Sarah And Jacks Vegas Vacation

"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaimed as we got out of the elevator at the Seventh floor, "I can't believe you talked me into getting on that rollercoaster!"

"I can't believe you had the balls to get on." I replied through a smirk. I knew the first drop was much longer than I had said, and a moment of anger in Sarah's eyes told me she knew that I had known all along and was insulted by my attempt to pass one off on her. It had been nearly an hour since I had assured her that the roller coaster was 'nice and easy.' Though Sarah's jumping and hopping around told me she was happy she'd been adventurous enough to go through with it.

Now she seemed to move in slow motion, her dress clung to her waist and thighs as she hopped around. Her small pert breasts never heaved, I've never seen them heave, they would come back up as she jumped, and snap downward for an instant when she landed again. Had she noticed me staring at them?

"Oh fuck you too."

"What?" Shit.

"I said I need to trade brothers."

I laughed skeptically and paused staring at her for a moment, "yeah? For who?"

"I dunno, Jessica's brother."Sarah resumed hopping around, hoping to recreate the sensation of the roller coaster. It was a refreshing sight to watch a woman in her forties cavort like a child.

"Charming dude," Sarah dropped down with her shoulders slumped looking like she'd hurt me.

"He hates roller coasters." Sarah said with a shit-eating grin as she walked backwards toward our room.

I peered around admiring the choice in lighting down the long hallway, they made Sarah glow like a candle light, the shadows that hugged her growing and receding as she passed like dark blankets that had animated, that could touch and caress her whenever they pleased. A shadow slunk and retreated around her slender neck-

"Earth to Jaaack, " Sarah was walking backwards calling out to me, no doubt the idiotic distant expression I wore was amusing her to no end, "you there?"

"Yeah I'm here..." Deflect! Deflect! Deflect! "How's the family?" I asked as I caught up with her.

Sarah smiled ever so slightly as she turned back and continued, "They're not taking the divorce well... Pete's going through an emo phase."

"Could have been worse." Sarah let out a chortle, neither one of us were very fond of the emo types, now her son and my nephew was one of them.

"Candice is having a thing with a 'badboy'," She said with a comical expression.

I got deadpan serious, "bad boy? What's, so bad about him?"

Sarah looked at me in an appreciative way, my chest swelled.

"He smokes pot, she says he doesn't like I wouldn't know one if they landed in my lap."

"Oh well that doesn't sound so bad."

"And he has the voice of a" Sarah paused for a moment and stared off while she made the connection, "Seagull."

We both burst out laughing for a second before I continued, "And Charles, how's he?"

"I don't know, haven't heard from him in a while."

"Probably off disappointing someone else," I offered

Sarah laughed, nodded, "Yeah... yeah, he probably is," and continued ponderously, "you know, last year I think I traumatized the kids cause of him."

What? Sarah's harmless, how could she ever traumatize her kids? "Oh? How did you manage that?"

"Well, last year Charles and I were going at it you know?"

I managed a word through my repulsed expression, "No, no I don't."

"And it's about ten minutes in, we're trying to keep quiet cause of the kids right."

"Whoa, whoooa!"

"Hold on dammit... and all of a sudden I yelled out; 'goddammit! You fuck-" Sarah began ruefully laughing, visibly ashamed of herself while I looked at her with a pre-emptive expression of horror.

"Right?" her laugh was always so contagious. I shouldn't have, but I started in too.

"So I said," Sarah's laugh reached a stuttering crescendo.

"You said?" I beckoned her continue as I held back my laughter.

"'Goddammit!' I yelled at him," She burst into uncontrolled laughter, "right there in bed! 'Goddammit Charles! You fuck like a tortoise!'"

My legs buckled beneath me as I burst into laughter too. A fucking tortoise! The imagery of a tortoise rocking back and forth at the hips and shoulders like a see saw hit me like a ton of bricks, bowling me over. Sarah and I leaned against the hallway and laughed as if no one else was in the hallway, or the hotel, we laughed as if the whole city was empty. We looked into each other's eyes as we cackled. She always complained about her eyes but I always found them entrancing. They had a power over me I couldn't describe, like a drug.

"Wow!" I exclaimed as I wiped a tear from my eye. "You know the first time saw him. I said to myself 'that dude's terrible in bed!'" it seemed a bit cruel to laugh at the man's short-coming, but Sarah had earned it. At my age I'd had heard the term 'gay divorcee' many times, but seen it in person very seldom.

Her and I were sitting on opposite sides of the hallway, still laughing. As the laughter died off, Sarah sat there and looked at me, I loved it when I'd catch her looking at me. One of her knees dropped and her hips followed the knees around as she wheeled herself back up.

She smiled at me, no doubt she hadn't seen me in very many good moods since she married the tortoise, "Okay, let's get back to our room. We're only here until Sunday."

"Sorry, I could only afford one." I said as I looked up at her.

"Nah, fuck it." My brow lifted at her cursing. "Let's just go," she offered her elbow down to me, I grabbed hold and heaved myself up.

As we continued down the hallway I felt Sarah's eyes on me, "Yes?"

"Thanks for inviting me to come with you."

"As if I had a better choice of company? Hope the kids are okay for the weekend."

"Oh yeah, they're fine." Sarah waved them off without concern, she had raised some very smart kids.

"Oh, good."

"Candice was like, 'find a really hot boy mom!'" said Sarah pumping her fist in pantomime.

"Well, the weekend is young," I said, trying to console her that she hadn't had a bite tonight.

"No, that's okay. I'm not so young and pretty anymore. Fuck! A forty-one year old in Vegas looking for cougar bait!" Sarah laughed incredulously.

"I don't think that's true."

"Oh, so you'd like to see me going after some kid?"

"Well, first off; we don't know anyone here, you can be seen with anyone you like."

"Oh, well I'll keep that in mind!" Sarah replied looking quite pleased with her lot.

"Second; you're just as beautiful today as you were twenty years ago."

"Aw bullshit. You don't make people feel better about themselves by lying to them, Jack."

"No really." I stopped, and a second later Sarah stopped and looked at me as I extended a hand to her. "You're just as beautiful as you were twenty years ago. I really can't see this 'old' you."

Sarah stood there looking shocked for a second, "that's the nicest thing you've said to me in, a long time..." She stroked her left hand with her right, then grinned wide.

"Well," I continued down the hallway, joining her a moment later. "It's true." I turned to look at her as we walked, and she looked at me. Sarah smiled and looked down bashfully, it was the more priceless because she never got bashful.

Sarah's shoulders stooped, "goddamn, we should have got in at the lobby entrance. What number were we?"

I fished the key-card out. "Let's see... it's, number, forty-six thirty-three."

Sarah paused a moment looking around quizzically, "Hrmmm twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-nine, there it is!" She ran forward and hopped up to the door. I jogged up behind her and slipped the card under the doorknob. We were met with a blast of conditioned air and let out a sigh in unison as we walked in.

"I call the shower!" Sarah exclaimed immediately.

"Aww, you dick!" I replied playfully.

I walked over to the window, pushed the shades back, and took in the expanse of the Vegas strip while enjoying the exhilarating brunt of the air conditioning system. Sarah stripped down next to the bathroom in the designated closet, the one that's always opposite the bathroom door. I couldn't help but notice the reflection of hands and feet hurriedly pulling away layers of clothing, tossing them into the room and over her head onto the ubiquitous shelf that every hotel room has in their "closet" area. We'd had a couple shots at the casino where we lost some fifty dollars. Though Sarah didn't register a buzz on two feet, now contending with her dress on one foot she lost her balance and stumbled halfway out from behind cover. For a moment, the lights in the distance looked like stars shimmering across her skin, as she laughed and slid back behind the corner she left the little lights in her wake. A moment later, Sarah had donned a towel and slipped into the bathroom while I resumed staring off into the night. I plopped down onto the bed noticing how the springs were a bit too strong, likely compensating for all the fucking that goes on in those rooms. I swept my hands across the linen while dreading the encounter of a sticky spot. The caretakers of the rooms were either deft in their abilities, or Vegas doesn't encounter as much fucking as lore tells. I was happy in either case, I turned on the television, skipped the 'how to' guide for television use. I turned to CNN, but after a few seconds I heard Sarah complain that a vacation was no time for war and gore, suggesting Comedy Central instead. Fair enough, though on a Saturday night Comedy Central has all the humorous novelty of a CNN war report.

After a minute of half baked jokes, and half hearted laughs I noticed that although the shower was on, no showering was happening. No telltale sound of water jets hitting bare glistening flesh. No report of them spiraling through tangles of silky hair, running down her forehead, along the gentle curve of her jaw, and cascading from her chin onto her supple, firm- 'Get a hold of yourself!' I thought, 'she's your fucking sister you... pervert!' I focused on what's-his-name's stand-up routine for a minute, before worrying that the couple shots of vodka we'd had was enough to cause Sarah to lose her balance and slip in the shower. I would have heard her slip, wouldn't I? The thought of watching T.V. while Sarah lay unconscious in a hotel bathroom picked and prodded and annoyed me too much to allow me to sit around any longer. I walked over to the bathroom door and was about to knock when I heard her. At first it was just a rhythmic sound, after a moment I resolved it as being like a smacking sound. Fast then slow then fast again and, after a minute, a gasp before the slow rhythmic smacking continued. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... a rush of air jetting from her lips. Was I listening to my sister- to Sarah masturbate? I pushed away from the door and immediately slowed to a stop and pressed back up against the door. Women hate to masturbate themselves in front of their partner when they could have their pussy eaten or fuck instead. But there is a certain allure to a woman doing herself, the way she's certain she wants to be touched. The difference between pleasure and boredom was a matter of millimeters they are well acquainted with. I wondered if I could guess what her pussy looked like by the sound alone. All I could make out was that it was wet. 'No shit Sherlock, she's in the shower.' I strained my ears to no avail. I decided that while I had no idea what it looked like, I did know it was beautiful. I could see my breath coalesce on the paint of the door when her pace quickened. I sighed when she did and tensed when she resumed. There was a light thud on what I could only guess was the wall, and after a moment her rhythm quickened to a furious pace. Sarah began to pant gradually louder over the shower, she checked herself. Had I made a noise? Was the thud on the wall me? Did I hit the door as I lost balance and simply been too enthralled in the moment to notice? I didn't remember. A moment later I heard the water of the shower hitting quivering skin as Sarah finished her shower. I slunk back over to the T.V. and resumed the mundane attempts at humor of the Saturday night Comedy Central Stand-up Hour. As Sarah shut off the water my head stopped swimming as I tucked my hard-on away and remembered there was Cartoon Network's Saturday night anime thing and flipped it on. I had gotten addicted to the crap while babysitting for Sarah.

The bathroom door opened and a newly dressed Sarah stepped out with a loud sigh. She bounded over to her bed and jumped in, her deceptively strong legs launched her into the air over her bed as she half turned in sailed down, landing her head precisely over her pillow.

"Isn't that nice?" I asked over my shoulder.

"What?" Sarah yelped.

"Having a cool shower in this heat."

"Oh yeah, that was so refreshing! What's on?"

"Oh, it's Cowboy Beebop."

"Yes! I love that show!"

"Really?"

"... Well I don't catch it all the time. But it's got really great story, I love it's not all about the tits and bikinis like the other animes."

I laughed, "Yeah! It's actually got story to back it up."

After a moment Sarah asked if I needed to use the shower, "Oh yeah," I blurted, damned cartoons. I walked toward the bathroom while craning over to catch the last of the scene where the main character is thwarted by some sort of wannabe cowboy, all the while angling my stiffened cock away from Sarah.

"Oh, just get in there. This'll be on in again in the next block."

"Right," I turned to the door and began stripping down. The area didn't leave me much room for privacy. As I stripped down I couldn't help but hear the creak of the bed springs. Was Sarah leaning over to take a look? Was she just adjusting? I had been exercising a lot more, had the muscles to show for it and admired my own ass a bit more than I probably should. I didn't move around to check, if she was I'd leave her to her privacy. When I was set I grabbed a change of clothes, and opened the bathroom door to the creak of the springs. Was that Sarah leaning away now? No, she's not like that, she's not a pervert like me. In front of the mirror I took a second to take in the sight of my new physique, eating less bread and carbs and the like was really working out but god did I miss a decent bowl of macaroni. I got in the shower and turned the water on. As I began to work the cheap hotel soap into a lather, I noticed a scent in the air.

Faint as a wisp of perfume wafting through a park, it was Sarah, her scent clung to the walls, reeled through my nose and filled my lungs with their soft musk. I tried to ignore it and scrub the dank smell of casino cigarettes off my arms. But as I washed more and more of the acrid stench off, the scent of Sarah's loins became stronger and stronger. My brow and eyelids went limp as I closed my eyes and took the scent into my lungs. The moment the perfume graced my nostrils the hard-on was inevitable. And try as I might the pulsating girth wouldn't be denied, I was here in a hotel room and had decided not to give my attention to any woman in Vegas for more sentimental reasons than just avoiding a venereal infection. I couldn't hold back anymore, as I figured a solitary orgasm in Vegas was better than no orgasm at all and wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to stroke with the same cheap-assed soap.

Whenever I masturbate I like to think about the women I've slept with, and having been accustomed to their figures I leaned on their compliments about my cock. 'I've never been with someone so thick,' I reminisced as I stroked and cursed how coarse the soap was, the first time a woman would see the girth of it there was a moment of shock and uncontrollable anticipation, one girl squared her wrist against my member 'oh my god! It's as thick as my wrist!' In the moment I take it with a pinch of salt as I'm very skeptical of superfluous compliments, but now as I continued my hand up and down my throbbing rod they had a purpose to serve. Yet now as I continued, that scent which signified Sarah's orgasmic satisfaction invaded my nose and my pulse quickened, my breaths grew ever more labored. I'd never masturbated to Sarah's scent and it was more erotic than any moment I'd ever had to myself and- "Sarah," it slipped out! Barely louder than a whisper but audible nonetheless. I couldn't help it. It just gushed out of me as I came and splashed the shower door with cum. 'Fuck, fuck! How loud was that? Did the shower conceal it? Fuck!'

I was mortified, if Sarah was still watching the show, it would pass, but if she was anywhere near the door I was certain she would have heard it. 'Fucking idiot!' I cursed myself, cupped water in my hands and rinsed the cum from the textured glass of the door. The door reported *kadong,kadong,kadong* like a church bell *ding!* *dong!* your brother was maaaasturbatiiing!

I couldn't help but think, that was an amazing orgasm though. I was torn between shame and exhilaration as I stalked out of the shower and dried off. I hid my legs behind pants and my chest beneath a shirt and paused at the door to curse myself again.

I stood at the opening of the room for a tense moment looking for shame or anger in Sarah's face. 'don't let your voice crack.'

"So, did I miss anythEng." ... goddammit Jack.

"Cowboy's over, wanna watch it again? It's on the next channel over." She was snuggled into a crater of sheets, I don't think she got out of bed.

"Nah, what's on now?"

"Ahhh that 'Eureka Seven.'"

"Oh, okay. Which one?"

"The one where a giant robot rides a rocket surfboard." Sarah's eyes glazed over.

"Hah! Yeah." This show had a fairly unremarkable plotline and we couldn't tell one episode from another. Probably something the kids caught onto.

I went over and laid down in my bed. There was a nightstand between us with a lamp jutting out of the wall, painting everything golden.

After a couple minutes I couldn't take it anymore, my eyes had glazed over too, "This show would be better if we had some pot," I said almost asleep.

"Yeah in Arizona, here we'd get caught with a joint and do ten years."

"No way," seemed a bit harsh to me.

"Yeah way. I looked it up, why do you think we're not getting stoned right now?"

"Hahah! Ata girl!"

We watched the flickering images for a moment. I crossed my arms with disaffection at the show.

"Aren't you cold over there?" Sarah asked with a bit of concern.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You can," we were both distracted by a chase scene before Sarah continued, "you can come over here, if that a/c's too cold."

I paused for a second gauging how cold I really was, "okay." I moved over to her bed and as I laid down I noticed how Sarah's pajamas clung to her damp legs. These hotel towels always suck. Sarah angled her chin down and her breast rose as she adjusted herself. I crimped down into the linen doing likewise.

After a moment something struck me and I looked over at Sarah, my interest piqued, "Is that you?"

"I brought my own shampoo. You like it?" Sarah craned toward me and quickly fanned the smell of the shampoo over with her hand. She was trying to look funny, and as I laughed, I couldn't help but notice her long slender neck. Our eyes met for a moment, then bounced away.

"Yeah, smells great."

"Thanks!" Sarah laughed at the idea that her brother found the smell of her hair alluring.

"I like your body spray more though. What is it?"

Sarah shrugged "Who knows?"

"Wear that tomorrow and I'll have to spend the night in the lobby, or fight guys off of you all day."

Sarah grimaced indifferently, "I don't think I want to 'hook up' with a guy in Vegas. You only find certain people in this town and they're not the sort I'd be seen with anyway."

"Well, I don't think a couple rides on a rollercoaster and losing a grand in the casino's going to recharge you," I said hoping to convince her to let her hair down after the ordeal she's been going through back home.