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.