The Dream City Film Club

Rufus knew it couldn't last. He got complacent. He should have been more careful, but he'd become intoxicated by the easy pickings. There were just so many lonely men there just waiting for his attention - how could he have controlled himself?

He was careful at first, biding his time, watching to see which of the men came back time after time; they were the ones that wouldn't be missed. He loved it, relished it, and took his time in choosing the next one. Sitting in his customary seat at the back in the far corner he could see the whole of the auditorium, without anyone else really noticing him. He loved this bit, getting the feel of his new place, watching the patrons over a period of time, seeing where they sat, which ones liked to sit alone, keeping their heads down, desperately afraid of catching someone's eye, these he usually left alone - these were the guilty ones the ones with wives and girlfriends, someone to miss them. He preferred the exhibitionists, the ones who craned their necks around to see who was watching them as well as the screen. These were the men who moved seats frequently, trying to find someone to connect with. He watched them with interest, watched who they moved next to, who they had success with.

Once he'd chosen he'd waste no time. He'd sit in a different seat, sneaking in from his rooms behind the stage, so that the staff (should they pay any attention whatsoever to what was happening in the auditorium rather than on screen) would not know he was there. He'd indulge in a bit of mutual masturbation with his victim, but being very careful to leave him wanting more. He'd arrange to meet him outside, along the road a way, slipping down through the old dressing rooms and out through a back door.

The end usually came quickly then, he would go back to the victim's own place, usually a very sad drab stale smelling room, where their greedy lust soon permeated the grey atmosphere, building to a vivid scarlet heartbeat moment of ultimate orgasm.

Yesterday he'd completely lost it and killed a succulent American boy actually in the toilets of the cinema. He'd caught his eye there and broke all his own rules - seduced him into one of the stalls. He was your archetypal clean cut American boy: short buzz cut hair and the widest, whitest smile. Rufus thought of some small woodland creature at the touch of the boy's bristly hair as he guided his head down to his engorged cock. He was obviously no stranger to giving head and did an admirable job; Rufus closed his eyes and thought of nothing but the sensation of the expert tongue licking along his length and flicking tantalisingly against the tip. The boys mouth was wet and very hot; he sucked in his cheeks and massaged Rufus's cock while his tongue lapped roughly away at the underside.

Somewhat reluctantly, but aware of his own limitations, Rufus pulled the boy's head up and kissed him hard, relishing his own unique taste tainting the boy's mouth. Undoing the boy's Levi's and turning him around in one much-practised movement, he spat onto his fingers and quickly but expertly pushed one, then two of them into the boy's arse, causing a sharp intake of moaned breath, but no resistance. Rufus braced himself against the boy, and this time it was his cock that was responsible for the delicious sob that erupted from that wide American mouth. The boy turned his head around and flashed a dazzling smile of compliance and encouragement. Rufus needed no more. He withdrew somewhat and slammed back all the way, feeling his balls smack against the boy's, the two pairs of balls mashing together. He reached around and grabbed hold hard of the boy's circumcised cock, jerking it quickly back and forth and soon found the age old rhythm. He knew it wasn't going to be long before they both came; the boy's breath was loud and ragged and his inarticulate moans were about to tip Rufus over the edge. He grabbed tighter hold of the boy and licked along his shoulder and up his neck, nibbling gently at the soft flesh there and with the timing he'd perfected over the years, sank his teeth into the jugular just as they both came.

They tasted so much better when consumed with lust, they tasted so much more alive; vibrant vermilion gurgling down his throat, dribbling over his chin, and feeding his hunger, satisfying his need, temporarily subduing his lust.

But for now it was finished. He'd barely escaped with his life. A handful of patrons had died, but not by his hand. The flames had engulfed the auditorium in an instant, the thick black smoke choking the men in their seats. He had been watching the man, had felt disquiet when the stranger caught his eye and even though the man struggled to keep his face emotionless, Rufus could look deeper and saw a look of hatred and fear and recklessness in his eyes. He wasn't able to read his mind, but there was definitely something awry in there and was just slipping through the back stage door when he heard an explosion and felt a rush of heat.

He just made it out of the alley. He could see smoke pouring out of the windows and the orange and blue flickering flames. He thought of the men still inside, choking and burning; at least his victims were in the throes of ecstasy when they died. He wondered about the man that set the fire - had Rufus been his intended victim, or was it the Dream City Film Club itself that he hated?