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...