1 comments/ 124374 views/ 5 favorites Running to Stand Still Ch. 1 By: Stardog Champion The voice in her head just would not let up. "Run..run...run...run...run..run..run...run....," That's all Sherry Mitchum had heard for the past 18 years. Going all the way back to when she was a budding young track star in Huntsville, Texas, about an hour North of Houston, all the teenager seemed to hear, whether she was doing her homework, going to church, trying to eat or fall asleep was "RUN". The dedication to that one thing , whether it be as an athlete or now as a coach, was her main focus seemingly every waking moment for almost two decades. Before she had married her college sweetheart and changed her name to Sherry Mitchum, she had been quite the local celebrity growing up in Huntsville by the name of Sherry Cranston. Having lettered in cross-country and track for four years in high school, Sherry had been blessed with the good fortune to have her face plastered across the local sportspages and hometown TV station during the most socially conscious time of her adolescent development. If there ever was such a thing, Sherry was the quintessential "Big Girl on Campus". After accepting a track scholarship to Rice University, one of Texas's finest private institutions, Sherry went on to a moderately successful four year stint on her college track team, finishing second in the 1500 meters two years in a row in the Southwest Conference Regionals during the late 80's. Sometime early on during her Senior year however, the luster of everything she had worked for started to fade. While she still dedicated every ounce of energy she had to the team and her teammates in the process of leading Rice to a decent final season, there were many nights when she would lay awake in her dorm room and wonder where her youth had went. One night, in the confusion of her jumbled thoughts, Sherry applied some crude math in her head, adding up every single mile she had estimated she'd ran. Taking into account all the practice she had done, the time spent on cross country tracks as well as on ovals since grade school, Sherry guessed she had ran enough miles to make it to Los Angeles, then to New York and then back home to Houston again. The cruel part of that realization, the one that struck Sherry to the core, was that with all that running, she was basically right where she started, without a clue of who she was or even who she wanted to be. Sherry didn't exactly know when it had happened, but her childhood dream to run in the Olympics was now a distant personal joke. She had long harbored great fantasies of representing her country in the '92 Barcelona Olympic Games but when Sherry had arrived at college as a Freshman and realized every other girl on her team was as good, if not better than she was, Sherry knew deep inside that the actuality of being able to stand on a pedestal with a gold medal around her neck and the "Star Spangled Banner" playing would likely never happen. * * * * * Deeply immersed in her 'Senior Slump", Sherry's 22nd year of life was basically a foggy haze. Thankfully, she was a good enough student, even at a tough school like Rice, to get by academically. Once Sherry knew she was on cruise control, having enough credits to graduate, she alternated between trying to chart out a post graduation plan and losing herself in numerous alcohol binges. The one thing Sherry did have going for her through the ups and downs of that time, was her relationship with the greatest guy in the world. During her Sophomore year, Sherry Cranston had met a really cute and down to Earth business major named Mark Mitchum, and their slow courtship had eventually led to him proposing to her and then marriage a year or so after graduation. The one moment that seemed to snap Sherry out of her terrible Senior funk, more than anything else, was after a really really hard night of drinking and then puking her guts out right on the lawn in front of some of Mark's frat buddies, Mark had taken her inside, at what had to be a very embarrassing moment for him, and spent the entire next day nursing Sherry back to health. Knowing that if she had found a guy that would stick by her in that kind of a difficult spot, she had probably found her soulmate for life. A few weeks after graduation, as she was going through the unenviable task of getting her resume together to go job hunting, another stroke of good fortune came Sherry's way. The only thing that scared Sherry more than staying near home and spending more time in the same rut she was in was the fear of what lay outside in the unsheltered world of the unknown. The Hell you know is better than the Hell you don't...... When she got a call one late June afternoon from her track coach, Gloria Monroe, Sherry jumped at the chance to stay with the Hell she knew. One of the Rice assistant coaches had accepted a more lucrative position at Texas A&M, leaving the Rice staff in a lurch. When Coach Monroe offered her former athlete the position on the spot, Sherry quickly accepted. Coaching had never been anything Sherry had seriously considered doing as a career, but it was a job and it was something Sherry knew intimately, if no longer passionately. Mark had been getting positive feelers from several companies around Houston, so staying there wasn't the worst thing in the world, Sherry reasoned. Even though the coaching position only started out at $15,000 a year, Sherry knew that Mark's potential income would be sufficient to give the couple a good foundation so they could start building their life together. Six years later as she looked back, Sherry, more times than not, felt she had made the right decision. * * * * * Laying in bed beside his loving and caring wife of almost six years, Mark smiled flirtatiously over to Sherry as she quietly graded papers from the Fitness and Nutrition class she taught when she wasn't coaching to supplement her income. It had become a passionless, yet strangely romantic scene between the two for the past year or so. Both sitting up in bed, under the soft lamplight in their pajamas, just like Carol and Mike Brady, doing work for the next day, paying bills or reading the day's newspaper before flipping off the light, pecking each other on the cheek and then finally going to sleep. Sometimes, if the mutual feeling struck, they would have sex but most of the time the exhausting rigors of the day outweighed their need to get their rocks off. Mark and Sherry usually rolled over and quickly nodded off. As Mark sat up that night, casually reading the day's Wall Street Journal, he kept stealing glances over at Sherry, who had a pile of essays covering her upper torso, still thinking she was the sexiest thing he had seen all day. Despite the fact Sherry had her reading glasses down over the bridge of her nose like an aged school marm and was clad in a potato sack like nightgown, Mark still thought she looked radiant under the soft glow of the lamp above. With two piles of papers spread across Sherry's stomach, one graded and one not, Mark caught himself staring openly at Sherry's breasts as their pert firmness snugly rested inside her cotton nightie. Mark still found his wife intensely attractive, and hadn't ever once thought of cheating on her despite the fact that like with any long term relationship, their sex life had had grown stale and routine. He had often imagined Sherry getting fucked by other men, imagined her playing with all kinds of toys, and even several occasions, his wife having sex with other women. These images were just fantasy fodder and nothing more for him however. Each time Mark had been tempted to even approach anything of the kind to Sherry, he suddenly felt so dirty inside he instantly chickened out. Feeling his dick harden under the quilt, to the point that the newspaper resting on his lap rose slightly, Mark couldn't deny that he needed a little tender love and care before he went to sleep. Gazing over at Sherry's soft facial features, Mark tenderly reached over and started to rub his hand through Sherry's slightly mussed, shoulder length chestnut brown hair. >From the first time he had ever laid eyes on Sherry back in college, Mark had always been strongly drawn to her. Sherry had always been in fine shape from being a competitive athlete and since she maintained that regime as a coach now, Sherry still had the same teenage figure that she did the first night he remembered dancing cheek to cheek with her when they were both 19. Mark felt a little shallow for still being so physically attracted to his wife, knowing that years down the road after her beauty and figure had given out, he'd have to grow to love her for her other qualities, some of which he still hadn't quite grown to love. At these selfish, sexually charged times late at night however, it was Sherry's 5 foot 6 toned body that garnered his entire attention. "No Mark...I've got a ton of stuff to do here," was Sherry's tired reaction when she felt Mark's impulses soaking through her skin. "I expect the kids to meet deadlines turning in these papers..the least they can expect is for me to grade them and get them back to them when I promise." "I know," Mark replied. "I just couldn't resist trying." "Ahh..that's so sweet," Sherry's silent gaze seemed to say as she looked over at her horny husband. When she dutifully returned her focus back down to the redmarked paper in front of her, Mark realized he'd have to wait for another night to get lucky. Or so he thought. After turning off the lamp on his side of the bed and dropping his half read newspapers to the floor, Mark tucked his head under the covers to go to sleep while his wife continued grading essays. Sometime later, as he was on the precipice of sleep, Mark heard the distinctive click of the lamp on Sherry's side of the bed get turned off. Once Sherry had settled in and snuggled up beside her husband, Mark couldn't help but stretch his head over and give his wife a final kiss before they both drifted off. In the process of doing that, Mark lowered his sleepy grip around Sherry's thigh, just below where her cotton nightie left off. Leaving his hand there for several moments, Mark couldn't help but feel the faint heat from his wife's privates billowing down and surrounding his wrist. Twisting his head slightly under the covers, intending to kiss Sherry first on the shoulder, he did a drowsy double take when his lips flushly met hers. Taken by surprise momentarily by Sherry's certain intent, Mark immediately began returning Sherry's oral embrace. * * * * * Sexual relations between Mark and Sherry had taken on three distinct types of erotic avenues over their years of marriage. On the very rare occasions when both knew they would have all night to explore each other, they would do what Mark affectionately referred to as gourmet sex, treating the night as a sexual seven course meal. Unfortunately, only during vacations and the occasional weekend did that ever happen. The most frequent type of sex between the two was the old fashioned home cooked meal variety. Usually, after both Mark and Sherry had settled down after work and started milling about the house, there would be an unspoken connection between them about doing 'it' that night when they went to bed. Once there, each spouse would perform some cursory foreplay and then they would share a decent fuck, usually lasting a half hour or so. Then after some afterglow conversation, they would fall asleep in each others arms. What Sherry and Mark were about to engage in was the third type and could only be compared to 'fast food sex'. Somewhere under the cover of darkness, the couple would join like two animals in heat, just for the simple goal getting their rocks off with barely a glimmer of intimacy involved. * * * * * Feeling Sherry furtively return his goodnight kiss, Mark wasted no time taking advantage of the opening, rushing his hand up Sherry's bare thigh until he had traced the familiar route to the top of her exquisitely toned upper legs, right towards the flaming heat source beckoning him. Once his fingers danced through the outer folds of Sherry's pussy, Mark felt his wife's mouth gasp against his cheek, in a primal signal that she was ready for a quick carnal romp. There in the calm darkness of their bedroom, Sherry and Mark's hands studied the familiar terrain of each other's bodies until Mark's hand forced Sherry's nightie all the way up around her waist, giving him free access to mount her from the side. Once his cock was close enough so that the heat from Sherry's calling pussy seemed to draw it in, Mark took a handful of Sherry's right breast in his free hand and forced his arched cock deep inside his wife, just like he had done a thousand of times before. Feeling their collective weight cause the center of their aged mattress to depress in the middle when they locked up, Mark thrust his hips in awkward circular motions until he felt the full sheath of Sherry's pussy choking his phallus completely. Digging her long red talon-like fingernails into her husband's shoulder blade, imploring him to fuck her harder, Sherry offered up her neck for Mark to bite as they both build towards orgasm. Whenever Mark and Sherry did their bits of gourmet or home cooked sex, they usually did a majority of it with the lights on. During those romantic interludes, all Mark ever needed to insure complete satisfaction and release was to gaze into his wife's beautiful eyes and scan down her rock solid lithe body and cum from the simple joy of his good fortune to be married to her. During these late night, 'fast food' romps however , Mark always seemed to find himself exploring some of his darker fantasies. For Mark it was almost like when he was a teenager growing up, masturbating under the covers after he had gone to bed, visually recapturing the images of all the women he had seen and wanted to fuck during the day. The only difference now was he had a gloriously smooth and tight pussy to cum inside of rather than messing up the sheets that he had to sleep on as a child. With his dick embedded inside of Sherry's molten snatch, a million random things rolled through Mark Mitchum's mind. He pictured fucking his wife on a windswept beach, he dazedly harkened back to the crazy thing he and Sherry did on their honeymoon with the chandelier in their suite. He mentally pictured fucking the beautiful and exotic blonde secretary that had just started work at his job, then he pictured Sherry fucking her. He even visually captured the random images of two guys he had seen gangbanging a chick on a porno flick once fucking Sherry ruthlessly and even though he would have never admitted it, he also pictured those same guys banging him while Sherry watched. Mark could feel and hear Sherry gasps of pleasure vibrate against his bucking body underneath the covers, their lust rippling through the darkness like an impending arrival of a meteorite colliding with Earth. In a flash, both their orgasms hit and then as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Two minutes later, Mark was walking nakedly through the house, making his way towards the kitchen to get Sherry and himself a glass of ice water while she took the time to sneak into the bathroom to cleanse herself. Once they were both tucked back into bed and had cooled themselves off with some water, they kissed each other gently and rolled over to finally go to sleep, this time for real. * * * * * Sherry immediately nodded off, leaving Mark laying there silently, wide awake beside her. As his eyes wandered about the jet black bedroom, Mark laid there basking in the definite glow of a great and fulfilling fuck. Looking over at his wife's face, barely visible under the green glow of the digital clock on her nightstand, all the random lurid images that flooded through Mark's brain as he fucked Sherry moments earlier started trickling back into his stream of consciousness. He once again admired how beautiful his wife truly was, smiling broadly himself seeing Sherry's quenched contentment as she slept peacefully. Mark couldn't help but also think about the pretty blonde part-time secretary at work. "Geneva", Mark whispered to himself, repeating the tall exotic blonde's name to himself as if it possessed some magical quality. "A name like that," Mark continued his stream of thought,"... and she comes from the Houston suburbs....go figure....you'd at least think she was from Switzerland or somewhere." Mark continued staring at Sherry sleeping there beside of him but couldn't help imagining what Geneva would look like laying there between the two. Mark's dick immediately began levitating once again as that mental picture came into focus in his mind. Reaching his left hand purposefully under the covers, Mark quietly started to play with himself, trying his best not to ruffle the covers and disturb Sherry from her sleep. Once his cock was sufficiently hard enough again that it filled his slowly pumping fist with steely heat, more rabid thoughts started flowing, like a fast rushing river, through Mark's head. Pumping his manhood now in quick, short jerks, Mark pictured Geneva going down on his wife's prone body, fiendishly lapping up the cum he had just deposited inside of Sherry. In the darkness, Mark could clearly visualize himself reaching over and sticking his erect cock into Geneva's golden pussy while he used each of his index fingers to violate both women’s assholes while the blonde secretary hungrily ate his loving wife out. As the burgeoning mental image burst with even riper clarity, Mark's eyes tilted upwards slightly in the darkness and he pictured the same granite like figure approaching the bedside, right above Sherry's face, that he had visualized the moment his orgasm had tripped, causing him to cum for real inside of his wife's pussy minutes earlier. * * * * * It had been three weeks earlier when Mark was sitting in the stands on a warm late September Saturday, watching his wife's track team compete in a home meet. As boring as the track meets were, Mark really wasn't a big fan of the sport or any sport that didn't have cheerleaders or betting lines, he faithfully endured the boredom to support his wife. With the budget cutbacks inside the University's athletic department since it dropped from the now defunct Southwest Conference, the male and female track teams were consolidated under the auspices of the same coaching staff. Sitting there watching the various different events unfold, trying his best to follow the action from listening to the public address announcer pointing out what was going on, something caught Mark's attention, completely taking him by surprise. Watching relay after relay play itself out, Mark heard the PA announcer mention a quite unusual and exotic name when introducing the participants. "Pablo Sandivere from Rice University". The named bounced around Mark's head that afternoon in the stands until it clicked who it was. "That was the exchange student Sherry keeps mentioning..from Argentina I think," he curiously whispered to himself as he watched the race unfold. Being a raw and untested Freshman, Pablo finished 6th in the 8 man race and looked dejected as he slowly made his way back to the Rice bench. As Pablo gasped for air, he placed his hands disappointedly on his waist as if he had just been put through the ringer. His already slow pace became even slower when he saw that his three coaches, including Sherry , were still giving marching orders to the four members of the 4x400 relay team that was set to compete next. Mark started to get a strange tingling in his belly as he watched the 18 year old Argentinian boy stop about 30 feet from where Sherry was standing . Sherry, being the closest in age to the kids as well as being the most friendly of all the coaches always seemed to draw the shortest straw in having to deal with an athlete after they have faced failure in an event, which was precisely the position Pablo was in. Running to Stand Still Ch. 1 He waited there off to the side of Sherry until she had finished with the other team members expecting her to debrief him after his failed attempt to qualify for the finals. From the birds eye view of the stands, Mark could clearly see the look of trance like admiration on Pablo's face as he openly stared at the roundness of Coach Mitchum's ass in her tight warmup suit. Pablo licked his upper lip with his tongue, causing Mark's stomach to swoon realizing the 18 year old boy was mentally undressing his 28 year old wife. There was an overwhelming sense of helpless jealousy filling Mark's psyche but as his rear end shifted nervously on the bleachers, he could also feel a tangible, yet indescribable, arousal watching the silent scene unfold on the infield. * * * * * Laying in bed, slowly jacking his cock off while he stared at his sleeping wife beside him, the acid etched mental image of a naked 18 year old Pablo Sandivere approaching the bed, stroking his mammothly thick cock in his hand right above Sherry's unsuspecting face, filled Mark's senses to the point that he was on the verge of his second powerful orgasm of the night. Pumping his own cock with ever increasing vigor, Mark visualized Pablo's meaty right hand sliding up and down the curved and uplifted appendage that rose like a led pipe from a patch of dense black pubic hair on his crotch. Mark clearly imagined Pablo's dark eyes gazing down at Sherry below with wild foreboding intent as he haughtily prepared to cover the pretty track coach's face with a load of youthful enthusiasm. His eyes now shifting rapidly from his wife's actual face to the invisible image above of the 18 year old stud spanking his cock in the darkness, Mark was sure he could even see the trickling trail of sweatbeads as they rolled down the track star's ab muscles, thighs and balls. When Pablo's fist grip tightened around his shaft and he bayed out loudly, cutting the calm night in the Mitchum bedroom with his Argentinean howl, Mark came at just the same instant that he pictured a stream of glowing white semen shoot from Pablo's granite like phallus with nuclear virility. Mark's hips thrust madly under the covers beside his sleeping wife as he ejaculated every ounce of jism he had left in his body, praying at the alter of the vision of the masculine young foreigner painting Sherry's face with his steaming white glaze. Mark was even sure he could see the traces of a sadistic gleaming grin rise from Pablo's cheeks as the boy stared down at Sherry below and the visible result of his sticky lust on her face. When Mark's adrenaline gave out, forcing him to succumb to fatigue, he slumped back down into bed, madly fighting off a cramp in his leg that was a result of the awkward angle he was masturbating at. When he finally was able to look back up into the patch of darkness above his wife that served as the backdrop for his visions of Pablo, the young Argentinean stud was gone, vanished back into the realm of fantasy to use later. After two bone jarring and mentally intense orgasms, Mark quickly drifted off to sleep as well with images of even wilder thoughts dancing through the dark alleys of his dreams. To Be Continued… Running to Stand Still Ch. 2 Sitting at his desk at the insurance company he'd worked at for the past four years, Mark could still feel his groin tingle with the explosive residue of what he had put himself through the night before. Even though he was only pushing 30, he couldn't remember the last time he had came twice in one night. Truth be told, Mark proudly bragged to himself that he could have made it three times if he had been brave enough to wake his wife up for another go around. As he drowsily went about filling out some paperwork at a few minutes after 10 in the morning, Mark couldn't resist looking up every few minutes to check out the seated figure of Geneva Switzer across the office, the sultry young secretary that had played such a prominent role in his fantasies of the night before, as she talked on the phone to a customer who had a claim. The carnal images that swirled inside Mark's head as he relived the night before all came back to him as he tapped his pencil on the table, totally unaware that he was drooling slightly as he gazed longingly at the young blonde 20 feet away. "MMMM...MMM...MMMMM," Mark hummed to himself as he traced the line of Geneva's white stocking clad leg. Starting at her sexy spaghetti strapped high heel , Mark felt his dick suddenly come to life when he focused on the gold bracelet encircling the exotic young woman's ankle. Inching his gaze upwards slowly, Mark followed the contours of Geneva's calf muscles closely as she sat with her legs crossed, all the way up over her knees until the sight of her slim thighs eventually gave way to the tight maroon miniskirt she was wearing. As he sat there transfixed by the 22 year old, Mark had a few more indecent thoughts, imagining his wife Sherry on her knees, under Geneva's desk, going to town between the tall blonde's parted legs while Geneva continued casually talking on the phone to a client. "OOHH...YYYEEAAHH," Mark started to breath out loud, gripping the pencil in his sweaty hands tightly. As he started to lean forward to get an even closer look at the beautiful scene he was imagining, Mark suddenly froze as if he had been shot. Someone had just tapped him on the back from behind. "Hugghhhhwhaewhawhawhahuh," Mark coughed, feeling as if he had swallowed his tongue from the unexpected surprise. Looking over his shoulder, Mark saw the scolding librarian-like specter of the oldest woman at the firm, Bernadette Collins staring down at him disappointedly. Mark instantly could tell from Bernadette's all knowing hazel eyes that she knew exactly what the young man was sheepishly gawking at before she had interrupted. "UUHH...Hi Bernadette...uhhh...what's up...I didn't know you were back there," Mark groaned weakly, temporarily reverting back to being a 12 year old, busted for cutting up in class. "Ears don't work when the eyes are on overdrive Markus," Bernadette scolded cheerfully. "I...ahhh...," Mark stammered once again, shifting his body all the way around so that he could face the matronly older woman. "Shut up, Son," Bernadette grinned, absolutely loving the way the younger man squirmed. "How does Sherry ever control you?" "Anyway...here are those Galvaston reports you asked for," Bernadette offered, suddenly shifting into business mode. "Thanks Bernie," Mark shot back sarcastically in response to the earlier "Markus" crack. "FYI Mark...Layne and I are having our big barbeque next Saturday up at the ranch...you know both you and Sherry are more than invited to come," Sherry offered jovially. "Thanks B.," Mark replied to his immaculately dressed 58 year old co-worker." We'll see...Sherry might be out of town that weekend with the track team...I'll ask her though." As soon as Bernadette Collins's offered registered in Mark's brain, he instantly started to processing all the assorted and tawdry gossip that he had heard about the older couple. The Collins' , word had it, had founded one of Houston's first swing clubs nearly 30 years earlier. Although Bernadette did a masterful job keeping her personal life separate from her work, there was a clear sense that she never missed a chance to do some subtle 'recruiting' whenever she could. "So you will tell Sherry about the barbeque Hon," Bernadette grinned slyly. "I will," Mark once again assured with a half baked and blushing smile. "B...why don't you go over and see if Geneva would be interested in going to your BBQ...you know it would be the polite thing to do to invite the new girl," Mark shot back wryly. Bernadette Collins pulled back slightly and looked over at the pretty young blonde answering the company's telephones. "Well...I think I will," Bernadette said excitedly as she drifted across the office floor towards the unsuspecting secretary's desk. * * * * * Mark Mitchum sat on his sofa, lazily reading Tuesday's newspaper and winding down from a long day at work. Licking his lips, Mark realized he was dying for a cold beer as he scanned the headlines, looking for anything interesting to read. Just as he was about to jump up off the couch and run into the kitchen for a Bud, a startling vision captured his attention on page 4 of the sports section. There was a small 3 paragraph story on the side of the page with a headline that read, "LONG TIME RICE TRACK COACH MONROE TO STEP DOWN AT END OF SEASON". "That's Sherry's boss," Mark mouthed to himself, for the moment forgetting about his dry mouth. Mark read the article through three times, digesting the gist of it. His first gut reaction was that his wife, even though only 28, might have a chance to get promoted to the head job after her six years of diligent service under her own college coach and mentor, Gloria Monroe. Mark knew there was an older male coach on the staff, Melvin Denson, but he had transferred in from another school and wasn't even close in seniority to Sherry. Besides that, it was pretty well known around the athletic department that very few of the athletes or the administration liked Denson all that much and the school could face mass transfers if he was promoted to head coach. "She's really got a shot at this thing," Mark beamed to himself, feeling a distinct jolt of pride thinking that his wife might get a prestigious head job at a Division 1 school before she had even turned 30. Twenty minutes later, after Mark had gotten up to get himself a beer as well as put a bottle of stored champagne on ice to celebrate Sherry's potential opportunity, Mark heard a car door slam out in the driveway signaling that his wife was finally home from work. The moment Mark laid eyes on his wife lugging her work gear and backpack through the front door, he immediately saw the twinkle in her soft brown eyes. Usually, all Sherry could muster was bleary eyed fatigue after running her charges through their paces in practice, but that afternoon, her gaze was full of imminent optimism. "Did you hear?" Sherry quickly blurted out as soon as she spotted Mark coming down the hall to meet her. "About Coach Monroe...yeah ...I just saw it in the paper Darling...are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Mark beamed as he closed in on Sherry to give her a great big hug. Dropping her gear to the floor with a thud, Sherry returned Mark's embrace, both sensing that the night ahead would be special. "I've got some champagne chilling Honey...to celebrate," Mark whispered into his wife's ear. "Well let's not count our chickens just yet Mark...they could go and give old man Denson the job...he's got a few connections and he's got tons more experience," Sherry reasoned, trying to calm her husband's glee. "Yeah Honey...but everybody hates his guts...half the team would transfer if he got the gig," Mark shot back. "They could always bring in another coach from somewhere else too you know," Sherry added, clearly trying not to get her hopes up too much. "Women...much less a woman under 30 like me just don't get these types of chances." "Well...lets not worry about that right now...dinner's on me...lets go out to that new ritzy Chinese place downtown...the champagne should be nice and chilled by the time we get back," Mark offered with a clear twinkle in his own eyes as well. * * * * * Over dinner at the restaurant, Sherry relayed the course of events, describing how she and the team had been called into Coach Monroe's office and told the news before it was made public. Sherry told Mark that there was going to be a hastily organized dinner at one of the finer Houston hotels in a week or so for everyone to come and show Gloria Monroe their appreciation before the team's final track meet that weekend. During the course of the dinner conversation, Mark was able to remember to tell Sherry about Bernadette Collins's BBQ offer up at her family's ranch but when Sherry said it would overlap the last track meet of the season, the thought of going to the Collins's party was quickly shelved. * * * * * Mark sat on the side of the bed slipping on his dress shoes while he playfully watched his beautiful wife dart back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom, tediously putting together her sultry black evening outfit. "Dinner starts at 8 Hon...,"Mark subtly nudged his wife to pick up the pace, with a sly grin. Being a young and hardworking couple, the opportunity to get dressed up and hit the town were all too few for the Mitchums. After seeing his wife in nothing but her sweats, warm-up gear, tee-shirts and cotton nighties 99% of the time, Mark shook his head like an awestruck lottery winner as the vision of his wife gliding across the bedroom floor in a black miniskirt, matching glittery blouse and sheer black stockings mesmerized his brain. "Do I look OK Mark?" Sherry asked as she applied her lipstick and teased her hair. "Like your gonna be the sexiest woman there," Mark answered, without missing a beat. Looking back at her husband, Sherry's heart pitter-patted as his honest words registered. "So you're sure I look OK?" Sherry asked once again with a coy smile. "Stop staring at yourself in the mirror Sherry...I didn't say you looked THAT good...come on...hurry up...we gotta go," Mark laughed, feeling his insides tingle watching Sherry slip her feet into her chic and dainty high heels. * * * * * Sitting behind his plate of cold pheasant and glass of iced tea, Mark as patiently as he could, tried keeping himself from falling asleep as the dinner banquet for the departing coach wore on and on. The only thing that kept his attention was the fact that every male eye in the room was latched on to his wife Sherry, in her sexy tight black outfit. Having volunteered to be the designated driver for Sherry so that she could fully enjoy the celebration of the evening, Mark sat back quietly and didn't say much. The cocky glee however that his eyes radiated made it abundantly clear that he knew, at the end of the night, he was taking home the woman every other guy there wanted. Just the sheer fun of watching the litany of men, ranging from the older professors and school administrators to the husbands of Sherry's female friends stare at how inviting his wife looked in her clingy black evening dress gave Mark an injection of virile pride. As he continued to let his eyes roam about the room, Mark could even see the well dressed members of Sherry's track team stare at their coach with more than lurid fascination as Sherry walked to the podium to give her brief speech, thanking Coach Monroe for all she'd done for her. So bored, Mark had even convinced himself that several of the women in the audience, including Coach Monroe herself, were looking at Sherry with more than normal feminine jealousy or appreciation when their gazes shot her way. "Wonder what Sherry'd have to do to get a good recommendation from the old coach to get the promotion?" Mark wondered to himself. "SHUT UP," another intern voice suddenly chimed in, causing him to blush from his own embarrassment. "You are getting sick," it warned him. * * * * * Turning the key to start the couple's old, beat up Volvo, a sober Mark Mitchum looked over at his wife in the passenger seat and the thought of at least 10 or 11 different things he wanted to do to her sexually when he got her home raced through his mind. Shifting the car into reverse so that he could back out of the tight parking space and get on the road home, Mark prayed to the God of Lust deep within his groin that he could get Sherry home before all the wine she had drank caused her to pass out. Weaving his car in and out of the sparse late evening traffic, Mark vividly replayed the glances, stares and longing hungry looks that all the men at the banquet had heaped upon Sherry during the course of the evening. Mark proudly looked in the rearview mirror and smiled to himself at the fact that he was the lucky guy taking home the sultry, drunk vixen that everyone else would be fantasizing about that night. Mark laughed a little to himself at the thought of calling his wife a 'drunk vixen' when 99.9% of the time she was a model 'lady' out in public. As Mark sped homeward, he fully (and happily) grasped the knowledge that this was one of those other .1% nights. Looking over at the way Sherry's chestnut brown hair danced as she drunkenly nodded her head to the song on the radio, Mark couldn't help but think of how much she looked like Jamie Lee Curtis riding beside him. Turning his gaze back to the road, a few moments later, Mark's attention was grabbed by his wife's shrill girlish laughter drowning out the sound of the radio. Looking back over to his right, Mark grinded his teeth trying to determine the cause of Sherry's hyena-like cackling. Seeing she was laughing at some sort of personal 'inside' joke, Mark decided he wasn't curious enough to ask her what it was about and continued driving on through the night. As grating as the sound of his wife's drunken giggling was, it still wasn't bad enough to take away from just how desirable she looked nestled there beside him, her compact schoolgirl features tucked sexily into the dark black miniskirt and glittery blouse that accentuated her taunt body flawlessly. Trying his best to keep one eye on the road, Mark couldn't help stealing a few glances at the way Sherry's legs intertwined in the floorboard, wrapped together like two elegant white limbs inside of sheer black nylon. Mark's dick started to push up against the fabric of his dress slacks as his gaze traced down to the gloriously arousing sight of Sherry's right foot seductively bouncing up and down in the air on top of her left calf. He had learned over the years that subtle rocking motion of her foot was a clear sign that his wife's aroused passion was flowing freely. Goosebumps welled up all over Mark's warm flesh as he brazenly watched the dark black stockings on Sherry's legs rub together until he could almost taste the silky material in his mouth. Tapping the gas pedal harder, Mark rushed the car up to 75mph in a desperate attempt to get Sherry home while she still was awake. There seemed to be a streaming live video feed inside his head, replaying the course of the evening and all the hungry and wanton stares he quietly watched Sherry receive from young eyes as well as old. Mark chuckled with pride remembering the look on the athletic director's face as he stared at Sherry's muscular legs as she made her way up to the podium to give her brief speech. Mark also recalled, with crystal clarity, the drooling expression several of the football coaches had, openly sizing up Sherry as if she was a piece of raw sexual meat, drunkenly weaving back and forth as she walked around the dining room. Mark's pleasant 'chest-thumping' stroll down memory lane was momentarily interrupted however when Sherry let loose with another one of her random, tipsy outbursts of laughter. "What in the world are you laughing about?" Mark finally asked, no longer able to contain his curiosity. Looking at his wife, waiting for an answer, Mark couldn't help but notice how flushed Sherry's pale cheeks had become and then as his gaze lowered, the unmistakable ridges of both of his wife's erect nipples poking out the front of her blouse like two olives caused his spine to shiver. "I can't...I can't tell ya Mark...you'd kill me," Sherry finally replied, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her giddy belly laughs. Mark sat there driving, his curiosity now tweaked. Biting his lip so that he wouldn't say anything stupid, he let an awkward silence grow between the two until he knew Sherry would feel compelled to continue blabbing her story. Mark shot a series of curious glances over to Sherry's dizzy eyes, subliminally trying to urge his wife to open up even more. Reaching down to gently squeeze his crotch as he watched Sherry shift nervously beside him, over a half dozen different scenarios bubbled in the cauldron of Mark's aroused mind. Feeling his anxiety building, Mark could feel his patience waning and asked Sherry once again with all the subtly of a teenage boy doing phone sex for the first time. "What is it, Sherry?" "Ummmm...hhuummm...I just can't Mark... you'd think I was crazy...never mind," Sherry sighed, her voice fading out as if she was drifting to sleep. It was then Mark started to seriously question whether or not he was going to be able to get Sherry home, and undressed, in time to get his rocks off before she blacked out. Frustratingly tracing the erect rim of his cockhead with his left index and middle fingers, Mark could feel the blood boiling in his viens as he begged God to force Sherry to spill her secret, knowing it would be completly forgotten when she woke up with a hangover the next morning. "I just can't believe the way they were looking at me," Sherry finally blurted out 20 seconds later, as if the words had minds and wings of their own. "Hummm," Mark greased the skids, trying to calmly egg his wife to continue her story. "Who ...was looking at you Sherry?" "The track guys," Sherry mumbled a few moments later, sending a speeding jolt of electricity right to Mark's core. "Wha...wha...wha," Mark mouthed as if someone had smacked him in the face. "Did she just say what I thought she said?" Mark asked himself. Looking over at Sherry, Mark could see she was now blushing even redder and that her succulent nipples were now even more aroused as she held her head in her hand, conveying embarrassment. "They were looking...at you," Mark politely interrogated. "Like I was some kinda dirty magazine picture," Sherry drunkenly blathered, in a combination of sobs and giggles. "Aaahh...really?" Mark replied, feeling his cock on the verge of bursting free from his pants. " I could feel all their eyes on me like they were stripping me, Honey," Sherry continued, now flailing her arms in the air like to show her cartoonish emotion in the passenger seat. Alternating his eyes between the road and his drunk wife, Mark started to get the feeling he couldn't control himself any longer. He clearly sensed his wife's arousal and he was quickly losing the ability to subdue his own. Trying to muster the courage to move his right hand over to Sherry, to make a play for her right then and there, Mark listened intently for her to add any further details. "You must have been imagining that Darling...they probably just weren't use to seeing you dressed like that," Mark offered, trying to keep the course of the conversation flowing. "Honey...a woman knows when they are being checked out. I felt naked out there," Sherry cooed, allowing the alcohol to free up her mental restraints. With the Volvo already on cruise control, Mark felt an eerie sense that his body was as well. He extended his right arm out until his fingers came to rest on the back of Sherry's neck, right on that scant patch of skin that her brown hair or blouse didn't cover. Running to Stand Still Ch. 2 Allowing his fingers to gauge Sherry's physical state, Mark could tell her body was being jellied from the 7 glasses of wine she had ingested earlier. With his left hand still on his crotch, rubbing his thumb up and down the ridge of his erection, Mark suddenly realized he had to make a quick decision. Needing one hand to steer the car, Mark had to decide if he wanted to be selfish and use his left hand to jack himself off or to use his right hand to try and give his wife some pleasure. Knowing he could get his rocks off later, as close as Sherry was to nodding off, Mark decided to try and take advantage of her state first. Pulling his left hand up and placing it numbly back on the steering wheel, Mark clenched his thighs tightly together on the seat to give his cock all the sensation he could while his right hand made a play for Sherry. Looking ahead briefly to check out the landscape of the highway, Mark guessed he was about 7 miles from home. With his right hand on the back of Sherry's neck, Mark could feel her body alternating between spastic fits of drunk twitching and then the lethergy that comes with impending sleep. Letting the power of gravity guide his intentions lower, Mark watched out of the corner of his eye as his palm slowly slid off Sherry's shoulder and eased down the smooth muscular form of her upper arm. Breathing tentatively, just waiting for Sherry to put a stop to his advancements, Mark sensed his wife's breathing become more shallow as well, a signal that she was beginning to discern his intentions. Stealing a glance at Sherry's long legs folded seductively in the Volvo's floorboard, Mark seriously thought his eyes were deceiving him when he saw the silent invitation of Sherry clumsily unfolding her legs apart. As each one of Sherry's lithe lower limbs spread out from the cover of her miniskirt, that now barely covered the upper fourth of her thighs, Mark felt like an overwhelmed school boy seeing Sherry's high heels bracketed apart, as far as they could go, in the murky darkness. Sliding his sweaty right hand off of Sherry's side, Mark watched as it slowly reached for her crotch, eventually disappearing up and underneath the forbidden lair of her very short black skirt. Slowing the car down enough so that he didn't lose control, Mark resisted the temptation to make eye contact with the drivers of the cars that whizzed by on his left as his right hand greedily sought out its swampy destination. When, out of nowhere, Sherry reached down and wrapped her small but firm fingers around Mark's forearm, he instantly cringed, just knowing his wife was about to put a stop to his advances. In the nearly 10 years that they had known each other, no matter how drunk Sherry had gotten on occasion, she had never let Mark have his way with her unless it was behind the closed doors of a house or motel room, never once in any semblance of a public place. Mark took a deep breath, preparing to accept Sherry's will to cease and desist, but after a second or two passed, Mark realizied Sherry wasn't trying to stop his advances, rather she was using her hand like a robotic guide to ease Mark's fingers right towards where she wanted them. The blood rushing through Mark's head caused his temples to throb as the combination of the real image in front of him mixed perfectly with the mental aura of all of Sherry's college track students, so brazenly staring at her in her skimpy evening outfit, less than an hour earlier. Mark could clearly picture all those boys lying in their beds that night, jerking their cocks madly as they imagined sinking their own massive erections exactly where Mark's own hand was preparing to penetrate. The temperature surrounding the skin on Mark's right hand rose with every inch deeper he swirled it between his wife's toned thighs. Visions of Sherry's athletes pumping their massive cocks in and out of her spun wildly in his brain as he fingertips collided against the volcanic softness of his wife's pubic mound. Mark could instantly tell Sherry had shaven the entire region smooth as he danced his fingers underneath the frilly edges of her skimpy lace panties. Watching as Sherry deliberately lowered her own right hand down to her waist, Mark felt as if firecrackers were exploding in every fiber of his muscle tissue when the sight of his wife hiking up her mini skirt all the way to her waist, exposing completely the pale whiteness of her crotch in the dim light of the car's front seat. "HOLY SHIT," Mark moaned, seeing the lurid contrast of Sherry's juiced up pink vaginal lips flowering out from the china like alabaster background of her razor smooth skin. "God that pussy's pretty," Mark desperately groaned as Sherry's right hand joined his in her lap, helping her husband work his fingers through her gloriously oily mess. "AAHH...AAHH...AAHHH...UUMM...EEE," Sherry voice crackled in short choppy bursts, humping her husband back awkwardly as he accosted her private parts. With Sherry's pussy complexly unsheathed, the vapors of her arousal filled the car as Mark swirled his right hand into the soupy grips of his wife's guilty lust. Absorbing visually the way Sherry's pale thighs looked nestled inside her tight sheer black stockings, Mark fought the urge to drop his driving hand from the steering wheel to touch himself. "Did they look at you like they wanted to fuck you, Sherry?" Mark asked forcefully, in a voice more from the bowels of Hell than his own diaphragm, as he dribbled his fingers up and down the outer folds of Sherry's cunt. "OOOHH...AAAAHHH...MMAAAHHHH," was all Sherry managed to gasp as he head bounced back and forth on the head rest behind her. "Did they?" Mark asked pointedly, once again. With both his thumb as well as Sherry's assaulting her throbbing clit, Sherry's asscheeks lurched off the Volvo's seat and a shrill cry of sensational ecstasy gushed from her lips. "YYYEEEZZZZZZ, " Sherry finally admitted in a low, mewing growl. "Wow," Mark told himself, as he relentlessly kept up the pace of the handjob on his wife. "If thinking about that got her pussy to catch fire like this...this can't be the first time she's thought about it." "Spread those legs, Baby," Mark ordered. "If you want all those guys between your legs Sherry, you've got to open those legs wider...come on...stretch them apart...let them get at that ripe pussy Baby...all those boys want to ram their big cocks right in that bald pussy of yours and make their little slutty coach cry for more...Come on...OPEN THOSE LEGS SHERRY!" "OOHH GGOODDD," Sherry finally burst out, unable to contain her primal cravings any longer in that moment of chemical weakness. Feeling his hand completely drenched now, all the way up to his wrist, Mark sensed his wife was now fully prepared to do anything he wanted to do with her and she was willing to accept it with open legs. Darting his fingers in and out of Sherry's foaming pussy, just like he was a guitar player furiously bending strings, Mark felt Sherry's body start to purr as if she had an electric generator concealed inside of her body. "OOHH...AAAHHH...OOHH...AAAHHH," the young wife almost barked as she tried covering his face with her left hand, biting down hard on her palm savagely, to keep from screaming out loud. Mark felt Sherry's right hand completely envelope his, holding his grip tightly against her furnace like cunt until he had frigged her to completion. "You've always wondered what those big hung boys would feel like fucking you...haven't ya Sherry?" Mark demanded to know in a tone that even he didn't recognize as his. He had become so overwhelmed by his own lustful demands, he had totally lost control of any rationality and good taste. Each time he opened his mouth, expounding on Sherry's obvious curiosities towards the virile young men she coached, Mark could feel her pussy vibrate against his fingers as his nasty accusations struck to the bare core of Sherry's secret place. When both Sherry's heels lifted off the floor of the family car and started to shake and twitch in midair, Mark proceeded to thrust his right hand even deeper into his wife's vagina until her moans of writhing pleasure were incessantly constant. Seeing Sherry's ankles swinging in unison as her powerful, stocking clad legs extended off the car's seat, Mark inherently knew from the countless times he had fucked her that she was on the verge of cumming. Unable to control her appendages now, the hand Sherry was using to hold Mark's grip where it was, placed tightly over her sizzling pussy, fell limply off to the side, allowing Mark free reign to passionately finish the rabid hand job on his wife. "Yeah Sherry...that's right...all those studs that were watching you over dinner tonight...they all are probably lying in bed right now pumping those hugs cocks of their hands...just imagining what you look like under those sexy clothes. MMMM...That's right Baby...Yeah...Pablo is probably laying in his dorm room right now after stripping off his clothes... and he's got his cock in his big strong hand and he's jacking it off with the same force as I'm fingerin' your pussy with right now...and you know what Sherry...all he's thinking about is sticking that big dick of his ...RIGHT...INTO...YOU!!" Mark luridly spat to his wife in a cold savage cadence. "OOOGGGAAAHHHHH," Sherry gurgled in a voice more bestial than human as her husband forcefully manipulated her vagina at the same time he told her things that she had only imagined in the deepest regions of her private fantasies. "Yeah Sherry," Mark continued. "I've seen the way he looks at you...and you know what...I've also seen the way you look at him too...you're just like any other woman...you've wondered what a kid that young and virile with muscles and stamina like that would be like in bed haven't ya ...HUH?" "MMMMPPPHHHAAAHHHGGGAAAAAHHH," Sherry spewed, as her head flailed backwards against the Volvo's headrest as if her body was a needle on a compass passing through the Bermuda triangle. "Oh yeah Sherry," Mark insinuated further. I know you've imagined what that kid's cock would feel like splitting you in two. Dontcha Sherry...his cock drilling you right where my hand is at...his strong hands on your thighs forcing them apart while he fills you with that gigantic tanned dick." "Oh fucking God," Sherry whispered, all her energy being expended somewhere else that she barely had the voice to moan. "Yeah...Pablo is steamrolling your cunt from the front...and guess what Sherry...you know that big black stud on the team Marvis...the one that every time one of the white girls walk by they give him that sly, knowing look...you have to stare yourself with that little twinkle of jealousy in your eyes Darling...Don't deny it... I've seen it at the meets when I go. You wonder deep down inside why all the rich sorority bitches throw themselves at him don't you...don't deny it Baby...your pussy is leaking all over my hand right now thinking about it...Pablo is drilling you from the front and you know what...you are sitting right on Marvis's lap when its happening and somehow...someway ...he's done shoved that huge black bull like cock of his right up your asshole and those two teenage studs are sandwiching you Baby." Sherry's face was awash in exquisitely brilliant and maddening chaos. Her whole body buckled as if the screws that held her together were on the verge of breaking. "How does it feel Baby...would both those virile young bucks make you cry with all their power slamming into you at the same time?" Mark brutally asked. "MMMUUUMMMMFFUUUCCCKKKKKAAAHHIITT SSSHHHIITTTSSSHHHIITTT," Sherry shrieked like a teakettle exploding as he head lurched to the right side and her face smacked against the cold glass of the Volvo's passenger side window. As Sherry's lips opened and closed rapidly, belting out her extremely intense orgasm, much of her lip gloss ended up becoming a cherry red Rorschach pattern on the bottom of the window, mixed with the copious amounts of her saliva as Sherry drunken release took hold. "That's right baby..." Mark continued his verbal assault until every drop of lust was out of Sherry's tensed body. "Marvis and Pablo are fucking you Babe...but you know what...every other guy on the team stripped down as well and they are each standing above you stroking their dicks right above your face...yeah they are... and each one of them is gonna spew their loads all over you at just the same moment Pablo fills that pretty little tight pink cunt of yours and Marvis lets that black snake of his blow a hole right through your tight fucking asshole!!" Mark's hand felt as if he had dipped it into a huge bucket of microwaved honey as Sherry's firm thighs squeezed him like butterfly wings, flapping with blinding speed, as she screamed out her deafening release, right into the glass of the car window beside her. Mark recoiled slightly from Sherry's raw and stirring emotional display as his fingers kept up their furious pace inside his wife’s vagina. He had seen Sherry cum hundreds of times during their relationship but he was usually busy fucking her at the time. Very rarely did he ever have the opportunity to sit back and witness fully, the glorious sight of his beautiful wife losing control of her body a temporarily becoming a slave to her primal will. When Sherry finally collapsed like a limp dish rag against the car seat beside him, her black miniskirt still gaudily hiked up to her waist exposing her now ravaged womanhood, all Mark could do was look over at his drunken shell of a wife and say, "DAMN!" Removing his right hand tenderly out from Sherry's flushed and humid crotch, Mark shook and rubbed his fingers together for a few moments trying to decide what to do with the accumulated fluid that glazed every nook and cranny of his grip. Deciding the best way to get it off, so he wouldn't leave a sticky trail on the car and on his clothes, Mark lapped off what juices he could until he hand was clean enough to start thinking about getting his wife from the Volvo to her bed. After clumsily switching off the car's ignition, Mark sat there for a minute or two and just stared down at his now sleeping and contented wife, trying to digest just how powerful and mind blowing the last five minutes had been. Even though the feeling was intangible, Mark felt in some strange way that an invisible border had been crossed in his and Sherry's relationship. Walking over to the passenger side and opening the door so that he could lift Sherry up into his arms and throw her passed out carcass over his shoulder, Mark couldn't help but notice the lipstick smeared mess that covered the entire width of the bottom of the car window. Letting his gaze drift lower under the scant amount of light from the porch, Mark could also tell the smooth vinyl seats underneath Sherry's crotch told a stark and honest story of what she had been guilty of on the way home. As he scooped up his wife into his arms, he felt the warm, honey-like liquid rub against his jacket as he pulled Sherry free from the car. Shaking his head disbelievingly as he searched for his house key, Mark turned and started up the walk to the front door with Sherry slumped over his shoulder. He had originally planned on coming back out and cleaning up the lipstick and feminine residue from the front seat and window, but the cruel mischievous part of Mark's mind told him to leave it be. When Sherry awoke with a vicious headache the next morning and got in the Volvo to drive to work, she wouldn't have a clue why there was such a nasty mess in the passenger seat of the car. Mark knew Sherry would fret all day wondering just what she had done after her memory cells drowned in all the wine she had drank the night before. Once safely in the house, Mark walked his wife down the hallway, anxious to get her undressed and in bed for whatever fun he could think of on the way... Part 3 and much more to come soon...Thanks for reading… Running to Stand Still Ch. 3 The steady drumbeat of his #2 Ticonderoga filled Mark Mitchum's ears as he spent the better part of Friday morning at his work desk, daydreaming. It had been over a week since he and his wife, Sherry, had indulged in what could only be called very indecent activities on the way home from Coach Monroe's retirement banquet. Mark still took a huge amount of naughty joy in remembering the look on Sherry's face when she came home from work the next evening. It had shocked him from the start that his wife was even able to drag herself out of bed at 7 a.m. after such a draining night to go to work in the first place, but as dedicated as Sherry was and knowing that a promotion possibly hung in the balance, Sherry had gotten up and dragged her weary body to school. As Sherry arrived home and walked through the front door of her house at 6 p.m. that night, Mark was sitting coyly on the sofa and wasn't in the least bit surprised that his wife looked like warmed over death when she slumped onto the couch beside him as soon as she walked in. "Have a good day, Honey?" Mark asked with gentle sarcasm, pulling the newspaper he was reading back so Sherry could use his thigh as a pillow. "UURRGGGHH," Sherry growled, hugging her husband's knee tightly, as if it were a bowie. A few moments passed before Sherry asked her husband the question that he had been waiting for. "Mark?" Sherry groaned. "Yes, Darling?" Mark politely replied, his eyes still buried sarcastically in the newspaper. "What in the world happened in the car last night?" Sherry finally asked tentatively, her temple still resting against her husband's supporting thigh. "What ever do you mean, Honey?" Mark poetically retorted. "What do you mean...what do I mean...you know what I mean Mark," Sherry hissed in a sawdust like, raspy voice. "My lipstick is all over the freakin' window ...and why is..." Sherry started to say but stopped the thought in its tracks, as her ashen face began to blush . "Why...what, Sherry" Mark prodded. "Why the passenger seat ...was...you know," Sherry tried unsuccessfully explaining the trace DNA evidence that coated the Volvo's seat. Mark tried to keep from laughing out loud as Sherry continued telling her harrowing story. "Mark dammitt...tell me...please! I went out this morning I sat my purse down in the...stuff...without knowing...when I got out of the car at work...that...stuff was all over the bottom of it.Did...I do that?" "I don't know Darling...you were kind of out of it on the way home," Mark smugly answered. "OH SHIT," Sherry cringed. "Did I do anything to embarrass myself?" Sherry quickly wanted to know. "I...ahh...I don't think so Sherry," Mark hemmed and hawwed, flipping the pages of the paper. "Did anybody look at you funny at work today?" Sherry immediately pondered Mark's comment. Even though she got a lot of compliments on how pretty she looked at the banquet, she couldn't remember anyone giving her that strange, "How in the fuck could you have done that" look during the day. Leaving Sherry hanging in a swirl of confused doubt, Mark got up to start dinner knowing his wife was in no shape to cook any food. He left her there on the sofa to take a nap and alone with her unanswered frustrations about how the passenger seat of their car ended up in such a messy state. * * * * * Back at the office, Mark did his damndest not to burst out giggling as he relived the chain of events from that fateful evening for the umpteenth time. Scanning his gaze across the office, checking out what was going on with his coworkers, his attention was corralled by Bernadette Collins as she talked casually to Geneva Switzer at the receptionist's desk. Mark could overhear snippets of Bernadette and Geneva's friendly discussion and his male radar distinctly picked up on the erotic tension flowing, if not from Geneva, certainly from the matronly older woman trying to lure the pretty and exotic 22 year old into her and her husband's hedonistic web. Mark made an internal assumption that Geneva would most likely turn down Bernadette's offer to come to the cookout that weekend, guessing that a good looking girl, her age, would have better things to do with her weekend than spending it with a whole bunch of aging insurance agents at a barbeque. When Mark saw Geneva politely accept Bernadette's invitation, his heart sunk into his stomach, knowing the young, naive girl had no idea what kind of pressure she was in for. By the time Bernadette had made her way over to Mark's desk, he had quickly re-evaluated his earlier decision not to go to the Collins' cookout. The fact that Geneva had agreed to go and would probably be wearing something rather skimpy, considering Bernadette had made it a point several times to tell the young woman that they had a really nice in-ground pool at the ranch, had nothing to do with his change of heart about going. At least that's what Mark told himself. His wife, Sherry, would be out of town from Friday night until late Sunday, at the final track meet of the season, nearly three hours away in College Station. Mark convinced himself that he could score a few brownie points with the higher ups at work by schmoozing with them over some beer and ribs. After calling up Sherry and talking to her over his lunch break, Mark received another inviting offer. Since it was the school's last track meet of the season, and the last one for Coach Monroe's career, the school was springing for each one of the coaches to bring their spouses or significant others along for the two night hotel stay. Knowing her husband wasn't a big fan of the sport, Sherry wasn't at all surprised when Mark decided that he didn't want to spend an entire weekend stuck in College Station. Hearing him say that he was going to make the trip up to the Collins' ranch for the Saturday cookout made Sherry feel a little better, knowing Mark wouldn't be sitting home all weekend missing her and the fact that he promised to get to some of the projects around the house he had been meaning to get to, made Sherry more comfortable going away without her husband for the two day competition. Without Mark there, Sherry could also devote 100% of her energy to the meet, knowing a good showing by the team could only help her get the inside track for the, soon to be vacant, head-coaching job. After saying "I love you" and "goodbye" to each other for the weekend, Sherry and Mark hung up their phones and went there separate ways, for what they thought would be all weekend. * * * * * It was a few minutes till 2 in the afternoon when Mark wheeled his beat up Ford Bronco into the Collins' 1/2 mile long gravel driveway, wondering pensively what the day would hold, especially since he didn't have his wife around monitoring his every move. "You're not gonna do anything you dumb son of a bitch," Mark told himself, laughing out loud knowing that all he was going to do was look if any attractive situations presented themselves. Pulling his Bronco into a field opposite from where the main activities were going on, Mark scanned the collection of cars already there and knew immediately he was probably going to be the poorest person at the cookout. With Sherry taking the team bus to college Station, Mark had the opportunity to drive the family Volvo. Thinking a Volvo just wouldn't look right at a pig roast however, Mark decided the rustic Bronco that he had kept since his college days would fit in better. Dropping his keys into his jean pocket, Mark scanned the bevy of BMW's, Lexus's , and deluxe SUV's and felt his feet seem to sink into the ground from his insecure financial inadequacy. * * * * * Mark's socio-economic fears were gradually put to rest as soon as he started to mingle with a lot of the folks already at the party. Knowing several folks from the office, including Bernadette and her husband Layne, helped him feel like he was fitting in and by the time he had finished his first Corona, he was conversing quite comfortably. Bernadette, along with several of the other women at the cookout, seemed a tad disappointed that Sherry couldn't make it but they understood completely that Mark's wife had a lot of responsibility coaching Rice University's track team. Weaving his way through the assortment of well to do rich folks, Mark kept a stray eye searching around the party for any sign of Geneva Switzer, the 22 year old secretary from the office. Grabbing a plate full of barbeque, a couple ears of corn and a huge helping of macaroni and cheese, Mark casually drifted towards the pool to eat and low and behold, Geneva was laying on a folding beach chair, sunning herself beside the Collins' huge in-ground swimming pool. Looking around at the litany of beautiful, and not so beautiful, sights in and around the pool, Mark immediately felt overdressed for the occasion. Mark had originally thought about bringing his swim trunks along with him when Bernadette had mentioned she had a pool at her house, but Mark knew right off the bat he would have more fun looking at other folks then they would at him. Happily tucked into his jeans and a tee-shirt and downing his huge plate of food, Mark was satisfied to add an inch or two to his waist while he watched everyone else around the pool show off their bodies. * * * * * There almost seemed to be two parties in one going on at the ranch. The first party was for the ones that were 'in on the joke'. Those revelers consisted of Bernadette, Layne and their close friends, in what Mark could only call the alternative lifestyle. The other partygoers were those not 'in on the joke'. Mark considered himself a member of the second group along with everyone else from the office and the friends and family that they brought with them, all of whom may have heard rumors about the Collins' 'behind closed door' activities but did not have any interest in seeing that particular side of the older couple up close. Mark couldn't help but notice, with a touch of humor, how the members of the 'first party' swarmed like gnats around Geneva as she worked on her tan beside the swimming pool, wearing only a conservative 2 piece bikini and a sarong wrapped around her waist that sensuously concealed most of her lower body. Mark certainly understood why the 'swarming' faction of the 'first party' folks tried luring Geneva Switzer off her beach chair and into the pool. As he sat there and ate his lunch, Mark noticed a constant line of partygoers bringing Geneva fresh drinks, and guessed correctly that many of them were mixed quite liberally. Looking at the way Geneva's long legs extended down from her folding chair, and the way her waist and smooth stomach were exposed for all to see, Mark knew the pretty young girl could attract attention anywhere she went, much less at a party crawling with would be swingers. Licking his lips while he chewed his food, Mark's dick pulsed in his pants as he admired the way Geneva's small pert breasts rested perfectly on top of her chest. In between making chitchat with some of the people sitting close to him, Mark prayed to the Lord above that Geneva would find it necessary to slip off her sarong, then get up and take a quenching plunge in the pool. Mark laughed to himself picturing the entire pig roast coming to a halt as everyone scurried up the hill to watch and drool as Geneva cooled off. Even though Mark did get a few polite and subtle inquiries from a couple of men and women to 'join in the after party fun', once they saw he had a wedding band on his finger but didn't have his wife with him, they quickly moved on to someone else. Apparently in the world of swinging, Mark discovered, you needed a pretty woman on your hip to get through the door. From Mark's estimation, there seemed to be a healthy amount of consenting adults 'going through that proverbial door' during the three or so hours he was at the outdoor affair. Being a natural voyeur and student of human interaction, Mark sensed the enormous amount of nonverbal interaction occurring everywhere he looked. Seeing the litany of nods, winks and sustained eye contacts crop up all around him, before he knew it, two or three couples would disappear for a half hour or so, then just as quickly as they were gone, all would reappear with a distinctly different glow about them. * * * * * After sitting by the pool for about an hour, eating and like everyone else, waiting for Geneva to take off her poolside wrap and take a dip in the water, Mark decided to get up and head down to the horseshoe pits in order to work off some of his filling meal. Losing track of time slightly in the middle of a couple of $20 horseshoe games, Mark decided to cut his losses after he was 80 bucks in the hole. Wanting to do a little more mingling before he left, Mark headed back up to the Collins' pool to see if the situation with Geneva had changed. Steadily making his pilgrimage back up to see if the sultry blonde was still camped out poolside, as soon as Mark swung around the corner of the house, his hopes were dashed. There were only four or five stragglers left hanging out and there wasn't a sign of Geneva Switzer anywhere. Too embarrassed to ask anyone still there if they had seen her, Mark looked a little like a child lost inside of a big grocery store or a few moments, at a loss over what to do next. Turning back, Mark decided he'd grab another plate full of food to take home with him. As he retraced his footsteps back towards the main party field, something distant clicked inside Mark's memory bank. When he had been losing his last horseshoe game, 15 or so minutes earlier, Mark vaguely remembered the brief fleeting vision of Bernadette, and her husband Layne, walking towards the side of the main house. Racking his brain to print out more details of that passing glance, Mark was almost sure he saw a blonde blur walking between the Collins'. "Naahh," Mark told himself. "She wouldn't have." "But she did have a lot to drink, Pal," a deeper, more horny voice urged from Mark's inner reaches. Before he even realized that he had, both Mark's feet were walking in a steady beeline towards the Collins' main house to see for himself. What Mark Mitchum saw when he turned the wooded corner of the Collins house and peeked tentativly inside the big bay window, giving him an unhindered view into the family's deluxe sized basement, almost caused him to have a stroke. A majority of the partygoers were still on the other side of he house thankfully; busy drinking, pitching horseshoes or playing volleyball, so Mark felt an eerie sense of privacy as he crouched behind some of the shrubbery, watching every rumor and innuendo about the Collins' private life come to light in front of his awestruck eyes. Geneva Swtizer, the exquisitly pretty blonde secretary from work that Mark had lusted for since the very first time he seen her long legs stride into the office, was standing in the center of the basement room with her back to the window. As his gaze traced down Geneva's frame, Mark didn't see a bikini strap stretching across the young woman's back. Lowering his focus even lower, Mark felt a tingling paralyzation seep through his body when he realized Geneva wasn't wearing her bikini bottoms either. Rubbing his eyes from disbelief ,blinded temporarily as if he had stared straight into the sun, it took a few moments for the complete vividness of the scene to develop in front of him like a stark and perverted Polaroid picture. Mark felt his knees give way until he was nothing more than a quivering mess in the mulch outside, watching helplessly as the 22 year old secretary was used like a sexual talisman by Bernadette and Layne Collins. As Mark's eyes dazedly scanned the room where the three were held up, he could see several piles of clothing dotting the room, including Geneva's two piece bathing suit and sirong leading in a trail right to where the amazon like blonde was standing. Geneva's legs were parted with Layne Collins kneeling directly in front of her, eating her pussy on his knees while his wife, Bernadette, bent down behind Geneva, forcing the young girl's asscheeks apart with her fingers. Shoving her face up as far as she could against the blonde's exposed asshole, the older couple seemingly tried to suck every bit of life out of Geneva's anal and vaginal orafice, in a skilled and choreographed unison. Mark glared through the window with bleary eyes fascination as the back of Bernadette Collins's head rocked side to side, back and forth, and up and down in a spastic rythem that made her appear to be a starving child licking up much needed sustanance, gouging her tongue deep into the crevice of Geneva's sweet pink rectum. Shuddering slightly when he realized Bernadette was completly nude as well, Mark lowered his hands to the dirty ground below to steady himself, transfixed by the way the older woman's huge sagging titites rested on her thighs and against the back of Geneva's long legs as she hungrily continued eating out the secretary's tail. Mark felt chills ripple up and down his back as he remembered exactly how Bernadette's giant bosom felt against him when she would purposefully bend down behind his back at the office on occassion, just for the sheer joy of making the young man uncomfortably squirm beneath her. Watching as the older couple's hands started to randomly explore every inch of Geneva's young taunt body, holding the girl tightly in an ever shifting embrace, the pure sexual energy being built up by the Collinss manifested itself in a vicious rush of hungary aggression, making it appear as if they were about to devour the statuelike figure of Geneva between them. Geneva appeared to be caught in some sort of unescapable web, wedged between Layne and Bernadette's naked bodies, standing above the kneeling couple as if she were a pagan goddess being offered up for a sexual sacrafice. As ferocious as Bernadette's mouth was boaring a path through Geneva's rear, Layne Collins was working equally as hard in front of the girl, who was young enough to be his own daughter, lapping his face fiendishly against Geneva's golden pussy. Mark could see the muscles in Geneva's naked legs flex mightily as she tettertotted between the two faces that roughly burrowed at her crotch and rectum. Knowing that Geneva had injested a fair amount of alcohol over the course of the afternoon, he could only imagine how the young girl's head must have been spinning with the brutal oral assault drilling her from front and back simultaniously. Just like someone was slowly turning the volume button on a stereo up with ever increasing intensity, Mark could hear Geneva's soft, shy voice grow in pitch until the 22 year old secretary's cries were easily heard on his side of the window. At the same moment Mark saw Geneva's feet seem to magically levitate off the plush carpet, he recoiled into the bush he was hiding behind as the whistling force of Geneva's screams of orgasmic release caused the glass of the window to shake and vibrate in front of him. So enthralled by the vision in front of him, Mark had momentarily grown numb to his own physical arousal. Watching with rabid interest as Geneva's 110 pound, perfect frame hung in midair, supported by Bernadette and Layne's interlocking arms, Mark finally felt the warm length of his erect penis stabbing the inside of his thigh. Reaching down blindly with his hand to massage his painful erection through his jeans, Mark couldn't bring himself to tear away his eyes from the fantastic sight of Geneva suspended in mid air, her crotch seemingly mounted and splayed on both Bernadette and Layne's frothy mouths as they held her securly in their arms. Mark ruthlessly spanked his cock to a crushing orgasm in the bushes as he watched both Geneva's arms and legs flail helplessly through the air, as if gravity didn't exist. Running to Stand Still Ch. 3 When Geneva's head spastically tilted backwards while she was still smack in the middle of her own eviserating orgasm, Mark collapsed backwards, onto his rear, from the glorious sight of the the young girl's fluttering blue eyes, dancing madly inside their sockets, looking as if the Collinss had attached her body to live electrical current. Feeling the stream of his own semen rolling like scalding river of glue down his thigh, Mark's wide eyed and wonderous gaze focused on the older couple's cum etched faces as they pulled away from Geneva's cunt and ass, allowing the withering young woman to fall like a sack of potatoes to the floor between them. Layne Collins slowly stood up from his kneeling position as Geneva tried to catch her breath in front of him. Mark could see Layne's erect penis jutting out at a 90 degree angle in front of the blonde secretary's flushed face. Mark leaned in closer when the older man started smacking his cock haughtily against Geneva's sweaty cheek, crudely imploring the exhausted beauty to give him a blowjob. As the long legged, drunk 22 year old took Layne's dick into her gasping mouth, Bernadette Collins rose up from the floor as well and inexplicably disappeared into another room, out of Mark's sight. Sitting back, Mark tried gaining his bearings for a couple of seconds. It was in his postorgasmic breathlessness, the reality that he was voyueristically watching the owners of the house have sex like a common 'peeping tom', when at any moment either the Collinss could have looked up to see him or someone else could have come around the corner and caught him, registered in Mark's consciousness. Suddenly on edge, Mark senses bristled as he swiveled his head around to see if anyone was watching him. Secure in the fact that he was still undetected, Mark turned his 'hand in the cookie jar' gaze back through the window and saw that Layne had dropped back down onto the floor, this time with his back flat against the carpet as his pudgy, thick cock stood straight up in the air, beckoning Geneva Switzer to mount it. Straddling her long tanned legs across Layne's torso, she dropped her weight right on top of the older man's waist, bucking her tail slightly, allowing Layne to dig his clenching fingers into the flesh of her asscheeks, so that he could spread her crotch apart and jab his blunt penis into the pink, tether folds of her vagina. Geneva's head rocked side to side in slow methodical jerks as she shifted her weight enough to allow Layne's prick to find its mark. Seeing both the older man and the young secretary breath a deep simultanious smile, Mark realized they had joined organs and watched with awe as the two started a slow, sensuos and eternal rythem. Mark couldn't help but say to himself, "That Viagra shit must really work' from watching the virile way Layne Collins went after the statuesque woman that was more than half his age. "Still," another voice chimed in, taking into account the Collins' lifestyle, " If you never stop using it, it probably won't ever go away." Watching as Layne and Geneva fucked each other at a sizzling pace for over five minutes, each bucking and spasming every so often from the sensations they were putting each other through, Mark's eyes were locked on the back of Geneva's blonde hair as her head bobbed from side to side. So entranced by Geneva's fucking rythems, Mark initially didn't notice Bernadette re-enter the room and ease up to her husband's side, egging her husband of over 30 years on, as he powerfully fucked the young girl right in front of her. The look of mutual admiration was tangible in Layne and Bernadette's expression and Mark sensed a clearly that luring Geneva Switzer into the position that they now had her was the culmination of a lot of hard and enticing planning on their part. When Bernadette finally bent down and kissed her husband flush on the lips for over 30 seconds, while a drunk Geneva continued riding Layne's cock like a jockey, the obvious and very sobbering sight of what was attached around Bernadette Collins's waist sent shockwaves of outrageous disbelief through Mark Mitchum's seated body. When Bernadette pulled her lips away from Layne, Mark could see the silent connection between the two. It seemed the Collinss recognized they were on the verge of acting out their carnal plan to perfection with the pretty, but extremly naive, blonde they had tempted into their clutches. Mark intently watched with sick fascination as Bernadette Collins slowly lifted up her chubby but voluptuos body to reveal that she had an imposing and ungodly large black strapon dildo securly attached around her waist; its phallic, spearlike presense jutting an easy 12 inches out from the front of the woman's crotch. Mark found himself trembling slightly from the harrowing sight of his 58 year old coworker with such a thing hanging so crudely in front of her hairy and aroused pussy. Looking down at Geneva as she continued riding Layne's cock, Mark got the feeling that the 22 year old blonde must have had her eyes closed because she didn't seem to have a clue what Bernadette had strapped on and was walking with clear intent with behind her. As Bernadette closed in on Geneva with her huge, demonic device, her eyes intently focused on the very private place she was preparing to stick it in. Mark's gaze lowered, focusing on Geneva's puckered ass as well, as the young girl ruthlessly grinded her crotch against Bernadette's husband, trying to make the older man cum for her. Admiring the way Geneva's asshole was already opened slightly from the ferocious oral assault Bernadette had heaped onto it minutes earlier, Mark knew no preparation humanly possible was going to prime Geneva's anus for what was about to happen to it. Once Bernadette had completly eased her body behind Geneva, partially eclipsing Mark's view of what was going on, he felt his dick start growing in his pants at the sight of his naked coworker once again dropping to her knees and slipping up behind the unsuspecting secretary. Layne's upwards jousts had penetrated Geneva to the point that the young girl was forced to collapse her chest down right on top of his hairy pecs, as she pumped her pussy in short quick bursts on top of him. Waiting for just the right moment to split the young beauty right down the middle, Bernadette reached out and grasped both of her white hands around the immense girth of the weapon she had strapped around her waist, holding it like a gun as she aimed right at the exposed bullseye of Geneva's asshole. Palming his cock through his tight blue jeans, like a teenager pounding his pud at the first X-rated movie he ever saw, Mark shook his head side to side and whispered in tongues to himself as he watched Bernadette prepare to commense with her inevitable sodomistic pilaging of Geneva's rectum. Straining his head to the side to get the best view that he could, Mark could clearly see the fake black balls at the base of the dildo as they rested right above the fuming entrance to Bernadette's pubic forrest. The matronly older woman straddled her hips wider, nudging her way closer to Geneva as the beautiful blonde brought Layne closer and closer to release. "OH SHIT...that dildo is gonna fucking kill her...and she doesn't even know its back there," Mark whispered to himself, feeling his whole body burn with visual lust. After seductivly removing her hands from the huge fake phallus, Bernadette rabidly clenched both her index fingers into Geneva's butt, ripping her cheeks further apart so she could slam the gigantic black missle dangling from her pelvis, right up to its target. The kinetic energy bubbling off of Geneva and Layne's bodies seemed to signal that each were on the verge of cumming. Sensing that, Bernadette politly reached down and tapped her husband on the leg, summoning to slow his upward thrusts so that she could penetrate Geneva's ass with at least some of the black dildo before Geneva let loose with another orgasm. Wrapping his arms around Geneva's smooth back, Layne crushed the young girl against his chest in a carnal bearhug as his wife prepared to give the lithesome secretary something she would never forget. _____________________________________ It was as if some entity had slammed a human mousetrap right across Geneva's spine, casuing the loudest, and most bloodcurdling, shriek of her life to blaze from her throat. Mark felt his eardrums vibrate as the company's secretary howled through the window like an overwhelmed, lust filled banchee. Watching as the tennis ball shaped head of the dildo collided with the buttonsized opening of Geneva's asshole, the young womans whole body arched grotesuqly as if she had been hit by a train from behind. Eventhough he had came less than 20 minutes earlier, Mark couldn't help from roughly forcing himself into another crushing, voyeuristic release as his already raw and cumcaked cockhead spasmed again, sending what jism he still had inside his body into his boxer shorts, while he wantonly leered at the young woman inside gettting sexually ravaged by the sadistic older couple. By the time Geneva and Layne had came, Bernadette was just getting her rythem going with the strap on dildo. She had embeded a full two inches of the slab into Geneva's rear as the young girl continued furiously humping Layne with her cunt and working backwards against the imposing anal invader that Bernadette was forcing into her gaping rectum from behind. Pressing her full weight down on top of Geneva's back, Bernadette crushed the young girl between her and her husband. Layne Collins waited patiently underneath both women, savoring the way Geneva's heaving chest shuddered on top of his as his cumsoaked cock remained embedded inside her cunt. Looking over Geneva's shoulder, up at his wife above, he silently watched Bernadette's lust take hold. It seemed Bernadette Collins was suffering from two conflicting desires of need. On one hand, she was so entralled with Geneva's youthful and vigorous beauty she simply couldn't resist savoring the experience of making love to her secretary's body. On the other hand, there seemed to be something much deeper and darker inside the matronly woman's heart that reeked of bitter jealousy. Mark felt heavy, drunk butterflies darting through in his stomach as he watched Bernadette ram as much of the ungodly length and width of the dildo into Geneva from behind while at the same time, cruelly reaching down and intertwining her fingers into the pretty secretary's sweaty blonde hair, mushing Geneva like a dog until she was finally through with her. ____________________________________ When it was all over and Mark had pulled himself free from the shrubbery, he dusted as much of the mulch and dirt off his clothes as he could, then briskly walked back to his Bronco. The last vision he had etched in his head to leave with was that of Bernadette Collins naked body squatting right over top of Geneva's prone and famished face, sitting her pussy down right on the girl's mouth, forcing Geneva to eat her out while Layne Collins alternated between kissing his wife and licking the blonde's ravaged pussy and ass. As Mark nervously steered his vehicle out of the driveway, he could feel his sore cock throb for over exursion as he desperatly tried keeping his sweaty palms on the steering wheel. He couldn't deny the tempting thoughts of how great it would have been to get Geneva to do the same exact thing with his wife Sherry, and himself. Mark even imagined, in a twisted way, what it would be like to share his wife with Bernadette and Layne Collins in a similiar circumstance. All those lurid images made Mark's raw cock spring back to life as he drove on. He knew that there was just no way he could go back home and spend the night alone now. Looking at his watch and seeing it was a quarter to 6, he decided he would take Sherry up on her earlier offer and make the three hour drive to College Station to surprise her in her hotel room after the days track meet. "I can get there by 10," Mark told himself as he sped home to get a change of clothes and to stop by the grocery store on the way out of town to get his wife a dozen roses. Meanwhile... To Be Continued... Running to Stand Still Ch. 4 ....Back at the hotel lobby in College Station, where the Rice track team called home for 2 and a half days, Sherry Mitchum sat on a barstool working on her fourth scotch of the evening. To say that her day's work had been a failure would have been an overstatement, but when she considered the stiff competition her team was up against, the fact that Rice sat way down in 7th place after one day's events all but eliminated them from having any shot at placing in the top three after Sunday's finale. There had been a few bright spots during the afternoon, but as Sherry stared at the hypnotic allure of the ice cubes floating in her glass of booze, all she could focus on was the painful reality of many lost opportunities. On so many levels, Sherry wanted desperately to do well at the final meet of the season. It was the final meet in the coaching career of her own mentor and coach, Gloria Monroe. There were four seniors on the team that would competing in their last meet as well, and sending them out on top was something Sherry bitterly wanted to see come to fruition. And selfishly, it was also her last chance, in the heat of battle, to show that she was a worthy candidate to replace Gloria Monroe as the head coach after the season. The list of mistakes, some real and some imagined, that bounced around Sherry's head following the meet thankfully subsided slightly as she soothed those voices with the alcohol. "God..I hope nobody sees me in here," The guilty part of Sherry's conscience whispered internally as she meekly surveyed her surroundings. Not wanting to sustain eye contact with anyone, Sherry only made a couple of cursory scans over both shoulders, determining that thankfully, there were no familiar faces closing in on her in the smoky room. Safe in the knowledge she was undetected, Sherry quickly finished off Scotch #4 and gestured for the bartender to bring her #5. Sherry wasn't an alcoholic. There was no way in the world that she could be. She didn't drink everyday, barely even more than once or twice a week. On the rare occasion when she did, she never caused a ruckus or made the nightly news. The fact that she did tend to lose large chunks of time to memory didn't phase her in the least, it was merely a byproduct of all the stress she was under. Ever since her college days, the clarity that came with losing herself in a bottle of fermented escape had been a handy tool in dealing with life's little setbacks. Without the support of her husband around to talk her through it and not particularly keen on the idea of staying up in her hotel room all night brooding over the day's failures, Sherry felt she was right where she needed to be as her fingertips clutched the cold side of the glass of her freshly delivered drink. Being a reasonably attractive and fit young woman sitting on a plush hotel lobby barstool, nursing her fifth glass of scotch all by herself, Sherry Mitchum shouldn't have been surprised that she was a sitting duck for the shark-like advances of several available men in the room. As she prepared to take her first sip of her new drink, Sherry felt the shadowy presence of someone easing up on her left. Inhaling, Sherry's nostrils started to twinge from the overwhelming odor of Brut cologne filling her lungs. Fighting off the urge to yell out "YUCK!", Sherry turned slightly towards the approaching man just as he was asking if he could buy her a drink. Not even taking the time to make eye contact with the stranger, Sherry subtly flashed the gold wedding band on her left hand upwards and politely responded, "Thanks...but I already have one," to the kind gentleman. Watching out of the corner of her eye as the third guy of the night, who had tried approaching her, crouched back to his buddies across the bar, Sherry made a casual gesture to herself of shooting the fellow down in his tracks as he sauntered away. Taking a long, slow sip of her drink, Sherry felt her insides warmly tingle as the smooth booze provided its desired effect. "One more and I'll head back up to the room...I need to get some sleep," Sherry mumbled internally. As the bottom of the glass came into view for the fifth time of the evening Sherry altered her stance slightly. "Maybe...just one more." "Another Sir," Sherry belched out to the bartender as she tapped the top of her empty glass. "Here you go Ma'am," the blurry image of the young bartender offered as he sat scotch #6 down in front of the drunk married woman. "This one's on the house," he continued. "Guy over there paid for it." Sherry grasped the glass of liquor tightly in her hand and savored the comforting feel of the cold glass in her palm before looking across the bar to see where the bartender was pointing. Her vanity over the past year or so had prevented her from admitting that she needed to look into the possibility of getting glasses or contacts. Peering about 20 feet through the murky, smoke-filled light of the bar, Sherry could barely make out the face of the man that had bought her the drink. The fact that the scotch had made her pupils jump in their sockets as if they were a vcr, that's tracking was broken, made it that much harder for Sherry to make out the stranger's face as he started towards her. "The lighting in here sucks," Sherry drunkenly tried convincing herself, not wanting to face the reality that her consumption was the main culprit in her inability to see clearly. As bad as her vision was, Sherry could still discern the vague masculine blob that the bartender had pointed at, weaving his way through the maze of patrons blocking the path to his prey. Sherry hadn't spent a lot of time in bars since her binge days back in college. The tried and true instinctual knowledge of what happened in those alcohol infected meat markets never left her however. Returning her gaze forwards, all Sherry needed was her nose once again to tell her when the dapper middle-aged man, was about to brush up against her left shoulder. As soon as the first whiff of his powerful cologne registered in Sherry's brain, she turned slyly and flared a castrating smile directly at the approaching gentleman. "I couldn't help noticing you from across the way...you are a very beautiful woman!" Sherry heard the kind man offer. "Thank you," Sherry replied, feeling a strange sense of giddy appreciation from the stranger's honest but forthright comment. The two had made small talk for a few minutes when Sherry realized she wasn't using any of her 'defense mechanisms' to ward off her suitor. Looking down pensively at the gold band on her finger, Sherry vacillated over whether or not to make the blatant gesture to show the man to her left that she was married. Sherry could distinctly feel her rational mind losing sway over her actions with every drink she downed but she thankfully still had enough fortitude in reserve to motion her arm upwards so that the gentleman could clearly see her wedding band. Subtly waving her left hand back and forth in front of the stranger's face, Sherry stared at him, waiting for his expression to show that he realized she was married. She clearly saw that his eyes had focused on the rock resting on finger but Sherry's heartbeat nearly stopped when the gentleman seemed to simply pay it no care. Sensing the man didn't mind in the least she was married, Sherry suddenly felt the butterflies in her belly start to flutter madly, her nerves now on edge as the stakes of her little game of flirtation were greatly raised. Squirming on the stool, Sherry started to jitterly pan her vision across the room to scope out the available exits and bathrooms around the bar in case she needed to make a break for it. Still, the playful and empty part of Sherry's drunken side wanted to soak up all the admiration it could. "So what do you do?" Sherry asked with a curious gleam. "I'm a doctor...vascular surgeon from Salt Lake City...I'm here for a conference...my name is Steve...Steve Rinson," the slightly graying older man answered with a broad, confident smile. "Wow...a surgeon," Sherry quickly countered. "Then I bet you know the quickest way to a woman's heart don't you." Both Steve and Sherry giggled joyously for a few moments as their gazes became more and more entrenched upon each other. "So...what do you do?" Steve volleyed. "OH...I'm just a lonely housewife," Sherry lied. "With a body like that," Steve quickly answered," You must spend ever minute of your free time at the gym." "AAAHH...Thank you," Sherry blushed, suddenly feeling her panties heat up. "So are you staying here...at the hotel," the friendly older gentleman asked with a hint of invitation. "No," Sherry lied once again. "I'm just here waiting for a friend." The doctor immediately started to see through Sherry's fibs, especially the last one. He had spent the better part of 30 minutes sitting across the bar watching her and had seen, with his own eyes, that the only time Sherry had looked up from her drink was when she wanted to order another one. "Not the behavior of a woman waiting for someone," he confidently told himself. Sensing Sherry was playfully leading him on and deciding that a more attractive opportunity probably wasn't going to present itself for the rest of the evening, the Salt Lake City vascular surgeon attempted to make his move. When he placed his left hand firmly down on the counter, both symbolically and literally cutting off Sherry's route of escape, the 28 year old track coach suddenly felt as if her game of flirtatious chicken had gotten out of hand. Looking down at the surgeon's hand with her blurred pupils, Sherry could see the tendons in Steve's hand rippling underneath his tanned skin as if his blood was boiling with the expectation of sleeping with her. "I..ah..I ah..can't," Sherry drunkenly babbled, butchering any attempt to make a forceful stand for herself. Sherry turned her nervous gaze to where the bartender had been standing, hoping to find any friendly face that might help her out of the jam she had put herself in. Her hopes were dashed however, when the kind younger man, who had supplied her drinks all night, had dropped anchor further down the bar with a young woman who wasn't exactly playing hard to get. Looking back at the older man over her left shoulder, Sherry could see he was patiently waiting for her to submit to his advances. Tightly clenching her thighs together on the barstool, Sherry prayed she could just disappear. Mustering the courage to raise her eyes to his so she could let him have it verbally, just as she was about to open her mouth, Sherry saw the surgeon freeze as if he had been stabbed. Recoiling back against the cushioned seat behind her, Sherry saw a large white hand rise from the darkness and take Steve Rinson by the shoulder, effectively tearing his attention away from her. Thankful someone, anyone, had interrupted the stranger before he was about to invite Sherry up to his room, when Sherry saw who the person was that had actually bailed her out however, she sunk back even further into her seat from overwhelming embarrassment. * * * * * Around 45 minutes earlier, on the dare of several of the Seniors on the track team, Pablo Sandivere took the fake ID he had purchased earlier in the school year and successfully used it to gain entry into the lobby bar of the hotel Rice's track team was staying at. The four boys he was with all sat inconspicuously at one of the booths in the far corner of the bar, resting their bones from a hard day of competition. While the five boys lapped up the attention of many of the older and more elegant female barflies scattered around the bar, they were all too tired to even think about making a connection. Any opportunity for extracurricular hi-jinx was out of the question knowing they all had to be back in their rooms by 10 p.m. for curfew and bedchecks. The fact though, that they were five muscular and in-shape college aged men did not prevent several of the women there from at least trying. "This could be like fishing in a barrel, if we wanted," Clyde, one of the 22 year old Seniors on the team commented with a laugh as he chugged his Coors Light. Pablo, being the only one in the group that was in the bar illegally and still not particularly comfortable in dealing with American women, spent most of the evening following the leads of his older protégés and only on occasion, stealing a glance or two at the inviting female creatures that were deliciously eyeing him. Midway through his second beer, Pablo felt his bladder start a slow burn and decided he would get up to relieve himself. As he walked to the men's room, the partially obstructed vision of a vaguely familiar face caused him to curiously stop in his tracks. Turning his head slightly to his left for a better angle, Pablo felt his insides start to roll when he saw who it was. "OH Shit," He bristled internally in his broken English. "That's coach Mitchum over there...I better not let her see me." * * * * * Sinking back into her seat as far as she could, there was a cartoonish expression of morose shock etched across Sherry's face as she helplessly watched the next 60 seconds unfold. When the hand that had grabbed Steve Rinson by the shoulder forcefully swung the doctor's trim, lanky frame around to the side, Sherry was finally able to see the person that had come to her rescue. "Pa...Pa....Pablo, " Sherry voice cracked like a pubescent teenagers. The already blinding lights and dense fog that filled the bar room suddenly grew even more intense as Sherry sat there almost paralyzed, her only movement being her lips hinging up and down, her hiccup like breaths seeping out randomly into the heavy air. The blood pumping rapidly through Sherry's ears combined with the loud music piping out of the bar's sound system, preventing her from hearing what the surgeon and Pablo were saying to one another, although Sherry could clearly tell the exchange wasn't pleasant. Watching as the veins strained in both men's neck, Sherry swiveled her head across the bar and searched for the bartender, hoping he could somehow diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. Internally knowing it was one of her own student athletes involved in the altercation, Sherry felt she was responsible for putting a stop to the verbal fracas, but awash in drunken embarrassment and numb paralysis, Sherry simply couldn't coax her body to action. When the presence of two bouncers quickly rushed to the scene, their muscles and flabby bellies stretching their ugly yellow shirts to the max, it wasn't long before the doctor was escorted out one way and Pablo was taken out the other. With the two men removed, Sherry immediately felt every eye in the room suddenly lock onto her, looking to see who the woman was that had been at the epicenter of the testosterone laced display. Feeling the booze in her stomach start to rapidly slosh around, rising like lava jutting up the rocky chute of a volcano, Sherry flailed her legs out onto the floor and made a break for the elevator to get herself upstairs and away from the curious and mocking stares. Sherry beat such a hasty retreat from the bar that she totally forgot she didn't pay her tab. Finding the closest planter she could, Sherry loudly threw up twice, right into the soil of the flowers that adorned the hotel's posh lobby. Once she had wiped away what evidence of her embarrassment that she could, Sherry glided unsteadily towards the elevator as several patrons curiously watched her. Hitting the fourth floor button on the elevator's keypad, a vague realization festered in Sherry's mind. When she frantically exploded off the barstool to escape her Hellish ordeal, out of the corner of her eye, Sherry swore she saw the glimpses of several familiar faces in the far corner of the bar. "That can't be," Sherry pleaded to herself, praying those familiar faces weren't more of the athletes from her track team. Pouncing out the elevator door as it opened and making a sloppy beeline for her room, the myriad of consequences that could result from her visit down to the bar started to hound Sherry Mitchum relentlessly. * * * * * 15 minutes later, Sherry was pacing from one end of her hotel suite to the other, feeling as if she was on a witness stand with 10 different prosecutors questioning her at the same time. "How can I ever expect those kids to respect me after seeing me in that kind of shape,"..."What if word gets back to Coach Monroe,"..."God, this is gonna kill my chance at the promotion,"...."How will I be able to look any of those guys in the eye tomorrow,"..."How in the Hell am I going to be able to even drag myself out of bed with the hangover I'm gonna have when I wake up," ...."Oh Shit, What if word gets back to Mark that I was talking to another man while I was away,"...."AND DAMN....I DIDN'T EVEN PAY THE BAR TAB BEFORE I RAN UP HERE!!!" Rocking side to side hesitantly in her 3 inch high heels, Sherry walked back and forth across the carpet in a frenzy, mentally surveying each of the questions until the last one caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Standing in front of her crisply made bed, Sherry slowly came to realize that not only had she been caught by several of her team members, drunkenly flirting with a stranger, now she was also a fugitive. In a habit she had learned early in childhood, Sherry lifted her hand up to her mouth, parting her lips slightly before nervously biting down on her knuckle. Just then however, there was a loud knock at her door causing the 28 year old woman to yelp out from irrational fright. "GGEEZZUUSS...CHRIST," Sherry bellowed, feeling as if the walls of the hotel room were starting to close in on her. Standing with her back to the door, Sherry felt as if her feet were stuck in concrete, preventing her from shifting her body around to see who as at the door. Holding her breath for several moments, Sherry closed her eyes hoping the visitor would just go away. "I just know its the police...how in the fuck am I ever going to explain this?" Sherry asked herself, on the verge of tears, as the echoing sound of knocking filled her ears once again, this time louder than before. "Sherry...it's me...It's Gloria...are you in there...I just wanted to see if you could come help me with the bedchecks...Sherry...." Coach Monroe offered in a friendly tone after knocking for the third time. For a brief instant, Sherry felt a wave of relief roll through her entire body knowing it wasn't the cops at the door. As Gloria Monroe's voice echoed in her head however, Sherry squirmed knowing she'd have to explain her action in the bar to her boss and mentor. The fact that Pablo was the one that had been forcefully removed from the bar for underage drinking and causing a disturbance didn't even register. Looking up into the mirror hanging on the wall, Sherry instantly recoiled at the sight of herself, knowing that somehow the story was going to end up being more about her than about the Freshman's indiscretion. "O...aahhh...O...K...OK..Gloria...I'm coming...I'll be right there," Sherry blurted, her body going through a series of spastic, nervous twitches as she forced herself to move. Quickly reaching for a breath mint in her pocket in a desperate attempt to try and conceal the smell of her booze-laden breath, Sherry chewed it madly as she hesitantly nudged her feet closer to the door. Just as Sherry had expected, Coach Gloria Monroe was standing patiently in the doorway with a look of deep concern on her face. From the moment their eyes locked, Sherry sensed in the pit of her unsettled stomach that Coach Monroe already knew what had happened in the bar minutes earlier. * * * * * Gloria Monroe had been involved with college athletics, in various capacities, for over 35 years. From her days as an Olympic hopeful in the mid 60's as a track star at Rice, to the countless coaching positions over the years, leading to the head job she had held down at her alma mater for the past 22, Gloria had become quite a legend across the state of Texas. Running to Stand Still Ch. 4 As her career winded down however, with each passing year, Gloria felt her energy level dissipating until she caught herself merely going through the motions during the last few seasons. Even though she had gotten married soon after college and reared two children, Gloria stayed in a loveless marriage for almost 15 years until she finally found her strength to end it. Over the years she had become more and more attracted to many of the young women that were under her watch. Gloria knew the rumors ran rampant around campus about her so called lesbianism, but there was nothing she really could do to stop them. Her appearance gradually started falling in line with the stereotype of a female coach and over time perhaps, a self fulfilling prophecy took place. Despite the fact that she had never acted on any of those primal impulses, the sheer proximity to so many youthful and energized female students often collided with her moral imperative to be their coach and mentor. Over the years, that conflict had led to many night full of sleepless longing and empty fulfillment. There had been so many girls that Gloria had helped during her lifetime, not only with their athletic training, but also helping them mature into responsible women. Often, as she lay awake in bed late at night, many of those girls' angelic faces would adhere themselves, like a collage, inside Gloria's psyche, leaving her to wonder just what those girls would have felt like helping her satisfy her own pent up desires. When Gloria went to Sherry Mitchum's hotel room that night to confront her assistant coach about what security had told her when they dropped Pablo off after removing the 18 year old from the bar, Gloria simply wanted to know Sherry's side of the story so she could find a fair punishment for the Argentinean Exchange Student. When Sherry finally swung her door open and Gloria laid her eyes on the young woman she had known for nearly 10 years, the older coach instantly knew something was amiss. Staring hard at Sherry's quivering and sobbing shell, the dammed up feelings inside Gloria Monroe, that had been steadily building for over 3 decades, suddenly began to crack. * * * * * Gloria and Sherry stood face to face in the open doorway for several moments, looking as if they were seeing each other for the very first time. There seemed to be an invisible block of ice frozen between them as each woman sized the other one up, each with their own agenda looking for resolution. Sherry drunkenly tried keeping her balance as she stared at her boss, praying she wouldn't get fired on the spot for what had happened in the bar. Gloria Monroe, on the other hand, had no clue what Sherry Mitchum was doing down in the lobby until, upon closer inspection, saw the aloof and unsteady look in her assistant's loopy brown eyes. Gloria's original intent when she had walked to Sherry's room was to simply ask Sherry what had happened in the bar. The security guard that had brought Pablo to her after detaining and questioning him had told Gloria that Pablo mentioned another female coach being in the bar and all he did was try to intervene on her behalf when a man was giving her a hard time. After surveying the shape Sherry was currently in however, a flood of unexpected and conflicting thoughts began rippling through Gloria's mind. After a few deep breaths, Gloria could clearly smell the aroma of alcohol percolating off of Sherry's body, so distinct in fact, that the smell easily tainted the hotel's filtered, sanitary air. Taking a closer look at Sherry's physical state and demeanor, Gloria was completely shocked and a little sickened by what she saw. Sherry's eyes darted back and forth in their sockets and Gloria could clearly tell Sherry was making a determined effort to hold her breath so her scotch-laden breath would not drift over to her boss. Sherry's inebriated state was clearly apparent however. Letting her gaze drift up and down Sherry's swaying body, Gloria fixated for several moments on the way the younger woman's trim muscular legs looked as if they had been transformed into jelly as she teetered in her tight, knee length skirt. Gloria's first reaction was that of a coach, complete outrage. She just couldn't believe that one of her assistants would let herself go to this extent with a full day of competition still ahead, not to mention the fact that she was responsible for overseeing and setting an example for the entire team of young adults under her tutelage. Gloria's heart started to pound loudly, feeling as if it was going to burst from her chest as Sherry meekly moved to the side allowing her boss to enter the room. There was a tense silence between the two women as Gloria slipped by and gently closed the suite's door behind her. "So Sherry...what...ahhh...happened down there in the bar?" Gloria asked softly, trying not to interrogate. The older coach took a step back and watched Sherry mentally process the general question. As she waited for a response, Gloria could clearly see many telltale signs that her assistant coach was toasted. Before Sherry could even formulate a response to Gloria's first question, the older coach immediately chimed in with a second question, this one more as a friend than a boss. "Sherry...are you sure you're OK?" "Ye...ye...yeah...I think so..I aahhh...I ahhh just went down to the bar to get one drink to help wind down and I guess I kinda lost track," Sherry cried, dabbing at her nose and eyes as she choked out her words. Gloria stood in front of the younger woman, empathetically listening as best she could. Looking at the smeared lipstick and mascara that lined Sherry's face and noticing the tight knee-length skirt Sherry was wearing however, Gloria couldn't help but sensing Sherry was downstairs looking for a little more than a 'wind down' nightcap. "I...didn't even know Pablo was down there with the older boys," Sherry continued. "I would have certainly done something to get them out of there...some strange guy came up to me after buying me a drink and he was kind of hassling me...I guess Pablo looked over and saw it and felt like he had to interject himself." Gloria took everything Sherry had to say in and felt a level of sympathy for her confused and bewildered friend. "It'll be OK Sherry...It will...you just need to get some sleep...it will all be much clearer later on tomorrow." The guilt Sherry felt over the incident was multiplied when she heard Gloria being soothing and comforting to her. Sherry was expecting, and in many ways, in need of a good tongue lashing. Sherry sobs progressed into full blown tears when she realized her boss was trying her best to sympathize with her muttled plight. Covering her face with both hands, Sherry dashed for one of the chairs in the room, nearly toppling over with each crazed step she took because of her awkward high heels and tight constricting skirt. Once she got to the chair, Sherry turned sideways and collapsed into the seat, becoming nothing more than a bawling mass of distraught as Gloria blankly looked on. Gloria understood the pain Sherry was going through on some level. In her many years of dealing with people in stressful situations, she had come to find that everyone had a breaking point. Her husband of long ago had been burdened by a drinking problem as well so Gloria inherently knew the wild mood swings that addiction could cause. Trailing behind Sherry slowly, Gloria calmly sat down in the chair her and gently put her left hand on her assistant coach's back, patting her caringly for several moments until it appeared the worst of Sherry's emotional display had subsided. As she nuzzled Sherry's back with her hand, Gloria couldn't help but notice that the young woman she was consoling didn't have a bra on. "Jesus...was she really trying to pick up a man down there?" Gloria asked herself, for the first time in her nearly decade long relationship with Sherry Mitchum, feeling the girl's vulnerability, weakness and need bleed through. Allowing her dark brown eyes to curiously drift down Sherry's seated frame, Gloria felt a twinge of guilt wash over her as she found herself openly staring at Sherry's semi-aroused nipples poking out of the front of her sheer top. Wrapping her left hand into a tentative fist behind Sherry's back, Gloria bunched up the soft fabric until Sherry's blouse stretched tighter across her chest, causing her nipples to poke out even more. Watching as her assistant's nipples grew, Gloria suddenly felt as if she was sitting on a griddle, her own strange arousal usurping control of her actions. Hypnotically guiding her right hand across Sherry's body, Gloria let her hand come to rest right on top of Sherry's exposed thigh, just below where the hem of her skirt left off. Feeling the young woman's warm skin tingle under her fingertips, Gloria began rotating her fingers in slow, massaging circles, savoring the feel of her Sherry's taunt body against hers. "It's gonna be OK," Gloria whispered into the younger woman's ear in a soothing, motherly tone. Smelling the scotch drift out of Sherry's mouth with every raspy breath she took, Gloria bit her lip, fighting off the lurid cravings streaming through her to do the one thing she swore she never would. Knowing the consequences of crossing that line, part of Gloria said she never could live with herself if she did it. On the other hand, Sherry was so drunk, she'd never remember what was about happened the next morning. * * * * * Sherry Mitchum sat on the cushy hotel chair, feeling as if every nerve in her body had been put through a spin cycle. Both her eyes looked like running faucets as she sobbed uncontrollably in her boss's arms. With so many confused and conflicting emotions flowing in the mire of Sherry's drunken soul, the presence of Gloria's hands on her back and thigh were initially off her radar. Even though Sherry was cognizant of her mentor sitting beside her, she was momentarily lost in her own rapidly shattering world. Looking down through a crack between the fingers covering her salty and watering eyes, Sherry saw the blurry image of Gloria's hand gently push up the hem of her dress. It wasn't until then that Sherry realized that her boss's advances were perhaps more than friendly and consoling. Rocking back instinctively, trying to discern Gloria's true intentions, when Sherry felt the older woman's firm grip on her back as well, Sherry felt an definite sensation of being trapped in an inescapable web. * * * * * Watching as her hand disappeared under the tight dark blue fabric of Sherry's skirt, Gloria felt a vague sense of detachment as she crossed the sexual barrier she swore she never would. Holding Sherry's back securely with her left hand, Gloria felt her body drawing closer to her young assistant's, sensing Sherry's sobs of confusion gravitate into the initial stages of mortal shock. Actually doing something she had only dreamed of for over thirty years, Gloria tensely inched her advances up Sherry's leg, just waiting for the young woman to bolt up from the chair and run away screaming. Roving her fingertips across Sherry's sinewy thigh, Gloria hesitantly gazed up at the 28 year old's pale face, trying her best to detect any hint of Sherry's emotional state of mind. All she could discern was frozen apprehension. Forcing her wrist even further between Sherry's slightly parted legs, Gloria had to swivel her wrist to an odd, almost painful angle, to get it where she instinctively wanted it to go. "Please don't move," Gloria mumbled to herself, still waiting for Sherry to come to her senses and put a stop to Gloria's guilty exploration. When Gloria looked back down and saw that the rounded tips of Sherry's nipples poking out, like eraser heads, from the front of her sheer blouse, the older wannabe lesbian felt what amounted to nitroglycerin being released into her bloodstream as she lost any semblance of self control she had left. * * * * * Out of the corner of her watering eye, Sherry saw the rapid flash of Gloria's graying hair flash across her field of vision, just before the warm wet flesh of her coach's lips gently pressed down on the goose-bumped flesh of Sherry's right shoulder. "Oh dear God.... No..wha..wha... Glor...orrria...wha..arrrr...ya doin'," Sherry mumbled, as if her mouth were full of marbles. Swaying there stoically, the drowsing effects of the alcohol causing every movement she tried to feel like she was living in slow motion, all Sherry could do was squirm helplessly as Gloria Monroe's lips and tongue cut a warm swath down Sherry's upper arm. When Gloria's oral advances reached Sherry's inner elbow, the young woman winced mightily as the overwhelming needles of ticklish torture burst in her brain. Snaking her tongue directly on the sensitive skin on the inside of Sherry's elbow, the sexually starved older woman bristled with glee as Sherry writhed beside her. When Sherry's right hand started patting Gloria hard on the shoulder in a frantic attempt to deal with the ticklish sensations she was enduring, the older woman took the gesture to mean her drunk assistant was ready for more. Flailing out the fingers of her right hand until each one of her digits acted as five separate erect projectiles, Gloria forced her hand all the way up towards Sherry's crotch until her fingertips collided against Sherry's lacy panties with laserlike precision. When Sherry's soft, toned thighs clenched together in jerky butterfly movements on Gloria's right hand, the older coach felt her own pussy catch fire as well when her fingers smacked against Sherry's vagina. "OOOHHHAAAHHH, " both women yelped in unison when Gloria's blind probes hit home, landing squarely in front of Sherry's lacy, dark blue panties. Gloria fingers felt as if they had pushed up against a moist and velvety mass of jelly as she touched another woman's privates for the first time. Watching as Sherry's legs bucked up off the floor from the unexpected shock of having her pussy groped, Gloria anxiously pressed forward ignoring Sherry's drunken and inept attempts to put a stop to the older woman's advances. Having had her arousal sparked earlier in the bar by the elegant doctor, the alcohol roaring through Sherry's system helped maintain her level of unfulfilled desire, giving her physiological need for relief the mandate it needed to override her psychological fear of what lie ahead. "Damn her pussy is so wet," Gloria marveled to herself, eagerly rubbing her fingers against the pliable fabric of the young girl's panties. To Sherry, it felt as if numerous fireflies were dancing on the outer edge of her underwear as she tried steadying the spinning delirium inside her head. "God...you want this Sherry...don't you?" Gloria roughly whispered into her assistant's ear, as Sherry's ripe pussy leaked messily all over her probing hand. Slithering her tongue back up the length of Sherry's upper arm, Gloria coated Sherry's exposed white neck with her rich saliva, biting the young woman's tender flesh ever so gently as she furiously tried bending her fingers underneath the frilly edges of Sherry's dainty panties. Letting the softness of Sherry's skin resonate on her taste buds, Gloria felt certain the younger coach couldn't move away now even if she had wanted to. Gently slipping her left hand loose from behind Sherry, Gloria briskly lowered it towards her own lap, fighting with the drawstring of her sweatpants until she had created enough slack to dig her fingers inside her own panties. With her right hand wedged up as far as it could go between Sherry's spread legs and her left hand massaging her own broiling pussy, the look of depraved lust darting out of Gloria's pupils burned an indelible hole right through her tipsy, young prey. * * * * * Cringing with each swath Gloria's hand made over top of her sensitive vagina, Sherry internally cursed the older woman that she had trusted for over 10 years. At the same time that she dealing with her own private outrage however, Sherry couldn't help but mortally wince each time she tried opening her eyes, seeing with blurred clarity the fact that her legs were now crudely splayed in mid air, giving the frantic older woman free access to do anything she wanted to Sherry's most private parts. The drunken synapses in Sherry's brain were so jumbled that the combined effects of Gloria's hand rubbing her cunt with the drifting sensation that the scotch had created, made it impossible for Sherry to focus on anything for more than a second or two without vertigo setting in. Looking down through her barely slitted eyes, Sherry saw the outline of Gloria's graying hair lower onto her chest, moments before the sharp and wrenching feeling of the older woman's mouth clamping down on Sherry's raised nipples , filling the young woman's hazy mind with a multitude of vivid and indescribable colors. "OOOHHHRRGGHHHHAAAHHH," Sherry cried out like a school girl, as the sounds of two pussies being ravaged simultaneously filled the eerily silent hotel suite. In the eternal dirge of carnal harmony, Gloria and Sherry's breathing rhythmically began to mirror one another's as the older woman rapidly frigged each of their pussies to completion. With her hand now completely submerged underneath Sherry's underwear, Gloria could feel the silky, soft wetness of her assistant's panties cling to the back of her hand as she worked her fingers in and out of Sherry's cunt like a concert pianist. Both women's knees started knocking together in awkward, spastic collisions as they moaned side by side. Doing the best she could to insure that both she and Sherry got off simultaneously, Gloria tried exerting the same exact pressure and manipulation to Sherry's cunt as she was to her own. Pressing against Sherry's clit with her thumb, just like she was continuously ringing a doorbell, Gloria roughly used her other four fingers to swim, swirl, dart and dive all through Sherry's oily crotch. When Gloria felt Sherry's hand grip her shoulder out of sheer desperation, followed by Sherry's long red fingernails digging harshly into her skin, the older woman knew her young pupil was on the verge of completely surrendering sexually and serving herself up for the taking. * * * * * Unable to control the bursting dam that was her pent up frustration, Sherry's lithe but powerful body started bucking relentlessly in the chair, her narrow hips bouncing up and down in a furious blur. "GGGGGAAAAAWWWWDDDD," Sherry cried out, grabbing a hold to Gloria's arm with such force that the older woman felt the grip all the way down to the bone. Sherry looked like a drunken puppet, sinking in quicksand, as Gloria Monroe ruthlessly continued her assault on the young woman's smoothly shaven pussy. Looking over to her right as she came, Sherry saw the image that would both haunt and fascinate her for the rest of her life. Gazing out through her fluttering eye lids, Sherry saw her coach and mentor furiously bring herself to orgasm as well. With Gloria's weathered hand jammed all the way down her pants, Sherry was helpless to watch as her boss crudely rubbed her own pussy to completion while she still continued working over Sherry's spasming cunt at the same time. Almost making eye contact with the sexually hell-bent older woman, Sherry immediately closed her eyes shut to delay the inevitable embarrassment that she knew was soon to come. * * * * * Not a word was spoken between the two women as Gloria pulled herself free, gathered herself and nervously exited the suite, leaving Sherry collapsed in the chair, totally alone with her skirt hiked all the way up to her still steaming crotch. Feeling the stickiness coating her hand as she reached out to open the door, the sickening guilt over what she had done slowly started to weasel into Gloria's mind. Closing the door silently behind her, the soon to be retired coach gimpily made her way back down the hall to her own room so she could wash the traces of her indiscretion from both her hands and her head. Running to Stand Still Ch. 4 Making her way briskly through the empty hallway, Gloria heard the elevator door open behind her. Instinctively stopping and turning to see who might be a witness to her being there, Gloria instantly felt her own stomach get queasy when she saw who emerged from the opening double doors... Running To Stand Still Ch. 5 Mark Mitchum reclined as far as he could back in his driver's seat, speeding his pick up truck as fast as he could up Highway 6 towards College Station to surprise his wife, Sherry. Part of Mark knew that Sherry would probably be mentally and emotionally spent after the day's track competition, but more than any other time since he could remember in their relationship, Mark couldn't have cared less for his wife's psychological condition. The throbbing hard on stabbing at the inside of his thigh as he drove on seemed to point the way as he sped Northwest along the highway. Watching as the sun majestically set over his left shoulder, disappearing steadily beneath the Western plateau, Mark felt a giddy sense of romanticism mingle with his raging hormones. Every time he let his mind wander however, Mark couldn't keep himself from reliving the images of what he had seen an hour or so earlier inside the Collins's house between the older couple and the naive blonde secretary that had duped into having sex with them. Using the empty stretch of interstate in front of him as a makeshift movie screen, Mark rewound , fast forwarded and paused the pornographic visions in his head until his dick was painfully straining his faded blue jeans. Trying to keep the long drive from dulling his senses, Mark playfully superimposed his wife's face over top of Geneva's in his daydreams, imagining his bride being there on the floor allowing the sadistic older couple to have their way with her while he was forced to watch. Picturing Sherry in compromising position after compromising position at the hands of Bernadette and Layne Collins, Mark had to fight the urge to jack himself off there right on the spot, as rocketed up the straight stretch highway at nearly 80 mph. "Gotta save what I got left for Sherry," Mark cringed to himself as he tapped his erect cock lightly through his pants. "Damn Son...drive faster!!" * * * * * Back at her hotel suite in College Station, Sherry Mitchum sat in the same disheveled state her coach and mentor had left her in, ten minutes earlier. Listening to the sounds of her shallow breathing echoing around her deathly silent room, Sherry cringed each time she tried opening her eyes and looking down at her ravaged body. With the shock of what Gloria did to her now wearing off, an awful sensation of self hatred started seeping into Sherry's marrow as the sight of her hiked up dress and the wet, cum-stained fingerprints left from Gloria's hand clearly shown on her exposed thigh. Too drunk, confused and overwhelmed to make much sense of anything, a cold emptiness settled into Sherry's stomach as the weight of the night's activities and their consequences hit her like a hammer. Looking up at the cheap digital alarm clock that she always traveled with on her nightstand, Sherry saw that it was five minutes till nine. Her eyes once again welled with tears as the thought of waking up the next morning and having to face all the interested parties at Sunday's competition, registered in her head. Fearing the next morning's sunrise the same way a death row inmate fears the oncoming sunset of the evening of his execution, Sherry's gaze conveniently drifted across the room to where the fully stocked liquor cabinet sat untouched, beside the nightstand. * * * * * Gloria Monroe stood with her back to the elevator door as it opened, her head cocked over her right shoulder, watching to see who the person or persons were that had stopped on her floor. When Gloria saw the youthful but sheepish frame of Pablo Sandivere take two steps out of the elevator and into the hallway, Gloria's eyes flared as if she had seen a ghost. Balling her hands up into two fists, Gloria turned towards the 18 year old exchange student with a strange mix of guilt and aggression. The instant Pablo saw is head coach standing in the right side of his periphery, he stopped dead in his tracks, his blood running cold from the fiery look in Gloria's wide, glaring eyes. "What are you doing up here, young man?" Gloria ordered bitterly, closing the physical distance between the two. "Don't you think you are in enough trouble already...bedcheck is at 9...I think you better head back to your room RIGHT NOW!" * * * * * The question of "why Pablo was up there" was one that was both too complicated, while at the same time, too simplistic for the teenager to understand. After security had forcefully removed him from the bar and left him at Coach Monroe's doorstep, an hour or so earlier, Pablo had retreated back to his own hotel room to took a long, hot shower, trying to make sense out of what had happened. As his naked, muscular body became shrouded in a haze of steamy fog, all Pablo could think about was how Sherry Mitchum looked, sitting demurely there on that barstool. He played over and over in his head the feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when he realized who it was at the bar and then the impending gut reaction he made when he sensed the guy with Sherry was hassling her. Everything had happened so fast, the next thing Pablo knew he was standing in Coach Monroe's suite being verbally dressed down for sneaking into the bar. Worried what Gloria Monroe's ultimate punishment would be for him, Pablo's only course of action, he determined, was to go up to assistant coach Mitchum's room and try to get her to explain to her boss that he was just trying to help her out of a tough spot, not trying to stir up a fight. Worried that he would be suspended from the team, maybe even from school, or worse yet, deported, Pablo tried mustering his courage under the shower jets for almost 15 minutes. As he languished there however, the vision of his attractive assistant coach festered in his mind. Allowing the torrent of warm water to ripple and splash all the way down his sculpted body, Pablo forcefully wrapped his fist around his aroused, 7 inch thick penis, picturing Sherry Mitchum's legs folded seductively on that barstool. Fighting off the intense urge to masturbate right there, Pablo finally worked up the courage to turn the shower off and get dressed so he could go upstairs and plead his case. * * * * * When Pablo stepped off the elevator and immediately saw Coach Monroe off to his right, he nearly peed in his pants. If it wasn't for the fact that he still had a good deal of his erection left, clamping off the opportunity for his bladder to let go, Pablo would have surely drenched himself. The moment that Gloria's eyes locked onto the tent-like bulge poking out of the front of the 18 year old's warmups, she immediately jumped to the right conclusion. That mammouth spear jutting out of the front of Pablo's pants was the symbolic manifestation of everything Gloria Monroe hated about the species known as the human male. With Sherry's cum drying on one hand and her own cum drying on the other, something base and instinctual switched on inside Gloria's primitive psyche, casuing the older woman to act in a deliberate way to protect her perceived property. The sight of the teenager's erection pointing directly towards Sherry's suite door caused Gloria to momentarily lose every ounce of control and civil decency she had. "STOP RIGHT THERE...I SAID STOP," Gloria ordered, clenching her teeth together wildly. "I asked you once Pablo..what are you doing up here? You know you're breaking curfew and you are already on thin enough ice as it is!" Pablo could feel his size 11 feet quaking underneath him as the 50ish woman approached him with all the subtly of a deranged drill sergeant. Looking quickly her right, checking Sherry's door as if the woman inside was somehow, now her property, Gloria quickly shot her attention back to Pablo, burning a laserlike hole through his motionless frame. The five foot ten inch coach stood eye to eye with the suddenly sheepish teenager, her tongue firmy entrenched in her cheek as she inspected him with the same distain as a piece of raw meat. Letting her line of sight drift lower, all the way down to the front of Pablo's crotch, Gloria could clearly see Pablo's erect penis slowly beginning to recede back to its normal proportions from all the stress he was under. Sensing fully the power she had over the boy, the untouched evil suppressed inside Gloria Monroe bubbled to the top when she decided to make an example of the cowering young man. Looking over her left shoulder, Gloria saw the light coming out of the small snack room down the hall first, then back at the frozen frame of Pablo Sandivare. "Follow me..come on...hurry up," Gloria ordered, starting the slow walk down the hall as Pablo fell inline behind her, just like an obedient dog. Feeling like he didn't have a choice in the matter, fearing suspension, or worse deportation, Pablo willingly followed his head coach into the snack room and did his best to hide his raging fear as Gloria paced back and forth in front of him. After looking out the foyer to make sure the coast was clear, Gloria finally turned her full attention to the unsteady 18 year old in front of her, literally smelling his fear each time she inhaled, seeing in the young boy's tanned face, every man in her life that had made her struggles an arduous Hell. Gloria and Pablo shared a hushed stare in the silence of the upscale hotel. The only sound mingling with the pumping of blood through each of their ears was the steady dull hum of the drink machine behind the teenager's left shoulder. "I'll ask you one more time...why did you come up here?" Gloria tersely barked. Pablo opened his mouth to reply, but unsteady in his English as well as his motives for coming upstairs, he looked as if someone had hit the pause button on his body while his mouth hinged opened and closed silently. "You little cocksure, arrogant asshole...you think what you have there swinging between your legs will get you anything you want in life," Gloria continued, berating Pablo with all the venom she had stored against the male species. "And now you think you can come up here and just like that...have one of your assistant coaches because she's having a moment of weakness...PATHETIC!" Gloria scolded, projecting her own deep-seated guilt over what she had done to Sherry onto the catatonic teenager. Looking over both shoulders one last time to check for any interruptions, Gloria's demeanor took on a sadistic, exaggerated hue. "Pull your pants down...NOW," Gloria hissed in a poisonous whisper, right into Pablo's face. The only thing that filled Pablo's dazed mind when Gloria ordered him to drop his pants was that his coach was going to give him a spanking. He remembered that as a child, his Father would occasionally use the 'power of the paddle' to drive a point home. The last time that had happened however, had been when Pablo was seven. Now eighteen, he was trying, praying really, that it was a breakdown in the language barrier that was causing him to think his track coach was ordering him to pull his pants down so she could discipline him. "I SAID NOW PABLO...or you might just find yourself on the next plane to Buenos Aries," Gloria sternly ordered, removing any hope on Pablo's part that it had been a lack of understanding. More than the fear of the impending spanking, the first thing to make Pablo's blush with embarrassment and trepidation was the fact that the older woman was going to see his still semi-aroused, private parts. Looking up fearfully into the cold and unrelenting gaze in his coach's eyes, Pablo knew he had no choice but to comply. "Right here...?" he weakly pleaded. Gloria nodded her head up and down as she folded her arms. The next thing Pablo knew, he had dug his long fingers into the elastic band of his warmup suit and buried his chin with shame, directly against his chest. Turning slowly to his left so that Gloria Monroe would have unhindered access to dutifully carry out her corporal punishment, Pablo was shocked to the point of almost collapsing when he heard his coach yell, "STOP". "DON'T... turn around," Gloria sharply summoned, stopping the 18 year old in mid turn. Despite the fact that Pablo's face was buried against his chest, Gloria could clearly see the boy's face blush with a deep shade of maroon. "Pull them down to your knees Son...and raise your face so you can look at me...you pathetic... little boy," Gloria urged, degrading the 18 year old completely. Pablo felt his spine turn to jelly when he realized he couldn't find the power to raise his head up. Feeling the cool draft of the hotel's air envelope his now exposed genitals, Pablo had to bravely fight back the urge to cry as his coach, who was almost the same height as him, suddenly seemed to be three feet taller. With his gaze still tilted down, Pablo could see his semi-erect penis hanging heavily between his smooth, muscular thighs. Watching it sway and bob like a half inflated club from the dense thicket of black pubic hair at it's base, Pablo could clearly feel the heated weight of Gloria's stare on his dangling manhood. Feeling the heaviness of his balls resting against his exposed skin, the 18 year old boy still couldn't fathom what his coach was demanding. "Just look at that..," Gloria's inner voice chimed sarcastically, breathless as she visually took in Pablo's virile genitalia. Watching it with numb, wrenching fascination, Gloria didn't even think about the consequences if another hotel guest were to walk by the snack room at that moment with her standing there forcing the teenage boy to expose himself for her. Rolling her tongue over her teeth, viscerally hating the sight of the Argentinean's manhood, Gloria appeared to be on autopilot when she started to extend her right arm down towards Pablo's crotch. With her hand less than six inches from the boy's cock, Gloria abruptly stopped her advances, making it look as if she was trying to shake hands with Pablo's erect penis. The young man was visibly shaken as Gloria paused her hand right in front of his crotch, the reality of his coach's intent finally hitting home. "Don't waste Sherry's cum on ...THAT!" Gloria hissed to herself. "You worked hard to make that Bitch cum...don't give that Boy the pleasure of feeling that cum on his cock...he'll never get the real thing...I ain't about to give him a feel of it!" Pulling her right hand back, Gloria rested it back down to her side. "You came up here to try and fuck her," Gloria cryptically said to Pablo. "Don't you have any decency?" Unsure of what his coach meant by that question, Pablo could feel his head swirling as he tried mustering the strength and courage to make a run for it. With the brooding specter of Gloria blocking his exit and his pants all the way down to his knees however, Pablo just couldn't bring himself to try escaping. When Pablo saw the bitter older woman point first at his hand, then at his crotch several times, Pablo finally started to understand what Gloria Monroe was implying. "Why don't you just forget about that slut, Pablo...if you need to get your rocks off so bad...why don't you just do it right here...right now...you obviously didn't use that much energy up at the meet today...you pathetic loser," Gloria hurtfully interjected. "I bet you beat that thing to death at night don't you...dreaming about all that pussy you know you'll never get," Gloria venomously continued, in a strange way projecting her own feelings about her pent-up sexuality onto her half naked male student. Frustrated that Pablo wouldn't follow her orders, Gloria had to forcefully reach her own hand out once again and grab the young boy by the wrist, guiding his hand to where she wanted it to go. Feeling the heat of Pablo's crotch as she dropped his hand onto his thick, veiny cock, Gloria wretched and recoiled quickly as if she was afraid to touch the mammoth girth. Lifting her hand up Pablo's forearm, Gloria wrapped her cold palm around the boy's muscular arm, imploring him to start jacking off his dick. "That's right Pablo," Gloria cooed with sweet, haughty sarcasm. "Do what you always do...think about that pretty little slut you came up her to fuck...think about what the piece of trash looked like down at that bar tonight...drunk and trying to pick up any random guy. All you did was try to come to her rescue...be her knight in shining armor...trust me Boy...the Bitch ain't worth it!!" Gloria moaned, no more than a foot in front of Pablo's ashen face now, transposing her own masturbatory fantasies onto the helpless young boy. It was as if Gloria had secretly wondered what it would be like to masturbate with a cock and now she had carried out the ultimate violation of trust with one of her students, just to satiate her sick curiosity. Watching as Pablo's dick jerked to life inside of his awkwardly pumping hand, the sound of flesh on flesh filled the otherwise quiet snackroom. Trying his best to hold his breath as fear and disbelief enveloped him, an eerie sense of detachment descended upon Pablo's sensibilities when he was forced to openly massage himself in front of the woman that was more than three times his age. Not wanting the blatant dose of reality that would have come with seeing his hand work up and down on his proud, rigid spear and also not wanting the psychological damage that would have come with looking at Gloria Monroe directly, Pablo was forced to visually lock onto a lightbulb in the ceiling, out in the hall, until he had nearly hypnotized himself. Pablo could still hear his coach's bitter, cutting words spew like venom from her mouth, but it was as if Gloria was talking on a distant television or radio. If Pablo had lowered his sightlines and surveyed the unsteady shell that was his 50 something coach, he would have seen by the telltale signs of her posture as well as the grape sized nipples that were poking out of the front of her shirt that, despite her lesbian tendencies, Gloria Monroe had somehow become strangely aroused by being so close to such a sculpted, masculine figure. Looking down pensively at the shroud of foreskin peeling backwards on Pablo's penis each time his strong hand pumped backwards, Gloria couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the carnal power of it. Without realizing it, the old spinster's legs steadily weakened as she watched the boy's peehole open and close with each graphic motion he made. "Stop staring at it," Gloria's inner voice begged, devastated that the young man's naked genitals had such a dizzying effect on her. Watching as Pablo's tanned balls danced and bounced around, Gloria's legs teetered in place, trying to decide whether she wanted to take a step forward or a step back. All she could do was simply stand her wavering ground. Pablo, on the other hand was too numb and distracted to even have a clue about his coach's inner turmoil. On some base level, Pablo understood what the older woman was trying to get from him. He was a virile and untainted young man who had done a very poor job of hiding his attraction for Gloria's young assistant, Sherry Mitchum. He also knew that Gloria was in a position of power and with all the lesbian accusations floating around her, it was clear his coach's perverse attempt at punishment and humiliation was somehow connected to protecting Sherry from his advances. Knowing he had no choice but to stand there and follow any orders Gloria gave him, Pablo stood his ground, half naked in the hotel's 4th floor snackroom and jacked off his cock while his track coach openly watched him. Staring at the encompassing glow of the lightbulb he had fixated on , trying to imagine every erotic thought he could to hasten his release, Pablo couldn't help but pick up on the vengeful and desperate tone in the older woman's voice as she continued her bitter tirade over Sherry's drunken exhibition at the bar. Running To Stand Still Ch. 5 Feeling the familiar muscle constrictions in his loins tighten like clockwork, Pablo knew he was inching towards orgasm and was harrowed by the thought of that impending embarrassment, as he tried his best to picture Sherry Mitchum naked. As his raging semen boiled out of his balls and shot like pressurized lava up through his long arching penis, Pablo cringed from teenage fright when his cum burst forth for the old spinster to see. * * * * * Gloria Monroe's expression turned from one of lustful control to utter and complete shock. The old woman's face looked as if it had been slapped from both sides as her young student's body appeared to become possessed by a demonic force. Mouthing the words, "Oh my God", Gloria could see Pablo's pupils dilate wildly and his breathing cease for several moments as the teenage boy's violent release of seismic pleasure played out. An instant later, the sight of the first blazing stream of Pablo's cum rocketing from his cock like a long strand of frothy glue caused Gloria to unwittingly sway side to side, brazenly transfixed by drop after scalding drop that landed on the plush red carpet between the kid's feet. Focused firmly on the working tendons in the teenager's large hand as he rapidly pumped it back and forth on his spewing phallus, Gloria felt a raging fever overtake her, witnessing such a powerful and lewd show of sexual potency. Gloria was able to fend off her physical impulse to reach out with take Pablo's penis into her hand, for a fleeting moment desperate to wrap her hand around it and help the boy finish spewing his virile, gooey cargo. "What the fuck are you thinking?" Gloria inner voice yelled. "Be a strong woman...YOU are in charge...NOT HIM...DON'T GIVE IN TO THIS!!" Locking her shoulder and elbow joint in place so her arm wouldn't move, the old woman breathlessly watched as the last precious drops of Pablo's rich cum seeped onto the floor. Gloria studied Pablo's every movement , watching with fascination as it appeared all the life had been drained out of the boy's quivering body. When she was finally able to breath again herself, the elder track coach was able to regain firm control of the situation. "Pull your pants up and go back to your room," Gloria ordered tersely as she raised her hand and pointed it towards the elevator. Watching as her Freshman athlete's hands shook as he pulled his pants back up over his slowly deflating manhood, Gloria took a soulful measure of pride in the scattered and sticky trail of evidence that the young by was leaving behind. Smiling to herself, Gloria understood just how easily that cum on the carpet could have been flowing between Sherry's legs if she hadn't got there to stop it before it started. Allowing Pablo to meekly walk past her so that he could start the long journey back down to his room, Gloria walked closely behind the teenager and made sure he boarded the elevator going down. Secure in the knowledge that Pablo was gone for the night, Gloria turned and started making her way back to her own room, needing to rest her head so she could process what had just been the most perverse 30 minutes of her life. * * * * * Sherry Mitchum felt as if her head was trapped in the midst of an overwhelming whirlpool as she sat on the side of her bed. Focusing her weary gaze on the thermostat on the far wall, Sherry hoped that she could calm herself down by simply staring at a fixed spot for several minutes. Each time however that she felt she was gaining control of her bearings, her visual field would suddenly start to fizz once again as if she was trapped inside of a fumbled bottle of soda. Finally giving up, Sherry collapsed backwards and allowed the back of her head to crash against the pillows at the top of the bed. Losing any comprehension of time after Gloria Monroe had left her in an almost vegetative state, Sherry didn't know how much time had passed, 10 minutes, an hour or three hours. In actuality, it had only been about 45 minutes since the wanton, older coach had left her young, pretty assistant shamelessly splayed in the hotel chair after brutally fucking Sherry with her hand. Those 45 minutes had been plenty of time however, for Sherry Mitchum to crack open the room's overpriced liquor cabinet and start to work on chasing that painful memory from her mind. Trying to keep her head as still as possible in her self imposed darkness, Sherry could vividly smell the bitter pungency of bourbon permeating the bedsheets beside her, the result of her failed attempt to take a long sip straight from the bottle while she was still flat on her back, moments earlier. Deep inside, Sherry knew she had to call down to the lobby to ask for a wakeup call for the next morning, knowing that if she did finally fall asleep, there would be no way in the world she'd be able to wake herself on her own and the last thing she wanted to do at that moment was to get up and try and figure out how to set her alarm clock in the shape she was in. Lifting the bottle of booze back to her mouth, Sherry promised she'd lean over to make the call to the lobby right after one more sip; a sip that just like the previous few, ended up streaming more out of the sides of her mouth and onto the sheets beside her, than into her queasy gullet. Just as the torrential waves of delirium swirling through Sherry's head had slowed once again to a steady throb, the sound of three firm knocks on the hotel room's door caused the drunk young woman to lurch up from the bed. "OHH..NOOOO," Sherry cried weakly, thinking her boss had returned to take whatever shred of dignity Sherry had left. Clutching the pillow beside her as she held her breath, Sherry once again prayed the person on the other side of the door would disappear. When the person outside knocked once more and the sound of her husband Mark's voice rose from outside in the hallway, Sherry's glazed eyes lit up and she bounded to her feet. "Honey..its Me..its Mark..are you in there?" Sherry's husband of 6 years calmly inquired. Feeling an instant jolt of hysteria come over her, Sherry raced for the door, weaving side to side like a drunk woman on a sinking ship, in a mad dash to wrap her arms around her human security blanket. When she finally reached the door, Sherry clumsily fumbled with the knob for a few seconds until she was able to swing it open and face her driving weary, but rather horny husband. "Surpri..." Mark started to shout upon seeing his wife, but Sherry threw herself against him so hard, it felt like a linebacker crushing his chest, stopping his joyful greeting in mid syllable. "I'm so glad to see you...GOD... THANK GOD I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU," Sherry blathered, sounding as if the vision of Mark standing there had literally saved her life. Worried some of the other hotel guests would see the tear-filled spectacle, Mark gently nudged his wife backwards through the doorway and quietly closed the door behind them. The moment the two were alone, behind closed doors, Mark immediately detected the grainy pungency of alcohol saturating the room ..and his wife. Raising his gaze briefly up from Sherry, Mark nodded matter of factly when he saw the opened liquor cabinet on the other side of the room and the half empty bottle of bourbon leaking out onto Sherry's messed up bed. "Rough day at the meet, Honey?" Mark asked tenderly, assuming Sherry's drunken binge was a result of a failed day at the competition. Mark's question seemed to go right over Sherry's head as she pressed her face harder against her husband's already tear-soaked shirt. "SHHHH..come on baby...I brought you these," Mark whispered, tapping Sherry on the side with the flowers he had brought. Sensing his wife was worse than usual, Mark pushed Sherry away slightly so that he could look her over. Taking in what he saw, Mark's long festering concern over his wife's 'casual' drinking mixed in a bitter, internal brew with the sexual arousal that had been building his whole trip upstate. Looking at Sherry a little closer, Mark realized his wife still had her dress and blouse on despite the fact it appeared from the messed up state of the bed, she had been laying down when he arrived. Probing his hands tentatively through Sherry's raggedy hair, Mark could tell his wife had spent time trying to tease herself up but for some reason she looked like she had been put through the ringer since. "Are you..really OK?" Mark asked again, this time with real concern. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Sherry cringed, her internal guilt over her current state bubbling over, until she smashed her face back against Mark's soothing chest. "I'm fine Baby..I'm fine...God it's so good to see you!" As much as Mark wanted to fuck his wife right there on the spot, he sensed that something just wasn't right. Allowing his torturous buildup of lust to recede slightly, Mark walked Sherry over to the bed, feeling his wife's body nervously tremble in his hands. Cautiously massaging Sherry's waist, Mark pushed his wife's face away from his chest and waited for her to look up into his eyes. What he saw when Sherry finally did look up was unlike any other look he had ever seen before. There was such a glaze of confusion in Sherry's expression, a million different scenarios coursed through Mark's mind. Sherry was drunk, much drunker than usual in fact, and her bedsheets were scattered. Even though she was still dressed, her clothes seemed to be jumbled hastily across her body and when Mark's free hand drifted lower hand felt the wet spot surrounding the crotch area of Sherry's skirt, he instantly thought the worst. A dazed sense of recognition filtered up to Mark Mitchum as he discovered the first traces of his wife's infidelity. Sensing Mark's mood begin to change, Sherry drunkenly started to beg for his forgiveness. "This ain't..I..ahhh..Honey...ummmmm..this ain't what it looks like... Mark," Sherry stuttered as if she were a guilty child. In the process of trying to sooth Mark's burgeoning concerns, Sherry took a step back and tripped, causing her to flop backwards onto the bed behind her. As her back landed on the mattress, Sherry let out a piercing yelp of pain when her arm smashed down against the opened liquor bottle resting on the soiled sheets. Trying to lunge out to catch his wife as she fell backwards, Mark grasped nothing but air as Sherry collapsed like a sack of potatoes. When the dust had settled, Sherry legs were awkwardly spread in the air giving Mark a partially concealed view up his wife's skirt. In that instant of voyeuristic curiosity, Mark saw that Sherry's panties, while still on, were resting against her crotch at a very odd angle. Leaning in to investigate, Mark easily cast aside Sherry's attempts to close her legs, as she instinctively sensed what her husband was trying to do. Just as Mark's exploring hands disappeared under Sherry's skirt and the swampy, humid heat of her well fucked genitals bathed his flesh, there was a tepid knock on the hotel room's door, causing both husband and wife to freeze in a perverted, hand-up-skirt pose. "You expecting someone Darling?" Mark asked, first looking at the door then back at his wife accusingly. Even though Sherry didn't answer his question, the look of fear and loathing on her makeup smeared face made Mark squirm with uneasiness as he wavered over whether or not to answer the door... To Be Continued... Running To Stand Still Ch. 6 As the elevator descended down one floor and opened, allowing 18-year-old Pablo Sandivere to exit and head back to his own room for the night, he couldn't help but walk awkwardly as the softening cock in his pants pulsed and throbbed from what it had just been put through. One step away from sliding his key into the door, Pablo couldn't help but cringe at the thought of having to face his roommate waiting inside. Standing alone in the hallway, a confused young man thousands of miles from home, Pablo had to fight back tears realizing he had absolutely no one to turn to. With what had happened with his head coach, there was absolutely no one Pablo could trust and without a penny in his pocket in a strange town, it wasn't as if he could just run away either. So Pablo followed the only thing inside of his body that still had a voice, his unquenched teenage lust. He had intended to go upstairs earlier to see if Sherry Mitchum would explain to her boss, Gloria, what had happened in the bar that caused him to get thrown out. He couldn't totally lie to himself however. Pablo had also gone up there to see if he could get one more glimpse of what his drunk, but very attractive, assistant coach looked like before she went to bed. Five minutes later, after stopping by the restroom to splash some cold water across his feverish face, Pablo was waiting for the elevator to take him back up to the fourth floor so he could do what he intended in the first place. Once off the elevator, Pablo anxiously looked down both ends of the hallway for any sign of Gloria Monroe milling around before walking meekly up to Sherry's door. Practicing his knocking motions several times in the empty air, Pablo breathed deeply twice before allowing his knuckles to connect with his coach's door. Patting his hands nervously against his side, Pablo couldn't hear anyone stirring in the room so he knocked again. Wavering between trying a third time or turning to leave, Pablo froze when the door suddenly swung open and Sherry's husband, Mark, was standing there with wild eyed curiosity. "Uh...ohhh," Pablo thought to himself, wondering how his night could get any worse. Instantly seeing the look of vengeful intention in Mark's probing eyes, Pablo immediately started blathering in his broken English, trying to explain why he was knocking on the married woman's hotel room door that late at night. Mark, his head already awash with confusion, had no clue what Pablo's jumbled words meant. Not wanting Sherry to hear what was going on at the door, Mark pointed towards the hallway and led the cowering young boy out, closing the door silently behind them. Mark shook his head, trying to make any sense of Pablo's frantic musings about bars, suspensions and flights back to Buenos Aries. Taking a couple of moments to try and calm the nervous teenager in front of him, Mark put his hands on Pablo's arms and implored him to calm down. That's when the 7 little words Mark thought he would never utter accidentally slipped free from his mouth, "Do you... want to fuck my wife?" From the moment those fateful words escaped his lips, Mark drifted into a dreamlike state as he re-entered his wife's hotel suite. Leaving Pablo waiting outside in the hall until the time was right, Mark didn't have any clue as to the uneasiness Pablo might be feeling, worried that the older woman that had violated him minutes earlier might just re-emerge and catch him again. All Mark could think about was the Christmas like joy etched across Pablo's soft facial features when he realized Mark was not kidding about his spontaneous offer. Leaving the door unlocked, Mark walked back over to the bed where Sherry was still haughtily splayed, legs half parted in a drunken stupor. Mark had told the young, Argentinean boy to wait outside for a couple of minutes until he was able to prep his wife just right for Pablo's arrival. Knowing his wife would freak if she knew one of her students was there to see her in her current state, Mark knew he had to come up with a way to further dull Sherry's senses. Briskly ripping off his flannel shirt, Mark held it over top of Sherry's head and used it like a crude blindfold to shield his wife's already closed and spaced out eyes. "Who was...who was at the door?" Sherry moaned distantly. "Honey...that was ahhh...someone who had the wrong room...they were looking for 432 not 423," Mark lied convincingly. "Oh," Sherry replied in a voice way out in the ozone. "Why...are...you...putting ...that..." "No reason Baby," Mark quickly answered. "I know how hot you get when you can't see me going down on you...when all you can do is enjoy the feel of it...I've been waiting to get at this pussy all night...just lay back and enjoy it Honey." "Oohhhaaaahhhh," Sherry gasped, flinching her hips upwards the moment Mark's hot breath collided with her pubic region. Pushing away the cumbersome sheets and liquor bottle beside his wife, Mark proceeded to push Sherry's dress all the way up her thighs so that nothing but her bunched panties blocked his view of her shaved pussy. Easing his trembling fingers into the fabric of Sherry's underwear, Mark couldn't believe how heavy the scent of his wife's arousal was as it saturated his nostrils. Ripping Sherry's panties all the way down her legs and tossing them to the floor, Mark gazed straight down at his wife's crotch, the feeling registering inside his crazed head that someone had already enjoyed the company of his wife before he had arrived at the hotel. Surveying the oily fingerprints smudged across Sherry's private regions, it hit Mark Mitchun like a ton of bricks that Sherry might have been unfaithful to him. Rationally trying to tell himself that the residue could have been from Sherry masturbating herself, Mark knew from the angle of the fingerprints that just wasn't possible. With his mouth no more than four inches from the opening of Sherry's bald pussy, Mark opened his mouth like a kitten at a trough and prepared to dive in. Feeling his dick trying to burrow a hole in the mattress below, fireworks exploded on Mark's tastebuds the moment his tongue collided with Sherry's girlish cunt. Savoring the taste of his wife's sugary nectar, Mark swirled his tongue, lips and nose recklessly inside his wife's vagina, the whole time imagining what Pablo's cock was going to feel like tearing through the same jellied mass in just a few minutes. Tilting his eyes upwards in an attempt to make sure Sherry's face was still safely hidden behind his wrapped shirt, Mark couldn't help but notice the pert womanly swells of his wife's lovely breasts as they swayed with every spastic breath she drew in a breath. Swirling his tongue around Sherry's pinkness with all the passion he could muster, Mark flapped his arms out crudely and let his hands fall directly down on top of Sherry's blouse. Fidgeting with the velvety fabric, Mark managed to work Sherry's top up over her chest until her tits were in full view. "She's not even wearing a fucking bra," Mark hummed to himself, his entire mouth still submerged inside his wife's ravenous cunt. Focused on the way Sherry's raw, erect nipples sprouted, looking as if they had been poked and pinched unmercifully to arousal, Mark subconsciously slowed his oral manipulations as he tried to determine if he could taste the trace evidence of another man's cock inside of Sherry's vagina. Removing his face from Sherry's privates, Mark swirled his tongue inside his mouth and smacked his lips together, as if he were a wine taster, in a blatant attempt to satisfy his need to know. Dazedly crouching backwards off the bed, Mark was so preoccupied, he couldn't feel his feet hit the floor when he stood up, towering unsteadily over top of his wife's half undressed body. Mark couldn't help but imagine what the handsome exchange student was going to look like when he allowed him into the room. Looking at the way Sherry's dress was sluttily hiked all the way up to her waist and her blouse was shoved all the way up over her chest, Mark knew the sight of his wife, drunkenly served up on the bed, would blow the 18 year old's mind. Waddling over to the door, his shamefully erect penis feeling like a steak knife between his legs, Mark reached for the door knob and quietly summoned the anxiously waiting teenager in. Stepping aside, Mark bowed his head in a nonverbal show of surrender and waved the Argentinean boy by him, pointing the way over to where Sherry was crudely blindfolded on the bed. Gingerly walking past Mark, Pablo eased up to Sherry's bedside, looking down at her exposed body as if she were a museum exhibit. Looking back disbelieving towards Mark, who was still by the door, Pablo simply shook his head not understanding why any man with such a beautiful wife would offer her up for something like that. Feeling his blood boil and his stomach muscles tighten when Mark once again nodded his approval, Pablo's eyes drifted down and he felt an odd sense of male kinship in seeing the way Mark's erection pressed out the front of his own pants as well. Without breaking eye contact, both men reached down and casually squeezed their manhoods through their pants in a silent show of shared desire. The eerie sounds of three sets of breaths filled the otherwise silent room as Mark's eyes fixated on the front of Pablo's body, waiting for the young stud to begin undressing. "Go," Mark's eyes seemed to implore as he continued fondling himself through his pants. Looking down at the way Mark had blindfolded his wife, Pablo sensed that Mark wanted him to fuck Sherry without his track coach even knowing another man was in the room. Finally digging his shaky hands into the fabric of his tee-shirt, Pablo cautiously ripped it over his head and dropped it to the floor. Mark's eyes filled with jealous admiration as he allowed his gaze to wander over Pablo's golden pecs and washboard stomach. Darting his eyes quickly over to Sherry to make sure she was still safely blindfolded on the bed, when Mark looked back at Pablo, he couldn't keep from subconsciously wetting his lips as the Argentinean stud began to remove his pants. Mark could see the boy's shameless erection jut upwards underneath his warm-ups at a nearly 45 degree angle as he took deep breath after deep breath, his insides turning to mush watching Pablo's fingers curl into the drawstring of his trousers in a shy attempt to finally remove them. When the 18-year-old's cock violently sprang free from its restraints and recoiled backwards against his pelvic region like a fleshy switchblade, Mark vividly heard the smacking sound of Pablo's dick when it collided with his rippled belly. Letting out a gurgling hiccup when the youngster's cock became apparent, Mark felt his knees start to shiver as Pablo rolled his pants all the way down his muscular legs until he was able to freely step out of them, one leg at a time. With his warm-ups completely removed, Pablo realized that he was standing completely naked, right above the older woman whom he had fixated on for an entire school year, as well as her husband, who was partially hidden off in the shadows near the door. His eyes locked onto Pablo's endowment as it pointed directly at the ceiling above, Mark pitter-patted his feet a few steps to his left to get a better view, trying his best to stay inconspicuous however so that the teenager felt like he had the stage. Allowing his eyes to drift back and forth between his wife, laying blindfolded and unsuspecting on the bed, and the eager but tentative teenager standing majestically naked above her, a feeling bubbled inside of Mark's body similar to that of a stunned lottery winner. "Fuck her...please...come on...fuck her," Mark's mouth worked silently when Pablo made eye contact with him. Given the final go ahead from Sherry's depraved husband, Pablo finally turned his full attention to his drunken track coach and nudged one of his knees up onto the bed, without a clue of where he wanted to start. * * * * * Feeling both his knees press down into the solid mattress below, Pablo had to keep reminding himself what he was doing was real. The night had already been such a blur, from being tossed out of the hotel bar for picking a fight with the man that had been hassling Sherry, to his indecent and demeaning rendezvous with Gloria Monroe minutes earlier, Pablo simply could fathom that his night would end up with him nakedly moving in on the blindfolded object of his long pent up desire. With Mark now about 8 feet behind him, rubbing his own cock through his pants as he watched the teenager tower above his wife like a Greek God, Pablo filled with an aura of detached disbelief, hungrily surveying Sherry Mitchum's exposed body in all its ragtagged glory. With Sherry's bare feet limply bracketing his kneeling body, Pablo allowed his gaze to slowly trace up his coach's prone body, taking in her full nakedness with the specter of her husband directly over his left shoulder. Admiring the same muscular body that he had fantasized about since practices began earlier in the school year, Pablo reached down with his shaky left hand and placed it on Sherry's calf, just to make sure the vision was real. Gently squeezing his fingertips into the flesh of the older woman's creamy white legs, Pablo continued pumping his engorged cock with his right hand, the crazed adrenaline of sexual youth coursing through his entire body like liquid mercury. Tracing his left hand slowly over Sherry's knee, Pablo allowed his curious gaze to sneak a peek at his drunk coach's completely exposed vagina, still wet from what Gloria and her husband had put it through in the past hour. Shaking his head from side to side joyously, Pablo couldn't believe he was actually staring at Sherry Mitchum's bare snatch. Looking at the way the older woman's dress was hiked all the way up to her waist as well as the way her blouse was jerked up to her chin, the conservative and demure coach Pablo had grown accustomed to looked like nothing more than a barroom slut on the bed beneath him. His left hand gently exploring the insides of Sherry's alabaster thighs, Pablo's eyes fixated on the modestly endowed but firm swells of Sherry's titties as they rested perfectly on top of her chest, both nipples shamelessly erect, looking like two pink olives on top of her taunt white orbs. With her hands stretched out to each side of her, clutching the bedsheets as if she were flying on a magic carpet, every movement Pablo was making on top of her made her squirm with a mixture of tickled excitement. Seeing Sherry's entire body blossom underneath him, the pained memory of what had happened to Pablo earlier in the evening, with his old head coach in the snack room, was finally shelved. For the first time in his life, Pablo truly felt like a man. In the back of Pablo's mind however, he still was cognizant of Mark Mitchum behind him, and there was the constant reminder that he was actually preparing to fuck the guy's wife, right in front of him and with his back to Mark, Pablo knew that at any moment his life could be in jeopardy if Mark decided to put an end to the little indecent experiment. Nervously looking over his left shoulder, Pablo was better able to put his mind to rest when he saw that Sherry's husband had removed his own dick from his blue jeans and was furiously massaging its reddened length as he watched Pablo's bull-like body rise above Sherry. * * * * * With all the stress, guilt, embarrassment and alcohol flowing through her system, Sherry was able to feel the presence of who she thought was her husband above her, slowly working his way down on top of her to finish off the same pussy he had teased, licked and sucked on moments earlier before the knock at the door interrupted their fun. The fact that she was blindfolded was actually a welcomed relief because it prevented Mark from having to see just how 'out of it' she really was. She knew that if he looked deeply into her eyes that he could see she had been 'unfaithful' to him. Despite her drunken disorientation, when Pablo's cock found its mark, buried between the swelled lips of her steaming vagina, it was painfully clear to Sherry that the time for fingers and tongues were over. This was the real thing. It never crossed Sherry's dazed mind however that it might be a cock not belonging to her husband that had caused her back to lurch severely off the bed. Her pussy had been so teased, prodded and primed from her earlier encounters that it swelled immediately around the hefty invader, choking the meaty appendage tightly as she tugged it deeper inside her womb. When she felt Pablo's strong hands press down on top of her belly to balance himself, in the back of Sherry's mind she never remembered Mark feeling that powerful whenever he touched her during sex, but in her current mental state, Sherry knew she couldn't trust her instincts and frankly it felt way too good to care. * * * * * Pressing his rock solid teenage frame forward, in some ways it felt the same as when he stabbed his cock into the dozen or so other girls he had fucked in his short life. As he allowed the texture of Sherry Mitchum's abdominal muscles to seep into his fingertips however, Pablo knew this was not going to be like any other act of sex he would ever experience again. Pablo could feel the radiant waves of sexual energy coursing through Sherry's skin into his, as the previously thought untouchable woman whimpering underneath his thrusting body, allowed him full reign over her most private spots. With each pounding thrust, Pablo's muscle movements orchestrated into a engrossingly lurid rhythm until the older woman underneath him had succumb to his virile power, giving herself to him completely. * * * * * As if the rug had been pulled out from underneath his feet, Mark Mitchum had suddenly dropped to his knees in a genuflecting pose at the foot of his wife's bed, looking like a crude peasant bowing at a religious alter. Stroking his cock madly with his right hand, Mark's eye level was positioned perfectly to see Pablo's smooth, youthful hips working like a paint mixer as he forced his behemoth into Sherry's quivering, apoplectic body. For the first time in his marriage, Mark was watching his wife get fucked and suddenly, he saw Sherry in a completely different light. The same physical mannerisms he had missed while he was doing his best to satisfy her in bed over the years were clearly evident as he helplessly watched the young boy, 10 years his junior, roughly plow his wife's gaping pink garden. Pablo's lean hulking frame seemed to eclipse Sherry's dainty body as his riveting thrusts grew in intensity. Mark watched from his knees as the teenage boy extended his arms and legs outwards, entrenching himself firmly on top of the older woman in an age old, instinctual show of dominance. When Sherry's bare feet shot up from the bed and started to shake spontaneously in mid air, Mark sensed from the hundreds of times she had came with him that she was on the verge of a crushing orgasm. Hearing the violent sounds of the bed creaking mix with the furious flesh on flesh collision of Pablo and Sherry's bodies echo across the hotel room, Mark frantically pumped his already raw cockmeat as the young stud eagerly forced Sherry over the edge. "OOOOEEEHHHHHHH... SSSSHHHHIIIITTTTT... MMMMMMMMMMMMMFFFFAAAAAAAAAHHHH... UUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKK... AAAHHH... AAAHHH... AAAAHHHHHHHH," Sherry cried out in muffled bursts from underneath the young stud's chiseled, sweaty chest. Sensing Sherry was cumming beneath him, Pablo's thrusting became more and more frantic as he pressed his left hand onto his assistant coach's exposed tits, groping them with adolescent fervor as the older woman creamed all over his pistoning joint. Running To Stand Still Ch. 6 Feverishly building towards his own release, Pablo knew he probably would have came much sooner if it wasn't for the fact that most of his semen was already released, drying in a crusty dotted trail on the 4th floor snack room's carpet where Gloria Monroe had utterly belittled him earlier. Trying to muster every drop of seminal fluid he had left to shoot into Sherry Mitchum's raised cunt, suddenly Pablo felt a strange tug on his left shoulder. Fearing for his life for just a moment, Pablo worried that Mark Mitchum had finally come to his senses and was on the verge of taking out some twisted guilty revenge on the young boy when he saw how sexually fulfilled that Pablo had made his wife. * * * * * It took every ounce of energy Mark had to keep to himself from cumming on his bent knees from the sight of his wife completely losing control of her body under the sexual devastation that her 18 year old student had unleashed upon her. Closing his right hand into a tight fist around the head of his prick, Mark successfully squeezed off his cum flow like a garden hose just in time. Unable to fathom Pablo's potent endurance, Mark gingerly rose from his knees to stop the Argentinean boy before he could finally cum. As if he had been reduced to nothing more than a meager beggar, Mark rose to his feet beside the bed, holding his clenched fist around his cock tightly, right behind Pablo's left shoulder. Reaching out with his free hand, Mark gently took hold of Pablo's heated flesh and leaned in to whisper into the boy's ear. "Flip her over...I want to see you fuck her doggystyle," Mark hoarsely groaned, forgetting the grinding stud's still loose grasp of the English language. * * * * * The language barrier was something Pablo Sandivere was slowly overcoming. Combine that with the fact that a myriad of crazed and conflicting emotions were pumping like nitroglycerine through his teenage body caused him to have absolutely no clue about what Mark was trying to convey. The lingering surrealistic sensation of Sherry's husband standing so closely beside him, continuing to masturbate himself as he whispered into Pablo's ear made the teenager nervously twinge as he slipped his cock free from his coach's buttery cunt. Pablo could see the deviant glee etched across Mark's face as his eyes lit up at the sight of Pablo's uncircumcised cock spilling free from Sherry's snatch, his wife's copious juices causing the young boy's dick to look as if it had been dipped into a frothy vanilla milkshake. It wasn't until Mark made a rolling gesture with his free hand that Pablo got an inkling as to what Mark Mitchum wanted Pablo to do next with his wife. Reaching down with his sweaty hands, Pablo took a firm grip around each side of Sherry's hip bones, cautiously rolling her onto her side so he could position her just the way Mark was asking. When his confused eyes looked up into Mark's to see if he was situating Sherry's limp body correctly and their gazes met, Pablo saw a determined, almost scary twinkle in the man's steely focus. * * * * * Having nearly lost touch with consciousness, Sherry Mitchum felt as if her body was adrift on some stormy sea as the waves of post orgasmic shock buckled her to the core. Thinking it was her husband that had just fucked her to completion, never in her wildest and sickest mental reaches imagining it could have been anyone else pushing her over the edge. Mouthing her husband's name, trying to convey to Mark the utter joy that she thought he had just brought her, Sherry was flabbergasted as to Mark's level of desire and wantonness. Usually after he made her cum he would collapsed beside her and nuzzle up to her neck, kissing her lovingly as they bathed in the glow of release together. When she felt two strong hands on her hips trying to raise her up from her back so they could flip her like a 110 pound pancake onto her belly, Sherry couldn't fathom what had gotten into her husband. Feeling her body go weightless for just a brief moment, the disorientation of her blindness combined with the alcohol laden sexual after glow, Sherry had to fend off a woozy sense of vertigo until she finally felt the hands holding her deposit her body face down on the mattress. Her head still swimming in the abyss, Sherry was helpless to comply with the urgent, forceful manipulations of the lust driven men behind her. Feeling Pablo's mighty hands squeeze her firm white asscheeks like two ripe melons, Sherry suddenly felt her tush rising from the bed until her legs followed suit, being lifted into a crude doglike stance. Now perched drunkenly on her knees, her ass raised invitingly for her suitor to take, Sherry waited for the inevitable, for who she thought was her husband to take her from behind. * * * * * Once Mark realized Pablo had finally grasped what his was trying to demonstrate, he took a step back and watched with carnal amazement as the young stud effortlessly flipped Sherry over onto her quivering belly. Keeping one hand latched on his cock, Mark extended his free hand in an attempt to steady Pablo as he flipped Sherry. As he held his hand out there in an useless attempt to help, Mark clearly understood Pablo was in total control and didn't need any guidance whatsoever from him. Watching Pablo forcefully pull Sherry by the ass towards him, positioning her perfectly so that he could mount her from behind, Mark allowed his gaze to drift lower to see the distance between Pablo's mammoth erection and the gaping pink target of his wife's cunt disappear. His eyeballs seeming to boil in their sockets, Mark was transfixed by how beautifully sculpted Pablo's penis appeared as it arched like a jousting spear towards Sherry's sopping quim. Pumping his cock in a slow methodical cadence, Mark felt an odd temptation and desire to reach out with his free hand and touch the innocence and beauty of the boy that was preparing to fuck his wife again. Sensing Pablo temporarily pause his assault on Sherry's cunt when he saw Mark reaching out towards him out of the corner of his eye, Mark halted his curious advances. There was an awkward moment of frozen silence between the two until Pablo subtly nodded his head, unsteadily beckoning Sherry's husband on. Listening to the almost diesel-like whine roaring out of Sherry's muffled mouth, Mark truly grasped just how gifted the young Argentinean boy was as he re-entered Sherry from behind. Mark couldn't help but bow his head in shame when he heard the way Sherry whimpered on and on about how much bigger and harder she thought his cock felt than it normally did when he fucked her. Knowing Sherry had no clue one of her 18 year old students was the one having his way with her, Mark felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach as he processed Sherry's lust crazed assertions, despite the fact that his cock only seemed to harden in his pawing hand. Looking over Pablo's shoulder down at his blindfolded wife, Mark couldn't help but feel a queer sense of appreciation to Pablo for truly bringing out the slut inside of Sherry. With a cautious mix of apprehensive lust and jealous curiosity, Mark tentatively eased up behind Pablo's kneeling body, the whole time trying to quell his gut-wrenching fear of what he might be capable of. Desperately wanting to experience the same power himself of the young man that had so completely satisfied his wife, Mark couldn't hold his left hand back as it hesitantly reached out, allowing it to sway perilously close to Pablo's firm, pear-shaped ass. Feeling the air ripple off Pablo's thrusting body as the aerodynamics of his brutal fuck pace swirled around the bed, Mark allowed his all consuming need to touch the young man fucking his wife to take over. The instant Mark's fingertips grazed Pablo's sweat-glazed hips, he felt as if he had reached into the stall of a champion rodeo bronco that was lunging furiously to escape it's confines. Feeling the intense power coursing off the teenager's chiseled body, Mark felt an overwhelming urge to become one with the handsome stud as he made his blindfolded wife writhe helplessly under his pounding assault. Slipping his right knee up onto the bottom edge of the mattress so that he was almost shadowing Pablo from behind, Mark removed his right hand from his rock solid penis, allowing it to swing wildly in midair, and used both hands to reach forward and use the track star's chiseled back for support as he guided himself up on both knees behind Pablo. * * * * * Too far over the edge to care, any visceral stimulation on his skin only increased Pablo's pleasure as he dicked down his sultry track coach from the rear. Fully aware Sherry's husband had now taken his place directly behind his hulking frame, Pablo felt strangely excited by Mark's presence back there, even if he was still a little unsure as to Mark Mitchum's intentions. As his relentless pounding of Sherry continued, Pablo could feel the familiar electric buzzes of orgasm building once again in his loins when Mark's probing right hand finally sneaked down and caressed the tender inner skin of his asscheeks. A moment later, Pablo's eyes rolled into the back of his head when he felt Mark's trembling fingers begin to play with his balls from behind, rolling their heaviness around as if they were two large walnuts in his palm. Considering the sexual roller coaster he had been on during the past hour, Pablo's single concern was that he was actually fucking a woman that he had kept himself awake nights fantasizing about. Now slicing her prized cunt open from behind with a seemingly nonstop array of hammering thrusts, the fact that the woman's lust sick husband was behind him on the bed, taking indecent liberties, only heightened the experience. * * * * * Feeling her pussy swell around the glorious cock pistoning her from behind, Sherry felt as if she was on the verge of spontaneously combusting, praying she could hold onto consciousness long enough before the overwhelming sensations ripping through her caused her to black out. Quaking from the power of the thighs, she thought belonged to her husband, as they pounded her raised ass relentlessly, there was a brief consideration that it couldn't be Mark behind her, causing her that much savage joy. With the head of Pablo's cock stabbing all the way up her pussy, Sherry swore she could feel it all the way up into her stomach with each deepening thrust it made inside of her. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, Sherry rabidly bit down on the pillow cushioning her face, forcing the material of the pillow all the way back in her throat to muffle to shrill screams of ecstasy now tearing out of her lungs. * * * * * With each forward thrust of his huge, blunt penis inside his coach's overheated body, a sense of unleashed dominance and release washed over Pablo's body as the young boy watched with intense focus, the older woman buckle under his virile assault. Clenching his teeth together in a clear show of aroused desperation, Pablo felt an unimaginable glow of kinetic joy as Mark Mitchum played with his swinging balls from behind, at the same time his cum was rushing to the surface to spew into Mark's wife's uplifted cunt. When the 18 year old stud felt the warm spongy tip of Mark's penis bounce back and forth between his firm asscheeks, Pablo intuitively knew what was coming next. Feeling Mark's manual manipulations on his bloated balls become more rapid and furtive, Pablo guessed correctly that Sherry's husband was trying to steady his cock at the entrance of the teenager's cherry ass. The devout Catholic upbringing that had created the conscience in Pablo's head pleaded for him to put a stop to the vile circumstances he had become immersed into. The feel however, of Sherry Mitchum's molten pussy and the sheer wantonness her husband was exhibiting behind him, was simply too much to escape from. When Pablo felt Mark let out a long gasp of heated air against the back of his neck, the young stud's face winced as a flash of blinding light exploded inside his head. Bucking forward, almost lifting Sherry's kneeling body off the bed, Pablo felt his whole body convulse when Mark's sturdy arousal penetrated his button sized anus. Looking like a surreal freight train from Hell, the three shook and writhed in a jerky, perverted rhythm on the hotel bed. Sandwiched between the wanton married couple, Pablo had no choice but to keep pressing forward, feeling what cum he still had left in his balls scalding his plumbing as it boiled to the surface. Each time Mark pushed forward into Pablo's ass from behind, the 18 year old felt his knees buckle on the mattress until Sherry's husband, sensing Pablo was becoming unsteady, reached out with his shaking hands and held the Argentinean teenager by the shoulders, savoring every ounce of energy exuding from the gifted stud as he sexually devastated Sherry's exhausted body. The irresistible chain of events that had set up Pablo Sandivere's orgasm had already been set into motion, but when he felt Mark grab his flexing shoulders from behind and hold him tightly as the teenager burrowed out Sherry's cunt, Pablo couldn't help but falling over the edge of oblivion as well. With the rebar-like hardness of Mark's cock tightly wedged inside his throbbing asshole and his own joint hammering like a dervish into his coach whimpering underneath him, Pablo wallowed in untold euphoria as his head arched backwards and his mouth shot open to scream. * * * * * Gritting his teeth, Mark felt as if wildfire had racked his body as he anally explored another man for the first time. Feeling every muscle in Pablo's body tense up like a wiry catapult, as soon as the youngster's orgasm snapped, Mark felt his own crushing release erupt as well. When the teenager's head rocked backwards, Mark immediately sensed the boy was on the verge of screaming out at the top of his lungs. Knowing his wife was only blindfolded, Mark worried that Sherry would somehow recognize Pablo's rich South American accent if he were to fill the hotel room with his glorious cries of pleasure. Lifting his left hand quickly off Pablo's left shoulder, Mark gently wrapped it over Pablo's opened mouth, allowing the kid's fitful screams to vibrate violently against the salty skin of his palm. With his whole body shimmying and quaking, Mark lowered his right hand from Pablo's other shoulder and drifted it down the stud's rippled frame. Slipping his curious fingers over Pablo's heaving abs then down through his soft, curly pubic hair, Mark awkwardly took control of the young man's enormous prick between his spastic fingers. Once Mark had a secure grip around the sloppy behemoth's base, he pumped Pablo's twitching erection for all it was worth, helping the boy deposit every drop of lust he could into Sherry's flowering, sopping wet vagina. * * * * * Sandwiched between Mark's urgent thrusts behind him and Sherry, bucking like a caged animal, once again, in front of him, Pablo felt like dying right then and there. There was simply no way life could get any better. Allowing his brutish gasps of boyish joy to resonate in Mark's cupped hand, Pablo freely accepted Sherry's husband's advances, letting the possessed man fill his asshole full of cum while the teenager urgently spewed his own load deep inside of Sherry's straining cunt. * * * * * After Mark had sheepishly thanked Pablo and walked the spent athlete back out to the hallway, he kicked himself for not even having the decency to have made eye contact with the exhausted teenager before shutting the door. Walking back towards Sherry's bedside, Mark Mitchum gently sat himself down beside his wife's sweaty, cum-saturated frame. Kissing her neck softly as she slept, Mark stroked his hand over Sherry's soft, salty skin for several minutes until he felt his nearly raw dick start to twitch with life again... - THE END - * * * * * Thanks for taking the time to read!!