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Twist My Arm	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 18643 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, and I made no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: Third Time’s the Charm
It was Friday afternoon, and Lincoln was making his way to his room in typical fashion: dodging a slide-tackle from Lynn, a pie from Luan, and then Lola’s little pink roadster as it careened down the hall. He’d thought he was home free when Lori suddenly buttonholed him and pulled him into her room, closing the door behind them.
“Lincoln,” she said with that slight edge of threat that Lincoln had come to know well, “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page about tonight.”
“Um, okay.”
He’d hoped to avoid this conversation for another hour or two—or, preferably, all together. But if it couldn’t be avoided, maybe it was better just to get it out of the way now.
“Our first drive-in date was about getting to first base,” Lori said, “and our second one was about second base. So it should be obvious what tonight is going to be about.”
Lincoln didn’t speak. He just blinked, then swallowed.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m sure your creepy friend Rusty has explained it to you.”
Rusty’s not the one who seems creepy right now, Lincoln thought.
“Look, Lori,” he managed, “I know how important this is to you. But I’ve already pushed my luck with Ronnie Anne as far as it’ll go. If I try…that…tonight, getting slugged is probably one of the better ways it could end.”
Lincoln expected Lori to come back with a threat—something along the lines of “You should be scared of me, not her.” Perhaps, for emphasis, she’d seize him by the collar and pull him up onto his toes, or grab a fistful of his shirt with one hand while pulling her other hand back in a fist.
But instead, Lori did the last thing Lincoln could have expected: She smiled at him.
“You know,” Lori said, “when I told you to hold Ronnie Anne’s hand, you said she was going to slug you, but she didn’t. When I told you to make out with her, you said she was going to slug you, but she didn’t. When I told you to feel her up…you get the idea.”
Lincoln didn’t. He looked at Lori blankly, hoping she would elaborate.
“Isn’t it obvious by now that Ronnie Anne is into you?”
Lincoln blinked. “You- You think so?”
“I heard the noises she was making last time. She was liking it. She was liking you. So stop fighting it,” Lori continued, “and just let yourself be happy.”
Then her expression turned serious, and she quickly added, “But you have to do the third-base thing tonight. That’s not negotiable.”
Lincoln sighed. “Of course.”
***
During the week, Lincoln had vacillated between thinking very fondly about his last date with Ronnie Anne and worrying about his next one. But even though, in the back of his mind, he’d suspected all along that Lori would make him go to third base with Ronnie Anne, Lincoln hadn’t given much thought to what that actually would entail. He knew it involved touching a girl “down there,” but that was about it. Was there a particular way you were supposed to do it? He had heard from reliable sources that there was a hole you could push your finger into. But there was also something called the…clitimys?…that girls wanted you to do something with. He had no clue about that.
He opened his laptop and tried to find guidance on the internet. Alas, his every search produced nothing but a picture of a cartoon dog saying, “No way, buster” as it held up its paw in a “stop” gesture. How had his non-tech-savvy parents managed to put a kid-filter on his computer? He guessed that Luna or Lisa, in an act of high treason, had helped Mom and Dad install it in exchange for an extended curfew to attend a concert, or permission to bring genetically modified bacteria into the house.
He briefly thought about asking one of his older sisters—other than Lori, because yikes—for advice, but the very thought made him shudder. At best, the explanation would involve an indecipherable series of music or sports metaphors, or an unbearable stream of bad jokes. At worst, whichever sister he asked would shun him as a pervert forevermore.
Once again, Lincoln was going to have to wing it.
***
Lincoln’s anxiety over his ignorance of third-basemanship persisted all afternoon and into the evening, until Vanzilla was parked in front of the screen where the non-classic Italian horror film Vampirissimo was playing. His laughter was only half-hearted as he watched actors in excessive white makeup and obviously plastic fangs hiss at over-acting townspeople.
But then Lincoln caught a break. Because after he and Ronnie Anne finished their Cajun-spiced yakitori chicken skewers, it was Ronnie Anne who initiated the physical action, pulling Lincoln to her and kissing him with her arms around his shoulders.
Soon, Lincoln’s hands were again under Ronnie Anne’s hoodie and T-shirt, roaming the smooth skin of her bare back. Lincoln remembered the lesson he’d learned the previous Friday night and took his time getting around to Ronnie Anne’s front and up to her wonderful little boobs. And when he did get there, he felt Ronnie Anne up thoroughly, enjoying every square inch of her soft breasts, as well as her nipples as they went stiff beneath his fingertips.
Then Ronnie Anne surprised him again. She pulled Lincoln down so that they were lying sideways on the seat, below the line of the van’s windows. Then she pulled her hoodie and shirt up in the front, letting Lincoln not only touch but see her breasts in the flickering light of the movie screen.
God, they were perfect. Small and round, they looked as soft as they felt. And those little dark-brown nipples looked…delectable.
Seized by a sudden urge, Lincoln stopped looking at Ronnie Anne’s boobs and instead slid his body a foot or so down the length of the seat, putting his face at eye level with her chest. Then, gently, he started kissing her little breasts.
“Oh, Lincoln…” Ronnie Anne sighed, entwining her fingers in his hair.
Experiencing Ronnie Anne’s sweet little endowments with his mouth was every bit as good as touching them with his hands. He kissed every inch of them, and then his lips went to her right nipple and sucked it gently. Ronnie Anne’s grip on his hair tightened, and she moaned.
The feel of that hard little nipple between his lips was amazing. All he wanted to do was to suckle it, and to caress it with the tip of his tongue. Ronnie Anne moaned louder when he did that.
But then he heard Bobby whisper to Lori, “I’m not sure we should do this. It might be going too far—you know, with the kids in the back and all.”
Lincoln pulled his head up from Ronnie Anne’s chest and looked toward the front of the van. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin as one blue Lori-eye appeared in the gap between the back of the driver’s seat and the driver’s-side door, glaring at him like the Eye of Shokon from The King of the Rings.
Lincoln had no choice. He had to act now.
He moved his hands down to Ronnie Anne’s beltline and then realized that he hadn’t thought about what to do when he got to this point. Ronnie Anne was wearing her usual cuffed blue shorts, so what was the best way to her…thing? Should he slide his hand down the front of her shorts, or up one leg? Would there be room for his hand either way? It would be embarrassing—and kill the mood—if his hand got stuck in there, his wrist pinned by her waistband or the cuff of her pant leg. Alternatively, he could just unbutton her shorts, but that seemed like the boldest choice of all.
As he wrestled with these questions, Lincoln’s hands continued to make periodic excursions down to Ronnie Anne’s waist and then back up to caress her back and chest. And all the while, Ronnie Anne grew more and more fervent in kissing and touching him.
And then her hand grazed over the front of Lincoln’s jeans, right over where they bulged from his erection, and Lincoln almost passed out. For Ronnie Anne to touch him like that felt beyond amazing.
Then he heard Lori whisper, “Don’t worry, they’re doing it too.”
“Really?” Bobby blurted. Then he lowered his voice, but Lincoln could still hear him say, “Well, uh, okay,” his tone changing from doubtful to eager in the space of those three words.
Apparently, it was only Lincoln who was distracted by this dialogue, because Ronnie Anne didn’t stop what she was doing. Her hand just kept running over his bulging crotch, then going down his leg or up and across his stomach and coming right back for another pass over his groin. Lincoln was so blown away that it took him several seconds to realize that he had grabbed a handful of Ronnie Anne’s denim-covered ass and was squeezing it every time she caressed his member through his jeans.
Now, it was not the fear of Lori but the combination of Ronnie Anne’s boldness and Lincoln’s own horniness that galvanized the boy into action. No longer hesitant, he unbuttoned Ronnie Anne’s shorts, then reached his hand down them.
His objective wasn’t hard to find. Heat positively radiated from between Ronnie Anne’s thighs, and when he touched her underwear there, it was soaking wet.
Lincoln didn’t even give conscious thought to what he was going to do next. As soon as his fingertips found the place where Ronnie Anne’s panties ended and her bare left thigh began, they pulled the crotch of her undies to one side and began exploring the so-very-wet, so-very-hot flesh beneath.
“Unnnnhhhh,” Ronnie Anne whimpered in his ear.
He felt everywhere between Ronnie Anne’s thighs, but the most interesting place by far was between the two folds of skin in the center. Down near the bottom of that gap was a little depression that, when he pressed his fingertip against it, opened into an entrance. Ronnie Anne gasped and spread her thighs wider.
This had to be the little hole that he’d heard about. It was like he’d found a very important clue in what had up to that point been a total mystery. So he had to follow up on it.
He pushed his finger in farther, making Ronnie Anne moan in his ear. What was more, she unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand down the front of them and into his tighty-whities to find his erection. Now it was Lincoln’s turn to moan as Ronnie Anne’s fingers thoroughly explored every inch of his cocklength.
This was blowing Lincoln’s mind. A few weeks ago, he’d thought it would years before he did something like this with a girl. And he’d certainly never expected that girl to be Ronnie Anne, his complicated feelings for whom he’d put away on a shelf in the back of his mind many months ago, after she moved away.
Cautiously, Lincoln pushed his finger farther and farther into Ronnie Anne until it was all the way in. Then, using what little knowledge he had, he started moving it in and out of her.
“Yes,” she panted in his ear. “Yes…don’t stop…”
Lincoln was not at all inclined to stop. Especially not when Ronnie Anne’s hand was now inside his pants and had slipped beneath the waistband of his jockeys to massage his hard member. She might not have had Lincoln’s level of experience in touching that part of him, but the fact that it was Ronnie Anne’s hand and not his own made it amazingly pleasurable nonetheless.
“Oh, Bobby…” he heard Lori moan. It didn’t bother him, though; he was way too into what he was doing to be weirded out by his sister’s pleasure-noises.
Later, Lincoln wouldn’t even be able to decide which he had liked better: touching Ronnie Anne, or Ronnie Anne touching him. Right now, though, he wasn’t capable of even that level of thought. He just wanted Ronnie Anne to keep caressing his hardness, and he wanted to keep experiencing the fascinating heat and wetness inside her.
“Oh, Bobby,” Lori moaned, even louder than before. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh YES!”
Lincoln and Ronnie Anne were both so startled that they jerked their hands away from each other and snapped their heads sideways to look toward the front seat. Lincoln couldn’t see everything (for which he was grateful), but he could see that Lori was lying sideways on the driver’s seat with her head against the door, and he could hear her panting for breath.
“Oooooh, Bobby,” Lori moaned, albeit much more softly this time. “You really know…what you’re doing…”
Lincoln suddenly found himself wishing that he could have made Ronnie Anne say something like that.
Just then, Ronnie Anne took hold of his face, turned it to hers, and kissed him. Then she murmured in his ear.
“The credits are rolling.”
Lincoln glanced at the screen and saw that Ronnie Anne was indeed correct. He quickly zipped and buttoned his fly as Ronnie Anne did the same with hers.
Then, before either of them could speak again, Lori threw the van into gear, and they were on their way home.
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Twist My Arm