A lot of the stories in this collection focus on sin kids. There are some stories I might not post for one reason or another, but there will still be a fair amount of those stories mixed in throughout. One reason I don't feel like posting some of those stories is that I have to burn a bunch of text explaining characters, dynamics, etc because unless you are (or were) around that stuff 24/7, you don't know it. Even I used to get confused. I mean, you have a bunch of people constantly making OCs, constantly changing things, personality traits, etc. It's easy to get lost.
Anyway, this story focuses on Lyle and a character named Vikki, who is the daughter of Lincoln and Nikki. I never really liked the character Lyle but I decided to try and take him seriously here. Vikki's character design is that of a stereotypical hippie chick so I based her on this guy I used to work with who was a stereotypical hippie. He was the kind of guy who'd come in two hours late because he got fucked up the night before knowing his bitch ass had work in the morning, leaving the place short-staffed and putting extra strain on everyone else because hey, man, being selfish is groovy.
This was posted on /TLVG/ (the sin kids 4chan thread) in September 2018.
Lyle Loud liked military history - it was one of his lesser interests, but still an interest nonetheless. His favorite period of such was the American Civil War, and in his short life, he'd read nearly a dozen books on the topic, all of them featuring actual black and white photos of pockmarked battlefields strewn with casualties. The rumpus room in which he currently sat reminded him of those pictures: A dozen teenagers lay sprawled on the carpeted floor, empty red solo cups and beer cans drifting here and there. His brother, Lemy, was passed out on the other end of the couch, slumped over with his girlfriend, Lina, curled up on his lap like an overgrown child. They smoked three bowls of pot before crashing - from how goddamn goofy they acted, it must have been good stuff.
Not that he would know: He didn't smoke and didn't drink: Chemical substances are the last refuge of the mentally weak, and Lyle, despite his delicate features, luscious eyelashes, and soft, flowing hair was anything but weak. Lemy tried to pressure him into "having fun" and "loosening up," calling him a wet blanket and a fag (or was it a homo?), but Lyle demurred. He enjoyed good company and music as much as the next man, but he did not enjoy staggering drunkenly around the room or giggling like a dumbass.
Case in point, his half sister Vikki, presently standing at the folding table against the far wall and munching Doritos from the bag; she swayed slightly back and forth as though the floor were the rolling deck of a ship at sea. Every time he saw her, it seemed, she was under the influence of something, mainly pot. He could understand "cutting loose" every once in a while, but the girl across the room was never "tight" to begin with. In fact, she was worse than Lemy.
Presently, Vikki rolled the bag closed and tossed it aside then turned, a tall, shapely blonde in tight hip-hugger jeans and a black tank top that left her midriff bare. Tiny, round sunglasses, the lenses shaded red, slipped down her nose and a tangle of necklaces hung around her delicate throat. She looked bleary around the room, spotted him, then cracked a clumsy, boozy grin. Aw, Christ, here it comes.
"Hey, little man-dude, looks like it's just you and me." Her voice was thick and slurred, and as she started toward him, she stumbled and pitched forward, but saved herself with a titter. Lyle loved his sister as much as any man can love a sibling he rarely sees, but her lack of self-discipline annoyed him, and her inability to enjoy life without being bombed...well, that annoyed him too. They had nothing in common and no shared interests. Talking to her was frustrating at best and downright enraging at worst.
She fell onto the couch next to him and flopped her head to Lemy, her sunglasses sliding off and landing on her ample bosom. "Hey, Lemy," she said and poked his forehead, "you're drunk." She laughed and turned to Lyle; he flashed a tight-lipped smile and gave her a nod the likes of which you give to someone you don't like. "Dude, you're so...like...lame."
Lyle blinked in surprise, and she laughed. "Like...you just sit there."
"I'm not into drinking, sorry," Lyle said uncomfortably.
"Why not? Drinking's fun."
Lyle rolled his eyes. "Not for me it isn't."
Sliding closer, her elbow jamming painfully into his ribs and her chin coming to rest on his shoulder, Vikki regarded him with slurry consternation, as though he were a strange and alien creature and not the most normal one in the room. "What do you do for fun?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.
She asked him this almost every time he saw her.
"Archery, for one," he said, "I also work with wood…"
She snorted, and when he looked at her funny, she laughed out loud, her rank alcohol breath pinching his nostrils. "You work with wood."
"Yes," he said, failing to find the humor in that statement, "I woodwork."
"Do you spit or swallow?" she asked, then buried her face in his shoulder and yukked it up.
Lyle pursed his lips and inhaled deeply through his nose, wincing a little at the stink of rum.
"You're...dude, face it, you're mega lame," she said.
That was it. Lyle started to get up, but froze, half standing, when she grabbed his crotch. His heart into his throat and his stomach clutched at the unexpected sensation. "You wanna have fun?" she slurred. "With...with me?" She snickered. "I know how to have fun. I can show you."
Lyle turned his head; she stared up at him with big, watery blue eyes, a wicked little smile playing at the corners of her pink lips. She squeezed him between her fingers and laughed devilishly at the way he jumped.
He'd never been touched there before, and he couldn't say whether he liked it or not.
Even so, he was starting to stir.
"SIt down," she said in a husky whisper and brushed her teeth gracelessly across her bottom lip; it was supposed to look sexy, he reckoned, but it looked contrived instead.
Lyle's heart blasted against his ribs, and almost against his will, he sat.
Vikki grinned in cat-like satisfaction and traced his swelling outline through the rough fabric of his black utility pants. His mouth went dry and his lungs were starting to heave. Her middle finger found his tip and rubbed in in long, slow strokes. He looked at her and she favored him with an open mouth smile. "That's fun, huh?" she asked. She cupped him and gave a soft squeeze that sent crackles of pleasure racing up Lyle's spine.
He tried to speak, but found that he couldn't; his throat was swollen shut.
"It is, huh?" she asked, scooting closer. Her lips skimmed his cheek and her fingers danced up his bulge, fumbled at his zipper. Her breath, hot and redolent of liquor and Doritos, filled his nose, and even though it disgusted him, he felt the sudden urge to kiss her. "Sex is fun...when you do it right," she said and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.
Lyle closed his eyes and did something that he rarely ever did: Gave himself over to feeling. He turned, fused his lips to hers, and kissed her deeply, his tongue whipping hungrily into her mouth and lashing across hers. She kissed him back and crawled into his lap, her knees caging his legs and her slender fingers threading through his hair. His trembling hands urgently explored her warm flesh, starting at her hips and pushing her tank top up her sleek flanks. She tilted her head back and forth, her tongue flopping klutzily over his and her hips starting to rock, the friction of her center scraping against his erection making him light-headed.
Pulling away from his lips, she stared at him with unwavering intensity as she pulled her shirt up and over her head; her breasts were small and perky, the areolas a rose-like shade of pink and her nipples rigid with excitement
Before Lyle had a chance to admire her exquisite form, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, losing her balance and falling against his body, pinning it to the back of the couch. Her tongue pillaged the inside of his mouth, and being inexperienced, all he could do was let it. He moved his hands over her naked back, from her flexing shoulders blades to the swell where her hips met her butt.
On the other end of the couch, Lemy snorted in his sleep and smacked his lips.
Vikki rocked back and forth, her fingernails grazing Lyle's scalp. His wandering hands wound up on her sides again, and through the fog clouding his mind, he sent them to warm, fleshy globes of her quivering breasts. She broke the kiss, pressed her forehead to his, and drew a sharp intake of breath. He fumbled at them, his thumbs instinctively making slow, firm circles in her aching nipples. She panted for air, then ripped away, startling him. Fire filled her eyes, and as he watched, she lifted up, undid her jeans, and pushed them down her hips.
Heart thundering now, Lyle's eyes went to the Y at the junction of her thighs. To one side was a tattoo of a tiny green pot plant, and for some reason he couldn't name, he he had never seen a more beautiful work of art.
Naked now, she leaned over, her hair falling down on either side of her face, and kissed him needily, her hands going to his pants. She pawed at the button for a moment but couldn't get it: Lyle brushed her hands away and did it himself, rising his butt off the couch and pulling them down. His dick came free, the kiss of cool air against its burning flesh making his breath catch.
Vikki crawled into his lap again and planted her knees on either side of his legs; his tip raked across her hot, silken lips and Lyle gasped into her mouth.
She pulled away from his mouth, splayed her fingers on his shoulders, and swiveled her hips teasingly, her core grazing his dick. He was mindless with passion now, a creature of raw feeling, his body trembling and his mind choked with dense black smoke. He didn't realize he was fondling her breasts until he felt his head squeezing against her opening, scalding liquid dribbling down his shaft and setting every pleasure sensor in his body on fire. She moved her hips side to side, then, with a downward jerk, she sank onto him.
Bright white brilliance burst in the center of Lyle's skull as her boiling core enveloped him, her walls forming to his shaft like a second skin and her muscles clamping down. He let out a long, low moan and reflexively jerked, sending himself even deeper into her bubbling well. She dug her nails into his shoulders, biting him through his white sweater, and hung her head, her dirty blonde hair veiling her face. She rose up, then sank down again, her hands pushing him against the back of the couch and pinning him in place as she began to rock faster, her rippling walls stroking him with a slick sound.
Lyle stared up at her as she went faster still, her teeth clamping her bottom lip and her closed eyelids fluttering like a dreamer in the REM cycle. Backlit against the overhead light, she was the single most stunning thing he he had ever seen, her beauty staggering to the point that he simply admired her, his palms cupping her bouncing breasts.
Her mouth dropped open and her breath hitched, a feeble, breathy moan escaping her throat. He hoped she was close, because he was, his orgasm rushing up from the pit of his loins and gathering strength as it went, the pressure building. He didn't want this moment to end, and he tried to save himself, to look away from her and focus on something else, but he could tear his eyes away from the heavenly form writhing above him. "I'm going, I'm going," she panted, and the trembling quality of her voice pushed him over the edge. He squeezed her breasts with mindless abandoned, threw his hips into her last thrust, and released, his shaft expanding painfully against her walls then pumping long, ropy ribbons of cum directly into her womb. She cried out, threw her arms around his neck, and clung desperately as her own climax exploded within her, tearing through her body like shrapnel from a bomb. Lyle moaned and shot one final load; it was already mixing with her natural fluids and oozing back onto his lap, but he didn't care, nothing in the world mattered but the shaking and gasping girl atop him. He wrapped his arms around her, and together they rode out the remainder of their shared end.
Afterward, Vikki pulled away and squinted her bleary eyes at him in an expression that he would have found insufferably stupid fifteen minutes ago, but not thought was...cute. "Did you have fun?" she asked gravely.
Lyle nodded. "Yeah," he said and chuckled, "I had fun."
Vikki grinned. "Good cuz I...I think you're kinda cute." She bit her bottom lip and ran her fingers through his hair. "Even if you do look like a girl."