For a little while, the burning fire in Lincoln Loud's loins abated.
That first day - the one where he fucked Lola on her bedroom floor and dumped his load straight into her little heart-shaped box - the most blissful sense of satisfaction filled his bosom. It was almost like that cooling feeling you get right after a high fever breaks. You're sore, shaky, and tired, but you're no longer delirious and talking to people who aren't there. As soon as he was done putting his cum in Lola, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders and clarity spread through his mind like the first rays of the morning sun creeping along the shadowy ground.
He just fucked his little sister.
First of all, he didn't regret it on existential grounds. None of this boo hoo I'm a terrible person bullshit. He enjoyed every single moment of porking Lola and there was absolutely no question that he would do it again. There was also no question that Lola would let him do it again. Ever since their little tryst, she had been hanging on him like Paul on Jesus. She followed him around, offered to do things for him, and snuggled up to him on the couch like a loving cat. She constantly batted her eyelashes at him, bit her lower lip, and grabbed his butt and crotch. "Let's go upstairs," she'd say in a breathy, needy voice, and upstairs they would go. In his room, they would strip naked, stretch out on his bed, and touch and kiss until they were both wet and hot. Sometimes she even took the lead, straddling him and moving up and down on his dick, her damp walls stroking his cock to the point of bursting. Since they didn't have to worry about her getting pregnant, he only pulled out when he wanted to paint her with splooge, which he did quite often. There's something immensely gratifying about seeing your seed splattered across a girl's face and tits. It felt better when she swallowed, though, and that's how he usually gave her his baptimsmal waters.
No, he didn't regret what they had done and continued to do. He wasn't sorry or conflicted or self-loathing. Nah, none of that shit. He was, however, a little worried about what would happen if they were discovered. Mom and Dad were very liberal and lenient in their parenting philosophy, to the point of being almost completely hands off. They let their children resolve their own conflicts and find their own way unless specifically asked for assistance.
They weren't total pushovers, but their New Age approach did have its drawbacks. In Lincoln's opinion, children need constant guidance, support, and structure. You can't just cut them loose and let them fumble through life with no help. "Oh, but the older generation did it." Yeah, and their kids became hippies and hard rock burnouts. The baby boomers were handed everything by their overworked parents except guidance, and they turned into a bunch of long hair assholes who hated the very society and institutions that gave them everything they had. They had nice middle class upbringings and benefited from the strongest economy the world had ever seen, but by their teens they were stomping their feet and crying like petulant children.
All of that to say, Mom and Dad were just like those old school parents who shoved their kids out the door at sunrise and didn't worry about them again until the streetlights came on. Even being that permissive, they would likely blow a freaking gasket if they found out that their son and one of their daughters were screwing on the regular. Being older (and a boy), Lincoln was sure to bear the brunt of their fury. What would that fury look like? He didn't know. He doubted they would disown him or anything, but they would probably send him to therapy and monitter his every move lest he continue his deviant corruption of poor, sweet, innocent Lola.
Little did they know, Lola was already a freak when he found her. Her fantasies were basic and girly - candles and rose petals - but she wasn't exactly Annie Asexual. She told him that she liked to play with herself in the bathtub and sometimes humped a stuffed bear named Mr. Higgleworth. "He feels really soft and good against my pussy," she said with a leering little smile. She then climbed into his lap and grinded his boner until she took off like a rocket. Looks can be deceiving, they say, and boy were they right. Of course, you could argue that it was his fault for waking the beast within or something, but hey, the beast had to be there to be woken up in the first place, right?
While Lola was a certified slut, that wouldn't save his neck if anyone found out that they were doing the nasty on each other. They had to exercise extreme caution. The day following their first fuck-a-thon, Lincoln knelt down in front of her, put his hands on her shoulders, and favored her with the gravest expression he could dig up. "You can't tell anyone about us," he said. He figured she'd take that commandment the wrong way, so he added, "not because I'm ashamed or anything, but -"
"I'm not dumb, Lincoln," she said. "Mom and Dad would kill us if they found out." She leaned in and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, her teeth nibbling and her gloved hands gently caressing his chest. "My lips are sealed."
Lincoln was so turned on that he threw her onto the bed and fucked her right there, not even bothering to take her panties off. He just moved them to the side.
Over the coming weeks, the embers of passion in his belly cooled and he wasn't such an absolute degenerate. With Lola? Oh hell yes. Outside of her? Not as much. He didn't sneak into the girls' room at school and sniff the toilet seats anymore; he didn't rub one out in class while staring steadily at Jordan or Stella as much; he didn't even whack it ten times a day. Technically, he didn't whack it at all because he had a cute little slave princess to do it for him, and she was all too willing. They tried every sexual fruit under the sun. They went down on each other, ate each other's asses, did it outside and in the shower; they indulged in as many different positions as they could, even some they found on Urban Dictionary. You know the ones: You read them, cringe, and go I doubt anyone's actually done that. Oh, but they did.
Twice.
One thing Lincoln learned about his little sister was that she was starved for cock, literally. She would spend hours on her knees working his dick with youthful exuberance while looking up at him with those sinful brown eyes. She stroked her hand up and down the shaft and licked the head; kneaded his balls like hard boiled eggs in a tube sock as he mashed his tip against the back of her throat; and swallowed every single drop of blessed sperm that he annointed her with. Like Christ laying the Euchrist on the tongue of his chosen, he gave Lola white communion over and over again, and every time she fell just a little more under his sway. To test his power over her, he ordered her around and barked his commands. The old Lola would have either laughed at him or clawed his eyes bleeding and leaking from his sockets. The new Lola obeyed his every whim. One day, alone with her on the couch, he put her to the ultimate test. "From no one, when no one else is around, you are to call me master. Is that understood?"
Lola smiled. "Yes, master."
Boi-oi-oi-oing.
Being a master was so freaking hot.
Though Lola alone was enough for him in the beginning, the old, insistant, call of nature came roaring back. He had done everything with her. He had touched and tasted every square inch of her tiny body; he knew her front, back, and side to side. A man can only be happy with one woman for so long before he requires something new and exciting. It is in his nature. Men are hunters who evolved with a love of - nay, a need for - the hunt. A man who was tied down to one woman was the same sad, pitiful wretch as a lion trapped in a cage. He needs freedom. He needs excitement. He is not made for monogamy. Girls, on the other hand, are. They were developed by nature to be loyal and nurturing, to raise children and keep house. Staying in one place (relationship) is in a woman's nature and she is rightfully asked and expected to adhere to it. For that reason, Lola and his other girls would stay faithful to him even as he left the den to hunt down new pussy whenever the spirit took him.
And right now, it was taking him hard.
If this was a game - and to an extent, it was - Lola was level one, the easiest of all bosses. The girls from here on out would become progressively harder and more challenging. The reward, though, would be even sweeter. Each would require more thought and planning than the last, and his strategy would have to change depending on which one he was going after this time. See, only retards deal in absolutes. Anyone who says "X is" or "Y likes" is a fucking moron. For instance, the man who says "Girls like this" or "girls think like that" is a blithering fucking waste of an IQ. People are different and must be taken on a case by case basis. Their thoughts and motivationss are informed by their environment, their culture, their upbringing, the values they were taught, and a million other external factors. That is how there can be so many different sides to any given issue. Someone might not like abortion because they genuinely feel that the fetus is a living creature. Another person might support it because they feel that it's actually just a clump of cells no better than a pimple. Both of those people will accuse the other of being somehow evil. "Oh, you just want to control women's bodies hurr durr" and "you hate children and want to decrease the population." They approach the opposite side with their own preconceived notions which they are arrogant eno0ugh to believe represents total reality.
They look at something they disagree with, construct a bias around it, and assume that those biases are how the other side really thinks. Even when presented with a thoughtful and reasonable explanation, they push their false beliefs "No, you don't believe in that for this reason, you believe in it for that reason. I know because I'm smarter and better than you."
What fucktards.
Lincoln was far too intelligent to fall into the trap of black and white thinking. He knew that everyone was different and he would tailor his methods for each successive sister, thereby increasing his chances of successfully bedding them.
Since Lola was level one, it stood to reason that Lucy would naturally be level two. That meant he would have to step up his game..but only a little. In order to do that, he would have to trail her for a while and mentally formulate his plan.
Phase one opened on a Friday evening. Lincoln followed Lucy to her weekly Young Mortician's Club meeting at the elementary school. Lucy and five weirdos with names like Igor gathered in a science lab to embalm dead things and talk about all the bloody, gory horror movies they were going to watch over the weekend. Lincoln fought his way through a thorny bush and peeked through the window, standing on his tippy toes and holding onto the rough concrete sill. Lucy and Haiku stood over a tiny racoon with its stomach laid open and watched as a freakishly tall asshole with a bald head and beady little eyes dug through its guts. Lincoln's eyes widened in horror. Egads, he wasn't wearing any gloves!
Asshole yanked out a length of pink, ropey intestines, and Lincoln was so sure that he would slurp them up like a spaghetti noodle that he was shocked when he sat them aside instead. Lucy climbed onto a chair and dabbed his sweaty brow with a cloth and Haiku jammed a rubber hose into the coon's gaping wound. A fat boy with an eyebrow piercing and mommy issues flipped a switch, and embalming fluid flowed into the corpse. "Success," Asshole said, and the goff brigade gave a hearty hazzah.
Once the corpse was finished, Lucy sewed up the wound and dressed it in a little suit, working with great care and tenderness. At the end of the meeting, she walked home, and Lincoln hung back in the shadows. At home, she curled up in the armchair with a book and Lincoln retreated to his room to process what he had learned. She could be tender and loving...which was a good sign. All he needed to do was somehow get her to transfer that from cadavers to him.
On Sunday, while Lucy was out haunting graveyards, Lincoln slipped into her room undetected and snooped around for anything he could use to aid in his quest for Lucy's spooky little twat, preferably a diary. He checked everywhere: Under the bed, in the nightstand, between the mattress and the box spring, and finally in the closet.
Nothing.
Shit.
Cutting his losses, he raided Lucy's panty drawer and that's where he found it, a small notebook bound in black leather with gold writing across the front. LEDGER it said. Below that, Lucy had scratched a subtitle into the leather. OF THE NIGHT.
LEDGER OF THE NIGHT.
Eyeroll.
What a drama queen.
Sitting on the edge of Lucy's bed, he opened the cover and leafed through it. He wasn't worried about Lynn coming in and catching him; she was out fucking around with her big nosed buddy Margo. You know, if Margo's nose was just a tad smaller, he'd bang her too. As it stood, though, she was hideous and no one would ever love her, so he'd hang back. Maybe he'd snap her up anyway just so no one else got her.
The first entry in Lucy's diary was dated six months before. She whined and moaned about the meaninglessness of life, the shallowness and vapidity of modern society, and complained that no one understood her. You know, typical 3edgy5me shit. She talked obsessively about "The Forbidden" and how much she hated society's "traditionalist conservative standards." Lincoln didn't think society was all that conservative anymore, but that's par for the course with people like Lucy. They wanted to be rebellious and cutting edge, but they lack the conviction and fortitude, so they went after soft targets, mainly ones that were so weak and outdated that rebelling against them was pointless. OIhhh the big bad Christian majority, the one that's rapidly declining and falling out of favor with liberal and irreligious youth. Yeah, man, rebel against the 90 year old church lady. Meanwhile, go in lockstep with Hollywood, the media, academia, big business, and half of Capitol Hill. Ooooh, you subversive, you.
Sure, it was eye rollingly lame, but it gave Lincoln one big beautiful bastard of an idea. He took the diary back to Lucy's drawer and took out a pair of her panties. He slipped them on, climbed between her sheets, and jacked for all he was worth. He sniffed Lucy's pillow, licked her sheets, and left a little bit of cum on her pillowcase as a way of subconsciously influencing her in his favor.
Phase two opened Monday and saw Lincoln kissing up to her the way he had Lola. He listened to her read all of her stories, discussed literary tropes extant in gothic fiction, and feigned interest as she told him the ins and outs of "the mortuary arts." That's what she called it, an art. LOL you're just pumping a deado full of preserves, calm down, Spooky. He walked with her to and from school, carried her books, and played the part of the kind, considerate older brother. He was good at it. He had been practicing for a long time.
Lola got jealous that he was spending so much time with Lucy. so he had to dick her down extra hard and tell her the rules. Balls deep in her ass, he yanked her hair back like pulling on the reigns of a horse and wrenched her head to one side. "I'm going to fuck Lucy and that's final."
She whined in the back of her throat. "Do you understand?" he asked.
"Yes, master," she replied.
"You're going to help me do it," he said and grinned.
Operation Clap Lucy's Cheeks commenced on a glorious Saturday morning two weeks later. The sun shone brightly and birds sang from treetops all across the town. Lincoln was up before the dawn and had showered, brushed his teeth, and eaten a light breakfast before everyone else was awake. He milled around the living room waiting for it to empty out. Lori was the first to go; she had a hot date with Bobby and was probably going to swallow his cock. Leni and a bunch of her girlfriends took off for the mall where she was going to meet Chaz. Lincoln cringed at the mention of that fat loser's name. Sam came over and she and Luna disappeared into Luna's room for a "jam sesh" that likely involved lesbianism. Luan went to an outdoor comedy show with Benny, and the younger kids ((sans Lucy and Lola) did whatever. He didn't know and he didn't really care.
It deeply hurt to watch his sisters with their lovers. Poor him, he was basically being cucked here, and not in a hot way. The idea of them with anyone else left a bad taste in his mouth. It just wasn't fair and it wasn't right of them to leave him horny and alone.
When the coast was clear, Lincoln looked across the living room at Lola, who sat in the armchair with her hands folded in her lap. She nodded back, got up, and climbed the stairs, gloved hand trailing on the bannister. Lincoln waited a minute then got up and followed. At Lucy's door, Lola knocked.
"Come in," Lucy called.
Lola opened the door and she and Lincoln entered.
Lucy was sitting on her bed with her back against a stack of pillows and a paperback in her hands. Lincoln could just make out the name of the author. STEPHEN KING. Ugh. Stephen King was a proudly out of touch boomer who only appealed to old people, retards, and children. "Hey," Lola said in her fakest, cheeriest voice.
She sat on one side of Lucy and Lincoln on the other. Lucy flipped a page, then looked from Lola to Lincoln. "Hi," she said guardedly.
"Hi," Lola purred. "We figured you were lonely up here all by yourself, so we decided to come keep you company."
Lincoln flashed a winning smile. "To be honest, we were getting kind of lonely too."
For a moment, Lucy was silent, then she said, "I'm not really lonely. I have this to keep me company." She held up the book, her index finger marking her spot.
"We make better company," Lola said. She leaned forward and caressed Lucy's leg, making her jump.
Lincoln put his hands on Lola's shoulders and rubbed then sensuously. A look of rapture settled over her features and she leaned back into his touch. "Much better company," he said. He reached out and in one smooth motion, pulled one of Lucy's black and white striped socks off. He tickled the sole of her foot and she jumped. "Tickle, tickle."
Because he was cunning and observant, he knew many things about his sisters, such as where to tickle them to elicit the strongest reaction. Lucy's most ticklish spot was her feet, and if you worked them over long enough, she'd piss into her skull girl panties. She wrenched her leg away, and Lincoln struck, lunging and tickling the other foot. Lucy cried out and kicked at him; like that dude in The Matrix, he dodged her blows with impressive agility. He grabbed her by her ankles and dragged her toward him. "Now!"
Springing into action, Lola jumped on Lucy's chest and pinned her to the bed. Lucy wailed and began to fight. Working quickly as there wasn't a moment to spare, Lincoln ripped off her other sock and shoved it into his mouth, the pungent taste of her sweat making his eyes roll. He grabbed her foot in a headlock and, swishing the sock back and forth in his mouth, attacked her uncreased sole with tickles. Lucy howled and thrashed beneath Lola, but was trapped. Lincoln spat the sock out and used both hands to tickle Lucy's foot. Lucy jolted like a woman riding Old Sparky pussy first and let loose a mighty peal of laughter.
"Stop!" she begged between mad cackles.
Instead, Lincoln grabbed her other foot and started tickling that one as well. It was a quick, frenzied pattern: Tickle one, lick the other; tickle one, lick the other. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Lucy screeched.
Lincoln was too busy filating her big toe to respond. He bobbed his head up and down the way Lola did on his dick and swirled his tongue around it, saliva dripping down her foot. Spitting it out, he shoved Lola roughly aside and mounted Lucy. Her bangs fell aside to reveal her wide, terrified eyes. "Lincoln!"
"I wanna fuck you so bad," :Lincoln said huskily, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. His dick was rock hard and his flesh burned from head to toe. If he started to hump, he would splatter the inside of his briefs with baby batter.
"No!" Lucy wailed, clearly horrified by the idea.
Lola walked over on her knees and looked down at Lucy with a sly, knowing smile on her face.
"But it's forbidden."
Like magic, Lucy frozen. "Forbidden?"
"So forbidden," Lincoln said, kissing the side of her neck and running his hand up and down her side. "Incest is forbidden...a brother fucking his sister...thrusting into her...making her cum." He kissed her pounding pulse, nibbled her earlobe, and snaked his hand up between her legs, tugging at her panties. He was an animal, his mind gone and his primal instincts in control.
For her part. Lucy offered no resistance; she just lay there, as if contemplating his words.
"They wouldn't understand...conservative society would be shocked and sickened."
He pulled away from her throat and looked down into her eyes, bare inches separating their faces. For a moment she stared at him with a shocked, wide-eyed expression, as though she had just had an epiphany.
In that moment, Lincoln knew.
Lucy was his.
With a breathless nngh, Lucy whipped her head up and fused her lips to his, her wet tongue thrusting clumsily into his mouth. He kissed her and she let out a muffled umm of delight. Lincoln pulled her panties roughly down her thighs and plunged his hand into her crotch, his thumb finding her clit with expert precision. Her flesh was soft and cool to the touch, but as he fondled her center, she began to leak searing hot natural lubrication. He pushed her dress up with his other hand and found her erect nipple; he tweaked it hard, since she struck him as the kind of absolute freak who'd get off on pain, and she moaned into his mouth. Lola started to get up and leave, but Lincoln shot her daggers. "Stay," he commanded.
As he expected, she obeyed.
Pulling Lucy's panties over her ankles, Lincoln threw them carelessly over his shoulder and situated himself between her thighs. He forced her legs apart with his knees and came up for air, his shaky hand pawing at the front of his pants. Lucy cupped the back of his neck in her hands and tried to bring his lips back to hers, but he resisted. He undid his zipper and pushed his pants under his boner. He peeled his briefs down, and the cool air made his scrotum wrinkle. He was less than a foot away from Lucy's slit and could already feel her fevered heat breaking across his tip.
"Do it," she begged, "make forbidden love to me."
Grabbing her around the throat and squeezing, he sank himself into Lucy's pussy. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and her mouth opened in a perfect O. Her body clamped down on him and her muscles tried to push out the intruder. He rocked his hips back and forth, slowly at first to let her pussy get used to being utterly satisfied. Lucy clawed at the backs of his hands and bucked against him, her thirsty body taking him all the way to her limit like it was trying to suck his dick through her cervix. Lola knelt there and watched Lincoln rut into her older sister, the sounds and mingled scents of their excited sexes making her mouth water. Lincoln noticed and pulled out of Lucy. "You know what else is forbidden?" he asked and then grinned at Lola.
Lickity-split, Lola was on her stomach and eating Lucy's pussy while Lincoln stood beside the bed and fucked her mouth. The friction of his dick rubbing against her tongue made his toes curl and the way Lola was getting into the taste of Lucy's cunt drove him mad with lust.
Next, he had Lucy get on her hands and knees, and hiked her dress up over her creamy ass. He thrusted into her from behind and pounded her like a fucking jackhammer while she and Lola made out. Lucy's cheeks clapped and jiggled with every jerk of Lincoln's hips, and his balls made a meaty smacking sound as they slapped her pussy.
Finally, he had Lucy and Lola lay side by side and took turns fucking them, giving Lola three thrusts and then Lucy. Finally, he focused on Lucy solely. He braced his arms on either side of her head and she dug her heels into his butt. She touched his face and narrowed her eyes. He slammed so deep into her that he almost punched out her ass hole.
Without warning, her body seized and she went into Grand Mal tier convulsions.. Her eyes narrowed even more and her face turned a deep scarlet color. She was cumming, and Lincoln studied her O face, taking immense satisfaction in reducing her to the quivering, mindless puddle that writhed and moaned beneath him.
Pressure swelled in his balls, and his dick plumped up like a hot dog in the microwave. He pulled out, aimed it at Lola, and erupted like Krakatoa. Ribbons of hot jizz splattered the front of Lola's dress. She opened her mouth like the hungry little cum slut she was and he got a fat dollop on her tongue. The last little spurt landed on her pussy and seeped between her pink, love-swollen lips.
When he was spent, he plopped onto the bed and caught his breath. Lucy shivered and twitched like a dying bug before coming gradually down from her high. Lincoln took her face in his hands and forced her to look at her. "You belong to me now," Lincoln said. "You are my property. No one else's. Is that clear, Lucy?"
"Very clear," she said.
And then there were three.