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Love Is In The Air	By : LordKuyohashi Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 18572 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, or any related characters, and neither accept nor receive any monetary or compensatory reward for this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
The sun sat high over Springfield, and the air was heavy and sickly sweet once more. The FEMA site hastily constructed on the hilly ridge overlooking the town buzzed with activity as agents in hazmat suits measured soil and water samples, each one damning that their protective gear only served to magnify the stifling heat of the summer sun.
In the makeshift cabin that was operation command, Director Jordan Kowalski stared at his laptop in enraptured fascination, lines of data and reams of numbers scrolling by as graphs fluctuated and danced. A woman sat across from him, sipping a cup of coffee and enjoying the cool, conditioned air of the cabin.
“This can’t be right, Margot. It’s been a month, you’re telling me that the chemical vapour hasn’t dissipated in all that time??.”
Margot Jeng adjusted her wireframe glasses and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Director. We didn’t take into account that Springfield is located in the shadow of a fold range of mountains. Locals call them the Murderhorn. I guess they think they’re clever. The range traps the air currents over the town, so the chemical - we’ve taken to calling it the Bloom, after the somewhat florid odour - the Bloom is stuck in a cycle of passing into the town, getting caught in the mountain’s shadow, condensing into cloud cover, coming down as rain, then aspirating back into the wind current. The town is essentially stuck in a seemingly endless loop of being poisoned by the Bloom, at least until the concentration is diluted enough that it becomes inert, but that could take…” she calculated in her head quickly, “at least two years.”
“I see. But how many people will be left in Springfield at the end of those two years? You said it was poisoning them?”
“Non-lethally, sir. Dispersed as it is on the air, it’s…well, it’s like alcohol. It diminishes inhibitions and increases libido. We’ve only started drone sweeps of the town, but it seems as if they’ve adapted by…um…wearing less clothing, and…copulating. A lot. We won’t know for certain just how extensive the damage is until we get boots into the town proper.”
Kowalski glared at Jeng with his steely grey eyes. “We will not be inserting agents into Springfield, Doctor.”
Margot blinked in disbelief. “Director, we’ve got 50,720 people in that town who are inhaling a powerful psychoactive toxin with every breath they take, and they’ve been breathing it for a month. We have no idea what the long-term effects of the Bloom are, it could lead to cancer or birth defects; then there’s the environmental cost - we still don’t know what this will do to the soil or water table. We have to warn the townspeople - the fact that we’ve sat on this for a month is nothing short of a gross breach of the public trust!”
Kowalski leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “I don’t disagree with you, Doctor Jeng. These are the exact same arguments I made to the Administrator. But our orders are to observe, not to interact, and certainly not to alert the locals. FEMA has a history with Springfield. Some years ago, our then-Director, a man named Cargill, had the amazingly ill-considered idea to contain a simple trichinosis outbreak with a massive plexiglass dome and a nuclear device.”
“Dear god…what happened to him?”
“He was found, not far from where our camp is currently located, with his head caved in by a rock. His mad attempt to eradicate an American city just because of some pig manure was exposed, and FEMA was sent packing with its tail between its legs. We are not popular people in these parts, Margot, and we will find scant cooperation from the locals. So for now, we watch, we study, and if possible, we work on a neutralizer.”
Kowalski rose from his seat, stretching his back out, arms above his head.
“And where are we on that, by the way?”
Doctor Jeng frowned with a sigh, “It’s not been promising. We’ve found at least two solutions that will negate the Bloom’s effects. They’re also just a hair less pleasant than the HMTF from which the Bloom was made. We can’t solve this problem with a more lethal solution.”
The Director nodded, staring out the secured window overlooking the town sprawling out below.
“Keep at it. We can’t let this town descend into bacchanalian madness just because of some embalming fluid and caramel syrup.”
Jeng fidgeted with her pen, as the Director continued. “Double the drone sweeps and keep me apprised of any changes in the locals. “
Doctor Jeng had only just put her hand on the door to leave, when the Director called after her one last time.
“And Margot, make sure they don’t notice us.”

“Hey, am I crazy or are there more robots buzzing around town than there used to be?”
Ling Bouvier was sitting in the doorframe of her cousins’ old treehouse, legs dangling down lazily, as a drone flitted over the houses across the street before listlessly flying off out of sight.
“You’re not even listening to me, are you Ling?” Maggie was sitting in the corner, looking out the window at the sparse clouds sluggishly drifting by, a soft wind carrying the scent of scorched fruit on it. She sighed, a numbing sweetness filling her lungs, a distant tingle running down her body.
“No, no, I am, I am…something about your folks, right?”
“Omigawd, Ling, I’m Homer Simpson’s kid, how am I the smart and attentive one here?”
Ling stood up, her brows knitted in defensive anger. “Hey, cut me some slack here, Mags; you’re not the one who drank themselves into a coma and fell asleep in front of your fridge!”
Maggie’s eyes went wide; she tried to defend herself, but stopped halfway through the thought and with another deep sigh, nodded agreeingly. “Right, I’m sorry. We both overdid it last night. I’m not exactly scoring a million on the brain thing right now, either. Okay, so I was telling you how I heard my folks really going at it last night. Like, screaming, bedsprings, the whole thing, it was such a trauma.”
Ling wrinkled her nose as she sat back down, shuddering in disgust. “Gah, Mags, why would you tell me that?”
“What I said, back when I thought you were listening, was I asked if they had kept you up like they did me. You were in the house with them when they were smashing the bed frame against the wall, you didn’t hear anything?”
“Thank god, no.”
Maggie smiled, “Oh right. Silly me. You ‘draaaaaaaaank the yoooooooo-niiiiii-cuuuummmmmmm!’ How could I forget?”
“I did not say it like that.”
“Top of your lungs, bitch. I think I have the video of it.” Maggie pulled out her phone, and swiped to the video folder. Ling scrambled to her cousin’s side, reaching for her hand.
“Mags, no, come on! You didn’t!”
Biting her lip, Maggie showed Ling the video from the night before: Ling, Maggie and their mothers Marge and Selma, seated at the Simpson breakfast table, bottles of booze lining the counter, save for one held in a drunken death grip by a clearly intoxicated Ling.
“Hey, hey!” Video-Ling slurred as she waved the dark glass bottle around, “check this shit!”
She put the bottle to her lips, threw her head back, and chugged as much as she could. For a solid thirty seconds, she drained as much booze as she could, before she dropped her arm, wiped her chin, and pumped her fist like a champion; “I draaaaaaaaank the yooooooo-niiiiiii-cuuuummmmmm!” she sang in a faltering off-key, before letting out a reverberating belch then folding into a fit of hysterical giggles.
“Shit. Well that’s not fair, I don’t have any video of you being a drunk idiot.”
“Nah nah, cuz, I got you.” With a swipe of her finger, Maggie played a video of herself drunkenly dancing in the living room to music only she could hear, when the family dog joined her, jumping up onto Maggie and sending her crashing onto her butt.
The cousins sat in the treehouse, laughing at their own drunken antics, when the distant slam of a screen door caught their attention. Maggie ignored the commotion outside, but Ling, her curiosity piqued, moved back to the doorframe, peeking out to see Todd Flanders dragging a push mower out of the garden shed in the yard next door, wearing only a loose-fitting pair of shorts.
Ling watched as the lithe young man pushed the mower along the yard, the sun painting his tight, bare skin with a thin sheen of sweat that glistened in the noonday heat. Her eyes skimmed over his taut abs and rippling muscles as he navigated the verdant expanse of the Flanders’ backyard, her nostrils flaring as she caught sight of his bubble butt formed almost perfectly by his skin tight shorts. When he turned around and showed off his bulging cock cupped lovingly by his shorts, she bit into her lip almost hard enough to draw blood, sighing wistfully at the sight of the beautiful young man below.
She wasn’t even aware of when her hand pressed against the quivering mound of her sex, rubbing through the crotch of her yoga pants with the heel of her hand. All she felt was the slow build up within herself as she imagined the hot, glistening skin of the youth outside looming over her, filling her with his girth, rutting against her until they both glowed with sweat. Her fingers pressed into her secret place, digging the fabric of her pants into her growing moisture, the passionate scene playing out in her mind repeating on an infinite loop as she panted softly, her eyes clouding with lust.
Maggie heard a small hiccuping gasp coming up from her cousin, and looked up from her phone, intrigued.
“Ling?”
Ling was unresponsive. She was no longer on Planted Earth, instead embedded deep into the surface of Planet Getting-Fucked-By-The-Shirtless-Twink-Stud-Next-Door, a planet far from Maggie’s, home to phallic landmarks and sweltering, humid climes.
It took all of four seconds for Maggie to piece together what Ling was doing.
“Ling! Jesus!”
The fantasy ended with that shout, Ling’s ravaging dissolving back into the oppressive heat and suffocating sweetness of summer, the discomfort of her cousins’ half-rotted old treehouse and the splinters jutting up into her plump, supple ass. With a start, she snapped her hand away from her starving, drooling cunt, and turned jarringly to Maggie.
“Ah! What?”
Maggie rose to her feet, and approached her cousin, eager to see what had inspired her dabble with onanism. “What the fuck, Ling? Look, I like to pet the bunny as much as the next girl, but time and place, girl!”
She peered out the door, ignoring the deep shade of purple Ling’s face had turned, as the mortified girl squirmed and tried to understand why she had done what she had done.
“What’s got your pussy so hot that you can’t wait until the spin cycle like a normal girl?”
Ling tried to will herself invisible in that moment, but found her lips moving and her voice coming out on its own, and a part of her most sincerely wished lightning would strike and put her out of her misery.
“Um… “ she haltingly lifted her arm, pointing at Todd Flanders, who had by now wrangled the push mower back into the shed.
“Ah shit yeah. Todd Flanders. Okay, girl, I guess he is pretty fucking munchable, sure.”
Ling turned up to Maggie, forgetting her previous shame. “You know him?”
“Yeah, we’ve been neighbours since Bart was little. They’re nice enough, but, like, too nice, you know? Super religious, super polite, super repressed.”
“Repressed? What do you mean?”
“Their dad thinks sugar water is too strong a drink. He has plain white bread for his sandwiches because the sheer amount of options for spreads are too much trouble to get into. His church formed when its founders broke away from mainstream Protestantism over the debate about whether it was acceptable to go to church with wet hair. Get the picture?”
“Oh god, was I really schlicking to the son of such a dork?”
“Eh, the kids are even lamer. I mean, Mr. Flanders is pretty cool, he might go hard into church and shit, but he’s also the guy who came over with boxes of sweaters and space heaters when our heat was out in the winter time. If we couldn’t talk to Mom or Dad about something, we could usually talk to Mr. Flanders.”
“Oh…okay…”
“But his sons are just dorks. I mean, Todd is definitely a fuckable dork, if I thought he liked girls I’d definitely try to take a swing at him, but I don’t think he even knows what sex is. Like I said, repressed.”
Ling played with her hair nervously, her face flushed and hot. “So he’s gay?”
“No idea. All I know is, he’s never expressed an interest in dating girls. Maybe he’s never dated anyone, it’s not like we were pals or anything, I’m like, a decade younger than he is.”
Ling peeked back down to the Flanders’ yard, wanting one last image of Todd for her mental photo album, when a new development made her eyes go wide and her pussy squirt a slight trickle.
“Holy shit, looks like we solved the mystery of the Possibly Gay Neighbour, Scoob. Check it out.”
Maggie stepped closer, almost treading on her cousin’s hand as she leaned out the door frame of the tree house.
“What?”
Maggie made a sound, somewhere between a cough and a retching noise, but undeniably a sound of utter revulsion.
Below, in the freshly-cut lawn of the Flanders’ backyard, were Rod and Todd, pressed against one another, lips locked in an airtight seal, Rod’s hand exploring the back of his brother’s shorts intently. After what seemed like an eternity, the brothers broke their kiss, then Todd turned around, and dropped his shorts, bending over and grabbing his ankles.
Maggie slipped past Ling and hastily and silently scaled down the ladder, rushing for the house, Ling following after.
“What? Maggie, what is it? So he’s gay, so what?”
Ling found Maggie pacing around the kitchen in a daze, whipping her hands around as if she were drying them off, or trying to shake something gross and slimy off of them.
“Okay, okay, so you weren’t expecting to see him with his boyfriend. I can’t believe you’d be such a homophobe about this, Mags, really.”
Maggie stuck her head between her knees, breathed in deeply, then whipped back upright, her face pale and her eyes bleary with tears and sweat.
“Ling, fer fuck’s sake, gimme a minute. My brain…that…fuck!”
Ling pulled out a chair and pushed Maggie into it, fetching her a glass of water to calm her down. Maggie choked down a long gulp, coughed, and asked for another, which likewise vanished in a blink.
“That…oh holy hell…that was Todd’s brother Rod.”
Ling froze at those words, her brain racing to put the pieces together. When it finally did, after a few seconds, she threw open the fridge, pulled out one of last night’s remaining booze bottles, and threw back a shot right into her mouth, wiping her chin as she sat down.
“Oh holy fuck.”
Maggie took the bottle from her cousin, downed a swallow, and nodded. “Yeah. That wasn’t his boyfriend, that was the sound of banjos playing next door.”
“What should we do? I mean…they’re not hurting anyone, right?” Ling was loath to admit it, but some part of her, some part buried deep under her rationality, found the idea of brothers’ screwing to be rather exciting. She wanted to go back outside and cheer the Flanders’ on, but Maggie’s reaction made her question that bizarre, new instinct.
“Ling, sweetie, they are brothers. And they are fucking. I…I don’t know how more wrong I can make that.”
Maggie stood up from the kitchen table, stumbled a bit as the booze hit her, then opened the fridge, quickly rummaging for half a hoagie Homer kept tucked in the vegetable crisper for emergencies, hoping a full stomach would negate any effects the alcohol would have on her.
Closing the fridge with her hip, she looked around the living room, taking a few bites of her sandwich.
“Where the heck are my folks?”
“I dunno,” Ling had grabbed an apple for herself; “They were here when I went out to the treehouse to check on you. Something about my mom and I staying for a while.”
Maggie turned to Ling quickly. “You’re staying? Here? But your mom hates my dad.”
“Yep,” Ling shook her head between bites; “Doesn’t make any sense to me, either.”
Maggie parted the curtains in the drawing room, looking out the window into the driveway.
“Shit, the car’s gone. They must have gone out.”
Maggie sprinted back into the kitchen, finishing off the last few bites of sandwich, and found her purse under a chair, rifling through it for her phone.
“Lisa will know what to do, she’s the smart one.”
Quickly finding Lisa’s number on her phone, Maggie stopped for a second when she heard a sound coming from upstairs, a tune, quiet at first, but undeniably musical. Long, harsh strains of saxophone lilting sonorously down the stairs. Ling perked up. “Is that her? Is she upstai–”
“It’s her fucking ringtone.” Maggie interrupted. “Oscar ‘Bleeding Gums’ Murphy. Lisa’s musical idol. She used to make me listen to him all the time when we were kids, tried to get me into jazz and all that shit.”
Maggie led the charge upstairs to Lisa’s bedroom, finding the bed frame collapsed and rested on the floor, the bed sheets dishevelled and unkempt.
“Wow, Lisa’s become a bit of a pig in her old age.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, this is something else.”
Bleeding Gums Murphy’s “I Can’t Face Tomorrow” led the two girls to Lisa’s desk, the phone sitting in the top drawer. With an annoyed grunt, Maggie tapped the phone, putting an end to Bleeding Gums and buying a moment of peace.
“Shit. Okay, so my brainy big sister did a stupid and left her phone at home. Fucking…okay, I guess I’ll call Bart.”
“Why not call your folks?”
Maggie shot a look at Ling that all but hissed her disdain of that idea. She put a hand to her ear, miming an old hand-unit phone. “Hi, Mom, Dad, funny story, did you know that Rod and Todd Flanders were porking like a couple of liquored up cabana boys? What’s that, Mom? I can’t hear you over Dad’s hysterical laughter. No, Mom, they’re not going into pig farming, when I say ‘porking,’ I very much mean they snuggle like newlyweds. What’s that? Oh, now Dad has decided to run after the ice cream truck and my whole brand new mental trauma has already been forgotten? Cool cool, it’s my seventh-grade piano recital all over again!”
”Geez, alright, it was just an idea. No need to bite my head off.”
“I love my folks, Ling, I really do, but I learned from the age of twelve that for all the good intentions, my parents are pretty much useless at solving real problems.”
Maggie scrolled through Lisa’s phone, searching for Bart’s number; finding it, she dialled, and waited for the tell-tale buzzing of its tone.

Lisa Simpson woke with a shrieking jolt, a deep tingling stirring her awake most rudely. Her yelps of pained surprise woke her brother and their mutual lover Terri from their slumber amidst the bushes of the park where they had fallen asleep after their latest tryst, and also drew the gazes of the few people wandering through the park on this particular morning.
Lisa scrambled back through the underbrush, a nest of angry ants buzzing deep inside of her. An especially intense wave of vibration made her collapse onto her back, her spine arched high, her cunt lifted up to meet the sun, moisture practically gushing from her pink slit.
“Lisa? What the fuck is going on?”
She could only scream and moan, her hand rubbing at her slick, engorged pussylips as she tried to get herself off, hoping that an orgasm would quiet the intense tremors rocking her womb.
Bart and Terri could only watch as Lisa squirmed and writhed as bitten in a delicate place. Lisa pawed at her pussy, trying to angel her hand properly to fit it inside herself.
“Fucking hell!” she wailed in a panic, “Fuck! Get it out!”
Terri’s hands snapped out around Lisa’s wrists, in an attempt to keep her from hurting herself. “Lisa, stop, what’s wrong?”
Tears in her eyes, her thighs squirming excitedly, Lisa glanced over to Bart, her cheeks flushing red. “I…I might have…ffffffuck…put your phone up my cunt yesterday.”
It took Bart a few seconds to process Lisa’s “earth-shattering” revelation, but once he had, he laughed out loud, shaking at the idea of his sister going ballistic because of a misused vibrator.
“Are you fucking kidding? That is…why, Lees?”
She gritted her teeth, trying hard to fight against the orgasms racking her body. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? My vibrators are all out of batteries, I wanted something that I could control to keep me on edge, fucking pick an excuse. It wasn’t my brightest idea, okay?”
Terri, being the closer of the two, pulled Lisa into a comforting embrace, her lover’s body shuddering as Lisa’s body convulsed and twitched. Bart inched closer, placing a hand on Lisa’s thigh.
“Okay, Lees, it’s alright now. We’ll get it out, just hold still, okay?”
Lisa nodded, sniffling pathetically, as Bart parted his sister’s thighs. He licked his lips at the sight of her throbbing cunt, and had to fight the urge to bury his face in her quivering quim. Slowly sliding his hand along her leaking gash, he began prodding into her, feeling her tight cunt squeezing down on his invading hand.
“Oooh shit, Bart…please be careful, it’s all so sssssensitive.”
“Lisa, look at me.“ Terri turned Lisa’s face to her own, their noses touching. “Sherri once tried to use a tennis racket as a dildo, and she got the thing stuck; the shape was all wrong, there were ridges, so she’s alone at home, panicking, trying to get a fucking tennis racket out of her cunt, and she has to wait nine hours for the family to come home and rescue her from her stupid-ass masturbation stunt.”
Lisa blinked at Terri through watery eyes, hissing as Bart’s wrist sank into her mound.
“Terri, baby, what the fuck is the point of that story?”
“It’s supposed to take your mind off Bart going elbow deep inside you.”
“Well it’s a little hard to ignore a hand crawling up my birth canal, but thank you for the attEMPT!!!” Lisa let out a shrill yelp as Bart closed his fingers around something hard and smooth.
“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Lisa’s voice was weak and trembling. “Nnnnnnnooooo…but now I know exactly where my Grafenberg spot is located.”
Bart chuckled as he carefully palmed the object buried deep in Lisa’s snatch, slick and slippery from her juices.
“It feels weird. Did you put it in something?”
Lisa nodded, whimpering, watching as her brother withdrew his wrist from her cunt.
“One of those sandwich bags that zip up. I didn’t want to ruin your phone while I got myself off.”
Bart gave Lisa a reassuring smile, as his hand slipped out of her pussy, slick with pussycream, a soaked and matted plastic bag in his hand and his phone vibrating noisily from inside.
“Well, it’s out. Remind me to pick up some batteries before we go home, okay?”
Lisa nodded weakly, and threw herself into Bart, burying her face in his neck.
“Thank you Bart. And I’m sorry for being so stupid about this.”
Bart rubbed her back soothingly, and with one hand, popped open the plastic bag and took out the phone, checking the screen.
“Don’t worry about it, Lees. We all have our moments, and as a Simpson, we get some truly amazing ones. Hmm…that’s funny.”
Lisa sank back into Terri’s arms, her body still shaking from the rude awakening, Terri’s thin fingers tracing gently down Lisa’s belly to her stretched out pussy lips. Lisa cooed as Terri daubed a dollop of pussy cream onto her finger, and brought it up to her lips to taste.
“What’s funny?”
Bart scratched his head in bafflement. “The phone was on vibrate, right? That’s why it was going crazy in your twat. Well, the person who was calling my phone when it started to melt your cunt, Lisa, was Lisa M. Simpson.”
Lisa sat up, brow furrowed in confusion. She reached for the phone, taking it from Bart. She checked the screen, tilted her head to the side, and pointed at her purse, tossed haphazardly into the bushes sometime during their mad dash to find a semi-secluded place to fuck.
“My phone should be in my purse, Bart, could you please get it for me.”
Bart stretched back, untangled the purse from the foliage, and rifled through it gingerly, feeling somewhat awkward about going through his sister’s things.
“Bart, you’ve been up my ass, you can go through my purse. I give you permission.”
With a sarcastic chuckle, Bart upended the purse, spilling out the makeup tubes, the feminine products, the condoms that, frankly, were a waste of time to even produce, given how they would never be used, on to the dewy grass of the park.
But no phone.
“It’s not here, Lisa.”
“What? It has to be!” Lisa dove for the pile of her things laid out on the ground, handing Bart back his phone.
“Hey, here’s a radical solution.” Bart swiped the screen, and put the phone to his ear.
“Hey, you’ve reached Bart Simpson’s phone. Don’t have a cow, it’s not a recording, I’m just screwing with you. Or am I?”
Terri muffled a snicker. “God, Bart, you can be such a dork sometimes.”
Lisa sat up, frustrated at her inability to find her phone. “Well shit. I must have left it at home.”
“Bart? Fucking finally, what the fuck took you so long to answer the fucking phone? Is Lisa with you?”
“Uh….shit, who is this, again?”
“It’s Maggie, you fucking clown! Remember, your baby-fucking-sister?”
“I’m pretty sure if I had a baby-fucking sister, I’d disown her.”
Lisa finished scooping the last of her possessions back into her purse. “Who is it, Bart?”
“Apparently it’s Maggie.” Lisa groaned, as if having remembered something painful. “Hey, Mags, how’s Europe? The phone coverage must be crazy, I can hear you clear as day.”
“For fuck’s sake, Bart, stop being such a Simpson for once. I’m at home, we came back last night. You were probably out getting drunk with your loser friends again.”
Bart bit his tongue. Maggie had long since grown out of her “cute baby sister” phase and had settled quite comfortably into a “smart-assed brat who lives to make her brother suffer” phase and made it her own.
“Shit, Lees, her plane came in yesterday! How did we miss that?”
Lisa shrugged dismissively. “I guess we were too busy working to make her an auntie.”
Bart grinned wryly, licking some of his sister’s pussy oil from his fingers before returning to his phone call.
“So what’s up, Mags? You call me up just to let me know you spent two months in Europe and didn’t even pick up any new swear words? I could teach you some French ones, I did a stint there when I was a kid.”
“Look, Bart, I’m sure you’re trying what passes for your best to be what you understand to be clever, but I don’t have the time or, frankly, the brainpower this morning to verbally joust with you. So take off the beer goggles, pop an antacid and try to rub a couple brain cells together for me, hm? Do. You. Know. Where. Lisa. Is? I need to talk to a smart person about something actually important.”
Bart frowned, and passed the phone to Lisa.
“Our darling baby sister wants to talk to you, Lees. Sounds like whatever she smuggled out of Europe up her ass is biting her hard.”
Lisa eyed Bart, took the phone, and put on her chirpiest smile, trying to come down from her orgiastic high through sheer force of will.
“Maggie, hi! How was Europe? Did you see any sights? Ooh, meet any cute boys?”
“Lees, I need your advice on something. Where are you?”
This was serious. Maggie never asked for advice on anything.
“Uh, we’re in the park, near the statue. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you in person. Just wait there, please?”
“Sure sure, yeah. It’s not something too serious, is it?”
“I…I don’t know. That’s why I need your advice. Please, just wait for me there?”
“I’ll be here, Maggie, don’t worry.”
Lisa hung up the call, and sighed. “She sounds worried. I hope everything’s okay.”
Terri, who had taken the time to pull on her clothes after having found them in the bushes, stood up straight as she adjusted her top.
“So where did Maggie go? I wondered where she was all this time.”
Bart scooped up his shorts from under a tree, and slipped his leg into them.
“She was in Europe, following some band around on tour with our cousin.”
Terri stopped in mid-action, eyebrows raised in fascination.
“The band wasn’t Our Bitter Angels, was it?”
Lisa looked at Terri, as if spooked by her apparent psychic powers. “Uh, yeah. Maggie and Ling both have a raging girl-boner for the lead singer. Why?”
Fishing her own phone out of her purse, Terri quickly checked her messages.
“Because my sister Carrie was following that tour, and if their flight came in yesterday, then that means that I slept on her coming home, too.”
She stopped scrolling through her phone, and nodded; “Yep, ‘Terr’, missed you last night. HMU, got goods and swag, seven hearts.’ Well shit.”
“Seven hearts?”
“Carrie always ends her happy texts with seven heart emojis. That’s just her.”
Placing her phone back inside her purse, she turned to Bart and Lisa; “Would it be okay if I went home to check on her? And, to just sort of, y’know, touch base with my family? They haven’t seen or heard from me in weeks, I should let them know I’m alive and well.”
Bart took Terri’s hand, rubbing it sensually; “Terri, you’re a big girl, you don’t need my permission to do anything.”
She bit her lip, looking up at Bart with hooded eyes, rubbing her thighs together. Just the touch of him made her slit moist.
“But I’m not a big girl, Bart; I’m a good girl, and good girls ask their Daddies.”
A slight shudder washed over Bart that he couldn’t explain, didn’t understand, and wouldn’t say he didn’t enjoy. He pulled himself closer to Terri, noses touching, and planted a soft kiss on her lips.
“I don’t know about being anyone’s ‘Daddy’, but so long as you come back to us, you can go wherever you want to.”
Terri playfully licked the tip of Bart’s nose, smiling; “I’ll be back, Daddy. I can’t stay away from your magic cock or Lisa’s amazing tongue.” She flashed a seductive smile to Lisa, then pulled her in for a warm kiss as well, lewdly sucking on her tongue as she pulled away. With a flirtatious wave and a blown kiss, Terri skipped away from the Simpson siblings, her ass swaying and jiggling as she sauntered off.
“Hmmf…I would wear that girl’s ass as a hockey mask.”
Bart shot a look to his sister, who stared longingly as Terri walked away, biting her lip in hungered anticipation. She turned her gaze to her brother, and flashed him a sultry smile.
“Wouldn’t you, Bart dearest?”
Bart flashed his best million-dollar smile, made all the easier as Lisa gently pressed her bare foot into the growing bulge in his shorts.
“I dunno, Lees, I’m kind of drowning in options about whose ass I put on my face. I mean Terri’s is nice - very nice, really - but there’s just something, a je ne sais quoi, about smothering myself in my own sister’s sweet, tender ass.”
“Flatterer.”
“Brother-fucking cocktease slut.”
Lisa’s breathing fluttered at Bart’s invective, and she gnawed on her lower lip, trying - not terribly effectively - to contain herself. “Do you think we have time?”
Bart nodded along to a beat only he could hear, and inhaled the sweet Springfield air, now mixed with the heady musk of Lisa’s arousal.
“I dunno…I mean, Bart Junior’s practically begging for it, but really, Maggie could be here, and when have we ever had a ‘quick fuck?’”
“God, Bart, but just imagine me, sitting here, talking with Maggie, while she tries to identify the thick, creamy scent on my breath. Makes my cunt burn just imagining it.”
Giggling like a schoolgirl at her own perverse thought, Lisa slid towards Bart, rubbing his throbbing cock through his shorts, smiling up at him seductively. “C’mon, Bart, you know my head game is amazing. I can have you hard, shooting, and soft again before Maggie’s even got her shoes on.”
Bart swallowed with an audible gulp. “I couldn’t stop you from sucking my cock with a concrete barrier and a battalion of Marines, could I?”
“Nope,” she said as she flopped Bart Junior free of his prison. “In fact, I’d suck your cock even harder if the Marines were watching.”
With a purr, she ran her tongue along the length of Bart’s cock, slipping it under the engorged helmet, letting the clear precum pool on her tongue before letting it slide into her throat.
“Ooh fffffffuck, Lisa, show me what that mouth can do, little sister.”
Another giggle, and Lisa fixed her hair behind her ear, before diving onto Bart’s rod, stretching her lips around the thick, throbbing meat. Slender fingers cradled his aching balls, sending a shiver up his spine, his head rolling back as Lisa vacuumed his meat into her throat.
Cords of foamy spittle dripped down Bart’s shaft as Lisa bobbed her head up and down his length. With a wet pop, Bart’s cock slipped from his sister’s puffy, fuck-stained lips.
“Bart! Ah ffffucking hell I love the taste of you.” She rested Bart’s erect cock against her face, her eyes foggy and distant, clouded with near-mindless lust. She slid her face down Bart’s shaft, lifting his heavy nutsack, and pressing her tongue into his puckered asshole. With a sharp, seething gasp, Bart threw his head back, humping his ass against Lisa’s invading tongue.
“Fuck, Lisa, where did you learn to do that?”
“Mom taught me.” Lisa licked her lips, smiling at her brother. “Well, she told me that Dad liked it when she did that to him, the how’s and where’s I figured out from the internet.”
She split Bart’s ass like a ripe peach, and dove in, lapping around his tight ring, leaving behind a thick layer of slick spittle, before running her finger in small circles over his sphincter, threatening to push in.
“Look at you, Bart, all helpless to stop your sister from taking her revenge. You really hurt my poor ass, yesterday, you know. I don’t think I’ll sit right for a while, the way you were sodomising me.” Her face darkened, and a wicked smile stretched across her lips, as her finger began pushing against Bart’s button, not going in, but certainly letting him know that the possibility was on the table. “Mmmm, that word, “sodomising.” Such a…cold and clinical word for such a filthy, nasty thing, don’t you think. So much fancier than just plain old ‘ass-fucking,’ but somehow…just as brutal.”
Bart gulped loudly, as Lisa pulled her ring finger into her mouth, sucking on it, then popped it out and returned it to his ass.
“L-Lees?”
“I mean, sure, I asked you - fucking demanded you- to fuck my ass hard and nasty, but it still hurt so much, big brother. Would you like me to show you?”
Bart squirmed, trying to inch himself away from his sister and her menacing finger of doom, Lisa giving him an evil smirk.
“Lisa, fun is fun, but this is going a bit far, don’t you think?”
Wicked eyes flashed as Lisa held Bart’s thigh tightly, her breathing rough and ragged with overwhelming lust.
“You’re right, Bart; fun is fun. But I think I can go a little further. Like, about as far as knuckle deep?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oooh, I would…if you asked me to. And from the way Bart Junior is twitching,” she flicked a finger at Bart’s turgid meatpole, “I think I may have stumbled onto my big brother’s secret kink.”
“Wh-what do you mean, Lees?”
Lisa only smiled, and slid her tongue along Bart’s shaft. “I mean, sweet, dim darling Bart, that I think you like the idea of having your ass played with.”
Lisa shifted into a more comfortable position on the grass, between Bart’s thighs, her finger inserted into his ass like she was checking his oil. She began moving her finger in and out of Bart’s tight hole, absently jacking his throbbing cock as an uncomfortable wave of pleasure swept through his body.
“I mean, it makes sense, right? We all have our kinks, really. Mom’s a butt slut, I’m an exhibitionist with an impregnation and incest fetish, Terri likes to be cuddled, and you’re into assplay.”
She stopped suddenly, frowning as an ugly thought crossed her mind.
“It is only assplay, right? You’re not, like, into that German stuff too, are you?”
Bart panted, trying to soldier through the ache in his ass, managing to get a headshake out before his head landed back on the grass, a pained moan escaping his lips.
“Fffffuck no, Lees. That shit’s disgusting. Don’t even make me think about it, please, it’s killing my hardon.”
The smile returned to Lisa’s lips, and she kissed the twitching, leaking knob of Bart’s cock.
“Well then I’ll just have to keep your hardon alive, big brother.”
Bart’s powerful hands found the sides of Lisa’s head, and much to her surprise, forced her mouth further down on his cock, until her nose was mashed against his hot skin. Thinking quickly, she pressed her ring finger deeper into his asshole, and felt his balls tighten up, then the warm, gluey flood of his cum rushing down her throat. Wet gulping told Bart that Lisa was at least attempting to drink down as much of his hot, thick seed as she could, a gout of reedy coughing exploding from her throat as she pulled away quickly, strings of cum hanging off her lips and dangling off her chin. Her eyes were wide and clouded with lust; she wiped her chin and mouth, licking her fingers clean of the salt goodness, then curled up into Bart’s chest, purring lewdly.
“Holy fuck, baby, you fucking shot my throat out. Was it the finger up your ass that did it, or the idea of your brother-fucking ssssslut of a sister fucking your hole?” She hissed, shuddering as the words gave her a microrgasm.
“Honestly? Probably both, Lees. But, uhhh, let’s not go advertising that fact, hm?”
Lisa smiled calmly. “Don’t you worry, lover, your little sister’s lips are sealed.” She smacked her lips absently, trying to lick off the thin sheen of cum still sticking to them. “Literally, I think. Holy fuck, Bart, how did you still have so much cum in your balls? Didn’t you shoot enough up my ass yesterday?”
“I dunno, ‘ve just had all this energy the last few weeks. Probably how I’ve been able to keep up with you and Terri, you ball-draining sluts. Another minute or so and I’ll be good to go another few rounds.”
Lisa traced a finger along her brother’s chest, thinking quietly. “Hm…yeah, I think I’ve noticed that your refractory time is down, too.”
“Hey, I’m still hard, I’m sure we can get my refractory time back up to where it should be!”
“Oh, Bart, you’re such a Simpson. No, I mean…’refractory time’ refers to the time it takes a man to achieve erection after he’s already ejaculated. It’s the time between round one, and round two, or three, or four or however many I can squeeze from your nutsack.”
“I totally knew that, yeah. So?”
“So, babe, refractory time for a man your age and build is usually about fifteen minutes. But lately, you’ve been able to put out a second or third boning after only a few minutes, usually less than five. Having a low refractory time is a good thing, like having a low golf score. It means you don’t have to wait as long to dump a load into a waiting, hungry pussy.”
“So…my cooldown period has been getting shorter and shorter. What could cause that?”
“I don’t know. If I remember my intro to Organic Chemistry and the chapter on hormones, it has something to do with the amount of oxytocin released after orgasm. It’s possible that you don’t release much oxytocin when you cum, so you don’t need to wait as long as other men before you can go again.”
“Your OrgChem textbook had a chapter delving into the hormones released when a guy chucks his mayonnaise?” Bart was audibly incredulous.
“Alright, it might have been a Sexology class, I took a lot of electives, okay? How do you feel when you cum?”
Bart sat up on his elbow, Lisa pressed into his chest. “Um…usually tired, a little. And happy, of course.”
“Well naturally, you have two fine-ass bitches to dump your swimmers into. So, happy? Hm. Dopamine can repress the hormones responsible for sexual arousal. If you can still get hard and horny after a good powerfuck, then you may have just disproved the theory that prolactin has a connection to refractory wait time.”
“You lost me.”
“Of course I did, you took Introduction to Still-Life instead of something useful.”
“You didn’t complain when I drew your Crappy Little Elves collection for that convention a few years ago.”
Lisa’s hand slapped limply and playful against Bart. “Alright, alright, you’re a good artist. What I mean is, prolactin is another hormone that was thought to be connected to arousal. When a man cums, his brain releases dopamine, the happy hormone. Dopamine suppresses prolactin. So you get happy feelings, and the prolactin gets turned off and your hardon goes away. But you, dear sweet brother, can still get hard and eager even after you’ve had your brain all happy-fied, so the theory that prolactin has anything to do with your refractory period takes a hit.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you're sexy when you’re smart?”
“Hmph. If I were really all that smart, I’d be able to figure out why we fuck so often as we do. I’d be able to understand why I went from being annoyed by every little thing you say and do, to wanting to bring the next generation of Barts into the world.”
Bart was quiet for a bit, digesting what Lisa had just told him.
“Wait, are you saying you want to know why we’re all so okay with fucking each other?”
Lisa looked up at Bart, her grey eyes wide. “Is that wrong?”
“I dunno, Lees. It just seems like…what’s the phrase? ‘Measuring the marigolds.’”
A smile slowly crossed Lisa’s lips, as she snuggled back into her brother’s arms.
“Another literary reference, Bart? I think my know-it-allism is rubbing off on you. You think I’m going to somehow undo all the good things we’ve had by trying to understand it. That I’m going to kill it by dissecting it.”
“Yeah, well…aren’t you?”
“Hmm…did you know that when the sun is low on the horizon, at sunrise, or sunset, there’s more air in the atmosphere for the sunlight to pass through then there is when the sun is higher in the sky? More atmosphere allows for more dispersal of the sunlight, so the light is scattered further and in a wider arc. This pulls at the sunlight, extending its wavelength, giving us the orange colour we see at dusk. Orange is one of the longest wavelengths of light, and blue is the shortest, and when the sun is high, it has less atmosphere to cut through, so the wavelength of the light is shortened. Hence, why the sky is blue.”
“Uh-huh,” Bart wasn’t sure of what her point was, “so what?”
“So knowing how sunsets work doesn’t mean they aren’t still beautiful. You can know the maths and the formulae of a thing and still see the magic of it all, Bart. If the truth strips a thing of all its wonder, then there never was any wonder to begin with.”
“We are still talking about our incest, right? When did this get all philosophical?”
“Well, as you pointed out, I am both very smart, and very horny. And I refuse to let one aspect of my persona override the other. I will be your philosophical, brainy sister slut.”
Bart grinned, squeezed Lisa’s ass, and lowered his lips to hers. She grunted at the contact on her tender ass, squirming in his grip.
“Ow. Terri wasn’t kidding about needing an ice pack for my tush.”
“Sorry.” Bart sighed resignedly. “I guess we should probably get dressed. Maggie could show up at any moment. And I’m kinda tired of having all this grit and twigs on my ass, frankly.”

Ling huffed and puffed as she pumped her legs, trying to keep pace with Maggie’s bike. It wasn’t easy going for the poor girl; between her pudgy body, thick thighs, and the way the seat of her own bicycle pressed against her needy, hungry cunt with every pump, it was all she could do to keep from swerving into a mailbox and upending herself into traffic.
Maggie was a good twenty feet ahead of Ling, zipping effortlessly down the near-noon street, weaving through traffic like a dancer, her breathing steady and deep. She could hear Ling trying to keep pace with her, the chain of her bike clicking stutteringly as the two two of them coasted along the pavement. The heat had died down considerably, and a wall of silver clouds could be seen off in the distance, like an army about to rush down a hill into the town and drown it in chaos. Maggie could smell the putrid tang of rain in the air, mixed with something sweet and warm that made her feel relaxed and content, and with a sudden burst of energy, she pushed uphill towards the park. Ling groaned, either from frustration at Maggie’s lack of consideration, or from the sweltering tingle rubbing against her sopping slit.
By the time Ling had caught up to Maggie, she had found her cousin leaning against the bike rack at the park, arms crossed impatiently. Ling braked to a halt, slotting her front wheel into the rack like an expert, and threw her leg over the seat, hoping that Maggie wouldn’t notice the threads of moisture left behind.
Ling quickly smoothed out her hair and clothes, while Maggie lifted herself onto her toes, scanning the park for any sign of her siblings and their unique hairstyles.
“God, I’m out of shape. I need to bike more, huh?”
If Maggie heard Ling’s self-deprecation, she didn’t show it. She hopped up an inch when she caught sight of a familiar wave of blonde hair, shaped into curled rays of sunlight.
There, sitting at a picnic table in the dense shade of the massive stand of oaks filling the park, sat Bart and Lisa, their clothes rumpled and their hair dishevelled, as if they had slept in them.
“I found them,” Maggie said curtly to Ling, half-turning to her for just a second before skipping off towards them, “C’mon.”
Ling lumbered after her cousin, as if in a trance. In reality, she was scanning the lazing civilians populating the park this early in the day, eyeing each crotch and imagining what might be hidden behind whatever scrap of cloth they might be wearing. It was only when she bumped into someone that the began paying attention to her surroundings, but even then, she still gave the odd cursory glance at any bulge or cameltoe that caught her eye.
As Maggie waved down Bart and Lisa to catch their attention, she noticed that Lisa was sitting oddly, off to one side as if her butt were sore, or she was sitting on an uncomfortable bench.
Lisa rose to her feet, and Maggie realised she had been sitting on her folded left leg.
“Maggie! You’re here! That was quick!”
The two sisters hugged, and Lisa invited Maggie to sit down as if she owned the table they were sitting at.
“Yeah, we biked over.”
“You sounded upset on the phone, what’s wrong? It’s nothing about Mom and Dad, is it?”
Ling didn’t hear what Maggie and Lisa were talking about - she got the tone, Maggie trying to sound scandalised about something, Lisa being incredulous and then attempting to be comforting - but Ling just couldn’t make herself care about any of it. Not when there were so many yummy bulges just wandering around in shorts and thongs and some even on full display! Why, there was a delicious, uncut cock just swaying in the sweet summer wind in line for a food cart, just swinging back and forth, back and forth, teasing her, calling to her; “Here, Ling, come suck this salty prick,” it seemed to be saying. “Come gargle our hot loads and tongue our nuts and spread that tight pussy for a good deep screw!”
Ling must have moaned or done something to draw attention to herself, because she was now suddenly aware of eyes on her. She snapped back to the real world, the boring world, where cocks didn’t sing siren songs and twunks didn’t doubleteam you with their own brothers.
“Jesus, Ling, did you smoke a bowl before we left? Space cadet or what?”
Ling knew that Maggie was only kidding, but suddenly she felt hot, and not at all in the enjoyable way she had felt just a few seconds ago. Lisa and Bart were looking at her, too, clearly concerned.
She straightened herself out, brushed down her hair and tried to compose herself. She glanced quickly, out of the corner of her eye, to see if her uncircumcised saviour was still there, still visible, or if she had only imagined it’s ineffable glory, and her heart sank when no swinging dick stood where she had seen it.
“Great, Ling-Ling,” she admonished herself silently, “you’re so fuck-starved that you’re imagining phantom peckers and ethereal balls.”
The gazes of her cousins bore a hole in the side of her head, so she shyly looked up, trying to stammer out a clumsy response.
“S-sorry, I was…”
“Craving a weiner?” Bart interjected. He did that. Rude. Accurate, bloody fucking on point in fact, but rude.
Ling’s eyes went wide and her head shot up. “What?”
“You were eye-fucking that hot dog stand. Have either of you girls had breakfast yet? It’s not like Mom to let anyone leave the house hungry.”
“Mom and Dad went out before we woke up, they didn’t leave a note.” If Bart could cut the frost in Maggie’s voice into cubes, he’d solve the Quick-E-Mart’s exorbitant bag-of-ice overhead issues.
“Ah, well there you go. I get a little spacey when I’m hungry too, Lingster. C’mon,” he stood up from the table, Ling trying not to let on that her eyes had more than grazed the impressive bulge in his shorts, “my treat. Think of it as my way of welcoming you both back home.”
Ling licked her lips, her eyes foggy with lust and the lurid imaginings of what the cotton-polyblend of those shorts concealed. “Yeah…hungry, that’s…”
Back to reality in a snap, she cleared her throat, stood up, and quickly turned a spectrum of shades of red as her stomach rumbled, giving credit to the lie Bart had unknowingly come up with for her.
Bart chuckled, and checked his wallet for cash; satisfied that he was flush enough, he pocketed the folded leather and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, I could go for some food too. You ladies want anything?”
Maggie only nodded wordlessly, clearly still annoyed that Bart existed. “Nothing for me, ba-Bart.” Lisa had almost let slip a ‘babe.’
With a friendly smile, Bart offered his cousin his arm, and off they went, while Maggie and Lisa resumed their discussion.

Ling was walking like a penguin, her thighs clenched tightly to keep them from rubbing together, her pussy leaking like a broken dam. Bart didn’t seem to notice, but that idea did nothing to stop the heat surging through Ling’s body. Why was she like this? He was her cousin, for fuck’s sake! And yet, it took every dram of her willpower not to tackle him to the ground and ride him like a stallion. Was it still incest if she was adopted? God, she wanted to test that theory right now.
Bart had to put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from walking dreamily right past the cart.
“You okay, cuz? You look a little spacey. You didn’t really smoke a whole bowl before you left the house, did you?”
Ling blinked, and forced a smile.
Like. A. Fucking. Stallion, she thought.
“Um…yeah, I’m, just…we had a lot to drink last night. I’m still a bit hung” - she groaned internally at the word ‘hung’ - “h-hungover.”
“Yeah, that Unicum sounds like a real bear on the skull.”
More blinking, and a deeper shade of red.
“How did you–”
“Lisa subscribes to Maggie's social media. After she called, Lisa got the alert and we both saw the video. You draaaaaaank the yoooooo-niiii–”
She rushed to silence him, pressing her hands against his mouth.
“Alright, Jesus! You saw it, shush now! Oh fuck, I am going to strangle Maggie with her own spinal column!”
Bart ordered two dogs, one with everything and one with only mustard and chilli peppers, and handed the mustard-and-peppers to Ling. He grabbed a couple drinks, paid, and led Ling towards the fountain nearby, towards the benches.
Ling was three bites into the foulest, rankest hot dog she had had since summer camp back in eighth grade, ignoring the staleness of the water the dog had been kept in, and hoping to get the burning in her loins under control before too long. Bart had demolished his hot dog in record time, almost making Ling think he’d had some experience deep-throating weiners, and cracked open the iced tea he had picked up, leaning against the backrest of the bench upon which they sat.
“So…you guys found out that Rod and Todd were fucking, huh?”
Have you ever choked on a chilli pepper? A half dozen of them, slathered in yellow mustard and tinged with stale hot dog water? Ling was now experiencing this fresh new hell, gagging on her rank-ass breakfast at the shock of Bart’s words, trying to expel the burning obstruction from her throat. Bart slapped her on the back, and a pepper ring shot from her mouth, to be picked up by a pigeon nearby, who dropped it after a few pecks and decided it wasn’t worth the bird’s time. Ling chugged a good third of her own drink, and wiped her chin.
“W-what?”
Bart grinned, a grin that melted Ling’s defences and liquified her panties even more than they already were.
“Well, that’s what Maggie said to Lisa. That you two saw the Flanderses screwing in the backyard.”
Ling’s eyes went wide. “You already knew about that?”
“Oh god, cuz, we’ve known the Flanderses since before Lisa was born. Yeah, we know they fuck. Their dad knows, too.”
Ling sat, stunned, taking another sip of her iced tea, trying to process all of this. Her mind was blown. Her cousins’ neighbours, brothers, were involved in an incestuous relationship, her cousins knew, and they were fine with it. Hell, the brothers’ own father was fine with it.
“Wow. Wow. And-and you all don’t have a problem with it?”
“Pfft, what problem? They’re kinda dorks, but even dorks deserve happiness, and they seem to make each other happy.”
“B-but, it’s incest!”
“It sure is, little cuz.”
And there it was. Boom. Mind blown, again. Bart had no problem with relatives boning. Now, did that include adopted relatives, or did he not see the difference? He had never treated Ling as anything other than a family member, which ran the gamut from barely acknowledging she existed, to tormenting her for momentary gratification, to being the best big brother she never had.
*Record scratch*
Hang on, girl, that little voice that lived in Ling’s head and tried so valiantly to keep her out of trouble cut in, Why do we suddenly care if Bart is okay with fucking adopted relatives? What are you planning?
Well, intoned the part of Ling’s brain that still squatted in the dirt, hunting prey with pointy sticks and wearing rough-hewn animal pelts, I was thinking of cooling this burning itch in my silky smooth slit by having Bart’s hot, hard cock hose it down with his creamy white load, if you must know.
There was much clamour and debate amongst the voices in Ling’s head - the rational ones calling her an insane slut for wanting to fuck her own cousin, the more primal voices cheering her on, and one small, otherwise quiet voice asking if they can get a hot pretzel to get the taste of rank-ass hotdog out of her mouth, which was soon mollified when the primal voices pointed out that gargling Bart’s babybatter would do the same job rather nicely.
“You okay there, cuz? You got really quiet for a second.”
Ling snapped her face up to meet Bart’s, and a warm smile came over her without her even noticing. There was something about him that just disarmed her.
Yeah, the primal voices shouted up, his cock!
“I was…just thinking.”
“About why nobody’s bothered by the idea of two brothers fucking.”
“What? No, that’s not-”
“You’re not nearly as mysterious as you think you are, Ling. I saw you eyeing up Kearney’s pecker back there. And mine.”
Well, shit. Ling didn’t know which voice that one was, so she just assumed it was the general consensus amongst her inner voices. So that dick wasn’t all in my head.
No, came the lewd catcalls of the primal voice, but Bart’s cock can be!
“No, I–”
“Lisa and I fuck, Ling.”
Again, Well shit. Who knew the human brain could explode three times in a row?
Wait, what did he say?
“What did you say?”
Bart let his head roll back against the bench. “I said, Lisa and I fuck. We have sex. We’ve been fucking for,” Ling could almost hear the abacus beads in Bart’s head working out the math, “about a month now.”
Ling’s mouth went wide.
Attagirl, now dip that gaping ‘o’ onto his rigid shaft!
Shut up, Horny Ling! Our cousin just said he was banging his own sister! Isn’t there supposed to be banjo music playing when people confess to shit like that? It feels like there should be banjo music.
“Shut up, you do not!”
Bart smiled, nodding his head slightly. “Oh yeah. This park is her favorite place to take it. We fell asleep in the bushes just over there. Yesterday I took her anal cherry, last week we added a second girl to our relationship.”

Ling’s face burned. Her skin burned. She was pretty sure her shadow was feeling the heat. Was it embarrassment? No, she and humiliation were good friends, she could spot embarrassment from across a crowded parking lot.
She wanted him. She wanted her own cousin.
“No, Lisa wouldn’t, she-”
“Finds me annoying at best, borderline intolerable at worst? Yeah, formerly. But the last month we’ve been tighter. Well, we’ve been close, I think I’ve loosened her up plenty.”
“You’re lying.”
Bart pulled out his phone, tapped out a short message, and waited. The phone dinged a response, and he showed the screen to his cousin.
Lees, told Ling about us. Send proof, she needs convincing.
Underneath the message, Lisa had sent a photo of something dark and almost illegible. It took Ling a few seconds to adjust her eyes and to recognize that Lisa had sent a picture of her pussy, her legs spread wide. Shock gave way to shock as Ling then realised that the picture was timestamped only a few seconds ago, and it had been taken by holding her phone under the picnic table where Lisa and Maggie were sitting. She had snapped a picture of her cunt while chatting away with her own sister.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
She sat back, her head swimming. Her panties were swimming, too, or more accurately, drowning. So that’s why Bart didn’t seem bothered by the idea of his neighbours boffing, he himself was in an incestuous relationship with his own sister.
“Why did you tell me that?”
Bart shrugged, leering at the picture on his phone, massaging his crotch openly. Ling stared as his hand moulded the bulge in his shorts into an almost fearsome semi-tent.
“Why would I keep it a secret? Everyone else already knows, it’s not like you wouldn’t have figured it out sooner or later.”
“What do you mean, everybody knows? Who else knows?”
“Everybody. Like, everybody, everybody. Lisa’s not a quiet fuck, Ling. She gets loud, and she likes being watched, and we do fuck in this park with stark regularity. It’s just an accepted fact, the Simpson kids, the older ones at least, screw like chipmunks where just anyone can see them.”
Four times. The human brain can explode four times in a row. A NEW RECORD!
“Wh-what about Auntie Marge and Uncle Homer? Do they-”
“They were the first ones to find out. They found us canoodling on the couch butt-fucking naked.”
“And they’re okay with–no, you’re messing with me. They would never-”
“They’re more than okay with it, Lingster. They’ve let us move in that second girl I mentioned - her name is Terri, you might meet her later today or sometime tomorrow - and the only real standing rule we have is, ‘not in the car, unless it’s Scotchgarded.’ It’s kind of become a running joke, that last one.”
Ling dropped her head between her legs, her breathing coming in short, jagged spurts. Her mind was racing, her stomach churning - although that might just have been the hotdog, in which case, having her head upside down might have been a poor lifestyle choice that would come back to bite her sooner rather than later - and underneath it all, her pussy was doing backflips and jumping for joy at the prospect of getting some immediate relief.
Bart rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. “Easy there, Ling. Just breathe. It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
She sat back up, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“You sure? You look a bit green. You need to use the bathroom to throw up or anything?”
She shook her head, her neck-length black hair dancing and bouncing as she moved.
“No, I’m…”
She froze. Bart was so concerned for her. Without realising it, her hand found it’s way to his leg. Bart, however, was a bit more observant, and definitely noticed.
“Um, Ling?”
A moment passed between them, and after another pull on her iced tea, Ling took all her reservations, rolled them up in a carpet, and threw them off a bridge like they were a rival college’s mascot pig. Without warning, she kissed Bart, catching him by…well, not surprise, he had anticipated something like this. He was beginning to see the patterns in his life, and suspected that being alone with any female for any stretch of time carried the possibility that he would wind up balls deep inside them. So he turned the tables on Ling, surprising her by pulling her deeper into the kiss, his tongue wrangling with hers, his hand finding the plump, soft globes of her copious ass. When his fingers gave her butt a squeeze, she moaned, and her mind exploded for the fifth time.
And her cunt for the first, that day.
Forcing herself to break away from the kiss, Ling stared, wide-eyed and confused at Bart, panting like she had just run a marathon.
“Oh. Oh god. Oh god, I’m so sorry, Bart, I didn’t-”
Bart shushed her gently, placing a finger to her lips.
“No. Don’t be sorry.”

She wasn’t sure what colour she was turning just then - what came after crimson? Scarlet? Vermillion? Was she turning carmine? Or maroon, even? - but she was sure that she made a terrible mistake. Her cousin. Her own fucking cousin!
I mean, sure, he fucks his own sister, or so he says. And he says he has no problem with family fucking family. And, sure, we’re not genetically related, but–
Whatever her fourth point was, it would remain a mystery, as Ling slipped a leg over Bart’s lap, finding herself straddling him brazenly. And the hardness jutting up from his groin, pressed against the hot moisture soaking through her shorts, only served to make her already-hazy mind even more confused.
“Bart, I shouldn’t have-”
“Do you want to fuck?”
Again with interruptions. Stop interrupting me, you confusingly sexy legal relative! And no I don’t want to-
“God yes, I’ve been wet all morning and I need a good dick in me, Bart.”
Is this thing on? *Tap tap tap!* Hello, can you hear me? I said we don’t want to fuck our cousin! Why am I suddenly not in control of the word-hole? Why is the happy-hole making these decisions for us?
“Shall we head to the bushes, then?”
Oh how fucking romantic! A roll in the foliage! Yes, Tarzan, take me in the underbrush like one of your jungle girls! No, I don’t want to-
“No, I–”
Finally, a voice of reason! Now hop off his lap, and run for the hills before he-
“I don’t want people watching us. I…I think sex should be private. Done in private.”
I am no longer in control of my life. My pussy has developed a mind of its own, and it’s in the driver’s seat now. Fuck my life.
“Shall we go back to our place? My place, I mean. Casa de Simpson?””
…Oh, I ain’t saying shit, bitch. I learned my lesson. You want to straighten out this family tree, you go right ahead. I hope your kids come out with an extra adopted arm growing out of their heads.
“Isn’t there someplace…closer? But more private?”
Bart smiled, and Ling melted again. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take by this point.
“I know a place. It might not be the most romantic location, but it’s private, and it’s nearby.”
Ling was the one who smiled this time, her pussy flexing in her shorts, eagerly awaiting the cock that was to, no pun intended, soon come. She nodded, and achingly pulled herself off Bart’s lap, and he rose to his feet, his shorts tented obscenely, taking her by the hand and leading her away.
She didn’t see him typing out a message into his phone.
Lees, gonna fuck Ling. Make excuse for Maggie, don’t wait for us.

Lisa smiled at her phone, then set it down, screen to the table.
“What was that?” Maggie had just digested what Lisa had said about the Flanderses, that being as repressed as they had been growing up, it was only natural that they should find some outlet of rebellion, and if homosexual incest did it for them, it was nobody’s business but theirs, and they would be the ones to face the consequences if and when Ned found out. Lisa fought not to smile at the line of bullshit she had fed her sister; how would she take if she knew that Ned was fully aware that his sons were fucking, or that Rod and Todd had a not-so-secret lust for their very own Bart?
“Nothing, just Bart. He and Ling are gonna walk off their breakfast.”
“Well, that’s rude. So what, we’re supposed to just wait for them? Or go find them?”
“No, he said not to wait up, we can go home without them. We’re big girls, Maggie, we don’t need our older brother to escort us wherever we go like some Amish milkmaids or something.”
Maggie huffed, and shifted in her seat. Since she sat down, there had been something bothering her, something she couldn’t quite place. She sighed, taking in another lungful of air, and felt the warmth and sweetness spread throughout her.
God, she thought, why am I so fucking horny right now?

Ling blinked in disbelief. She had expected a hotel room, or a men’s room stall, or something.
The dead-end back alley behind a Korean restaurant was not her first guess.
Bart led her to the end of the alley, near the HVAC unit, behind the row of dumpsters. The smell was…unpleasant, but so far not overwhelming, which was surprising given that it was late July.
“An alley. Your idea of a romantic rendezvous is an alley. I’m starting to see why you’re single, Bart.”
“I never said it was romantic, Ling, I said it was private. They don’t take out the trash until the night shift, they don’t get any traffic back here before at least two in the afternoon, nobody will see us, and with the AC going, nobody will hear us.”
“And the smell?”
“I must be noseblind, because all I smell is your hot, wet pussy, little cousin.”
Ah shit, why did that last part make me even wetter?
“Or we can not do this, go back to Maggie and Lisa, no harm no foul, right?”
Ling’s eyes went dark, and her lips curled into a predatory snarl.
“No!” Her hand grabbed Bart’s cock through his shorts, giving it a hard squeeze. “I want this, Bart. I need you to fuck me! You want to fuck in a smelly, dirty alley? Fine, fuck me right here, right fucking now!”
And then, much to Bart’s surprise, his mousy cousin dropped to her knees, tugged his shorts down and…stared at his thick, rigid cock, as if she were gazing into the face of God himself. A quiet, religious reverence filled her eyes, and her lips went wide in awe, before the smell of his meat hit her, and she impaled her skull on her cousins cock, tongue tickling the underside of his shaft.
Long, thick slurping sounds, punctuated with deep murmuring growls of primal hunger, filled the alley, at least until the HVAC unit started up and all Ling could hear was the mechanical droning, not even able to hear herself polish Bart’s majestic knob. She pulled her head off of his rod, admiring the saliva-speckled sheen glistening off the hot meat. She lifted the cock, burying her face into Bart’s balls, sucking on them savagely, while Bart moaned, holding her head steady as she massaged his nuts with her mouth.
“Fffuck, Ling, who knew my little cousin was such a good cocksucker?”
She looked up at Bart, smiling, spittle running down her chin.
“Your ‘little cousin’ isn’t some innocent schoolmarm, Bart. I’ve sucked my share of dick. Eaten my share of pussy and swallowed more than my share of cum.”
She stood up, stepping out of her shorts and pulling her panties down, hanging them off of one ankle as she jumped up onto the HVAC unit, spreading herself in a display of lust.
“Now get that fucker over here and show me how well my ‘big cousin’ can use that tool of his, hm?”
Bart bit his lip, staring at Ling’s wet, split pussy. Her labia were thicker than either Lisa’s or Terri’s, with a generous cropping of dark, downy hair cresting the mons, and juices ran freely in trickling rivulets down her slit, pooling under her ass. The smell was rich and heady, and Bart, cock in hand, stepped in, guiding himself into his cousin’s warm, tight embrace.
Ling hissed through her teeth as Bart sank into her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him to herself with her heels, until his balls rested just against her ass. Bart dipped his head down, trapping Ling in a breathtaking kiss, while his hands probed up her top, cupping the slight bumps she called her tits.
She looked away, face red again.
“Sorry they’re not bigger.”
“They’re fine, Ling.”
“I’m too flat, I know.”
“Ling,” Bart lifted her face to his own, “it’s. Fine. You’re fine.”
Another smile. More melting. Then he tortured her by flexing his ass, pumping into her hungry cunt, making her spine shiver with every inward push. Bart tugged at her top, Ling reflexively lifting her arms over her head and letting him slip the loose t-shirt off. Her breasts were barely noticeable, in stark contrast to her very ample butt. Ling had been bottom-heavy since puberty reared its ugly head all those years ago. She never wore a bra, because there was nothing that needed support; her tits were just…nothing. Just dark brown nipples that were currently standing up like cocoa-coloured erasers begging to be sucked, with which Bart was all too happy to comply. His tongue rolled over each hard nibben, drawing them out, making them erect. Ling groaned, clutching Bart to her chest like a baby, humping away at him like a machine.
“Mmfffuck, suck my titties, Bart. Suck my flat little titties while you fuck that tight pussy!”
Bart grunted with each thrust into Ling, her warm folds giving way to his iron-hard cock. Ling wrapped her arms around her cousin’s neck, drawing him towards herself, holding him to her chest as he rutted into her, stretching her out, his knob pressing against her cervix repeatedly like a jackhammer.
Bart leaned into Ling as she began pumping her hips back to him in time with his own thrusts, each upward push against his body punctuated by a short, hiccuping grunt from the tiny, fat-assed young woman.
Ling cooed and groaned and hiccuped as Bart pounded into her, over and over, his balls slamming into her ass so hard she was certain they would burst. Looking down at where they were connected, all she saw was her dewy bush, and her cunt devouring his cock like an animal eating a carrot. And as Bart ploughed into his cousin like a savage, each contact with her inner depths sending kaleidoscopic sparks scattershot across her vision, she fought to contain the pressure building inside of her, the typhoon threatening to explode out of her every pore, until finally, unable to hold it all back, she let out a tremulous bellow, her cunt clamping down on his cock, massaging it, milking it, sucking it dry, juices cascading from her quim as she shook and collapsed against the AC unit.
Bart watched Ling as her orgasm racked her body and swept through her, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“That was a good one, huh?”
It took her a long while to respond. Bart thought maybe he had broken her brain, but after a minute, she somehow found the strength to lift her head up, and smile at him weakly.
“H-holy shit…how is Lisa able to even walk if that’s what you do to her?”
“Well, Lisa doesn’t usually hold it in like you seem to. She just lets it out and goes with the flow, as it were. You might not be so spent if you didn’t fight it so much.”
Another half-minute passed, before Ling pulled herself up, using Bart’s shoulder as leverage.
“But it feels so good when it explodes like that. Fuck…you have any more in you, Bart?”
“Oh baby, I’ve still got a full tank.”
Ling looked at Bart in disbelief. “No fuckin’ way. You made me cum my soul out, and you haven’t even shot once? You’re either lying, or you’re not fucking human.”
Bart smiled, something between cockiness and daring, and kissed Ling’s lips.
“Oh yeah, honey, I’m the fucking Terminator.”
Ling melted again. “Ffffuck…well, why don’t you get that cock back to work terminating my pussy, hm?”
“Alright, why don’t you get that beautiful big ass of yours out here. I want to clap those sweet cheeks of yours, cuz.”
Enticed by his offer, Ling pushed Bart back a few steps, stepped down off the AC unit, and turned around, jutting her fat ass out, the fleshy orbs jiggling as she swayed back and forth.
“Mmm, like this, baby? You want that fat ass?”
Bart pried Ling's asscheeks open, running his hand along her sopping wet slit and sending a shiver up her spine. She stuttered in orgiastic bliss, sinking against the wall as her cousin explored her depths with his fingers, massaging her fat pussy lips and strumming her love button like he was playing an instrument.
He then slid his pussy-stained fingers into his mouth, tasting Ling’s tang, sucking her juices off his digits, before stepping in and pushing the head of his throbbing cock into her slit, filling her back up.
“Ah shit!” Ling slapped her hand against the wall, trying to keep her balance as Bart entered her again. The curve of his cock made her shift her position, arching her back upwards as she inhaled sharply, trying to find her composure before Bart began pummeling her insides again, and failing miserably.
The sound of flesh slapping, of stuttering gasps and guttural grunts filled the alley, drowning out the dull, buzzing drone of the AC unit, which would shut off a few minutes into Bart’s rearrangement of Ling’s guts, the sound of their mingled voices echoing off the grimy brickwork only serving to heighten their arousal, which made Ling’s stretched hole convulse tighter around Bart’s cock, which made Bart’s cock tighter and held off his own impending nut, which made him pound her harder, which made her moaning more intense, all of which worked to turn that filthy alleyway into a perpetual motion machine of carnal savagery. Fuck the laws of thermodynamics!, Bart thought as he slapped Ling’s fat ass cheek, sending the fleshy orb to jiggle wildly.
“Ah! Ssssshhhit! Fucking hell, your cock feels so fucking good, Bart!!”
Ling was panting by now, drool running down her chin as her mind exploded over and over again. Bart grabbed a handful of her hair, making her squeal as he pummelled her pussy with renewed vigour, thrusting into her like a maddened bull, balls swaying wildly, her big ass jiggling and quivering, her eyes rolling back into her head, tears running down her cheeks, until finally, like a dam bursting, he let out a rumbling grunt that slowly grew into a roar, his thrusting becoming slower and more intense, until her slammed himself deep into his cousin’s pussy, unleashing a hot torrent of his seed.
Ling snapped back to life as soon as Bart’s load hit her pussy walls; pushing him away, she turned around and fell to her knees in a blink, placing her open mouth in the line of fire, three hot spurts of thick cum splashing onto her tongue, cascading over the bridge of her nose and matting against her hair.
Bart staggered backwards, his cock still leaking cum onto the filthy asphalt, his breath ragged and raw. Ling giggled, scooping her new makeup into her hand and shoving it deep into her flooded cunt.
“Jesus, cuz, look at how much you shot on me! You fuckin’ pasted me with your load!”
She shuddered as she filled herself with a handful of jism, as if she had just dosed herself with a powerful narcotic. Warmth spread throughout her body, and she flopped her bare ass onto the alley floor. Bart straightened himself up, swept his hair back, and tucked his slick, pussy-smeared cock back into his shorts, offering a hand to Ling.
Ling looked at Bart’s proffered hand as if she were in a dream, her eyes unfocused and hazy Then suddenly, her expression changed from dopey disassociation to almost childlike awe, taking the hand and pulling herself up to her feet. Surveying the scene, she kicked her panties up from her ankle to her hand, using them to mop up whatever cum was still staining her face, then tossing them into the nearby dumpster.
“You alright there, Ling? You looked a little out of it for a second.”
“No, baby, I’m fine. I’m…mmmm…I’m buzzing inside. I swear to fuck, like your dick shoots pure cocaine. Not that I know what cocaine feels like, mind you, but…definitely stronger than any strain I’ve smoked. Is this how Lisa feels when you fuck her?”
“I dunno, all I know is she wears me out, and then five minutes later, I’m back up inside her.”
“Five minutes? You’re fucking kidding me. It only takes you five minutes to recharge?”
Bart fished Ling’s shirt from where it had landed in a puddle of what was very much not entirely water, and gave it a furtive sniff, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Here’s your shirt, but I don’t know if you’ll still want it. It’s sort of…gunked up.”
“It’s cool. It was a thrift store buy, and I think I can get away with my unboobs not-hanging out.”
Bart wrapped his arm around Ling’s shoulder as they left the alley, his hand cupped over her left nipple.
“Unboobs?”
“You got a better word for a girl whose chest is so flat, her tits are practically innies?”
Ling pressed her head against Bart’s chest as they turned down the street, sniffing at his body.
“Phew! I think we need a shower when we get home, Bart.”
Bart smiled, his free hand massaging his cock in his shorts.
“Good idea, little cuz. Shall we share and save some water?”
“With how long it takes for you to cum, I don’t know how much water we’d be actually saving.”
Ling bit her lip; the pair of them walked past a couple screwing doggystyle in a bus shelter, the sight of their coupling inspiring Ling to slide her hand along her bare, aching pussy gingerly.
“Jesus, girl, you and Lisa, I swear.”
“Hm?”
“Look at you. You’ve just been fucked stupid, had your face plastered with cum, and it’s still not enough for you. Your pussy’s hungry for more already. You and Lisa, neither of you can get enough. Both a couple of sluts.”
Ling looked hurt, shrinking in on herself in defence.
“I’m not a slut, Bart.”
Bart grinned, and pulled her closer, ignoring her protests.
“Sure you are; you just came your brains out, and you’re already looking for more, you’re just a horny little slut.”
Ling pushed Bart off, turning away from him. His smarmy grin faded, his skin suddenly feeling hot and prickly.
“I’m sorry, Ling. Lisa…Lisa refers to herself as a slut almost constantly. I guess I just took it for granted that not everyone would have her same kinks. If being degraded like that isn’t your thing, I can respect that.”
Bart looked at Ling, hoping to see some flicker of forgiveness in her face. After a few torturous seconds, she turned to him, eyes downcast.
“I’m not like Lisa, Bart. Maybe being a slut gets her off, but…my Mom used to date a lot, you know?”
“I am aware of her attempts at a love life, yeah.”
“I think she just didn’t want to be some old maid living with her spinster twin. I know I helped her out a lot, just by being there, but she still wanted a man. And she tried. She tried, and tried, and tried, and it never went anywhere. Every guy she dated wound up falling short of whatever standards she had set for them.”
Bart and Ling wandered further down the street, finding a bench. Bart took out his phone, and texted for a cab.
“Yeah, she got married a few times before she brought you home. It was kinda sad. Not her trying, but her not finding someone. I always felt bad for her, she might have been a bit much back then, but she still deserved to be happy.”
Ling sighed. “Yeah, but…some of the guys she was dating, it turned out they were married. And some of them had kids I went to school with. So…”
Bart swallowed. He hadn’t known this about his aunt. “So she got a reputation, is that it?”
“Yeah. And I was her daughter. The whore’s kid.”
Bart thought for a long while, before slipping his arm around his cousin, and pulling her close.
“You’re not a slut, Ling. And neither is Aunt Selma. She was just lonely and desperate. I’m sorry if I brought back any bad feelings.”
Ling hummed something, then snuggled against Bart, as a cab pulled up to the curb.
“It’s alright. I forgive you, Bart, if only because I really do want that cock again.”
Bart chuckled, patting Ling’s leg, then standing, taking her by the hand, and opening the cab door for her, sliding in after her in the back seat. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Ling laid her had against her cousin’s shoulder, her hand on his thigh, sighing softly.

Maggie tore a chunk off of her soft pretzel, sucked off the dollop of mustard, and whipped it into the water, watching the ducks chase after it, smiling when one lucky hen dipped her head under water and choked down her soggy prize.
“This is so fucked up, Lisa.”
“Mm.” Lisa licked the hot mustard and molten cheese off her thumb, taking another bite of her own pretzel. “You get used to it.”
“How, though? I mean…okay, I can believe Ralph Wiggum hooking up with someone, he always had a weird charisma to him. But Sherri Mackleberry? That ablist cunt? That’s where I’m tripping up on this whole thing.”
“The heart wants what it wants, Maggie. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, trust me. And the one that really shocked me was Miss Hoover and Martin Prince.”
Maggie sat back against the bench, trying to decide if she wanted to finish her pretzel, or just chuck the whole thing to the ducks and let them fight over it.
“Who’s Miss Hoover?”
“She taught second grade to me and Bart. I think she moved on to fifth grade by the time you were seven.”
“Mm, yeah, I had Miss Callahan. Fat bitch. And Martin Prince? The ADA?”
“Yep. Caught them in the bathroom at the mall, going at it like minks.”
“What the hell is happening with this town?”
Lisa finished off the last bite of pretzel, sucked her fingers clean of crumbs, and stretched her arms overhead. “I dunno what to tell you, Maggie. Love is in the air.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow, and scoffed, turning to Lisa. “What about you, then?”
“Hm?”
Maggie shook her head. “Don’t play coy with me, Lisa, I’m asking if you’re getting any dick on the side. Or pussy, whatever boats your float.”
Lisa smiled shyly. “Yeah, I may have stumbled upon a stray cock here and there, if you must know, Aunt Nosey.”
“Ooh, spill it, sis. Who’s the lucky meat-dildo? Anyone I know?”
Lisa stood up, brushing a leaf off her leg. “Yes, you might have heard of him. But a proper lady doesn’t suck and tell.”
“Fine, keep your secrets, Lisa. But I’m going to figure out your mystery lothario sooner or later. What about Bart, did he get off his ass and find someone who’ll put up with his crap?”
Lisa frowned, and had to hold her anger in check.
“Hrm. Yes, he found himself a girlfriend. You should really look into changing your view of Bart, he’s not the lazy screw-up you think he is.”
“Oh, did he get even worse? Lisa, face it, Bart is stuck on the bottom of life’s shoe, and he has no interest in improving his lot in life. He could have graduated from Art School, but he’d rather go drinking with his dead-end loser friends. I’m surprised you’re not as disappointed in him as I am.”
Lisa forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm herself. “Bart…look, none of us were happy when Bart dropped out. But I get it. Bart was told all his life that he was a born loser, that he’d never amount to anything. So when he starts to get a chance to prove them wrong, he buckles under the pressure. It happens, Maggie. Cut him some slack, he’s trying to find his footing again.”
Maggie squirmed uneasily on the bench. Lisa loosened up, forcing herself to give up the tension holding her rigid.
“I don’t want to fight about this, Maggie. It’s just…you kinda sound like Patty and Selma shit-talking Dad when you talk about Bart like that. It’s not fair to Bart, and it’s not fair to you.”
Maggie took a deep breath, and nodded. “Fine, I’ll try to…I dunno, lay off Bart, I guess.”
Lisa smiled and stepped closer to the edge of the lake. The park had grown chilly in the last few minutes, a sharp haze of petrichor in the air signalling a coming drizzle of rain. She peered out into the water, tracing a furtive foot along the surface of the water, testing the temperature.
“Think it’s safe to swim in this year?”
Maggie tore off another chunk of hot dog bun, and popped it in her mouth, utterly disinterested in Lisa’s latest thing.
“I dunno. Has Old Man Burns been visited by the Ghost of Give-A-Fuck Past and decided to stop polluting it with his crap?”
Lisa pulled out her phone, tapped something, and chirped, “Well, according to the Springfield Board of Tourism, Moonbow Lake is only mildly acidic and now only dangerous to children, the elderly, fish, pets, and objects made of copper.”
Lisa hoisted her top over her head, tossed it onto the bench next to Maggie, and stepped into the water, walking in up to her shoulder.
“Jesus, Lisa, what are you doing?”
“Being impulsive. Come on, the water’s nice. “
“Yeah, I’m gonna pass, Lees; last time I swam in that lake, my hair turned green, and I just got a tattoo, I don’t know what mildly diluted industrial cleaners will do to it. And you are crazy to be whipping your tits out like that. What if someone we know sees you?”
Lisa smiled, swimming out towards a field of duckweed. “Maggie, I’ve had sex in this park, trust me, people I know have seen way more than just my tits.”
Maggie’s jaw went slack, her eyes wide in horrified disbelief. “You did not!”
Lisa giggled as she floated past a family of ducks. “I totally did. Just yesterday, in fact. Had him take my anal cherry in the bushes.”
Maggie shook her head. “Bullshit. You’re too much of a good girl to be such a perverted slut.”
Lisa’s wide smile made Maggie doubt that point, and she arched back against the bench. “Holy shit, girl, you think you know someone. What would our parents think if they knew what an unrepentant slut their eldest daughter truly was?”
Lisa picked a stray lilypad from off her left tit, made a face, and headed toward shore, just as a light rumble of thunder broke off in the distance.
“Ugh. Okay, I’m out, this was fun, but now it’s gross.” As she stepped back onto land, she shook her soaking hair, splattering water everywhere like a dog. She reached for her top on the bench, and instead of pulling it on, she simply threw it over her shoulders, letting her tits stand out on display.
“So what did Bart say again?” Maggie looked around, trying not to make eye contact with her sisters exposed, and currently erect thanks to the cold water, nipples.
“Hm? Oh, just that he and Ling were going off to explore a bit on their own and that we shouldn’t worry about them , they’ll find their own way home.”
Maggie sighed. “Speaking of, we should probably get going, too. It looks like it’s about to rain.”
Lisa sighed, looking up at the grey blanket of clouds drifting over the park. “Yeah, okay. Did you and Ling drive, or take a cab?”
“Nah, we biked. If she and Bart found their own way home, then her bike should still be there for you to borrow. If you can pedal without those monstrous things smacking you in the face.” Maggie motioned to her sister’s chest with an impish smile.
“Hey, they’re not that big, little miss mosquito-bites.”
“Ha! You think I’m small? Ling went topless in Amsterdam one day, that girl has nothing. Like, if I didn’t have to share tampons with her, I’d never know she was a girl.”
“Oh god, I know! Hey, tell me again how Aunt Selma kept flashing the drummer, and never realised it was a girl!”
“Hey, Jenny Chu is a very handsome woman. Who…just happens to have a perfectly bald head, a lot of sculpted muscle, a bunch of tattoos and is also a raging bulldyke. Honestly, if I were gay, I’d be gay for Jenny.”
Lisa bit her lip impishly as she and Maggie headed to the bike racks. “Mmm, sounds like baby sister has a thing for muscle mommies.”
Maggie nudged Lisa playfully in the ribs as they walked on. “Excuse me, I’ve seen your search history. Clarinets were not meant for that purpose, young lady!”
The two of them giggled like schoolgirls, nudging each other prankingly. As they left the canopy cover of the park, stepping onto the cobblestone promenade, a sign hanging off a storefront caught Lisa’s eye.
“Hey, I wanna do something a bit extreme. Wait for me a bit, Mags?”
Maggie followed Lisa’s eyes to the store that had captured her attention, and turned back to her sister. “Seriously? You’re kidding me.”
Lisa shook her head, grinning as she turned towards the tattoo shop, purpose in her step.

Bart kicked in the door to his bedroom, Ling wrapped around his waist, held up by a single hand under her plump ass. Both were dripping wet, a towel slung around Ling’s shoulders, the two cousins preoccupied with swallowing one another’s tongues in a sickeningly wet kiss. Ling humped herself against Bart’s crotch, moaning into his mouth as he pressed her against his mattress, not caring if the water from their shared shower soaked into his sheets. They had been fucking ever since they got home, having filled the shower with their own lust, then moved it into the hallway before stopping in Bart’s room.
Ling ground her cunt against Bart’s abdomen, filling herself up on his cock. She pulled away, his lower lip held roughly between her teeth, an impish grin on her face.
“Ffffuck, we’re going to need another shower. Maybe we should just set up a sunshower outside and fuck under that until one of us collapses?”
Before Bart could answer his lust-maddened cousin, the front door opened downstairs, and the sound of voices carried upstairs.
The pair of lovers halted mid-thrust, their attention drawn to the voices coming from downstairs.
“Fuck, I think our folks are back, babe.” Ling’s voice was a mix of disappointment and annoyance. “Think we’d put something on before my Mom catches you balls deep in making her a Grandma?”
Bart sneered playfully at the idea. “Nah, babe, it’s cool. I told you, my folks know about me and Lisa, they won’t care if we fuck.”
Ling sat up on her elbows, looking Bart straight in his eyes. “Yeah, great for you maybe, but my Mom isn’t a member of the Family Fuckers club; she will, as you so frequently put it when we were kids, have a fucking cow if she finds out you’ve been playing Wack-A-Hole with her daughter.”
Bart tried to stifle his laugh at Ling’s joke. “Wack-A-Hole. God, and Lisa says my puns are bad. Okay, we can take a break, I suppose. Bart Junior could do with some rest, anyway, I’ve been working him like a mule since yesterday.”
With a grunt of effort, Bart disengaged from his cousin’s twat, strings of moisture linking them together until he pulled away far enough, a final surge of cum shooting out of his slit and splattering on Ling’s belly. She gasped, and cleaned the bolts of jism from her stomach with the towel, as Bart juggled his legs into a pair of shorts. Standing on uneasy legs, Ling borrowed Bart’s bathrobe, tying up the sash as he led the way downstairs, Ling throwing on a random t-shirt she had picked out of Bart’s dresser.
The pair of them started downstairs, when a lascivious moan made them freeze in their tracks. Quickly, they tried to flatten themselves against the stairs, ducking out of sight but trying to peer through the railings into the sitting room.
There, on the couch, was Homer, his head resting on the armrest of the old green couch, reclining as if to take a nap. He was licking his lips, sleepy lidded eyes watching something happening just out of view towards his feet. From the sounds of wet swallowing and thick sucking, Bart guessed that his parents were indulging themselves in a bit of afternoon delight. The idea of his mother’s cheeks puffed out with his father’s fat cock stiffened Bart’s own pecker in his shorts, which, in the tight cover of the railing and stairs, pressed against Ling’s back. She gasped quietly, turning to Bart, eyeing the tent in his shorts, then she slipped her hand into the leg of his shorts, stroking his hard cock.
“Bart, your cock has gotten hard from watching your parents screw around. What kind of fucked up pervert are you?” The question wasn’t accusatory, she wasn’t judging Bart for being a pervert. In fact, her voice dripped with arousal, and from the raw, heady smell coming up from the bathrobe, so was her pussy. The two cousins watched Homer gasp and groan as the wet slurping sounds became more rapid and more desperate.
Ling leaned in close to Bart’s ear, her breath hot, her voice oozing lust. “I need you to finger me, Bart. Finger my cunt while I stroke your fat cock. Fffffuck, finger my asshole while we watch your mom blow your dad.”
Almost robotically, and entirely in service to his own burning libido, Bart slipped a hand under Ling’s robe, stroking her soaking slit with his forefinger, probing her tight puckered asshole with his thumb. Ling cooed and shivered, and humped against Bart’s hand, biting down on her hand to muffle her wanton moans. Bart’s fingers played along her holes like a master harpist, plucking strings of pleasure that ran along her spine, making her shudder and gasp, made her knees buckle and her brain beg for release, and he only made it worse when he leaned in and planted a sweet, soft lover’s kiss on the side of her neck. Tears ran down her cheeks as she hiccuped softly, trying to old back an orgiastic wail. She gripped the railing spokes to steady herself, whimpering as Bart’s thumb sank into her ass up to the knuckle, his fingers strumming against her clit.
“Ooooh fuck, suck him, Auntie Marge, fill your throat with his big, fat cock…I bet it tastes soooo good.”
Bart looked at Ling, stunned at her whispered candor. He grinned at her, leaning into her ear. “Do you want to suck my dad’s dick, Ling?”
Ling’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t intended for Bart to hear her, hadn’t even been aware that she had said what she said out loud. She sniffed, and shook her head.
“No, baby, I swear. I only want yours.” With that hushed confession, she pulled Bart in for a sensual, loving kiss that seemed to make the world fall away.
It was only when a raspy voice chimed in from the sitting room that they remembered the rest of the household.
“Mmm, I think you’re hard enough for me now, big boy.” Ling turned to the sitting room, her cunt clenching down hard on Bart’s fingers as she had a reflexive orgasm from the shock of the voice.
Selma stepped into view, dropping the top of her dress to reveal her sagging, pendulous breasts, looking down upon Homer with wanton need in her eyes.
Ling bolted upright, pulling her twat away from Bart’s hand, and nearly toppling down the stairs as she staggered to the bottom, ignoring the front door opening behind her.
“Mom?”
Selma’s head turned to the foyer in stunned awe.
“Ling? What are you-”
“Daddy? Aunt Selma? What the fuck?”
All eyes and all heads turned to the front door, Maggie staring into the house, horrified at the scene before her.
Lisa was just behind her, her top slung over her shoulders, covering her nipples, a bandage pasted to her stomach. Upon seeing her family in flagrante - Homer on the couch, cock jutting upwards, Selma with her baps dangling out, Bart on the steps, an obvious erection tenting his shorts, and Ling, wearing only a bathrobe and with her orgasm running down her leg - she only sighed, and shook her head.
“Well shit.”
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Love Is In The Air