Running to Stand Still

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.