Sarahndipity

"MMMmmmm- ", Sarah tried to strangle back the inadvertent grunt in her throat. She bit her bottom lip and pushed her pelvis harder against Michael's heel, then relaxed. She kept repeating this motion over and over. She could feel cum running down her legs and pooling in the crack of her ass. The voltage in her loins was now reaching out to her thighs and her belly. Every so often she would relax too much, and there would be a gentle slurping sound, like a small dog lapping water.

Michael watched, bemused. "Hey Sarah. See that lady over there wearing the Armani? She wants to know why you keep biting your lip and closing you eyes."

Sarah was trying desperately to continue breathing through her nose, but it was becoming ragged and irregular. "Tell Ms. Armani - mmmmmmmmmmMMMM - that she can --mmmjesusesusjesus -- kiss my fat ass -- uhuhuhuhhuhuhhuh". Sarah switched strategies and began biting her upper lip.

Her left hand was clenching the edge of the table so hard Michael expected her to break a chunk off. He was a whole lot surprised, and more than a little bit aroused at his sister's unexpected enthusiasm. He'd really just intended to shock and tease her a little bit, but Sarah was really getting into this. He didn't know what the end point was going to be but he hoped it happened soon, because his leg was starting to cramp from its odd position. He looked at his sister's face and knew something had to happen for her, too. Her eyes were glassy, her ears were scarlet red, and her forehead was covered in sweat. As he was thinking these thoughts, Sarah's eyes flew wide open, she stopped trying to breathe at all, and her upper body shuddered. Below the table, Michael could feel her vagina contracting violently, one, two, three, - eight times -- and then it stopped.

Sarah's shoulders sagged, she released her death grip from the table and Michael's foot, and her eyes came back if not in focus, at least into the foreground. She started to move her lips as if to speak, but no words came immediately.

Michael looked around and caught the waitress's eye. "Check," he mouthed.

When he got up Sarah remained sitting. He went to help her with her chair.

"I'm pretty sure you're going to need to walk behind me," she both said and asked. "I think the back of my dress is wet." As Sarah stood up and stepped away from the table, Michael saw that she was right. Not only was the back of her dress wet, but there was a noticeable wet spot on the cream velvet upholstery of the chair, about six inches in diameter, and just a little bit darker in color than the surrounding fabric. He felt sorry for the next guest to be seated.

They left the restaurant. "Back to my room to get your purse?" Michael asked. Sarah nodded absently, still preoccupied. The elevator was slow getting down, and by the time it had arrived, a fairly large crowd had gathered behind Michael and Sarah. They got on, pushed nine, and moved to the back corner. The rest of the people filed in, and by the time the elevator doors closed, the elevator was full. Fortunately, everyone was on their best elevator behavior, eyes front, no eye contact, and no one seemed to notice when Sarah reached back and rubbed the length of Michael's erect penis. Sarah's body shielded this activity had any of the passengers glanced their way. Nor could anyone see when Michael responded by slipping his hand under the hem of Sarah's sundress from behind and rubbing his fingers along the length her ass crack. Sarah's reaction was immediate and unequivocal. She spread her legs apart to shoulder length, and bent her knees, forcing Michael's fingers inside her slightly. Every time the elevator stopped at a floor, she would take the occasion to bounce a couple times. When the elevator finally reached the ninth floor, and the doors opened, the couple waiting to get on the elevator did a double take at the obvious mutual masturbation occurring.

"Ummm...it's okay," Michael explained, as he walked past, "we're brother and sister..."

He pulled Sarah along to room 931 as quickly as she would walk. Michael fumbled with the lock once, twice, and then got the door opened. He let Sarah in and followed. He closed the door, and when he turned to the room Sarah was pushing him back against the door, breasts rubbing his chest through the thin sundress. She put her arms around his neck and drew him close. Without preamble, her tongue was deep in his mouth, and thirty five years of imagination and foreplay came to a logical conclusion. Michael put his hands under Sarah's ass, picked her up, turned, and pinned her against the door. With one hand and his body, he kept Sarah balanced, and with the other, he was able to free his dick through the zipper of his pants. Sarah wrapped her swimmer's legs around Michael's hips and locked them in a death grip.

The feeling of Michael entering her broke through Sarah's mental fog, and she had a series of thoughts in rapid succession and startling clarity. The first was, she had never been needed so urgently by a man that he could not wait to walk ten additional feet to a bed, and had to take her standing up against the front door. The second was, she had never wanted a man inside her so badly the she could not wait to walk an additional ten feet to a bed, and had to wedge herself against the front door and climb on his dick right now. The third stemmed from the fact that the summer sausage on which she had voluntarily impaled herself was bigger than John in general, and, being hard as steel pipe, made Michael seem about twice as large as John of late, which triggered two more clear thoughts: that bigger cock inside her body was a little bit uncomfortable and the more uncomfortable it was, the more urgently she wanted it deeper inside her. Lips locked, hands supporting each other for whatever balance was possible, Michael began thrusting while Sarah used the leverage of her arms around his neck to move her own pelvis.

Sarah and Michael were fucking with the wild abandon and enthusiasm more normally associated with animals intent on procreation rather than human recreation. A couple in their mid thirties slowed down as they moved past the door to nine thirty one. The rhythmic pounding of Sarah's lower back against the door every time Michael rammed up and into her was generally punctuated by some guttural response by Sarah.

"Do you think everything is okay?" wife asked, in wide eyed concern.

Her husband smirked. "Oh, I think everything is much more than okay."

Sarah upped the volume slightly. Bam. "Jesusgod" Bam "Sonofbitch" Bam.

An older couple joined the younger one in the hallway and listened for a moment.

"Do you think someone is having a heart attack?" the older lady asked in a slightly trembling voice?

Bam! "ohgoddam" Bam! "Pleezedonstop!"

The neighbors across the hall from 932 opened their door. "What is that racket?" they asked the foursome in the hallway.

They all just nodded at room 931.

Bam! If you looked closely, you could see the door spring outward on its hinges each time Michael forced her back against the door.

Two teenage boys got off the elevator and paused with the group in the hallway.

Bam! "ohdeeper"

The taller boy with the pimples looked incredulously at the group.

"Are they -?"

Bam! "ohharderharderharder"

The older man looked at him sagely. "I would say so..."

More people were pausing in the hall now, listening to the commotion.

Bam! "MIchaelmichaelmichael" Bam! "Imgonnaexplode" Bam! "Harder" Bam! "Harder!"

Bam! "Harder!" Bam! "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh" Bam! "Ohhhhhhhhhh" Bam! "Ohhhhhhhmotherof marymotherfuckermycuntisexplodingpleasegodletmedieAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH" "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Her final scream was harmonized by the unmistakable mindless guttural growl of a man ejaculating.

Out in the hall, the crowd began fidgeting in nervous embarrassment.

"Um, Honey, let's go back to the room for a few minutes," the young man suggested. This seemed to be a suggestion that the rest of the group concurred with because they all headed down the hall at a faster than normal pace. Soon, only the old man and old lady were left.

The old lady looked sternly at the old man. "Don't even think about it," she warned.

Inside 931, Sarah and Michael sprawled on the narrow floor of the doorway.

After her breathing returned to normal, Sarah kissed Michael tenderly, on the forehead, then slowly on the lips.

Michael commented, "Jesus Christ, you're tight."

Sarah shrugged lazily. "One of the few benefits of having c-sections, I guess."

She moved her legs. "I gotta go to the bathroom, again," she said.

She pushed herself up on rubbery legs, and took two steps, turned left into the bathroom, and took two more steps and sat down on the commode. Michael watched her as she walked unsteadily. With each step she took, a big glob of cum and semen dropped out from between her legs. He could see up her rumpled sundress, and a liberal amount of sex was running down both thighs as well.

"Oh Michael...."

Michael scooted down the hall so that he could see her sitting on the toilet. She was holding her head in her hands. "What?" he asked, concerned.

She looked up at him. The sound of her urine splashing was the only sound. When it stopped, she spoke.

"In forty eight years, I have done every single thing right. Thirty minutes ago, I was destined for sainthood. Now, in the last half hour, I've cheated on my husband, I've fucked my brother, and I've had two orgasms that might have caused bodily injury." She looked up. "Where does God send you for punishment when Hell isn't bad enough?"

Michael spoke without thinking. "Cleveland?" he suggested.

"Michael, I'm serious. This is bad. Real bad."

"Well, there's nothing sinful about the orgasms. Did you really injure yourself?"

Sarah examined her fingers. "I don't think so. For a moment there, I was honest to God certain that there was fire coming out of my fingers and toes, but I think that was just part of the whole out-of-body experience I was having." She paused. "And the problem isn't with the orgasms I had."

Michael looked at her without comprehension. Sarah stood up and peeled off her rumpled sundress, then unhooked her bra, and laid them both on the bathroom vanity. Michael assumed she was going to shower.

Sarah looked at her brother. "The problem is with the next orgasm I want to have."

Sarah walked over and stood above Michael. Her blond pubic hair glistened with an assortment of moisture. She lowered herself so that her knees on the floor were slightly above his head, and her feet pushed against his shoulders. She stopped there and hesitated. She thought about the part of her she was offering to her brother. She had not engaged in any feminine hygiene since early morning, she had been foot fucked, dick fucked, she had jism still dripping out of her vagina and down her legs, and she hadn't even patted herself dry after pissing just now. This was too much to ask of anyone, even her twin brother. She shifted her weight to get up when she felt his hands on the swell of her hips. Responding to his pressure, she let him pull her down until she could feel her cunt pushing firmly into his face. When she felt his tongue exploring the walls of her vagina, a hundred frantic honey bees began buzzing around her stomach.

The next day, Sarah texted Michael.

S: will I get to see you before you leave?

M: no; already at the airport

S: that's probably good. I'm not sure what to think about yesterday.

M: think "phenomenal"

S: is that what do you think about yesterday?

M: I think happy, fulfilled, warm, satisfied, completed, ready to meet my maker, - are you sensing the general tone here?

S: : )

Sarah put her phone down. She sometimes envied men in their ability to ignore complexity. Her phone beeped again.

M: What did John say when you got home?

S: He was asleep. No awkward conversations.

Sarah's mind would not stop turning over questions. Would she and Michael behave that way again, given the chance? Would they take steps to create another chance? Would she be able to feign passion with John? Did she want to feign passion with John? Was what she and Michael did wrong, or only if someone found out? If someone did find out, what would she do? Could she ever face her children? Could she live without orgasming again the way she did last night? Even if she was with Michael again, would it be reasonable that she would ever orgasm that way again?

The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that what they had done was wrong. The more certain she became that it was wrong, the more she wanted to feel Michael's cock inside her again, pushing aside her own tissue with each aggressive thrust. Her insides still felt a little squishy, and she had more than a little bit of concern that she might actually have been stretched out a little in a way that John would notice. There was something obsessive about wanting to feel her brother inside of her that was different from John -- or anyone else. Always before, it had been just fucking, sort of like giving a hand job with a different part of the body. With Michael, it was like his oversized flesh belonged in her somehow, even though there was no room for it, and when it was in her she sort of wanted it out, but when it was out of her, she desperately wanted it back in. She shook her head. Men didn't understand complexity. She texted Michael: text me when you get off the plane.

Sarah behaved normally for the balance of the afternoon, except for checking her phone too often. As time went by, her anxiety built, and she began imagining all kinds of catastrophic events that might be keeping Michael from texting her, so she breathed a huge sigh of relief when she heard the familiar tone

M: just landed, what's up?

S: I need your help

M: sure, what can I do?

S: help me masturbate

M: LOL! You don't see my distance as being a bit of an obstacle with that one?

S: Not do it, wiseass. Help me...be excited about it.

M: just use your imagination

S: I can't use my imagination; I'll just think about you, and I've decided that's wrong

M: Watch porn, then.

S: I can't watch porn. I don't know how. If I order it, John will see it on the television bill.

M: So what do you want me to do?

S: Talk to me?

M: you mean, like phone sex?

S: What's phone sex?

M: What's the difference between me talking to you, and you thinking about me?

S: If I think about you, then I'm the one who wants it to happen again, and I don't want it to happen again. If you talk to me, then it's just something that happened.

M: Okay, tell you what. Let me get off this airplane and on the road back home. I'll call you.

S: Thank you!

M: However, during that time, you send me a picture or a video that inspires me to be creative.

S: Like what?

M: That's your problem. Talk to you soon.

Sarah thought about his request. She wasn't sure what she was going to send him, but she was pretty sure he was going to help her, and that made her happy. She looked at the clock -- 3:45 -- and knew she had about two hours before John got home.

Sarah took off all her clothes and climbed onto her bed. She gathered all the pillows she could find and made a huge back support against the headboard. Leaning back against it, she spread her legs apart and bent her knees as if preparing for an Ob-Gyn examination. Turning her phone video on front view, she smiled into a close up of her face, and then panned slowly down across her breasts, her navel, past her pubic hair, and she held the phone as far away from her pussy as her arm would stretch. She moved her other hand down, and began running her fingers lightly over her labia, rubbing against her pubic bone, exploring the folds that covered her vagina, and when she started feeling the first faint hint of bodily response, she turned the camera off.

She reviewed the video and -- although she wished some of the shots were clearer, or the movement slower -- she decided there wasn't going to get a whole lot better. She sent the video to her brother.

When her phone rang twenty minutes later, she answered it and walked toward her bedroom.

"Well," Michael said with a laugh, "you definitely kept up your part of the bargain. That was highly motivational."

"Really?" Sarah asked, pleased. It made her happy when Michael complimented her about anything.

"Really," he confirmed. "Okay so, you really want to try this?"

"Yes," she insisted, "I really want to try this."

"And you understand your logic about listening to me instead of thinking about me makes zero sense, right?"

"It does to me...." She defended.

"Alright, well, you know, I've never tried this before. I need as much help as you can give about what's working and what's not. And this isn't going to have that physical immediacy of last night. This is going to be more...cerebral."

"Okay," Sarah agreed.

"Are you...uh...pretty much in the same condition as that video you sent me?"

"Yep." Sarah replied, rubbing her fingers lightly across her vulva.

"Good. Good. That will help my imagination....So you're in the shower, a hot shower, warm water spraying over those beautiful breasts. I come in, and I'm standing behind you. I wish I didn't have a hard on, I really don't want to have a hard on, but the sight of your long legs and naked ass are too much, so we just both try to ignore my woody, okay?"

At the thought of Michael's erect penis, a pleasant thrumming went off in Sarah's upper thighs, just a gentle vibration, like a Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song played on acoustic guitars.

"I squirt body wash on my hands, and start lathering your back slowly. Around your neck, down those exquisite shoulder blades, down the inside curve of your lower back, and down where it curves back out to become the beginning of that beacon of physical perfection commonly known as your ass. I lather your back leisurely for a while, just rubbing both hands up and down that long back, and then I start on your arms. First your right shoulder -- God you feel soft -- and down, down your arms, soaping gently. Lather the palms, the fingers, the wrists, back up the inside of your arm, your bicep, and your armpit. I soap those tiny folds where your arms and chest and shoulders all come together, and then I move to your left arm. Shoulders, arms, hands, wrists, arm, armpit. I twist you a little bit in both directions to make sure the shower rinses off all of soap. I get some more soap on my hands, and step a little bit closer to reach around and begin soaping your chest. I pull you back away from the water some so it hits you lower, and I work my way down from your neck, across your upper chest, and then to those beautiful breasts. When I begin soaping your breasts, you lean back against me and push your ass against my stiff cock. As I lather the underside of your breasts, and run my fingers over your nipples, they get hard, and you reach behind, and start rubbing my cock up and down the crack of your ass very slowly, like someone jacking up a car in slow motion."

Sarah gave an audible sigh at this, which Michael could hear. The thrumming in her thighs changed to George Harrison playing "Here Comes the Sun". Her fingers began exploring the walls of her vagina, in addition to the external rubbing.

"I get some more wash, and continue to soap you down your stomach, and down the sides of your chest, where your waist bends in, then curves out to your hips. I wash your womb, and I place my hand against your uterus, and I hold you hard against me, and you push my dick down so it sticks between your legs and you rock along its length, but we're not done cleaning. I sit down in the shower stall, and I lift your right foot up onto my bent knee. I wash the sole, I wash the toes, I wash the top. I wash your ankles, your gorgeous calves, and work my way up your thighs. When I get to your upper thigh, I let my fingers brush against your wet vulva, and because of the way your leg is bent up, your pussy is partially exposed to me, and I lean forward and kiss it. I put your right foot down, and ask for your left foot. Again, I lather toes and feet, and ankles, and I want to hug those thighs they are so shapely, but this is a shower, and, after brushing my fingers lightly against your pussy again, I turn you around to rinse off. I put a little soap on my hands and start rubbing them across your ass in circular motions."