There comes a time in every young man's life when he must spread his wings and fly away from the nest. For Lincoln Loud, that moment came when Mom almost caught him and his sister Lynn having sex.
It happened on a blustery night in late October. A full moon shone in the starry sky and cold drafts of wind rattled the window panes. Halloween was in a week and Lucy had decorated the entire house both inside and out. Strands of orange lights trimmed the windows, the door, the roof line, and even the gutters. Foam headstones dotted the yard and plastic ghosts and skeletons dangled from the boughs of the big oak tree overhanging Franklin Avenue like condemned men. Inside, orange and back garland wound itself around the bannister, a plastic skull occupied a place of honor on the mantle, and paper mache spiders nested on the walls, waiting for someone to walk by so that they could feast. Lincoln liked Halloween, but this was too much. Every year, Lucy went overboard and their house wound up looking like a clown show. It was embarrassing. There's putting effort into things...and then there's being a total freaking nerdgirl, and Lucy was a Halloween nerdgirl.
Don't even get him started on Dad. Dad was to Christmas what Lucy was to Halloween. Every November, he spent two or three days setting up a clusterfuck of dancing Santas, inflatable reindeer, and life-sized mangers in the front yard. He put so many lights on the house that it was brighter than midday in the Mojave and insisted on wearing the same ugly Christmas sweater each and every day from the beginning of November to the beginning of January. He floated around the house like a balding fairy and fussed over every little detail with the painstaking deliberation of a partictulrly persnickiy gay man. Each December, 1216 Franklin was his Christmas Castle...and he was the Christmas Queen.
Lincoln loved his family, but they really chapped his ass sometimes. Every time he was in the shower, Lola would suddenly need to come into the bathroom to do her make-up; Lana kept snakes and spiders in her room, and they escaped more than El Chapo - imagine waking up with a purring tarantula on your chest...six times; Lisa constantly mixed and matched chemicals that produced the most god-awful stench at best, and exploded at worst; and more Saturday nights than not, Lucy and her ghoul friends from the Young Mortician's club hosted horror movie marathons - if you wanted to get to the kitchen, you had to step over goths and keep your eyes straight ahead unless you wanted to see someone getting their tonsils ripped out by some guy in a mask.
Another downside to living in the Loud house was his writing. When he was twelve, Lincoln read Le Sit, an apocalyptic novel by the French writer Seven (pronounced Say-Von) Roi. A sweeping epic set in the aftermath of a global pandemic that reduced the human population by 99 percent, it was the single greatest piece of human literature ever written and inspired Lincoln to pick up the pen himself. For years he tried to write a cheap knock-off but finally, when he was seventeen, he gave up and focused on other projects. At eighteen, he joined a cartoon fandom and became one of its biggest and most well-known writers, churning out over 150 stories in a span of three years. He had mad followers, mad views, and everywhere he went in the fandom, people knew him and talked about him.
The kids over on 4chan hated his guts because they thought he sucked and spent thread after thread bitching about him instead of trying to write better than him, the OC fandom hated him because he did their characters better than they could, Tumblr hated him because he wrote lewds and they were morally upright Nazis or something, and the other 20 plus thousand people who read his stuff every month largely fell in the middle. He had a lot of fans, but most people read his stuff, said "Hey, this was alright,' and went on with their lives instead of dedicating their time and energy to bashing him (or riding his dick if they liked his writing).
It was great fun and all, but it wasn't fulfilling. He wanted to write real novels, the kind that you can walk into a bookstore and say holy shit, there it is. Now THAT was success.
It was also money. Lincoln did not plan to spend the rest of his life working at some second rate ass pizza place where punk kids had their tenth birthday and left an epic mess for him to clean up. One day, he was going to be rich and famous. The Today Show would have him on once a month, he'd own three or even four homes, and everything he wrote would get made into a movie...and then remade again ten years later.
Accomplishing that goal was af to begin with, but even more so when his little sisters were constantly making noise, coming into his room, bothering him, asking him for things, and pulling him away from his work. He used to think the cliche of a writer renting a little cabin in the woods to "write my novel" described only English Lit majors with pretensions. What writer needs a freaking cabin? That was one of those things writers did to validate themselves, you know? Like the guys who add AUTHOR to their name on Facebook. JIM JONES AUTHOR. Stop strutting around like a peacock and just write your goddamn book.
Then he realized something.
You need a cabin in the woods just to get any work done. Everyone loooooves bothering you. It's like you put out a special scent or something. Hey, this guy's hard at work trying to figure out how the hell to set this scene up...I should go fuck with him.
Then there was his relationship with Lynn.
Four months ago, Lynn came home from college for the summer. They hadn't seen each other in a while and they hung out as much as they could to make up for lost time. See, Lincoln had a love/hate relationship with all of his sisters, but with none more so than Lynn. Lynn was loud, rude, aggressive, and always forced him into playing fagball with her when they were kids. Lincoln always wanted a big brother (what boy doesn't?) but Mom and Dad made damn sure that wasn't going to happen, so he had to settle for Lynn. She was kind of like a brother; if you squint and tilt your head, you can look past her being a chick.
Anyway, Lincoln had always been closest to her than he was to the others, and it was always cool having her home. A week after she came into town, Mom and Dad took Lily, Lisa, Lana, Lola, and Lucy to see some fuckass Disney movie and Lynn and Lincoln had the house to themselves. Lynn busted out a bottle of vodka and, sitting on the living room floor, they got plastered and talked - mainly about the good old days, when they weren't grown-ups who had to take care of themselves, but also about the future. In high school, Lynn suffered a fagball ending injury and her dreams of being the first woman to get her ass kicked in the NFL went up in smoke. She was studying to be a gym teacher, and as she talked about her grades and lessons, a look of deep sadness stole over her face. "I don't know," she sighed, "part of me regrets it. It's just...you know...it's not what I really want?"
She was talking about teaching.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Lynn was quiet for a long time. "I don't know," she said with a sigh. "To play ball."
"You can't play ball."
"I know," she said, "but it's the only thing I want to do. And I can't. The one thing in life I was passionate about...and it's gone."
"You can be passionate about other things," Lincoln pointed out.
Lynn took a drink. "I can, but will I?"
Lincoln laid a solicitous hand on her knee. "You just have to find something," he said.
She looked at him and their gazes locked. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the moment, maybe it was the need and uncertainty in her eyes - whatever it was, he cupped her cheek in his hand, and before either one could stop themselves, they were kissing deeply, their tongues slipping and fumbling and their bodies pressing close together. Lincoln's mind, numbed by lust and alcohol, screamed at him to stop.
IT'S YOUR SISTER!
He knew...and call him what you will...but that made it even hotter. They pawed urgently at each other and Lynn mounte him right there in the middle of the living room. Framed family photos watched in shocked horror as she rode him like a bucking bronco, and the doilies and knick knacks cringed at him sucking her tit.
After he yanked out and shot his load all over her butt, they lay together in a sweaty, panting tangle of hair, limbs, and shame. Lynn eventually got up, collected her clothes, and hurried away, leaving him alone to contemplate the enormity of what he'd just done.
Of who he'd just done.
Did I really just fuck my sister?
Revulsion welled in his throat and he thought he was going to be sick. He made his way upstairs and took a hot shower, but though he could scrub away her fluids and wash the taste of the kiss from his mouth, he couldn't forget the sounds she made, or the way she bit her lip as she came, or the way her body molded perfectly to his.
After that day, they avoided each other for a week. When Lincoln came into the room, Lynn would leave, and when they had to be in the same place at the same time, they both kept their gazes downcast, loath to see their shame reflected in the other's eyes.
On the seventh day, Lincoln was reading in bed when the door opened and Lynn slipped in. His heart skipped a beat but he didn't show it. He didn't know how Lynn was coping, but his plan was to forget their little tryst ever happened. Things would be weird at first, sure, but with lots of hard work and determination, they could put it behind them and go back to being a normal brother and sister. Of that he was sure.
Step one: Act like nothing happened.
"Hey," he said nonchalantly and flipped a page he wasn't done reading.
Lynn sat on the edge of the bed and drew a deep breath. "We need to talk.'
The gravity in her voice told him she wanted to talk about IT. Ugh. "I'd rather not," he said honestly.
"Look," she said, "i just...what happened was just...I've been in a weird place lately and…" she sighed and cast a scolded look at her feet. "I'm sorry."
With that, she started to cry.
For a moment Lincoln just looked at her, not knowing what to do, then he sat up and hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey," he said lowly, "it's okay. We got drunk and something stupid happened. I guarantee we're not the first brother and sister this has happened to."
"I ruined our relationship," she moaned.
"No you didn't."
"Now things will be weird between us forever."
Lincoln comforted her. "No it won't. Everything will be fine. Look, I'm fine. Sure...it did happen...but when you get right down to it, we can move past it. It was only sex."
Her tears tapered off and she melted into him. After a while, she turned her eyes up to his…
...and it happened all over again. The kissing. The nipple sucking. The thrusting. This time Lynn was on the bottom and he kissed her neck as they reached their peak. This time, he finished on her stomach, and afterward, they cuddled and talked.
From then on, they'd been...well...together.
If you want to call it that.
Make no mistake about it: Lynn wasn't his girlfriend. Noooo...that would be weird. She was still his sister and he was her brother. That hadn't changed. Sure, they snuggled, had sex, and kissed somtetimes, but the nature of their relationship hadn't really changed. They got physical and emotional fulfillment from their intimacy and that was that. It's not like they were going to get married and start popping out kids or anything.
In a way, what they were doing transcended sibling and romantic relationships. Lincoln thought of it as akin to masturbation - they had sex and gave each other affection, but it wasn't a real relationship. Doing Lynn...playing with Lynn's hair...it was all just masturbation...for the heart and the body.
Of course it was.
She was his sister after all.
Being "with" Lynn was great and all, but it was challenging too.
How do you hide the fact that you and your sister bone when you're living in a house full of people? Lincoln was the oldest Loud child still consistently at home, but there were still seven other people hanging around at all times. That's a lot, especially in a house with paper thin walls. He and Lynn hid what they were doing as carefully as they could, but there was always the fear - no, the absolute terror - of being caught. If Lincoln was honest with himself, the danger aspect made it exciting. Every night before Lynn went back to college, they'd meet up somewhere private and have a quickie, going as fast as they could because Mom or Lola or Lisa might walk in on them.
Hiding the actual full-on sex was easy enough, but hiding the new chemistry between them wasn't. When they sat on the couch together, they had to make a conscious effort to not cuddle up or something, and sometimes, they forgot themselves. On time, Lynn grabbed his butt in front of Mom, but Mom hardly even noticed; Lynn was a jock, right? And jocks did shit like that. Grabbing each other's butts in the locker room, goosing one another, getting handsy in the shower like a bunch of homos, you know, normal fagball shit. Of course, why would Mom's first reaction to a butt-grab be OH MY GOD, YOU TWO MUST BE FUCKING, AAAAAAHHHHHH! Incest isn't the kind of thing that people go to without some serious evidence.
Like the time he kissed Lynn's neck in front of Dad.
In his defense, he didn't know Dad was there. Guy was a bigger sneak than Lucy.
Luckily for them, Lynn thought quick and shoved Lincoln away. "Get away from my neck, Dorkula. I told you and Lucy, you can't do it."
Dad furrowed his brow and Lynn told him some bullshit story about Lincoln and Lucy playing a game where the object is to creep up behind someone and put your lips on their neck, thereby turning them into a vampire.
Get this, Dad actually bought it. Lincoln was certain the old man would know what was going on and rain holy down on their heads. But he was clueless.
Which went back to incest not being the sort of conclusion people jump to lightly. Lincoln and Lynn were hiding something. They felt guilty. Every time they stood too close, they started to panic because they were sure that everyone would see it in their faces and know. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it wasn't. Who knows? They knew what was going on between them so it was hard to imagine that everyone else didn't as well.
But what normal person looks at a brother and sister existing in the same place and the same time and thinks I bet his face was allllll in her crotch last night? You have to be a pretty sick fuck to go in that direction.
"Just relax," Lincoln told Lynn one night, "we have the perfect cover."
And they did.
Until they were discovered.
One night, Lincoln was reading a comic in his room and waiting for everyone to go to sleep so he could relieve a little stress with his older sister. Someone knocked on the door, then came right in before he could invite them.
Lucy.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to him. He caught flashes of her icy blue eyes behind her bangs, and in them, he saw...well...nothing unusual. He liked to think he was perceptive, but Lucy caught him by surprise when she said, "I know about you and Lynn."
Lincoln's heart jumped into his throat but he didn't show it. "What are you talking about?"
"You guys are doing it."
He made a show of looking disgusted, but it felt fake on his face. If she was making such bold statements, she must know, and he felt stupid lying about it.
But he did anyway. "What the fuck? No we're not."
"Yes, you are."
He covered his face with the comic so that she wouldn't see the fear and mortification in his eyes. "You're reading too many VC Andrews books. Go back to Harry Potter and stop making shit up."
Lucy favored him with one of her trademark blank stares. It was disconcerting in its intensity and Lincoln resisted the urge to squirm. "I saw you having sex from the vents. Don't lie to me. I saw everything."
"The fuck are doing in the vents?" Lincoln blurted. "You're nineteen."
"I can still squeeze," Lucy said.
"Yeah, and get stuck."
"That's only happened once," Lucy said. "And that's not the issue, Lincoln. Yours and Lynn's forbidden love is."
Lincoln winced. "Look, it's not like that."
"You stared into her eyes and tongue kissed her as you gently made love to her," Lucy said, "it is like that."
Sighing, Lincoln threw back his head. Well, he knew being found out was inevitable. If anyone had to stumble upon his and Lynn's affair, he was glad it was Lucy. She was an all-around weirdo and open-minded, so he doubted she'd tattle to Mom and Dad. Lola, on the other…
I'm telling Dad!
Shit. I'm almost there. Let me finish.
"I'm not going to tell," Lucy said, "but I'm also not going to condone it. Seriously, some lines are not meant to be crossed. Falling in love with your sibling is one of them."
"We're not in love," Lincoln said. "Nothing is different between us. We just have sex now."
Blank stare.
"It's like...masturbation," he said uncomfortably. He did not meet Lucy's eyes. "We have sex and...do other boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, but we're not really boyfriend/girlfriend. We're just...you know...doing that stuff."
Lucy showed no expression as he spoke so he couldn't judge whether or not she understood what he was trying to say. He sucked at summarizing big concepts in simple words...or, really, any words at all.
"That's a crock," Lucy said, "and you know it. You and Lynn are madly in love and you're going to have children."
Lincoln cringed. "Lucy...go away."
That night, Lynn crept into his room long after everyone else had fallen asleep and slipped into bed next to him, her long, silky legs rubbing his and her tiny breasts smooshing flat against his side. The first thing she said was, "Lucy knows."
"Yeah," Lincoln sighed, "she told me."
"I almost knocked her out when she started in with that forbidden love shit."
"Yeah, she doesn't get it," Lincoln said and slipped his arm around his older sister's shoulders. "I tried to explain it."
"The masturbation thing?" Lynn asked.
"Yeah," Lincoln said.
"That's kind of a shitty analogy, though."
"No it's not," Lincoln said, "it describes us perfectly."
Lynn blew a raspberry. "No it doesn't. We're like...friends with benefits. Just related."
Hmm. He supposed that was a fitting analogy, too, but he still liked his. Whatever you wanted to call them, they weren't in love, they were just siblings who did extra,
That was all.
Nothing else.
Nothing more.
Lincoln told himself that again and again over the summer, but even so, a tiny, malformed little part of him wondered if maybe they weren't more. No matter how close they were before, his heart never jogged when he saw Lynn, and he never hated being apart from her. Sometimes they would lay in each other's arms for hours, dozing and waking only to kiss and touch one another. When they weren't together, Lincoln's every thought was of her and his chest ached like an abscessed tooth. Empty, that's how he felt when Lynn wasn't around, empty.
That didn't mean he was in love with her. She was...a training girlfriend. Yeah. Lincoln had been with two girls in his life - Jordan and Ronnie Anne - but they didn't last long as couples. With Lynn, he could practice being a good boyfriend and get a feel for what having a long term girlfriend was like. Yeah, he felt something, but it wasn't real, you know? Like feeling pain in military exercise isn't real when you compre it to the pain of getting your fucking leg blasted off by an enemy RPG.
It wasn't love, per se. Sibling love, yes, and affection? Definitely. You don't have sex and snuggle with someone without feeling something for them (unless you're a hooker or a player). It wasn't real deal love, though.
At the end of August, Lynn went back to school, and though Lincoln wouldn't admit it, even for himself, it was like losing a piece of his heart. Picture being punched in your chest and having your heart ripped out, slick and still beating, like that dude from Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but life after Lynn was dull, empty, and cold. His writing suffered, his performance at work suffered - everything suffered because without Lynn, he suffered. Not dramatic omg-crying-on-the-floor, but enough that he was glum city, baby. Once she was gone, he was like a ship with no rudder, totally adrift. Everywhere he looked, he saw ghosts of their laughs, cuddles, horseplay sessions, and trysts, and every other thought belonged to her.
He hit the depths of this funk in mid-September, then started to climb his way back. He started writing a story that turned into a novel, and once its got its claws into him, it pushed Lynn to the back of his mind. She was always there, like a phantom in a haunted house, but he could focus on other things.
Lynn couldn't.
In early October, Lynn called home from college and told Mom that she needed a "break."
"The pressure is too much," she said, "it's driving me crazy."
Mom didn't know what "pressure" she was talking about. "She has it easy," she said. Lincoln suspected he knew what was really going on but he wasn't sure.
Lynn went back and forth with Mom and Dad. She wanted to come home, they wanted her stay and stick it out. They were afraid she was throwing her future away and really didn't want her to take any time off, but they finally reached an agreement: Lynn would take one semester off to rest and get her head on straight, then, in the spring, she would go back to school.
Part of Lincoln was ecstatic that she was coming home; he missed her like crazy. Another part, however, a more brotherly part, didn't like the idea of her setting aside her education on account of him. "It's not about you," she assured him on the phone one night. He didn't want to outright ask if he was the reason she wanted to come back but sometimes you have to be frank and direct.
"Are you sure about that?" he pressed.
"Yes, Linc," she said shortly. "I honestly need a break. I'm under a lot of -"
"Pressure," he said, cutting her off. "What kind of pressure are you under, Lynn? You go to class then you go back to your dorm. It's not like the whole team is counting on you like they did in high school. That was pressure. This should be a walk in the park."
He couldn't see his sister, but he could feel her bristle. "I have a ton of pressure, okay? Like...class stuff. Don't worry about it, alright? Trust me, I'm not coming home for your garbage dick game."
The lie was painfully obvious. She was coming home for him.
Lincoln didn't know how to feel about that. He felt a little guilt, but it was far outweighed by happiness.
Two days later, Lynn came in from Ann Arbor on a Greyhound. It was a cold and bright afternoon; the tang of wood smoke scented the air and orange and yellow leaves scuttled across the pavement like dried and desiccated cicada husks returned to life. Lincoln was waiting on the platform when the bus pulled in and his stomach shot into his throat. He made a conscious effort not to primp before leaving the house (he was just picking up his sister, not going on a date, why bother with Axe and combing his hair?), but suddenly he wished he had.
The air brakes hissed and the bus rolled to a stop, its doors clunking open with a wheeze. Lynn was the first one off in a red track suit with white pinstripes. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and an overstuffed Nike bag was slung casually over one shoulder. She looked virtually no different than she ever had, but she also looked somehow different.
Better.
Their eyes met, and a shit-eating grin touched her lips. She came over and punched the shit out of his arm. "Hey, fag," she said.
"I knew I smelled fish," Lincoln said.
"That's your upper lip."
"It will be later."
She let out a shocked laugh and shoved him. "Fuck you, Snow White."
They started to walk. Leaves fell from trees along the sidewalk and swirled around like celestial embers. Lynn took a deep, contented breath and let it out in a rush. "It's really good to be home."
Lincoln wanted to put his arm around her waist and kiss her neck so badly his eye twitched, but he couldn't. Someone might see. "It's good to have you home," he said honestly. "Even though you're fucking your academic career and costing Mom and Dad extra money."
He meant that as a joke, but it fell flat. "I'll pay them back," she said meekly. "We already talked about it."
They were at the end of Franklin now. Mr. Harding, the old gay man who lived on the corner, raked leaves into a burning pile. A stray cat with no tail and one flea-bitten ear watched from across the street, its lithe body tensing when Lynn and Lincoln walked past. "You wanna do something later?" Lincoln asked to break the silence.
"Sure," Lynn said. "Ball at the park?"
Ugh. Back at it again with the ree-ball.
"Okay," he said.
He thought sports was for dumbasses who didn't have the brain power to entertain themselves any other way, but as long as he played them with Lynn...they were alright.
"That park it is," Lynn said with a grin.
Instead, they wound up having mind-blow sex as soon as they got home. Lincoln had never nutted so hard in his entire life and Lynn, not one for moaning or squealing, had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out and letting everyone know she was cumming. "Holy fuck," she trembled when it was over. Aftershocks raced through her body from the business end of her ponytail to the tips of her toes. Lincoln, for his part, quivered and jerked like he was having a seizure.
To be fair, that's exactly how he felt too.
"I missed that," he panted.
Lynn's eyes went to her taut stomach, where her brother's load shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the blinds. "No shit."
He handed her his boxers, and she used them to wipe off.
Drowsiness came over thm, but instead of drifting peacefully off to sleep in each other's arms the way they both wanted to, they got up, got dressed, and went downstairs. As much as Lincoln wanted to nap with his sister, there was a good chance someone might barge in like they paid rent. Lincy? It's me, Lola, I need you to do some menial task for me that I'm simply too lazy to -OH MY GOD, THERE'S CUM EVERYWHERE!
Mom, Dad, and their sisters were none the wiser (except for Lucy, of course), but Lincoln was feeling that old paranoia again. Did they suspect? He and Lynn had been upstairs alone. Not for long, but long enough. Did they smell like sex? You can't stirr a girl's insides with your meat without producing some kind of scent. His room stank like straight crotch and every time he inhaled, he could smell Lynn's skin on him. No one looked like they suspected, but Lincoln was tense and on his guard anyway.
Who wouldn't be? He could wax poetic about what he and Lynn were doing, but at the end of the day, they were brother and sister, and their relationship was wrong on sooo many levels. If anyone other than Lucy found out, that was the end of them. Literally. You don't catch your brother having sex with your sister, or your daughter having sex with your son, and just move on. That's the kind of shit ruins lives, reputations - their family would never look at them the same way again and they'd be justified in doing so.
That night, at dinner, he made sure to sit faaar away from Lynn and to be extra friendly with all of his little sisters, that way they couldn't accuse him of acting weird with Lynn or anything. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from stealing furtive, sidelong glances at her, and she couldn't stop herself either: Their eyes met once, and they both grinned like doofuses in love.
After dinner, they sat on the couch, leaving a wide space between them, and watched AEW Dynamite. Lincoln thought wrestling was the dumbest sport of all since it wasn't even a real sport, just guys having fake fights with predetermined finishes, but Lynn was really into it, so he tolerated it. He'd rather watch something cool like Lord of the Rangs: We Wuz Kangs or Star Voyage 5350, but the way Lynn cheered and pumped her fist every time someone caught a chair to the face was...well...it was cute. If given the choice between watching that or Trek Wars, he'd pick that every time.
The main event of the night was some platinum blonde guy with evil eyes fighting Chris Jericho in a steel cage. Jim Ross and Tony Schivone provided subdued commentary. It was funny, AEW had the two best announcers in the business but they were both past their prime and called the match like it was a bingo game. Twenty years ago it would have been a dream team, today it was a full-on snooze cruise with stops in Lamesville, Boring-on-Tyne, and Sleep City.
But Lynn was into it. So much so that at one point she pounced him and held his wrists behind his head. Lincoln tried to push her off but she was too strong. "Tap out, bitch," she said.
"Fuck you, meathead."
Their grappling turned to fondling, then to kissing, then, finally, to them racing upstairs for a little main event of their own. Lynn knocked him onto the bed with a flying frog slash, and Lincoln retaliated by claiming her lips with his own in a front facing headlock. They grappld for position on the mat with Lincoln coming out on top. Lynn kicked out of her shorts and Lincoln mounted her for the pin; his dick slid through her slick folds and Lynn brushed her teeth over her bottom lip. She reached down and pulled the cover over their heads, enclosing them in their own secret garden of sin. Lincoln slipped his fingers into her hair and kissed her deeply as he sank himself into her. Her dizzying heat knocked a grunt from his throat, and Lynn moaned into his mouth. She swirled her tongue hungrily around his, braced her heels against his butt, and pulled him deeper.
He touched the opening of her womb and she threw her head back as if in celebration of how deeply she was being penetrated. Lincoln attacked her exposed throat with urgent kisses and began to thrust slowly but roughly. His balls slapped a meaty tempo against her butt and his dick raked her inner walls with a wet squelch. Their heavy breathing and body heart turned their cocoon into an oven and sweat greased their flesh, making it all the messier...and the more fun.
Lincoln was just reaching his peak when the door creaked open. He and Lynn both froze, her body contracting tightly around his shaft. His load started to well from his depths and his eyes narrowed. Oh, no, he was gonna bust.
Then he heard his mother's voice and his spirit left his body.
"Here's your laundry. I folded it for you."
Oh, God, were he and Lynn entirely covered? Did she notice the massive lump under the blankets?
Fuck that, he had bigger fish to fry: He was going to cum and he wasnt wearing a condom. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in Lynn's throat. He called up every horrible, unsexy vision he could think of, but it was no use; Lynn's walls throbbed around him, coaxing his seed from his balls, and all he could do was give in. His dick swelled inside of her, then his ogasm ripped from him with such intensity that he had to bite down on Lynn's neck to keep silent. Lynn's breathing hitched and she sucked a shocked intake of air when his climax shot into her. She bit her bottom lip, whined, whimpered, and started to rock her hips in mindless lust, and Lincoln squeezed his eyes shut, certain they would be caught.
Thankfully, they weren't. Lincoln poked his head out from under the blanket, and Mom was gone. Letting out a sigh of relief, he rolled onto his back and lay next to Lynn, who gassed for breath and stared up at the ceiling with a hazy, love-drunk look in her eyes. Silvery cum oozed from her pink and battered pussy and a ribbon of drool dribbled down the corner of her mouth. Lincoln's eyes went to her inner thighs, and he winced at the sheen of sperm coating her flesh.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's cool," Lynn said, "I packed some Plan B before I left." She looked at him with sinful eyes. "Just in case."
"Good thinking."
She turned back to the ceiling, and for a long time, neither one of them said anything. Eventually, her hand crept into his, and he lovingly stroked her knuckles with his fingertips. "You ever think about moving out?" she asked.
"All the time," Lincoln said. "I can't afford to."
Lynn pursed her lips thoughtfully and favored him with a sly, sidelong glance. "What if we go in on one together? Be roomies?"
Now that sounded cool. In their own place, they could fuck whenever they wanted and not have to worry about Mom or Dad finding out.
Ooooh, it would also give Lincoln the peace and quiet he needed to write. Without Lola yammering in one ear and Lana banging a wrench against a pipe in the other, he could pump out 10,000 words a day, and 20 on Sundays.
The most important thing was hiding his and Lynn's relationship, though.
"But you don't have a job," Lincoln said.
"I can get one," Lynn said. "I know Flip will hire me."
Owner of Flip's Food and Fuel on Main Street, Flip was the dictionary definition of a grumpy old man. He hated everyone in town and would do anything he could to part them from their money. He didn't like anyone or anything...except for Lynn. Lincoln didn't know what it was, but the old bastard had a soft spot for her. He didn't nudge her and call her a good kid or anything, but he gave her a job and didn't talk to her like she was garbage, and with him, that was HUGE. Like, damn, Flip, when's the wedding? Lincoln used to tease Lynn about being his girlfriend, and she didn't take it kindly. One time, she pummeled him with her fists. "Stop saying that shit, it's gross. Flip's, like, a second grandfather to me."
Bleeding and twitching on the ground, Lincoln said, "A grandfather you fuck."
She kicked him.
He didn't seriously believe that, but he did sometimes wonder if Flip wasn't some dirty old pervert who only kept her around so he could oogle her tits. He considered asking her what was up with them, but decided against it.
"That'd be cool," he said. "Having our own place."
"Right? No one to bitch at us for making a mess."
"No one banging on the door when we're trying to shit."
"No one to hog up all the pudding cups."
Lincoln sighed. "Man...that'd be great. You seriously wanna do that?"
"Sure." Lynn shrugged. "I don't wanna live at home forever."
"What about when you go back to school?"
Lynn hesitated. "Eh, I'll think about that later."
If there was one thing that set Lincoln Loud apart from 99 percent of the human population, it was his willingness to think ahead. People just love to put things off and worry about them some other time, but some other time always comes...and a lot quicker than you think it will. He preferred to handle his business as it came rather than sticking his head in the sand. It's a worry for another day. Yeah, and what happens when that day finally arrives? If he and Lynn got a place together, it'd only be a few months until she had to go back to college. Without her, Lincoln wouldn't be able to afford it.
Normally, he'd err on the side of caution, but the promise of infinite alone time with Lynn quashed all doubt like a giant jackboot. "Alright, let's do it."
And that was that.
They would look for a place of their own.
Just as soon as they fucked one last time.