed to be some guy in red paint and a dime store devil costume, but to the women, he was the prince of darkness himself. Lester wondered if the same director or the same company who had done the "Zombie Sluts from Space" film had done this one considering the odd penchant for men in body paint. Not to mention their use of the word "sluts" in the title. Then again, most pornographic film companies probably used that as a common title word. That way it practically sold itself by explaining what it was all about: women who would do anything men pleased.
And sure enough, these women were rather eager in their devotion to their dark lord. They caressed his cheap velvet cake and fondled the prosthetic horns on his head. One of them licked one of them when he had deigned to bend down far enough to allow her to, perhaps as a preview of what she would do to him later. Lester was hoping that the women wouldn't try to use the horns on his head as stimulators, but soon enough, with cheap effects and editing, the horns appeared to grow just as an erect penis would. Lester was unsure as to whether or not it would be appropriate to laugh. This guy basically had the equivalent of two strap-on dildos attached to his head.
After the "devil" started lustily tearing off the already flimsy clothing from his worshippers, Lester figured it was safe to start stroking himself. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what sort of target audience this was made for, if that sort of person actually frequented the Phoenix Theater as much as he did.
The phallus-headed beast soon took too all fours and dragged one of the women with him. She was an unnatural redhead considering her vibrant, almost wig-like coif didn't match her scant strip of brown pubic hair. For some reason, despite being a devotee of the devil, she struggled against his advances. It always seemed like in these pieces, the women didn't want the sex that they supposedly wanted more than anything. It was sort of a way to get both fantasies in as far as the rape fantasy or the controlled slut fantasy.
Soon enough, the woman submitted to this pleasure, spreading her legs wide to give the camera and the audience an eyeful which would have made a gynecologist blush. The devil/red-painted man licked her with his oddly long tongue for awhile, occasionally looking at the camera and grinning in glee as the woman quivered under his power. Lester wasn't sure if she was having an orgasm or some sort of epileptic seizure. She only seemed to intensify in her convulsions as the devil rammed one of his "horns" into her gaping, wet orifice. It was an odd idea that someone could get off from being basically head-butted in the privates.
The other two women, both oddly natural-blondes, were not to be neglected by the camera. They had already started, almost at the dildo-horned devil's bidding. The usual lesbian fluff to appeal to men who wanted less intrusion into their fantasies. Why watch a guy doing a girl when you can watch two girls, right? Two for the price of one, it was just like any good deal you'd find at a supermarket or department store. One of them reached for the devil's other horn, the one not ramming into the false redhead, and began ramming it into her partner as she fingered herself.
Despite all of these displays of female arousal and orgasm, Lester had difficulty keeping a physical interest in what was going on. The scenario was so ridiculous, not to mention the illusion of all of this arousal was far too thin of a veil to cloud his mind. For a moment, he thought he heard the moans and screams behind him. Then again, he knew better than that, since the sound system was nowhere near that good. For one thing, it had not been upgraded for a long time, perhaps from the days when he was a kid.
Despite everything in him that knew better, Lester turned around to see the twisted face of "Crazy Christine." She was bent over one of the seats in the aisles behind him. Whoever was fucking her emitted animal-like grunts and growled simple obscenities like "fuck" and "cunt" at her as he plowed into her, disgusting fur coat and all. Lester wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that he had sat in a different seat from usual. Maybe if he had sat further back, she and whoever she was with would have been dissuaded. Then again, she didn't seem like the sort who would have minded that intrusion. After all, she was having sex with someone who was most likely a complete stranger in a pornographic movie theater.
Lester tried to turn around and keep his mind off of it and back on the movie and finally releasing the tension that had built up already. Somehow he couldn't watch it anymore. The red-painted man, now with no horns at all, had one of the blonde women bent on all fours and was fucking her up the ass while she licked the redhead's pussy. The other blonde woman seemed to be masturbating herself with the devil's two horns to something trying to pass itself off as a state of rapture. Maybe the bending over was too much like what was going on behind him.
Eventually, his cock had gone completely soft and was now chafing from the roughness of his hands. Maybe the sweat pouring from his palms made for a bad lubricant. A sudden nausea overwhelmed him. Before he realized what was happening, Lester lurched forward, throwing up all over the already vomit-colored and filthy carpet, not to mention his shoes.
Almost forgetting to put his cock back into his pants, Lester ran out of the movie theater, coughing and retching the whole way even though he had already purged himself of what he had consumed that day, and perhaps even the day before that.
Then again, it wasn't like Lester really had anyone to shop for anymore these days. Not to mention, with his meager factory salary, he could barely afford to keep himself fed and sheltered. His rather large extended family seemed contented enough in not acknowledging his existence with even so much as a Christmas card. Maybe that was for the best since it meant that he didn't have to feel bad about not getting them anything. If he was a great man like his father, everyone he had met at past family reunions would have gotten some small, but well-made gift like a fancy pen with the family name engraved on it or a letter-opener. If Lester was even just a good man, he would have gotten a toy for his daughter.
Lester kicked a stray bit of concrete on the sidewalk into the gutter before entering the theater and purchasing his ticket. It was the sort of object whose sole purpose in its short life was merely to be destroyed, torn to shreds by the "usher" in front of the doors. Why on earth would he be thinking of Christmas now? It seemed more appropriate to think of Halloween, considering the title of the "film" he was about to see.
Once again, as Lester entered the darkened theater, he surveyed the area while avoiding any possible eye contact. As usual, it was a sparse crowd of the usual degenerates. Sometimes he wished he could see well enough to see if he recognized anybody. Then again, the ability to recognize faces in a place like this came with the risk of being recognized himself. The last thing he needed was to lose his job over something this petty. Yet nonetheless, any sense of morality or decency he had wasn't able to dissuade him from returning. It wasn't like he really enjoyed himself there, but something kept drawing him back into the decaying walls of the Phoenix Theater.
The movie had already started. Three women in tattered black cloaks with hoods obscuring their faces, but with enough tatters around to reveal cleavage and leg, stood in a circle with a star drawn on the floor with lit candles. After some random chanting, the camera shook to make it look like there was an earthquake happening on the screen. Then there was an explosion from what may have been some sort of smoke machine followed by the women being put in some sort of catatonic trance, each falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Once the smoke had cleared via a fade to black transition, the three women awoke to a figure standing before them. As the camera panned up, it was revealed to be some guy in red paint and a dime store devil costume, but to the women, he was the prince of darkness himself. Lester wondered if the same director or the same company who had done the "Zombie Sluts from Space" film had done this one considering the odd penchant for men in body paint. Not to mention their use of the word "sluts" in the title. Then again, most pornographic film companies probably used that as a common title word. That way it practically sold itself by explaining what it was all about: women who would do anything men pleased.
And sure enough, these women were rather eager in their devotion to their dark lord. They caressed his cheap velvet cake and fondled the prosthetic horns on his head. One of them licked one of them when he had deigned to bend down far enough to allow her to, perhaps as a preview of what she would do to him later. Lester was hoping that the women wouldn't try to use the horns on his head as stimulators, but soon enough, with cheap effects and editing, the horns appeared to grow just as an erect penis would. Lester was unsure as to whether or not it would be appropriate to laugh. This guy basically had the equivalent of two strap-on dildos attached to his head.
After the "devil" started lustily tearing off the already flimsy clothing from his worshippers, Lester figured it was safe to start stroking himself. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what sort of target audience this was made for, if that sort of person actually frequented the Phoenix Theater as much as he did.
The phallus-headed beast soon took too all fours and dragged one of the women with him. She was an unnatural redhead considering her vibrant, almost wig-like coif didn't match her scant strip of brown pubic hair. For some reason, despite being a devotee of the devil, she struggled against his advances. It always seemed like in these pieces, the women didn't want the sex that they supposedly wanted more than anything. It was sort of a way to get both fantasies in as far as the rape fantasy or the controlled slut fantasy.
Soon enough, the woman submitted to this pleasure, spreading her legs wide to give the camera and the audience an eyeful which would have made a gynecologist blush. The devil/red-painted man licked her with his oddly long tongue for awhile, occasionally looking at the camera and grinning in glee as the woman quivered under his power. Lester wasn't sure if she was having an orgasm or some sort of epileptic seizure. She only seemed to intensify in her convulsions as the devil rammed one of his "horns" into her gaping, wet orifice. It was an odd idea that someone could get off from being basically head-butted in the privates.
The other two women, both oddly natural-blondes, were not to be neglected by the camera. They had already started, almost at the dildo-horned devil's bidding. The usual lesbian fluff to appeal to men who wanted less intrusion into their fantasies. Why watch a guy doing a girl when you can watch two girls, right? Two for the price of one, it was just like any good deal you'd find at a supermarket or department store. One of them reached for the devil's other horn, the one not ramming into the false redhead, and began ramming it into her partner as she fingered herself.
Despite all of these displays of female arousal and orgasm, Lester had difficulty keeping a physical interest in what was going on. The scenario was so ridiculous, not to mention the illusion of all of this arousal was far too thin of a veil to cloud his mind. For a moment, he thought he heard the moans and screams behind him. Then again, he knew better than that, since the sound system was nowhere near that good. For one thing, it had not been upgraded for a long time, perhaps from the days when he was a kid.
Despite everything in him that knew better, Lester turned around to see the twisted face of "Crazy Christine." She was bent over one of the seats in the aisles behind him. Whoever was fucking her emitted animal-like grunts and growled simple obscenities like "fuck" and "cunt" at her as he plowed into her, disgusting fur coat and all. Lester wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that he had sat in a different seat from usual. Maybe if he had sat further back, she and whoever she was with would have been dissuaded. Then again, she didn't seem like the sort who would have minded that intrusion. After all, she was having sex with someone who was most likely a complete stranger in a pornographic movie theater.
Lester tried to turn around and keep his mind off of it and back on the movie and finally releasing the tension that had built up already. Somehow he couldn't watch it anymore. The red-painted man, now with no horns at all, had one of the blonde women bent on all fours and was fucking her up the ass while she licked the redhead's pussy. The other blonde woman seemed to be masturbating herself with the devil's two horns to something trying to pass itself off as a state of rapture. Maybe the bending over was too much like what was going on behind him.
Eventually, his cock had gone completely soft and was now chafing from the roughness of his hands. Maybe the sweat pouring from his palms made for a bad lubricant. A sudden nausea overwhelmed him. Before he realized what was happening, Lester lurched forward, throwing up all over the already vomit-colored and filthy carpet, not to mention his shoes.
Almost forgetting to put his cock back into his pants, Lester ran out of the movie theater, coughing and retching the whole way even though he had already purged himself of what he had consumed that day, and perhaps even the day before that.
posted by janevalenz @ 1:59 AM
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