Chapter 12
Another dreary winter month had passed in Benton Falls, and now it was February, bitter cold, blustery and snowy, daring all but the most hearty to venture forth on such a night as this. Inside the stately Adair residence, however, there was no trace of chill whatsoever. Especially as far as the troilistic group gathered in one of the guest bedrooms at the farthest end of the second floor was concerned. A group which was composed of none other than Noreen, Sirri, and a still-fragile, badly-scarred Hal Gilmartin. Who, his spirit crushed as definitively as Sirri's had been, had recently been prevailed upon to enter the dowager queen's corrupt menage. A pension of sorts endowed upon him also, he'd gratefully agreed to sign on with the unique repertoire company, and was, even now, engaged in another orgiastic "audition."
Granted, he was not the prettiest of specimens, but the saying having to do with cats in the dark applying here, the bedroom deep in shadow, he would serve Noreen's purposes admirably. At least until something better came along. All of them slightly drunk, fighting to forget that each was, to some extent, a castoff, they pursued sensation with a tireless dedication. And Noreen posting happily upon Hal's daily-more-proficient prick, while Sirri straddled his head, hissingly enjoyed his incisive, pistoning tongue as it scoured the membranes of her cunt and clitoris, the madcap trio took their jollies where they could.
While in the master bedroom, that fool's paradise of satin sheets, silk apparel and crisscrossing spotlights, still another travesty of love was being enacted.
A new philosophy had been instituted in the Adair household since Noreen's brutal showdown with Sirri and Hal, a philosophy encompassing the "If you can't lick 'em, join 'em" adage. Since it was painfully obvious that Dwight would never change, that his lecher-fetishist fantasies became more compelling with each passing day, it was up to Noreen to employ her waning youth as creatively as she could. More and more often lately she caustically defended her capitulation to outright sensuality with the catch-phrase: "Every woman ought to have a hobby."
Beyond this acceptance of Dwight's most intrinsic, unchanging nature, there had evolved a determination that never again should their future ever be threatened again as it had been so recently. It had been proven that Dwight was no longer .the strong, dependable male he'd once been. So be it. In that case it was up to Noreen herself to become overseer and warden-zookeeper was apropos also-all in one. If Dwight was going to engage in lifelong debauch, then she would be obliged to provide setting for same, keep close watch on his flesh preserve lest he roam too far afield, destroy them all with his reckless lust for eternal fresh conquest.
As singular case in point was the exquisite young thing of eighteen, named Elaine Cotter-an ingenue Sirri herself had been instrumental in recruiting-who was, at this very moment, in the midst of erotic trance in Dwight's fantastically-appointed boudoir. An elfin blonde, petite in every respect, she was dazedly recumbent upon the bed, savoring the insane excitement within her loins as Dwight slavishly dressed her in the white, "wedding night" costume, almost exact duplicate of the one in which he'd once accoutered Sirri. Now the odd step-ins were being pulled up her thighs, accompanied by a chewing kiss to the golden floss of her moras veneris. "I don't understand," the adorable innocent questioned when her shivers of rapture died down. "Why do you keep dressing and undressing me?"
In the guest bedroom Noreen was now lovingly sucking the depleted Hal back to life, her head moving in dreamy ebb and flow, even as Sirri, devoted aficionado of bi-sexual love by then, eagerly returned her new mistress to a relatively pristine condition.
Dwight was groveling at Elaine's feet now, kissing and licking the pretty white shoes, beginning to work his tongue up her white stockings, a thing that made the virgin whimper with intermixed delight and dismay.
"Let's get Sirri ready," Noreen snickered now as she pumped Hal's hard cock, brought droplets of his love liqueur forth. "You hold her legs; I'll get her juiced up." Even as she transferred the clear oil from the knob of his organ to Sirri's puckered star, squirmed her own finger inside her anus to stretch her, she recalled the time she'd commanded Dwight to play also; the memory of simultaneously having Dwight up her ass, Hal up her snatch, actually made her dizzy with longing.
Elaine was positioned provocatively upon the white sheets now, the glitter of her mounting fabulously exciting to Dwight. Her white lingerie, her creamy flesh, the tantalizing pinkness of her tits, her blatantly exposed pussy, as contrasted to the shiny satin, made him want to scream. He stifled the impulse by burying his face in the golden fur of her gash, making her groan naggedly as his tongue investigated that intact seal of her chastity.
Noreen positioned herself precisely beneath Sirri, pulled a pillow beneath her head the better to reach the child's pussy where Sirri, on all fours, angled her buttocks to receive Hal's swaying phallus. Noreen took a tentative swipe at Sirri's clitoris, was rewarded with an adoring lick of her own, Sirri avid to return the homage, stroke for stroke.
Elaine screamed piteously now, as Dwight forced his rod into her squeaky-tight hole, ruptured her hymen, the outflow swiftly staining the silk scarf beneath her buttocks. Shortly her cries diminished, and Dwight impaled her more vigorously.
Noreen thought the sight of Hal's brown cock, as it sallied in and out of Sirri's anal passage, eminently exciting. Even more exciting was the act of licking his flopping testicles themselves as they came in range, a ministration she alternated with searing lavings of Sirri's clitoris. The frenzy in Noreen's belly heightened by the moment.
But still there were moments of brief despair, misgivings Noreen couldn't quite identify. She should be happy; she should be satisfied. Here was her new life, her totally new attitudes. There was even promise of Elaine, when Dwight tired of her; unknown Elaines, as-yet-to-be-invented sexual games she couldn't even begin to imagine yet. And yet-this damnable uneasiness, this guilt. She worked harder, fought to shut out conscience. Her tongue lolled frenziedly, and she struggled to concentrate, to gather sensation to transfiguring magnification. Momentarily she was successful in blotting out her chagrin.
It seemed to Noreen that there should be something more to life than this. More than wholesale wallowing. Power and wealth should rightfully invest their owners with more happiness, more meaningful endeavors. But for the life of her, she was unable-at this so-crucial moment-to think of what such lofty pursuits might be.