Orgasmic Oblivion - Coach Caroline

This is an anthology series where in each story a person gets caught by others during their most vulnerable moment: mid-orgasm. There's no time to stop, cover up, or deny. Pleasure and embarrassment all at once. Enjoy!

These stories are not necessarily connected. They merely share the same theme.

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Caroline Rivers, a voluptuous 45 year old brunette, was the head coach of the women's racquetball team at her husband's church. It was part of an outreach program for underprivileged young women and single mothers. While a taxing job at times, the pastor's wife also found it rewarding, for many reasons. It didn't hurt that it kept her in shape, either.

Today was like many other Fridays that had come before for her and her team. An hour of heavy practice had just finished. They were preparing for their first real tournament tomorrow afternoon. Everyone was both anxious and excited.

As Coach Caroline watched the ladies run off to hit the showers, she reflected on how proud she was of them. A few months ago, they were a rag tag team from all sorts of backgrounds and ages, ranging from 18 to 38, many of whom had never played the game before. She felt if they won even a few games tomorrow, it would really boost their confidence and prove to the congregation this was a worthy endeavor. She couldn't wait!

She smiled and wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel, then began to gather up all the equipment. She preferred to wait until the team went home before showering herself, both to keep up the proper division of authority and to avoid any possible notion of impropriety, lest this endeavor fail before it even gets off the ground.

A few moments later, however, the blonde mother-daughter duo of Laura and Stephani Wilkinson trotted up to her. She returned in kind their sweet smiles as they approached, still dressed in their probably-too-tight workout gear of sports bras and gym shorts. They were her favorite players and the team affectionately called them co-captains.

"What can I do for you, ladies?", Caroline asked, absently holding the last racquet club in her hand.

"Coach, the girls think you should come to the locker room and give us a pep talk for tomorrow. You know, like in the movies!" piped up Stephani, enthusiastically.

Laura chuckled and rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders lightly at her daughter's antics. "We don't mean to be a bother, Mrs. Rivers. It's alright if you'd rather not."

"Nonsense, my dears! It's our first tournament after all. If I can help put your nerves at ease, then by all means! Lead the way!" Caroline gestured back toward the showers, and off they went, at a gentle jog.

She couldn't help but notice their jiggling posteriors and swaying chests as she followed them. 'Oh, to be young again', she thought as she admired her star players. She hadn't had time to appreciate them in such a manner until now. While their curves did make her tingle in a fun way, she brushed that aside in her mind as that feeling was only reserved for her husband.

Well, she tried to, anyway. That is, until they finally went inside the locker room. For the first time, she saw her beautiful team in various stages of undress. Some were topless, some were bottomless, and more than half were fully nude. She was caught off guard and her heart skipped a beat.

Unbeknownst to the team, their coach was not accustomed to this situation at all. She put on as brave of a face as she could, but internally, she was more turned on than she ever had been in her life! Her only consolation came in wanting to run home and have her husband take care of her needs. But she couldn't, not yet.

Instead, she made her way to the middle of the room. Her legs felt weak, like jelly. Her nipples felt like diamonds and she dared not look down for fear of how noticable they might be. It was made all the worse by the close contact of her team as they gathered around her, bare nipples brushing her bare arms as she went. Was that... pubic hair against her leg? No, it couldn't be. Could it?

She took a deep breath and spent the next few minutes, which seemed like hours to her, coming up with the best, albeit cliche, pep talk about the big game that she could. The whole time, she was mesmerized by the sheer intoxicating beauty before her.

She put every curve, and every scent, to memory. Her hands absently fondled the racquet club handle as if it were her husband's cock, or perhaps a big nipple... or clitoris?

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice her secret desires. They were too caught up in the speech and the big game. After all, why would a good Christian woman like herself have such perversions, anyway?

She couldn't hear herself speak for her heart beat so loudly, but she knew it was going well as they were jumping up and down merrily and cheering every so often. Up and down, side to side, up and down, oh yes!

By the time she finished, she was the only one with clothing still on. Everyone else was naked and ready for the cleansing water. And off they went, seemingly none the wiser, leaving her alone with her sinful thoughts and throbbing vagina.

Caroline made her way back out of the locker room and into the hall. She leaned against the cold wall and breathed in deep, overwhelmed. Sure, she was sheltered, maybe over-protected even, but she hadn't expected this! She didn't know what to do. She waited, impatiently at this point, for her team to finally leave.

The cold wall felt good on the top of her back, and helped cool her down. At first, that is. Then her mind wandered. If a little coolness helped, wouldn't more?

She straightened up, pressing back more against the wall. Her lower back from her sports bra to her shorts could feel the coolness now.

It made her close her eyes and shiver. This was just as good as a cold shower, she thought, maybe even better.

But it wasn't enough. That firey sin was still inside her, keeping her too warm! It must be pushed away; frozen out! Yes, that had to do it! She was the pastor's wife! The devil wouldn't win!

Lost in her thoughts now, battling emotions and pleasures within herself, she no longer noticed the world around her. She was focused. Too focused, she would soon find out.

Her hands crisscrossed her body and her fingers desperately pulled up on the sides of her sports bra. She wanted her whole back against the wall, unabated. If only she remembered how to properly take it off by unzipping it first, but alas...

She tugged and tugged, but her large breasts fought her every move, keeping the wretched cloth in place. Was the devil mocking her efforts now? He wouldn't win!

She slid her hands forward, under her heaving tits. Yes! TITS! Proper women had breasts and vaginas. Sinful whores like her had tits! Tits and cunts! That's what her father used to say. She needed to be exorcised to be proper again. She needed that cold!

With a husky grunt, betraying to the world her secrets, she finally pulled off the bra completely. She could feel her knuckles firmly slide up against her budding, hard, hypersensitive nipples as they went. As extra punishment for her wicked thoughts today, she made sure to squish those chest clits hard enough to make herself whimper.

She tossed the useless rag away and slammed back up against the wall, the cool bricks deliciously freezing her entire back. She revelled in it, sighing in relief. That's right, naughty devil! Go back to hell! You're losing!

Coach Caroline stood there in the public hallway of her church gym, topless, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Her team was a distant memory. Surely, they had left by now, right?

The chill air on her chest felt good. Really good. It helped. Being unconfined took away a lot of stress too. Her team probably enjoyed that freedom as much as she did. Were their own nipples hard because of the cold too? Or was it for another reason?

No, no! She mustn't think of that! Of... those. Pink buttons. Brown nubs. Red cherries. So inviting. So tasty. So suckable. Babies liked sucking them. That must be good, right?

Still too warm! Ugh! The devil wouldn't win!

Her hands slid down her body. They loudly slapped her tits several times. More punishment was necessary after all. As her big slut bags swayed rudely back and forth, her hands went lower and to her backside. More cold would make him leave!

She pulled the back of her shorts down under her well developed ass. She once overheard her teenage son's friends call her a pawg and a milf. She didn't know what that meant but she could tell by their tone it was sleazy. She deserved it today for sure. The horny milf pressed her panty-clad pawg ass against the cold brick.

Did her team wear underwear? She hadn't noticed. What kind? Probably not unflattering granny panties like she always wore. Probably something sexier. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe their girl parts... no, their pussies... were always a single cloth away from freedom?

Ashamed, she tried to pull her ugly panties off, forgetting her shorts were still on. Frustrated, she pulled them up hard instead, giving herself a painful wedgie. More punishment. She needed it.

A few minutes of effort later, and her hands eventually tore them all the way off at the sides. Purposefully, she pulled the panties out from under her by the front, between her legs. It felt akin to a mild carpet burn against her soaking cunt lips and throbbing clit.

The garment dripped in her hand. More shame. It reeked of her sins. She could smell sex as she brought it to her face. Only her husband should have her this way! And he didn't have anything to do with this! How could she?! She must bear the guilt. Reap what she sowed.

She rubbed her cum covered panties all over her face and hair, and down over her chest, making her mounds shine. Her secrets revealed, not to be washed until all was forgiven. But oh, her scent! Might her girls smell as sweet? Sweeter?

She shoved her bare ass against the frigid, unforgiving brick wall behind her. Her wasted panties fell from her hand to the floor with a sickening and much too loud, wet plop.

She felt her shorts drop to her ankles and she kicked them off much too harshly. They flew across the floor, streaking it with a trail of her sweat.

And there, Coach Caroline Rivers, well respected wife of the church's pastor, mother of two lovely children, and pillar of the community, there she stood, naked, aroused and sweating, out in the hall for any and all to see. Blushing and dripping with lust, curves in all the right places, the wanton woman was so close to the repentance she sought, yet still so far away.

Her entire backside from heel to head now felt cool to the touch. She pressed herself so tight up against the wall that it felt like a second skin; an ice jacket around her. But she knew, deep down, it wasn't enough. Her front held her greatest temptations, of course. Those fleshy, ungodly desires must be sated with cold too.

But surely to feel it best they needed to be heated up first! The devil would not win!

She grabbed rudely, and feverishly at her chest. Pushed, pulled, and squeezed her tit-flesh red. Slammed the big mounds together. Lifted them up as high as they would go then let them fall. Lifted them again and held them solely by their nipples until it was too painful, then let them drop again.

She brought them up one more time and sucked her sore buds in her own mouth. Her hands slide down then, leaving her mouth to hold most of her breasts up. Suckle and nibble. Suck and bite. Like a feeding baby or sex-crazed nymphomaniac!

Her left hand's fingers found her pubic hair and pulled roughly. Her right hand went lower still and slapped her soaking cunt over and over. Her thumb and index finger pinched her needful clit. It only seemed to throb more. Immense pain and pleasure mixed. She was so, so close. Freedom? Rapture? She didn't know. But it was time.

She spun around and hugged the wall for dear life. Her breasts mashed against the bricks. She could feel every uneven bump against her nipples like an undead lover. Her hips ground against the coldness, her hands even clawing and shoving at her ass, pressing her clit and pussy against the wall hard, to soak up as much of the chill as possible. To an outside observer, it looked like she was fucking the wall like a bitch in heat. In her current state of mind, it'd be fitting.

That last thought finally broke her. All that effort for the cold? It didn't matter.

She came, hard. The dam burst inside her. Her sins poured out like a waterfall.

A lesbian orgy played out in her head. As did a vision of her team punishing her, privately. Then publicly, in front of the crowds at the tournament. Making her cum, again and again. She was no longer their coach. She was their bitch! To be leashed like the dogs!

She collapsed to the floor. The devil wasn't done yet though, she realized, too little, too late. As her knees hit the ground, the unthinkable happened.

The older woman's pussy lips were pushed open by something hard and smooth. Her warmth embraced the phallus, and engulfed it. The racquet club she had dropped in the confusion earlier now fucked her full. More full than she'd ever been. More than any woman had the right to be, she thought.

She fell back, nearly unconscious, as her last, and most shameful orgasm erupted. For the first time in her life, she squirted.

Girl cum covered the handle, pushing it out, and it landed with a loud clack. Another spray hit the wall, marking the spot she embraced earlier. Then her head fell back, but not against the floor; against a shoe.

A shoe?! Caroline suddenly awoke with a dreadful start, as if shocked back alive by lightening. Her eyes flew open!

She saw the ceiling. She saw... faces! They were looking down at her, awestruck and dumbfounded. Some were amazed, and one seemed even proud? Envious?

Her team! Oh no! NO!!

She didn't know what to do. She waited, her life in their hands. All could be lost. It was fair dues for her transgressions. She was weak when they needed her most. Had the devil won after all?

Claire, a beautifully chubby, vivacious college co-ed, pushed up her black rimmed glasses and giggled. "Next time, why don't you forget the speech, Coach? Give us some of THAT instead?"

Many of the other younger girls burst out in giggles but were quickly hushed and led away by the older women in the group, who weren't exactly laughing but were nodding in agreement nonetheless.

Laura and Stephani, ever dutiful co-captains, stayed behind with their coach. They helped pick her up, with respectful but knowing smiles, not a word needing said among them, and led her to the shower.

As the warm water hit her sore, well worn body, and their four hands massaged sweet strawberry scented soap over her most sensitive skin, Caroline knew then, the devil didn't win.

...Right?