Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.
Guest: Thank you for your concern. However, it was never about a lack of ideas, only a lack of interest because it wasn't what I wanted to write.
Catspeaker: Thank you so much!
tylerdunkley82: Thank you for the kind words.
OlgaRed: There's no need to be ashamed. These stories are entirely fictional and don't represent actual people. I hope you enjoy the story.
marz-senpai: I appreciate the review, as always. While some of the individual events will be a bit predictable, how it comes about will be much more thorough than in previous works. There's going to be a lot more narrative and progression. Hopefully, things will feel more natural.
Pandora's Box
By Lola Presents
Chapter 2
Rita hadn't kidded herself, expecting to find several entries for porn within Lincoln's search history dispersed amongst the otherwise ordinary. However, she was shocked to learn he had installed a virtual private network and dedicated an entire directory to his favorite content.
There weren't just hundreds of entries but thousands, all depicting illicit and depraved sexual acts. Unsure where to begin, she reversed the sort order from most recently viewed to oldest and clicked the first one, believing it was essential to see how Lincoln's decline progressed.
The first video was relatively tame, even by typical porn standards. It featured a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, Laying on her stomach with her butt propped in the air. Behind her stood a slightly older man, alternating between vaginal and anal intercourse.
Not lingering too long on any particular video, Rita watched enough to get the idea before moving on to the next. Over the next thirty minutes, Rita proceeded to subject herself to increasingly more erotic material, and soon, her hand had slipped into her panties.
With the topics still within acceptable limits, Rita began her self-pleasure. However, it wasn't long before the tone of the videos started to change. The intimate, private couple paradigm soon gave way to group action, consisting of various makeups.
After several more videos, the theme shifted again, depicting what she assumed to be a staged rape and torture scene. Several men appeared to be forcefully assaulting a woman's holes with various objects, seemingly too large for entry, as she screamed for help.
Despite not being restrained, the woman never attempted to flee, which reassured Rita that it was consensual. Because of this, she tolerated the scene and let it arouse her further. Abandoning her sore nub, Rita reached further down and dug her two middle fingers into her wet slit, working herself in more of an up-and-down motion rather than in-and-out.
The following entry depicted three men in leather masks forcing a young girl appearing to be around ten years of age, to lie down on a bed. While two men held her legs out of the way, the third violently inserted a long, thin cucumber into her vagina as she cried and moaned.
That's when Rita peaked, sending her vulva into convulsions as she came like never before. Realizing how late it was, the soaking woman cleaned herself up and changed into a fresh pair of panties before putting away Lincoln's laptop and heading for the kitchen to check on dinner.
After more than twenty years of marriage and eleven children, Rita's sex life hadn't been nearly as active or erotic recently. Lynn, who preferred not to use contraception, had begun to shy away from intimacy, not wanting to risk having another child. At least, that was his preferred excuse.
As Rita's body regulated and the hormones flushed from her system, she realized she should be disgusted with herself. That's the thing about passion, though. Once it takes hold of someone, it doesn't let go until it's ready. Unfortunately, it interferes with one's inhibitions.
Rita had already become fully aroused when the subject matter began to change. All she could do was ride it out and enjoy it. And that is what Rita had done, much to her disgust. As unfathomable as it seemed to the distressed woman, she had enjoyed finding some emotional release.
While mindlessly unwrapping a bag of dinner rolls and arranging them on a cookie sheet, Rita couldn't help but bite her lip in anticipation of the next series of videos. Unfortunately, her husband would soon be home, forcing her to wait until the next day to catch up on Lincoln's sordid past.
Far from being prepared to admit an attraction to the material, Rita stoically reinforced the idea that watching the videos would somehow assist her in helping her son through his difficulties. But in reality, her nether regions were already dampening at the prospect.
Lincoln stood in the basin, facing the shower head with his eyes closed, feeling the warm water cascade over his body, washing away his shame and invigorating him. It was symbolic, but he couldn't help but feel violated and embarrassed at his mother's intrusion into his privacy.
His mother had called him out. Not only was she aware of his activities, but he did so while fantasizing about his sisters. Even then, while invoking an image of Luan's naked form, his mother's visage stood behind his sister, staring at him. Though, he couldn't read her intent.
"Fuck..." muttered Lincoln, accidentally taking a mouthful of the stream.
Sputtering, he pointed the shower head straight down and moved to the far end of the tub, where he sat down, propped up his legs, and grabbed the conditioner. Lathering some on his right hand, Lincoln rested his head against the porcelain and began masturbating to Luan's image.
With so many sisters, it was no surprise that the drain forever remained partially clogged. As the water level slowly but gradually rose, its warmth soothed and relaxed Lincoln's prone form. Deciding to wait no longer, the highly aroused boy slipped his left hand between his legs.
Hesitantly, he touched his anus while continuing to masturbate. The soothing effect of the water, combined with his heightened sensitivity, negated his inhibitions. The light touch of his fingertip stimulated him greatly, urging him forward.
Though watching such acts delighted him, indulging in them was another thing. However, his reluctance had vanished, receding to the distant corners of his mind. Increasing pressure, Lincoln slipped his wet digit into his rectum and began stimulating the sensitive nerves within.
Lincoln was surprised at how warm and soft his interior was. Perhaps it was his state of mind or how relaxing the water was. Regardless, he felt the sudden urge to delve deeper. Pushing himself further in, Lincoln's finger discovered his prostate, and without warning, he came furiously.
Lincoln's eyes flew open at the new sensation and witnessed his seed spurting into the water ahead of him, his finger locked in place within his contracting muscles. When he had finally emptied his load, and his body recuperated, he pulled his finger free and stared at it.
While Lincoln hadn't felt the urge to use the restroom, the tip of his finger bore a light coating of brown. He stared at it briefly before bringing it to his nose and sniffing it. Closing his eyes and moving his finger away, he grimaced at the smell.
Despite his aversion, Lincoln once more stared at his soiled finger, the memory of his recent elation overwhelming him. What he had experienced a moment before was unlike anything he'd ever felt, and it held him hostage as something unexplained and powerful swept over him.
Wondering how something so wonderful could be rooted in something so disgusting, his hand inexorably began moving toward his mouth, seemingly through an accord of its own. Lincoln closed his eyes with fear and anticipation and accepted what was happening.
Lincoln's subconscious mind was at work, compiling and correlating the varied information it had received recently. From the videos he'd watched, subsequent fantasies, and recent actions, the scent of his waste had unwittingly gotten associated with the pleasure of sexual stimulation.
Once his finger rested upon his tongue and his lips pursed around it, Lincoln tentatively remained still as his taste buds did their job. Within moments, his mouth burst with a flavor he had never thought possible, a unique combination of sweet and sour with a slightly metallic aftertaste.
Wholly unexpected, Lincoln extracted his finger and smelled it again. While he could still detect his scent, it no longer bothered him. While surprised at the result, Lincoln was ecstatic. Despite understandable hesitation, he had done what he intended and had enjoyed it.
"God, damn..." he muttered, smiling as he plunged his finger back inside for more, overtaken by a sudden, inexplicable hunger.
This time, he raised his buttocks off the tub floor and dug as deep as he could, swirling his finger madly about, trying to get whatever he could. Then, after a few moments, he removed his finger and, to his delight, found it covered in a thick brown mass that begged for ingestion.
Eagerly stuffing it into his mouth, he closed his eyes again as he returned to the bliss his waste provided. Simultaneously, Lincoln mentally scolded himself and his childhood teachings, wondering how more people weren't aware of how good it was.
Perhaps the scent alone deterred them, or maybe they were regurgitating what their parents had handed down from their own. Either way, he could understand. It certainly didn't smell good until one had a taste to go with it, so why would anyone try it?
But as he helped himself to a third serving, someone knocked on the restroom door, demanding his attention.
"Hey, Stincoln!" called Lynn from outside. "Hurry up! I gotta go!"
"Fine..." returned Lincoln, immediately washing his hands with liquid soap. "I'll be out in a minute."
As Lynn waited impatiently outside the door with her legs crossed, she had no idea that Lincoln, who stood a few feet away, imagined himself lying on the bathroom's plush floor mat while his sister squatted over his face, emptying herself into his mouth as they both grunted with pleasure.
"Finally!" Lynn declared, not wasting any time waiting on a response as she darted into the small room and slammed the door shut.
Lincoln took a slow, deep breath, then exhaled it in a quick puff as another scent lighted upon his olfactory nerves. Dinner was almost ready, but he wasn't. The thought of seeing his sisters at the table gripped him with fear, let alone facing his mother directly across from his seat.
What would she think during the meal, how disgusting her son was and how disappointed she was in him, or imagining him doing things nobody should ever do? Regardless, the thoughts were disturbing, and Lincoln sequestered them away before heading downstairs.
Seeing Luna curled in the recliner usually reserved for him, Lincoln claimed the one across the room. However, its position prevented him from watching whatever was on television, which the sofa-bound twins were arguing about as they wrestled for control of the remote.
"Hey, Lincoln," Luna initiated. "Are you feeling better than you were this morning?"
"I guess," he shrugged. "Why?"
"Listen, bro," prompted his older sister. "Luan can be a bit unrighteous at times. Just ignore her. Okay? If there's anything you ever need to talk about, I'm here for you."
"Thanks," Lincoln muttered, not wanting to get pressed by another family member. "But, no, thanks."
"Speaking of talking..." Lola interjected upon recalling her brother's outburst that morning. "What kind of punishment did Mom give you for cussing this morning?"
"What?" muttered Lincoln, momentarily having forgotten about the incident. "Uh, nothing. But, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I was in a foul mood. You guys just happened to be there."
Luckily, Lincoln didn't have to endure anything further as his mother emerged from the kitchen to announce dinner. As expected, everyone forgot about what they were doing and rushed to the table. Thankful for the distraction, Lincoln took his seat and focused on his meal.
As usual, his sisters gossiped while his parents discussed their days, with the occasional joke, quip, or heated debate to break the monotony. For his part, Lincoln remained silent, imagining himself invisible, crawling under the table and feasting upon his sisters' forbidden fruits.
Dinner eventually concluded without a single fight, which was rather unusual, and Lincoln asked permission to get excused before heading upstairs to begin the lengthy process of straightening his room.
Lincoln's mother had thoroughly investigated everything, not leaving anything unturned or emptied. His mattress remained upright, and everything had gotten pulled from underneath his bed. The task ahead was daunting, but at least it would discourage more troubling thoughts of his sisters.
Frowning, he set about his chore with frustration. His mother should be the one cleaning it. She made the mess and was always touting her rule about being held accountable for one's actions. Still, it gave him time to think. Fortunately, his mother hadn't appeared distressed at dinner, which made relaxing easier.
Perhaps things wouldn't be as bad as he'd imagined. Then again, his mother probably hadn't had time to review his internet history. When she did, things might play out much differently than they had at dinner. At least his father was unaware, which was a small blessing.
After finishing the job, Lincoln curled up in his freshly made bed with a stack of comics. He had already eaten, taken his daily shower, and didn't need anything outside his room, so he made himself comfortable until it was time to go to bed.
When darkness fell, and silence began to spread throughout the house, Lincoln put away his comics and snuggled into his covers. Without his laptop to entertain him before bed, Lincoln's thoughts turned almost entirely toward his sisters, wondering what each would be like in bed.
Would they be as perverted as he was, or would they be entirely different? During the day, they were already so varied that Lincoln couldn't imagine that any of them might share his desires, but one could always rely on fantasy to fill in the gaps.
Lincoln fell asleep that night to a vision of his sister, Lisa, lying on her side with one leg cocked. Kneeling with her other leg between his, Lincoln feverishly assaulted her cavities as she grimaced in tortured pleasure with every stroke, the sheer force of his thrusts pushing the girl back and forth amidst the blankets.
After their children had taken turns in the restroom, preparing for bed, Lynn excused himself, intending to do the same, leaving Rita to finish cleaning up. Nodding, Rita acknowledged his intent. Though she usually insisted on getting help, tonight was different.
As the morally distracted woman mindlessly washed a plate, her thoughts returned to the videos she'd watched earlier that day, wondering what it was about them that had excited her. They were vile and highly illegal. If anything, she should be disgusted with herself.
Yet, she wasn't. Not entirely, anyway. While her majority recoiled at the memories, the rest insisted on repeatedly replaying certain scenes, mainly from the latter set of videos rather than the former. Then something happened that took Rita by surprise, shocking her to stillness.
In one of the videos she'd seen, a woman celebrated her husband's birthday by sitting her five-year-old on the kitchen table before him, who then gleefully stripped and offered herself to him while singing to him.
However, some irrational part of the stricken mother's subconscious imposed itself upon her recollections, forever altering her emotional response to the experience.
Rita had replaced the little girl with herself while Lincoln sat before her, wrapping his arms around her legs before eagerly pulling her toward his salivating mouth. Shaking with repulsion, Rita stopped washing the plate, letting it fall into the sink before clasping her hand over her mouth.
Something bizarre was happening to the middle-aged woman, and she recoiled in horror as the scene returned to her mind. She closed her eyes and trembled as Lincoln's imaginary tongue deftly cupped her clitoris, stimulating it with precision before tracing its way between her Labia Majora and Labia Minora, enticing her body into its natural response.
Desperate to distract herself, she drained the sink, put away the clean dishes, and headed toward her bedroom, hoping to entice her husband in search of relief.
"Hi, honey," Rita cooed as she sauntered into the room, the heat between her legs growing exponentially. "Did you have a good day at work?"
Lynn had already changed into his flannel pajamas and was propped up in bed, browsing a culinary circular when he peered at her. At his age, a nightly romp in the sack should've been prevalent on his mind, but it wasn't.
Owning a restaurant was difficult enough, but serving as manager and head chef further complicated things, leaving him exhausted at the end of the day. To make matters worse, it seemed he'd come home to tales of his children's misdeeds every other day, a constant source of concern.
"Yeah," he replied, unsure about the look in his wife's eyes. "It was a bit busy, though."
"I'm sorry," Rita cooed as she climbed onto the bed like a feral cat on the prowl. "You must be tired," she whispered, gently removing the periodical from his hands and laying it on their nightstand. Then, facing him as she straddled his legs on all fours, she batted her eyes and stalked closer. "I could relieve some of that stress, you know."
Lynn considered his wife, assessing her mood and how he felt about it. When they got married, their sex life was filled with passion and frequency, resulting in their children. But, over the decades, something had changed. With every successive birth, Lynn had become increasingly aloof regarding physical intimacy, and tonight was no different.
"It looks like you're the one in need of relief," he quipped, not showing any sign of reciprocation. "What did you do today, binge-watch a romantic series on Netflix?"
"Something like that," purred Rita, reaching for his crotch. "Now, come here. Momma needs some attention."
"Listen, honey..." Lynn pleaded as he removed his reading glasses and set them on the nightstand on top of his magazine before continuing. "I've had a long day, and I'm tired and sore. Perhaps another time. Alright?"
Rita sighed and hung her head before collapsing onto the bed beside her absent husband in frustration.
"If you're that worried about having another kid, then just use a condom," Rita suggested, her face buried in the blankets.
"You know I don't like doing that," muttered Lynn as he shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. "I can't feel anything when I use them, especially with how loose you've gotten over the years."
"What?!" exclaimed Rita, picking her head up and supporting herself by her elbows. "What did you expect after eleven kids!" she demanded. "You have some nerve. You put them there, after all."
"Honey..." pleaded the regretful man, rubbing his face tiredly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"No, I don't know that," quipped Rita, increasingly disgusted with her husband's attitude. "It seems like you're not attracted to me anymore."
"Rita..." moaned Lynn, adjusting his pillow, clearly not in the mood.
"Fine!" declared the distraught woman as she pulled herself off the bed. "You go to bed. I'm going to fix myself a drink."
"Mmhm," groaned Lynn as he slipped into slumber before Rita left the room.
Narrowing her eyes at her husband for a moment, Rita grabbed Lincoln's laptop, turned out the light, and excused herself to the kitchen, where she pulled the cork on an aging bottle of red wine. After pouring herself a glass, she downed the whole thing in one gulp.
Then, looking at the bottle, she set aside the glass, grabbed the bottle, and headed for the basement. Her husband might have lost interest, but she hadn't, and come hell or high water, she was going to have some fun, even if it meant watching more illegal videos.
After locking the cellar door, Rita descended downstairs. Then pulling her stretchy pants and panties down to her ankles, she sat down on the heaping load of unwashed clothing and got comfortable, spreading her legs wide. Setting the laptop beside her, she picked up where she had left off.
Perhaps it was Rita's frustration with Lynn. Maybe it was something else. Regardless, she watched videos well into the night, unashamedly imagining herself with anyone other than Lynn. One's forties were no longer considered old, and one was only as old as one felt.
Rita was young, virile, and needed someone to pay attention to her.
