Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The Ballad of Lincoln the Lewd	By : Mr-Dusk Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 16509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House. This fic is made for non-profit.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Lincoln Loud awoke to a familiar feeling, as it was every day he awoke from bed after his tryst with the succubus.

“Carol, must we really do this every morning?”

“But a succubus can only sustain themselves on vitality, my lord, and I’ve grown especially fond of yours.” She muttered while sucking his manhood.

Lincoln groaned, “Well, at least this, ah… feels good.”

Carol giggled, “All I want is to please you with my body, my lord, and in return all I want is you as my sustenance.”

She continued playing with Lincoln’s stiff, her tongue lapping up around his sides with each downward motion.

Lincoln sighed, “Oh, what the hell, it’s a wonderful way to start a morning.”

Carol decided to bring out her breasts and caressed Lincoln’s length upon them, her master deserved some fun while she fed.

“Urk… ah, oh Carol… Oh, sweetness…” Lincoln moaned.

Carol turned her lips around, titillating the sensitive spots beneath Lincoln’s tip, she mumbled while inside him, savoring his flavor oh so much.

Lincoln reached down with his hand and grasped Carol’s hair firmly, “Go down there deep Carol, I want it all in!”

Like a naughty thing, Carol proceeded to dig deeper, for breath was no concern for a demon, and she gladly let Lincoln into her where it would choke other girls, tenderly letting her tongue curl around his length.

Lincoln gave deep breaths, holding back his seed so that he can sustain his own feeling of pleasure.

Carol eagerly sucked on the pre cum that trickled slowly outwards, she moaned at the deliciousness of her master’s fluids, though it was but an appetizer building up for the main course.

Lincoln felt ready to feed his load into her, “Carol! Oh, Carol, I’m ready to cum!”

Upon giving the signal of approval, Lincoln released his sperm down Carol’s throat. He held a firm grip on Carol, making sure that no drop escaped her.

Making sure to gulp down every drop, Carol licked all about her face with her prehensile tongue to make sure she missed no drop, then gulped a few times to take in the feast Lincoln gave to her.

“I hope you’re up for lunch later, Master Linky…” she said playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, okay Carol, you know the drill.” Lincoln pulled out the front hem of his pants, with Carol shrinking down to miniature size and sitting on his sword.

Carol smiled and looked up at Lincoln, “I’ll be sure to keep you happy all day, master!”

“Just keep it quiet down there, all right?”

After putting on his uniform he began his usual rounds around Elem, passing by the shops and the marketplace, mostly keeping an eye out for anybody that may feel bold enough to start a ruckus.

So far, nothing exciting – which was good for him, since Lincoln wouldn’t know how to fight for beans if something violent happened.

“Sir Lincoln! Sir Lincoln, Wait!”

Lincoln turned around to see a tall, older peasant man approach him, “Please wait, good sir!”

He stopped short of Lincoln, briefly catching his breath, “Please, sir, you must help me!”

Lincoln gestured for him to calm down, “Slow down there, mister. Now, what seems to be the problem?”

“Sir Lincoln, I believe you know my daughter, Ginger, the town baker?”

“Of course, she’s really nice.” Lincoln replied, his mind briefly wandering to thoughts of her big grain sacks.

“Well, I think something may be terribly wrong, she didn’t come home last night.”

Hearing that gave Lincoln cause for concern, “What do you mean? Where is she?”

Ginger’s father shook his head, “I don’t know, last I saw of her she was heading towards the storehouse to get some flour for today’s batch. But she didn’t come home, I tried to find her in her shop, but she wasn’t there either.”

Lincoln turned aside, thinking on the matter. Elem didn’t have much in the way of crime, particularly on account of Carol’s reign of terror in the preceding months, so it didn’t make any sense for there to have any hooligans about so soon. Attacks by animals and monsters were also uncommon, according to the reports, though he wouldn’t be too surprised if the mayor was keeping all of this a secret so the town wouldn’t panic again.

“Did you let the mayor know about this?” Lincoln asked.

“I did, he told me that he’s having some of his men look into it, but I don’t trust him…”

Lincoln raised his brow, “Why? Has he done something wrong?”

Mr. Keebler motioned for Lincoln to follow him to a nearby alley, then spoke in a hushed tone, “There’s been rumors, something about the mayor talking with some unsavory folk late at night. Ernest, my son and Ginger’s younger brother, said he saw the mayor one night while he was doing some late night angling, loading up a few crates and barrels onto a small raft heading downriver, accompanied by some strange-looking fellows. Now, I’m not one to put too much stock into rumors and hearsay, but the mayor ain’t exactly been the best kind of… well, mayor, to be running towns, so I’m not too surprised if he’s been up to some mischief.”

He gave a deep sigh, then looked to the ground despondently, “I… I hope it’s nothing, but something in my gut is telling me that Ginger may have stumbled into a right nasty bit of trouble. She seemed really trustful of you, so I figure I’d ask you for help, on account that you solved our little, uh… problem that’s been haunting us for months.”

Lincoln looked at the worry on his face, he was clearly worried sick about Ginger, to the point that he looked like he would tear his own hair out, and Lincoln couldn’t help but share in his anxiety, though he made sure not to make it too obvious. He couldn’t help but admit that he was attracted to her, after all, she treated him kindly when he first arrived, even if it was something of a façade, and she seemed the most invested in striking up a good relation with him, not to mention her being rather… well-endowed for a peasant girl. Perhaps this matter warranted deeper scrutiny from him, it was the least he could do.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Keebler, I’ll look into it and make sure to bring her home, safe and sound.”

Ginger’s father grabbed Lincoln’s hand and shook it vigorously, “Thank you so much, Master Lincoln, I knew I could trust you. Ginger is truly blessed to have a knight look after her.”

After bidding him goodbye for now, Lincoln turned around, making sure no one was looking, then opened up his pants, “Hey Carol, can I ask you a question real quick?”

Carol jumped up and hovered just an inch from his face, “Ask away, Master.”

“Seeing as you’re more familiar with this town than I am, could you tell me if you’ve spotted any unusual characters hereabouts?”

She grinned mischievously, “Taken a fancy with the baker girl, have we Master?”

He blushed, “I, well… It’s what a knight would do, after all…”

She burst out laughing, “Oh don’t be so modest master. As far as I am concerned, a real man shouldn’t weigh himself down on a single woman. By all means, pursue all the wenches and whores the world has to offer!” She fluttered by his nose and pecked it gently, “But I would appreciate it if you saved some room for me…”

“But of course, Carol, now please, any information at all? Anything?”

She turned around and mused through her memories for anything Lincoln would find useful, “Well, about a month after my arrival here, I was busy searching for prey when I happened upon your mayor, he looked to be up to things most foul. Out of curiosity, I peeked closer at what he was doing. He met with some men in cloaks after dark. He followed them, I followed him, they arrived at a valley where they met with several rugged mercenaries...and a few delicious ones at that."

Lincoln made a disgusted face, "Aside from that, what exactly was the mayor doing with those rogues?"

Carol shrugged, "Damned if I know, I was busy finding someone to eat! Besides, mortal affairs don't really interest me."

Lincoln groaned, "Very well, do you remember anything else? Anything that stood out?"

She bent her head down, trying hard to recall, “Well, some of the crates were covered in rags that bore this peculiar symbol on it.”

“Do you remember what it looked like?”

“Sure, it looked like some kind of dog’s head, colored black, with crossed swords just behind it, all set on a circular background that was gray. I could probably sketch it from memory.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened upon hearing that description, it was nefariously familiar. Adjusting himself, he continued with a different line of questioning, “Good to know. Last night, after our nightly, uh… feeding, you wouldn’t happen to have come across Ginger did you?”

Carol cocked her head to the side, thinking, “Well, after my dinner, I decided to go flutter about town for a little while…” Lincoln shot her a suspicious glance, “Oh, don't look at me like that, master, I didn't harm anyone like I promised – Anyway, I heard some sobbing come from the cellar of the mayor’s mansion. I didn’t bother to check it out, but I’m guessing it’s your little baker friend.”

Lincoln nodded approvingly, “Good job, Carol, we should check that cellar for Cookie, and scope out that camp you saw as well, but first, I need to pen a letter to a good friend of mine.”

With Carol in tow, Lincoln headed towards the nearby post office, where he hurriedly wrote a letter describing the details, and then he instructed Carol to sketch the insignia that she saw.

“I knew it.” He muttered triumphantly upon seeing it.

“Knew what?” Carol asked, confused.

“No time to explain, we must away to the courier!”

He approached the courier, getting ready to mount up and ride off to make his deliveries, “Excuse me, sir, wait a moment! I have message here to send as well!”

The courier picked up the rolled-up parchment from Lincoln, examined the address scribbled on the outside, and nodded to him, “Don’t worry, Sir Lincoln, it’ll just be a day’s ride from here, I can get it there no problem.”

…

Later that night, Lincoln quietly snuck about the underbrush around the mansion, carefully inspecting the ground with every inch that he approached to make sure that he wouldn’t set off a trap or some sort of alarm.

Above just several feet from the mansion, Carol had made herself invisible and kept an eye out from the air, making sure no harm befell her master.

Once Lincoln safely made it to the wall, he checked for any kind of opening that he could use.

The sound of sobbing became more distinct from the other noises of the night. Looking about, Lincoln could see that it was coming from a small little window with metal bars. He peeked inside, and there, sitting in despair with her face to her knees, was Cookie.

“Psst! Cookie, Cookie, over here! It’s me, Lincoln!” he called out, keeping his voice low so as not to attract attention. Cookie seemed too distraught to take notice.

Lincoln examined his surroundings briefly, eventually finding a small rock. He tossed it near Cookie’s feet, which managed to surprise her and get her attention.

“Who’s there?” she gasped.

“Cookie, it’s me, Lincoln, up here!” Cookie turned towards the small portal where she saw Lincoln’s face. A sense of relief washed over her and she rushed to her savior.

“Sir Lincoln! Oh thank heavens, I thought I was doomed.”

“I’m relieved to see you’re not hurt, at least.”

She grabbed the bars and turned to Lincoln, looking hopeful, “Please, Lincoln, you’ve got to help me! The mayor is plotting something treacherous!”

“You could say that again. Your father got worried about you not coming home, so I decided to do some investigating.” Lincoln tried to pull on the bars with his hands, but they were pretty solid, “Damn these bars…”

“Please, Lincoln, you need to go and find help.”

“I’m not leaving you here, Cookie, I’m going to get you out.”

“Lincoln, please!” Their faces were close now, and Lincoln could see the selfless desperation in her eyes, “Lincoln, I know you wish to save me, and I’m glad, but this is bigger than you or I. I am but a simple peasant girl, but I know that I can help protect the kingdom in this way. You have to tell someone that the mayor is plotting something dastardly.”

“But…” Lincoln felt her hand touch his.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a confident smile, “They haven’t tried to kill me yet, so they must think I know something. Please, you’ve got to stop him before then, I know you can. I believe in you.”

Hearing those words instilled a new feeling in Lincoln he had never felt before, a responsibility as his status of knighthood dictated.

“All right. I will stop the mayor and his evil plans. I will pray for your safety, Ginger.”

Lincoln thereafter crawled away into the night, with nothing else but to plan his next move.

…

Lincoln waited for a day, praying at the local chapel that Cookie was all right in the meantime.

The doors flung open and footsteps proceeded towards the front pew, where Lincoln was sitting.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Lincoln.”

“Nor have I. It’s good to see you again, Clyde.”

The two shared a mutual brofist, then got down to brass tacks, “I got your letter Lincoln, I’m glad you told me all about it.”

“Well, after I saw the emblem, I knew I would need a bit more help, and you’re the only one I trust.”

Clyde was a member of the Inquisition, considered a significant honor for most citizens of the Kingdom, granting him a level of authority lesser men would dream of. Unlike most of his contemporaries, who had a penchant to become firestarters if any of the people they accused so much as cough, Clyde was one of those rare few agents who were that useful combination of patient, level-headed and meticulous enough to follow due procedure and finish an investigation with relatively clean hands and fewer ashes.

The emblem that Lincoln had shown Clyde was the icon of the Black Hounds, a ruthless band of mercenaries that’s been stirring up trouble all over the Kingdom. Their leader was a barbarous scoundrel by the name of Vault, who was plotting to overthrow the royal family of Onivas and seize the throne for himself.

Inquisitors like Clyde had spent the past year hunting him down, but to no avail. In the meantime, outposts of the Black Hounds cropped up in the largely uncharted tracts of the Kingdom, building up their stockpile and preparing for war.

“So you think the mayor is an accomplice in the Black Hounds’ scheme?” Clyde asked.

“Most definitely, and I’d say he’s been in league with them for months, keeping it a secret while helping them get funds and materiel.”

Clyde glanced towards him deviously, “Care for a quick scouting mission, Clincoln?”

“You read my thoughts, McLoud.”

…

Following the path through the wilderness under the cover of night, carrying a small lantern to guide their way, Lincoln and Clyde followed the map that Carol made for them where the Black Hounds’ hidden camp was.

“Reminds me of the times we’d sneak through old man Grouse’s corn farm.”

Lincoln groaned at the memory, “I remember his ferocious dogs all too well…”

“They weren’t so bad; their bark was all they got going for them.”

“That’s not how I remembered it…”

Crouching in front of some bushes, the two carefully pulled down a bush, and eyed their prize.

“Dim the lights, Clyde.”

Clyde closed the lid of the lantern so that they wouldn’t be so easily spotted.

Gazing down into the gorge beneath them, splayed haphazardly about the ground, was the war camp of the Black Hounds. Knaves and brutes of every stripe busied themselves with their tasks and personal endeavors, and the whole area reeked from the lack of decent sanitation.

Clyde pulled out his spyglass to take a better look. He turned towards a large crate that two men were carrying, draped with burlap that bore the symbol that Carol had shown Lincoln.

“I wouldn’t have believed it unless I saw it with my own eyes, but now I’m sure this is definitely one of Vault’s secret lairs.”

Lincoln continued scanning the general area, until he spotted someone familiar – the mayor.

“Clyde, could you lend me that for a moment?”

With the spyglass he looked towards a slightly larger and more ornate-looking tent, seeing the fat mayor walking towards it, where he met with a gruff-looking man, wearing an odd and garish patchwork of clothes – the leader of this troop, Lincoln reckoned, considering that his outfit must have been stitched together from the best pieces he and his warband acquired via plundering.

The mayor talked in a chummy manner towards the leader, indicating beyond a doubt that they were partners in business and in crime.

“We’ll need to move in closer, Lincoln, and take some kind of physical evidence so I can convince my superiors.”

Lincoln nodded, and they moved in a bit closer. They stayed behind some more underbrush waiting until the men fell asleep. Once their merry-making died down and a few braziers were extinguished, the duo carefully traipsed across the sleeping cutthroats lying down on crude mats.

As they moved closer towards the large tent, Clyde suddenly felt something firm grab unto his leg.

“Clyde!” Lincoln gasped in a hush. His friend’s leg had been accosted by a sleeper, though thankfully it seemed he was just dreaming of holding on to a nice lady instead of being awake and aware that he had grasped an intruder.

“It’s okay, Lincoln, he isn’t lucid!”

They both sighed in relief, but Clyde needed to break free. He tried yanking himself gently, but this was proving harder than he imagined.

“Come on, you heathen, let go of my boot…” With one last, sturdy tug, Clyde broke free, accidentally rolled over another individual, rather harshly at that.

“Eh, what?” he was about to stir awake when Lincoln moved in and gently hummed a soft lullaby and gingerly pulled his eyelids down.

Wasting no time they hurried towards the leader’s tent before anyone else thought about waking up and having a look around.

Sneaking with a cat’s grace, they arrived and looked inside the tent, seeing the troop leader lying down on a sleeping bag on the carpeted floor. Lincoln turned towards a chest that was half open, carefully rummaging its contents. Clyde went to the nearby table, perusing some documents strewn about.

“Jackpot,” Clyde announced triumphantly, plucking a small scrap of paper that bore a wax seal imprinted with the emblem of the Black Hound. Vault may be a ruthless firebrand, but if there was one flaw to him that could tip the scales in his enemies’ favor, it was that he could also be a competent businessman. A lifetime of mercenary work can impart a good sense of knowing how to manage one’s money, and Vault is well-known to be in the habit of having his bookkeepers maintain receipts of their transactions.

Having previously worked with Onivas prior to his attempts at insurrection, nearly everyone who is anyone is familiar with his seal.

“Nice find, Clyde,” Lincoln responded with approval, “What have we here?”

Lincoln pulled out a golden chalice from the chest. Clyde recognized it as an artifact of his monastery, recently pilfered when burglars under Vault’s employ stole it and murdered the monk tasked with protecting it.

“That will definitely sway them to our cause. I think this should be enough evidence to suit our needs. We should return to Elem and plan our next step.”

…

The next night, Lincoln was sitting under a window of the mayor’s mansion, waiting for his cue.

Carol appeared from thin air next to him, “Are you sure you will be all right, Master?”

“Trust me Carol, I am a man with a plan.” He replied confidently, “You just wait nearby and keep abreast of any troubles”.

Carol snickered about him saying “breast” before nodding in confirmation and spiriting away for the moment.

A minute later, he saw a large column of smoke emerge from a reddish light at the far end of town.

“Fire! FIRE!” came the sound of Mr. Keebler, having set one of the town’s barns on fire (but not before removing the vital supplies stored inside), with assistance from some neighbors he had convinced to help him and Sir Lincoln.

A group of men and the mayor came rushing out of the building to assess the situation, allowing Lincoln to sneak in while they were busy with the fire. Softly like a cat, he made his way through the hallways and state rooms, reaching a door in the rear that lead into the cellar.

“Ginger, where are you?” he whispered to nowhere in particular, eventually coming upon a small, iron-barred cell by the far end.

“Ginger, I’m here, I’ve come to save you!” he checked to see her, sitting down and head bent, “Ginger?”

Fearing for the worst, he checked the entrance to see that it was unlocked, and nearby on a table was a mortar, pestle, and various herbs and reagents he has never seen before strewn nearby.

He grabbed Cookie by the shoulders, calmly shaking her to wakefulness. She stirred from her slumber, Lincoln relieved to realize that she wasn’t dead.

“Come, Cookie, we must leave this place ‘afore the mayor returns.”

Ginger looked up from her position, her eyes looking strangely… relaxed and a bit spaced-out, and her lips curling into a childish smile.

“Oh… Sir Lincoln… there you are…”

Lincoln looked a bit terrified, worried that perhaps they had done something to her before he arrived, “What happened? What did they do to you?”

She started giggling uncontrollably, then reached forward and kissed Lincoln, prodding his lips with her tongue.

Lincoln could not believe what was going on, she pried Ginger off his face, “Land’s sakes, woman, what is the matter with you?”

She remained seemingly bemused, “Oh, nothing much, just a little… dizzy in the head, I think they gave me some… some kind o-of… medicine. But enough ‘bout me… I want to talk about you…”

She reached forward and tackled Lincoln into the floor, her eyes glazed with lust. Lincoln was flustered, and a bit irritated by this setback, “Cookie, please, we have to escape!”

“Escape?” her eyes leered at him, “There is no escape, my darling knight. Besides, how could you think of escape, and leave the needs of a fair lady like me unfulfilled?”

“What are you talking about?”

As if to answer his question, Cookie ripped open the top of her dress, and her bare breasts bounced a mere inch from his face. His eyes grew wide as blood filled his cheeks, and the tip of his sword protruding through his trousers.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed…” she licked her lips seductively, while her hands cusped her breasts up and together, “I saw you looking at my girls when you first came here. I’m not that stupid.”

She let the nipple of her right one gently flick his nose, and Lincoln could swear he leaked just a bit from having it come to contact him.

“I never tell this to anyone, even my own family, but…” she giggled softly, “…I love being watched by all the males about the town, all their attention, their leering gazes, it’s such a rush!”

She pulled back and turned away from him, and suddenly began sobbing, though Lincoln couldn’t be sure if she was being sincere or if she was toying with him in her addled state.

“When I first met you, I… I… I couldn’t help but become smitten, and when you vanquished that terrible demoness, I had become ever more so, brave as you are to deal with our plight without knowing.”

Then she turned her around to face Lincoln, her face a strange combination of longing, desperation and excitement, “Please, Sir Lincoln. I need you help…”

Lincoln wasn’t sure what to do, but he felt unusually calm about this situation. The fact that the mayor and his cronies may return at any minute didn’t cross his mind. Instead, he felt compelled to aid the obviously addled peasant girl pleading sensually to him.

“W-what do you want me to do?” he asked, though inwardly he had an inkling of what to expect.

“Milk me, Lincoln…”

His sword below the belt seemed to grow tighter as a faint steam seemed to escape from his ears and nostrils. He had never dreamed, in this lifetime or another, that he could touch the bosom of a woman that wasn’t his mother.

“Every day, I pleasure myself to sleep… it’s been said that if you do it too often, a woman’s breasts become swollen with mother’s milk. I didn’t believe it myself, but after a while my breasts had become sensitive and, well, jiggly.”

Lincoln could vouch for that.

“Sir Lincoln, I beg you, relieve my tits of this pain that’s been aching them for so long. Milk me Lincoln, milk me…”

Hesitant, but more eager nonetheless, Lincoln moved in, silently obliging to Cookie’s request. He approached Cookie, who had bent down on all fours, like a cow in a barn. He crouched down and bent forward on her back, and then with both hands, cusped her breasts. They were remarkably soft in his hands, almost like putty. He gently massages them in his hands, feeling his stiff grow inches with every second spent doing it.

Once he was done fondling them, he encircled his fingers around the area of her nipples, and with just a bit of a squeeze, he drew out a spurt of mother’s milk from her teats. The feeling of the lactation on his fingers sent a thrilled shiver down his spine.

Cookie moaned as he continued squeezing them, his grip becoming tighter in order to spill out every last drop that he could.

“Ah… Ah… Finally, my teats feel so lighter now…” she sighed in relief, “Thank you, Sir Lincoln…”

Lincoln let go of Cookie, letting her fall on her four limbs to catch her breath. He brought his hands to his face, and looked with childish glee at Cookie’s fluids drenched on his digits.

“Oh, oh no, what have I done?” she suddenly blurted out, before she broke out into tears.

“Huh? What, Ginger, are you okay?” this was certainly an abrupt change of pace.

“I… I… Oh, Sir Lincoln! They drugged me thinking I was a spy, and then they ran outside… and then you, and…” she began to bawl her eyes out.

“Ginger, what’s wrong?” he slowly approached her, hands outstretched.

“Go away!” she exclaimed, “I’m a perverted freak! I don’t deserve to be with you!”

“Ginger, calm down! It’s okay…” he moved closer towards her and hugged her tightly so as to calm her.

“Now isn’t this an awkward little scene?” Lincoln and Ginger suddenly turned around to see the mayor gazing upon them in such a defenseless state.

“I run out to deal with a fire and come back to find a knight playing sordid with a peasant girl, how wretched.” He said sinisterly as he pulled a dagger from his cloak.

“But I’m afraid that your time is at an end!” the mayor lunged with his weapon, going for the kill.

Lincoln cursed his luck that he didn’t bring his sword with him, having figured that he would be in and out lickety-split, if by some miracle he got out of this alive, he’d make sure to pack some means of defending himself later on.

He didn’t have to hope long for a miracle, when he saw a familiar tail wrap itself around the mayor’s neck.

“Carol!”

Lincoln was more than a little relieved of seeing his pet succubus come to his rescue, although Ginger was more surprised and frightened.

Carol walked up behind her master’s aspiring killer, placing her head just to his side as she glanced towards him menacingly, “Sorry, good sir, but this is what you get for trying to harm my master.”

Her tail wrapped tightly around him, and a grisly snap signaled that the traitorous mayor had met his well-deserved end.

…

A few days later, a caravan of troops and caged wagons from the Inquisition arrived. Clyde had managed to muster some men and ambushed the Black Hounds’ outpost, killing many of the mercenaries and capturing several others for interrogation.

Lincoln was hailed once more as a hero, for helping to expose part of a conspiracy against the crown. A great celebration was held for a whole day, commemorating the town’s hero and the inauguration of Mr. Keebler as the new mayor of Elem.

As for Ginger, however, Lincoln knew he couldn’t keep it much of a secret any longer, and told her the truth of what happened during his first encounter with Carol. It seemed that she must have been outraged at the revelation as she was at a loss for words, and when Lincoln returned to his lodgings, he hadn’t heard a peep from her for hours.

He sighed as he packed his things into his travel bag. His successes in Elem had drawn the attention of certain important individuals, and they decided that now was a good time as any to put his skills up to a more rigorous task.

As he finished, there was a knock on the door. He walked up to the door and opened to see Ginger standing there.

“Ginger, what are you doing here?”

“I… well, I came to see you one last time, Lincoln. I heard from father that you were going to leave, and I wanted to be with you before you left.”

Lincoln seemed puzzled, “But I thought you didn’t want to see me again, or maybe rat me out to the townsfolk that I’ve been gallivanting with, uh, Carol.”

Ginger shook her head, “It’s no trouble at all. In all honesty, I was a little stunned, maybe even modestly repulsed, when you told me everything. But after giving myself time to think and go it over, I’ve realized that I am no better.”

Lincoln raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“When the mayor had me drugged to find out if I was some kind of spy, and when you came to rescue me, I suppose I was a little… horrified that you saw what I really thought of you.”

Lincoln remembered, in retrospect that was the most awkward thing to happen in his life so far, and he hoped that if he was ever with another woman who wanted his pants down, it would be in a more appropriate place and time.

“I thought you would think me as a disgraceful whore. But, knowing what I do now, I guess we’re both not as clean as we like to be?” she said with an awkward chuckle.

“I guess not…” Lincoln replied sheepishly.

“So, if you and your… companion don’t mind, may I…” Cookie lifted her dress, showing her lack of underwear as Lincoln gazed at her bare snatch, “Make love with you before you go?”

Lincoln tensed up and his face flushed red, but it was Cookie that first took notice of the snake slithering under his trousers.

“Oh… oh my, Lincoln, you look so hard…”

Lincoln turned his head down to his pants, seeing his manhood jut forward like a lance finding purchase through cloth. Cookie was soon upon his pants, trying her hardest to undo them.

“C-Cookie, what in blazes are you doing?” he exclaimed.

“Please, sir Lincoln, I’ve made you so excited, you’re penis is jutting out, it must be chafing in there! Please, allow me…”

“A-All right…” he responded.

Lincoln stood frozen as Ginger managed to get his pants undone, watching as she admired his splendor.

“By the gods, I have always dreamed of this moment…” she gently caressed it with one hand, while the other touched and tickled his balls.

“Oh my… ah… Ginger, do you like what you see?”

“Like it?” she raised the stiffness up and kissed his balls, “I have been longing for it for several days now.” Then she proceeded to lick them, savoring his man flesh.

“Ah… Cookie, uh…” his tip squeezed out some pre the trickled to the base of the point.

Ginger let her tongue run from the bottom, working her way to the top and cleaning the little liquid that made its way out.

“Oh… Cookie, you’re a natural at this.” He said lovingly.

“Thank you, Lincoln,” she replied, feeling flattered.

She continued running about his whole member, letting herself go and being the woman she wanted to be, with the man she had come to love.

Then she took the knight’s manhood wholly into her mouth, pulling it in and then out, sucking ‘pon his sword of down south.

After that touch of foreplay, Lincoln spied the bed. He turned to Cookie, who just finished on his head.

“Let’s finish this on the bed.”

Lincoln laid down on the bed first, his back to the sheets. Then Ginger set herself on top of him, straddled and balanced on her feet.

“Are you sure about this, Lincoln? A noble knight like you hardly deserves a simple peasant wench like me.”

Lincoln shook his head, “What’s wrong with that? We’re both already a little dirty.”

She lifted herself up by a few feet, with some adjustment she plunged her flower. Gasping in surprise, she slowed down to savor this special hour.

“Lincoln… Lincoln…” she moaned, her heart full of lust.

“Ginger… Ginger…” Lincoln responded, the echo of her name gave him a feeling of butterflies churning his stomach.

Ginger bent forward, using one hand to undo her top, letting her boobs swing over his face like a pair of meaty, sultry pendulums.

“Lincoln, I wasn’t kidding when I said that my teats needed milking.” Lincoln continued to stare at the hypnotic movement of her knockers, “You weren’t able to savor them earlier, but now, I want you to enjoy my milk.”

Lincoln grinned mischievously, “I love my Cookies with Milk.”

Ginger giggled, “Oh, you know how to jest, Lincoln.”

He reached up and plucked one of her nipples in his mouth, and began to sup on her mother’s milk, “Oh yeah… Lincoln, feed on me… Oooh…”

Lincoln’s pelvic movements continued to find purchase into Cookie, while holding on to her soft tush. He moaned louder and in a rhythm to their soft and hard flesh rubbing against in other.

“Harder… deeper… ahh… oohh…”

Lincoln continued to drink the content of her teats, but it wasn’t enough. He felt the sexual urges of manhood demanding more, and he was more than willing to oblige. With one hand free, he grabbed Cookie’s other boob and brought both nipples into his mouth, sucking on them with great vigor!

“Ah! Eek! Ow… Lincoln, you’re so rough! I love it!”

He continued to suckle and feed upon her fluids, they tasted so sweet, so deliciously sweet. He could eat her cookies with a glass of her milk.

“Fuck me, Lincoln! Fuck me!” she spoke with as loud as she could afford to without letting the neighbors hear it.

He continued to dig into her with his manly drill, “Uh… Ugh… Ahh…”

“Lincoln, I’m going to cum, please, cum with me!”

Lincoln grunted an affirmative as his mouth was still occupied by her two milk bags.

Lincoln slowed his pace, jacking into her for three more times. His whole body shivered, and then, with a strong push into her pussy, he released his load into her.

“Aaagh!” she cried out, feeling his semen fill her cup, her bud closed around his shaft, like lips sucking upon holy nectar and refusing to let it go. Lincoln tried to drink up the inundation of milk from her breasts, but even he was forces to let go when it nearly overloaded his mouth.

But all the effort had taken their toll, Cookie released Lincoln’s now flaccid cock, which slid off and out of the hole, now filled with their love juices mixed together.

Lincoln and Ginger heaved heavy breaths, like air had been squeezed from their bodies.

“T-Thank you… Sir Lincoln…” Ginger, completely spent and satisfied, gave way and fell on top of Lincoln, with her ample, pillow-like bosom smothering him in the face.

“Uh… um… Cookie?” No budge, she was out like a doused lamp.

…

A few days later, the day for Lincoln to ride out had come.

The townsfolk gave Lincoln one of their best, healthiest horses from the stable for him to ride on, as a token of gratitude for all that he had done for Elem.

Mr. Keebler, the town’s new mayor, walked towards Lincoln with his family.

“Are you sure we cannot convince you to stay with us, Sir Lincoln?”

Much as he’d want to, his knightly duties required him elsewhere at the moment.

“Your hospitality has been very generous, kind sir. Alas, as a knight I am oathbound to go where my lords demand of me.”

“We will certainly miss your company, Sir Knight, but it’s not in our power to keep you all to ourselves. Thank you again for everything you’ve done, just know that if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here in Elem.”

He nodded respectfully towards him, “I’ll keep that close to mind, Sir, perhaps one day I can return the favor.”

Ginger approached him, “Wait, Lincoln, before you leave, I would like you to have this.” She presented him with a small bundle, “It’s some goods I baked in case you get hungry on the road, as well as a little ‘token’ of my thanks that I must request you view in private.”

Lincoln raised a brow, “Oh, well, certainly, my dear, I look forward to it.”

Ginger leaned in closer, and gave him a wink and a smile, “I’m sure you will be delighted.”

…

After some miles out on the open road, Lincoln stopped to rest the horse near a creek.

He took out the bundle that Cookie had prepared for him, just as Carol emerged with that deceptively delightful smile of hers.

“Mind if I have a little snack, Master?”

“In a minute, Carol, I’d like to see what Cookie packed for me.”

Lincoln unraveled the bag, and saw several cookies, bread, and even a small cake. He pushed them aside to find what he presumed to be the token that Cookie spoke of, and boy, what a token they were.

Pink lace panties with a small, violet bow, “Probably the panties that she didn’t wear during that special night of ours.” He recalled fondly.

He held them up and gave a heavy sigh, “I think I miss her already.”

Shortly after saying those words, Carol used her magic to undo his pants. She licked her lips as she crawled towards his sword.

“I know you miss her, Master. She was a sweet girl, but it’s time for you to move on, besides, I’m still here for you, now and always.” She began stroking his cock, “Now, let me alleviate your loneliness, if that’s not too much trouble, Master?”

Lincoln smiled warmly at Carol, “Go on, Carol. My little guy is aching for more attention.”

Act 1 - END
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Ballad of Lincoln the Lewd