Lincoln IV
With a heavy thud of dejection, which made him weigh a million pounds, Lincoln's face hit his bed. His entire body shrugged. He laid like that for a while. Silently. He tried his best not to think about today, but it was impossible. Out of all the stupid things he's done recently, this would have to be the stupidest. Why did he have to get caught by his mother?
The sad excuse for an orgasm he had on the back seat of Vanzilla, with the eyes of Lucy and his mom unwaveringly aimed at him, replayed in his head. Every time he felt more shame than the last. Although, ironically, masturbating was the least shameful thing he did that day — or rather, it would have been, if he hadn't been thinking about Leni's breasts. He would rather be reminiscing about that sight, but that mental image had quickly made way for memories of all the horrible things he had done that day. Shit, he should have taken an actual image. Then he could still look at it. Then maybe, maybe, it would've all been worth getting grounded over. For a week! Ugh.
But if accidentally ejaculating on his younger sister's face while his mom looked on wasn't bad enough, there was also the memory of him kissing Luan. Followed by the image of Luan crying because he had kissed her. Lincoln tries to remember if there was another time at which he saw Luan cry, before concluding that there wasn't. It was the only time he had ever seen Luan bawling her eyes out like that, and it was because of him. Good job, Lincoln.
The ride back home from the beach was also a freshly unpleasant memory. Mom had only told dad about what happened, and he drove the van home with a stern, silent anger. His nails had dug themselves into the steering wheel. Meanwhile, everyone else was dead silent, because they sensed the tension in the car. It was impossible not to sense it. There wasn't just tension between Lincoln and his parents, but also between Lincoln and Luna, and Luan. Lynn was also seething with anger, just like mom and dad. She also got grounded for one thing or another, but Lincoln was too busy wishing he didn't exist to pay attention to the why. Lincoln spent the whole ride sunken in his seat, quiet, and avoiding eye contact with everyone. At some point during the ride, someone put a hand on his shoulder. It was probably meant for comfort, but Lincoln swatted it off of him. He had been touched enough today. Leni's breasts. Luan's lips. Lana's hand. His mother's tirade. It all replayed in his head.
An then there was Lucy's face. Lucy's face with a thin white stripe of his own doing. That also replayed. It was a sight he had never thought he would see. He hadn't intended to see it, nor was he supposed to see it. But it happened, and he saw it. And he also saw how his mom had to frantically wipe it off with a tissue. And before that, how Lucy had licked it off of her lips. Slowly, very slowly. He paused at that sight to ponder over it. In that moment, he saw a side of Lucy that he had never seen before. He didn't even know it was there at all. Was that the side of Lucy she had wanted to open up to him yesterday morning? It made Lincoln feel a certain kind of way. Aroused, in a sense, but much different from how he felt aroused around Luna. It was a less passionate arousal, but one that was more raw. More primal. And yet, more calculated.
Lincoln stirred from his prone, face-down position and curled himself up. He gripped his pillow with angry fingers and held it against him fiercely. He was angry with himself, and with the universe. Why does he have to think his sisters are so attractive? When it was just Luna, Lincoln reasoned that with his ten sisters, it was statistically likely that he would be attracted to one of them. But now he's catching feelings for Leni, for Luan — even Lucy. Maybe he is attracted to them because they are his sisters. Because he is not supposed to feel about them in that way, and doubly not supposed to have them in that way. And that was just the thing in his pubescent male brain: it made him want them more. He has always made sure to be a good brother to his sisters. A kind, caring, supportive brother. While their parents were too busy, Lincoln always made sure to attend to everyone's needs and make time for them. That's what a brother is supposed to do. Although, every time he feels a sense of pride for how good of a brother he is, he then also immediately realizes that he is not supposed to sleep with them. Damn it. Lincoln doesn't have all the answers — nor any of the answers. He can only clutch his pillow tightly and feel miserable for himself. So he did. After all, he was grounded. He wasn't permitted out of his room, and none of his sisters were permitted in. He was confined to loneliness and misery for the rest of the night. He might as well lean into it.
And so the minutes turned to hours. Lincoln didn't stop pondering his feelings for a second in that time. Eventually, however, Lincoln became tired. His eyes were closed with weariness, and his thought processes slowed down a bit. Lincoln was drowsily lying in his bed, curled up, facing the wall. Eyes closed, knees up, drifting closer and closer towards dreamland. But before he could make it there, his respite was disrupted by a creak of his bedroom door.
Quiet footsteps approached his bed along the carpet. Lincoln didn't rouse, and pretended to be asleep. That way, he might get left alone. No one was allowed in his room while he was grounded, so if the intruder left quickly it would spare both of them the possible ire of mom and dad. After all, even within his own bedroom, it was hard to get some privacy. Just the other day, someone had been watching while he slept with Luna. And now, even while grounded, some intruder is trying to vie for his attention. But he's been giving everyone enough attention lately — and the wrong kind of attention. So he pretended to sleep. However, this seemingly did not deter the intruder.
Lincoln felt his blanket being lifted on one side. The intruder joined him underneath his sheets. Damn it, was Luna going to make this a daily thing? Couldn't he get some rest every once in a while? Is this because he had ignored her all day? Lincoln made a mental note to start locking doors behind him.
The intruder got comfortable in Lincoln's bed. As a body shuffled and tussled to make room underneath the blanket, it also brushed up against him. Eventually, is gently nestled against Lincoln, so he could feel the warm body heat it radiated on him. The warmth felt familiar. The body clutched the sides Lincoln's body, and pressed itself closer against him. All the while, the intruder was gentle and quiet, and also steadfast and determined.
Then, a hand gingerly travelled over his side, up along his chest. It very lightly brushed against the tiny, barely perceptible, but sensitive, hairs on his skin. With every inch of skin it passed, Lincoln felt a warmth envelop him. The hand eventually gently pressed itself into Lincoln's chest, pushing Lincoln into the inviting bosom behind him. It was a soft, warm bosom. A welcoming, nurturing bosom. Lincoln felt it press against his back, and felt small in it. Small and calm. Calm and safe. It was a wildly different feeling than the other times he had lain with Luna. Luna had a tendency to lose herself in the heat of the moment, and now she was uncharacteristically reposeful. Lincoln angled his head down to look at the hand that was caressing his chest. Her hand seemed more elegant than usual, and its caress also felt different. It was way more calm, more secure than the other times Luna had touched him. It wasn't filled with lustful impatience, nor hormone-fuelled ecstasy. Why had she come here, if she wasn't feeling that way? Lincoln watched as the long, polished nails tenderly caressed his nipples through his shirt. That made him shiver, and took him by surprise. It was something he never guessed he would enjoy, but he did. It made him feel smaller still. Lincoln watched and enjoyed. He enjoyed and watched. He watched the beautiful nails, lime green with perfectly applied polish, gently creasing his shirt.
Wait a second — — lime green!?
"I saw you staring at the beach, Linkie."
Her quiet whisper resounded in him, emitting shivers throughout his entire body. Immediately, he was turned to stone. But a warm, soft stone. A puddle of molten stone is what he became, and the only thing stirring him were the lime green nails of...
"L— L— L-" Lincoln stammered quietly, each phoneme pushed out of him with the quality of a whisper. It sounded as if he repeatedly got startled. The touches and whisper had intoxicated him to such a degree that he couldn't even speak her name. It was like a magical spell that Lincoln was stricken, and without even turning to look at her.
"If you wanted to look at me so badly, you could've just asked." Leni whispered it matter-of-factly.
The words poisoned his mind, which then hurried to imagine all sorts of things. With their simple and irrefutable truth, the words also made him feel even stupider than he was already feeling. But the stupidity had to make way for a much larger, much more urgent maelstrom of feelings. Those feelings were indescribable. It was like his heart somersaulted up to his throat and out the side of his head, taking his reason with it. He wanted to look at Leni alright, there was no point in denying that, not even to himself. She had a figure that could entrance anyone — hourglass, round, full, beckoning — and she flaunted it with every choice of wardrobe. After the distanced preview he had gotten on the beach today, he wanted nothing more than for that vision to be restored proper. The anticipation of even the possibility of that happening had wiped all the mishaps of the day from his memory in one fell swoop. The deletion took most of his consolidated memories with it too, for good measure. Lincoln was a tabula rasa, left with only his intense enchantment at the soft strokes that Leni's fingers made across his body, and the shivers at the warm air on his ear as she spoke intoxicating whispers to him.
Leni's hand, suddenly and determinately, moved down. Without detour, it slipped into Lincoln's underwear. There, Leni could tell that her little brother was enjoying himself.
"Do you like this, Linkie?" Leni spoke unduplicitously. Her question was genuine, and her only concern right now is for her little brother's enjoyment. There is even a sense of naivety and insecurity in her voice, which was completely incongruent the brashness of her actions. "Would you like me to continue?"
Lincoln wanted to speak. He didn't know the words, but he knew he should probably utter something. An acknowledgement, a confirmation, a denial. But he had forgotten how to phrase any of those. She had made it impossible for him to think, even before her hand was in his underwear. Eventually, Lincoln irregularly shook his head backwards, to at least indicated he was awake. His breathing was laboured.
Leni shifted her position in the bed, and spoke as softly and reassuringly as she could. "There's no need to be nervous, Linkie. I know I'm always clumsy and messing things up, but I have found something I am really good at!" Leni paused to place a gentle kiss on Lincoln's cheek. Lincoln blushed violently, and let out a shrill noise. "Silly me just never realized that brothers enjoy it too." Leni graciously moved atop of Lincoln, making him turn and face her. Lincoln could now, at once, she that she was completely naked. Lincoln went limp and googly-eyed, gawking at the immaculate perfection of the female body. No man was built to resist such beauty. No woman neither. He didn't know what to stare at first. He absorbed every detail of her, every contour, every line, every mark. His staring got interrupted when she moved. Leni repositioned onto all-fours and slowly strode downwards onto Lincoln. "Just relax —" she whispered to him suggestively. Leni slid Lincoln out of his underwear as he remained stunned, his eyes fixed on all Leni's swaying body parts. It all seemed to be happening in slow-motion. Before he could process what was going on, Leni had docked her voluptuous breasts onto his pelvis.
"— and enjoy."
The things Leni proceeded to do with her mouth were unbelievable. Incredible. Amazing. To say it was mind-blowing would be an understatement. Her lips were infinitely soft and caressed him lightly. Her tongue was assertive, and hit all the right spots — some that Lincoln hadn't even figured out for himself. What was happening was exactly what he had been imagining in Vanzilla, but many times better. Better in ways he couldn't have fathomed before now. Lincoln couldn't hold back his moans of pleasure — sounding somewhere in between relieved sighs and shrill flinches. His gaze never diverted from the spectacle that Leni was performing for him — Leni's gaze back at him, filled with pride in that she could make her Linkie feel good. With every sound Lincoln made, Leni moved a little further, a little fiercer, a little deeper, a little better. Every time Lincoln thought it couldn't possibly feel any more amazing, she proved him wrong. Lincoln started straining, wriggling, and holding back. He mustered every ounce of meagre resistance he could, but he wasn't sure if he could hold back much longer.
"It's okay Linkie, you can let it go whenever you want to." Leni pressed her breasts closer against him. She stuck her tongue out as far as she could, and pressed it invitingly against the tip. She stared at her brother with big, pleading eyes. Lincoln turned mentally to the divine. Oh dear Lord, this was it: the perfect view. Lincoln looked on helplessly as he was pressed against her angelic breasts and shapely mouth — her expression closer to pride than lewdness. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew what she wanted from little Linkie, and denying it to Leni hadn't even crossed Lincoln's mind for a second. Everything else had vanished from Lincoln's world, the only thing he desired now was to finish up the perfect scene.
"Ah, L— Leni! I'm —" before he could properly warn her, it started shooting out at her. Leni didn't stop, instead, she took the start of his forewarning to up the intensity even further. This was truly the coup de grace. There was more than ever before, more intensely than ever before. Leni didn't flinch once — she was overcome with joy and pride. Lincoln moaned, loudly. Each moan almost like a little scream for help, but no one could help him now. He loudly repeated Leni's name in ecstasy and wonder and disbelief.
The sound of Leni's name, infinitely repeated by Lincoln, thus reverberated through Lincoln's dark room. The sounds embedded themselves in the wood of his bedroom door, and travelled — albeit severely muffled — out to the dark hallway. Some of these sounds were halted before they could go there, however. They were cusped in the shell of a perceptive ear, which had been pressed meekly against the cold door. For the ear, what should have been routine reconnaissance proved a death knell.
A frozen person thus stood there, listening, motionless. One side of her head unwaveringly pressed firmly into the door. Her hands, once raised besides her chest to lean softly against the door, had remained there, frozen as she now was. Her head succumbed to the dreary pull of gravity, aiming her gaze to the floor. Her eyes were covered by sadly draping bangs. Behind those, the muffled sounds from within the room forced despairing tears out of her eyes. She stood for minutes that took eternities — and in those eternities, her systems shut down.
"Bro..."
