Lynn Loud barged through the front door, shucked off her backpack, kicked out of her shoes, and pounded up the stairs in socked feet. Behind her, Lincoln tripped over the threshold and went down, banging his arms against the floor. "Shit!" he hissed, and tried to get up, but his backpack, full of textbooks, spoiled his balance, and he toppled onto his side. He slipped out of it, jumped to his feet, and followed his sister, tripping again at the top of the stairs and landing hard on his knees. Goddamn. Anymore of this and he wouldn't live to see twelve.

Shaking it off, he got up and hurried into his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. Lynn was lying on the bed, her legs propped up in an M and a seductive smile on her face. She gestured with her finger, and with a grin, he went to her, kneeling on the mattress and crawling between her legs.

It was a rare day when the stars aligned as they had this Thursday afternoon. Leni, Lori, and Luna went to the mall after school with some girls they knew, Mom was at work, Dad was running errands, the younger kids wouldn't be home for a half an hour, and Luan was choking on their dust a mile back. For the briefest of moments, they had the house all to themselves, and they were going to take advantage of it.

Biting her lower lip, Lynn grabbed Lincoln's shirt in both hands and pulled him into a kiss, her tongue shooting into his mouth and her lips pressing roughly against his. He kissed her back, their teeth scraping together. He was hungry for her, and he drank the taste of her mouth the way an alcoholic would drink a bottle of hooch after three days of horrible sobriety; it wasn't so much kissing as it was pillaging, their tongues needily ravishing the inside of each other's' mouths. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he fell forward, planting his hands on either side of her. She let go of him and pulled her shorts and underwear down, her heat issuing forth as if from an oven. Her smell filled his nostrils, and his penis throbbed against the crotch of his jeans, begging to be set free. He fumbled his zipper down.

"Be quick," she said.

"I can be quick," he said, "can you be quick?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, "I've been saving it all for you."

It had been close to a month since they last had sex; they crawled underneath the front porch on a Sunday afternoon and did it in the dirt. Not only was it uncomfortable (he was on top, his knees aching, and Lynn was on the bottom, dirt grinding into her butt crack), it was also painful...especially when the fire ants came out of their burrow and started stinging them. Neither was willing to crawl back out until they were done, though. Since then, Lincoln had not masturbated, as he wanted to be primed and ready whenever the opportunity presented itself: His sack was full and his head was already leaking.

He jerked down his pants and underwear. He scooted up so that his nose was almost touching hers and took his burning iron in his hand. She grinned up at him as he guided himself down the dampened center of her crease, her breath catching as he found her passageway and pressed against it. She was hot and wet and he gasped. "Fuck me," she said. "Please."

He started to slowly push into her. His head slipped into her canal, bulging against the satiny sheets of her insides. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she bit her lower lip again. God, she was...

Someone knocked on the door, and he jumped a foot. "Lincoln?" It was Luan.

Lynn's eyes, so recently pooled with desire, turned into icy pits of hatred.

"Lincoln? Dad needs your help with the groceries."

"Son of a bitch!" Lincoln screamed, punching the bed.

"He says now!"

Lynn sighed and threw her head back, running a jittery hand through her thick chestnut hair. Lincoln stayed where he was, panting with a mixture of rage, disappointment, and lust. He was a fraction of an inch in, his balls tight and his staff aching for release. He should just...

"Now, Lincoln!"

"I'm coming, goddamn it!"

"I'm not," Lynn said, pushing his off and sitting. Lincoln stood, pulled his pants up, and drew a deep, shivering breath. I'm going to drop the eggs on purpose he thought, and the milk too. I'm going to drop everyfuckingthing.

He motioned Lynn toward the space between the wall and his dresser. She got up and wedged herself in, drawing her knees to her chest. Standing at the door or just inside the room, you wouldn't be able to see her. It was a hiding spot she had used many times in the past during abortive trysts that ended just as this one had. When they first got home from the camping trip on which they "got together" their plan was to meet at night. Sounded like a fucking amazing plan. There was one problem, though: The walls were thinner than cheese, and with eleven people in the house aside from them, someone was always up peeing, or going for a midnight snack or simply being used as a cock-blocking instrument by a cruel universe. They couldn't do it in his room, they couldn't do it in hers, they couldn't do it in the shower...where the fuck could they do it?

Fuming, Lincoln ripped the door open. Luan jumped back, startled, her eyes wide. Then her brows knitted. "What were you doing in here that's so important you had to cuss me out?"

"Masturbating," Lincoln said, and brushed past her.

"Ewwwww! God, Lincoln, TMI!"

"Don't ask unless you want an answer," he said as he went down the stairs. In the driveway, Dad stood by the back of the van, his hands on his hips. When he saw Lincoln, he nodded to the cargo hold.

"There's a lot."

Indeed there was: The entire space was filled with plastic bags on top of plastic bags. Jesus, did you leave anything for anyone else?

Crackling with energy that he'd intended to spend on Lynn, he grabbed four bags at once and started for the house. Dad followed with two bags.

In the kitchen, he sat the bags on the table and then went back into the living room just as Lynn came down the stairs. She moved her shoes and Lincoln's backpack out of the way, then went outside. At the back of the van, she looked at him with sad eyes. "I'm going to explode."

"In anger or from not getting any?"

"Both," she said, and grabbed four bags just as Lincoln had.

"If there are eggs in there, drop them," he said. "Teach this guy a lesson."

Lynn cocked a grin over her shoulder. "I like eggs, so I'm not dropping them. And if you drop them I'll pound your head in."

"I'll pound my head into you."

"I wish."

So do I, he thought with a sigh. His groin was already starting to ache. Blue balls...my old friend...how the hell are you? He grabbed four more grocery bags, brought them into the kitchen, then came back for another round. Goddamn. He got it, there were thirteen people in the house, but did they really eat so fucking much?

By the time he was done, the rest of his sisters were home, and the Loud house was filled with activity and chaos, like it was every afternoon. There was absolutely no chance of sneaking off for a quickie with Lynn without running a very high risk of being caught. He wondered if Lisa could invent an invisibility cloak. That would be nice. He and Lynn could throw it over themselves and hump like jackrabbits. Hmmmm. Lynn. He thought of the way her body felt when it was mashed against his, the way her mouth tasted, the noises she made as she tipped over the edge of her orgasm, sort of an "uh, uh, UH!" that was music to his ears. He felt his erection return, and sighed. Just two minutes. That's all I need, God, just two minutes alone with her...

Lynn Loud paced back and forth in her room, going from the door to the nightstand beside hers and Lucy's beds and back again. She was powered by nearly a month of pent-up steam; she wouldn't be surprised if some was curling out of her ears like in a cartoon. Her loins throbbed with need and her nipples were hard as rocks. Goosebumps covered her fevered body. Her mind was wonky. It was hard to think.

"Are you alright?" Lucy asked. She was sitting on her bed and reading a book.

"I'm fine," Lynn said tightly, but she wasn't. Oh, she was far from it. She was so horny it hurt, literally hurt. For weeks now the only thing on her mind was Lincoln, and with each mental vision of him, with each fantasy where his warm hands cupped her breast and the tips of his thumbs brushed her nipples, she got more turned on. If she didn't relive this pressure soon, she was going to blow apart like a malfunctioning boiler.

Looks like I'm touching myself tonight, she thought bitterly. She didn't like touching herself. She liked Lincoln touching her. Lincoln with his expert hands...sliding gently over her body, from the sides of her throat down her chest, to the juncture of her sex, down her legs, her feet...she shivered. God, her panties were soaked.

"This is hell," she croaked.

At dinner, she sat directly across from Lincoln and fucked him with her eyes. He caught her looking at one point, and she raised her eyebrows. He winked. Ummmm. The way he made her feel just by looking at her. If only he could get her off by looking at her.

If this kept up much longer, his eyes probably would make her cum. Ahhh. She was so close; a freight train perched precariously at the top of a steep grade. All she needed was one little push, and that train would barrel downhill like Judgement Day, screaming and totally, utterly, completely unstoppable. And when it hit the bottom...a shiver raced down her spine. Lincoln looked at her, and she licked her lips.

"How'd you do on that math test, Lynn?" Mom asked.

Math test? She couldn't remember any math test: Her brain was too full of...other things. "Good, mom," she said. That was probably a lie.

"Good. I'm proud of you."

She hooked the toe of her left shoe into the back of her right shoe and peeled it off. "Thanks, mom." She slouched in her chair and sent her foot out. When it brushed against Lincoln's, he started. He looked at her, and she grinned. She ran her foot over his, her socked toes slipping between the cuff of his pants and his leg. She could feel his warmth through thin cotton.

"You alright, Lynn?" Dad asked, his voice edged with concern.

"Yeah, just my back," she lied, "I think I messed it up at practice the other day. Stretching my legs makes it feel better." She sat back up, loath to break contact with her brother. "Yup. All better."

Later, in her room, she laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling, the flames of desire consuming her body. She squeezed her thighs together, and a pleasant little ripple spread out through her stomach. She took a hitching breath and glanced over at Lucy, her nose still buried in her book. Lynn ran her tongue along her bottom lip. Could she masturbate right here without Lucy noticing? The possibility that she would excited her. She thought of being under the covers with Lincoln, him on top and thrusting into her, his muscles flexing under his supple flesh, and Lucy watching, her mouth open and her eyes wide made her so hot she could no longer stand it. She rolled away from her sister, sucked her lips in, and slipped a hand down the front of her shorts: She gasped when her middle finger grazed the swollen bud of her clitoris. She rubbed it, and lightning bolts of sensation streaked through her body. A cry bubbled up in her throat, but she leaned over and clamped her teeth on her pillow, stifling it.

She moved down the center of her fold, her nectar burning her fingertips like lava. She slid her middle finger in, and jerked. God, she was close, so, so, so close. She closed her legs against her hand and slowly but firmly pushed deeper into herself while rubbing her nub in a tight, rough circular motion with her thumb. The freight train rolled forward and tipped down the hill. It was coming, coming, oh, God, coming, gathering speed, going faster, faster, almost there...she bit down as it collided with her body. Her back arched and her knees bent, her toes curled, her muscles spasmed.

For a long time she lay on her side, her hand still clamped between her thighs. The thing about being horny, Lynn had found, is that it clouds your mind. When her brain was fogged with desire, she found the idea of Lucy watching her, or at least knowing what she was doing, extremely hot. But now, with a clear head, she found it mortifying. She dearly hoped that Lucy didn't look up from her book, and that she, Lynn, was as quiet and sly as she thought she was.

Finally, she forced herself to turn over.

If Lucy knew, she showed no sign.

Already, Lynn could feel arousal pooling deep in her core.

Damn it.

She needed to be fucked.