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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Terri Mackleberry opened the door to the Simpson household, stepping inside quietly and setting her bag down.
“Hello? Mrs. Simpson? Bart honey? Lisa? I’m back?”
Laughter drifted in from the back yard. Terri closed the door and headed down the foyer hall, into the kitchen to see out the window. In the backyard, Bart was fucking some girl on a broad, brightly coloured beach towel in missionary, the girl moaning as he hammered his cock into her. Bart’s new toy looked an awful lot like Lisa, but with longer hair and smaller tits. Intrigued, Terri pulled off her hot pink mesh top, letting her heavy tits bob out, and headed outside.
Maggie stopped making coherent sense about five minutes ago, her vocabulary reduced to panting, hiccuping moans, and demands that Bart fuck her harder and deeper, which frankly was no longer realistic as he was already fucking her as fast and as deeply as he could. Her older brother was pistoning his thick glorystick into her tight twat like a hydraulic press in overdrive, making her entire body shake and jump as he railed her without mercy. She was wailing like a siren, her cunt stuffed with eight glorious inches of fraternal dick, her mind being fucked blank, her cervix bruised and battered and ready to give up the ghost and open up to Bart’s hot babymaking seedload.
Off to the side, Lisa and Ling sat in folding yard chairs, sharing a bucket of popcorn between them as Bart drove himself into his baby sister. Both girls were wearing sunglasses, with Lisa wearing her tight pink vinyl corset, tits hanging out, leather pasties covering her nipples, a finger strumming her fat, meaty pussy lips absently. Ling was topless, wearing only a thong and a sheen of sunblock. Both seemed utterly enraptured at the live sexshow being performed before them. Terri stood off to the side, watching the proceedings, when Lisa picked up the bottle of suntan lotion, and put it to her mouth, using it as a pantomime microphone.
"This is an outstanding performance, Bob! In all my years, I've never seen anything quite like it, it's a real Cinderella Story! Bottom of the ninth, a Hail Mary clutch from behind, who'd a thunk it?"
Lisa handed the bottle to Ling, who took it and continued the bit without hesitation.
"This team has fought hard to get where they are today, Jim! They've had some setbacks, there's no denying it, but when they took the field today, you could tell they were ready to play!"
Terri smirked at the scene playing out before her. Watching Bart powerfuck Maggie inspired her to tug at her left nipple, her right hand unzipping her skirt, then slipping inside to toy with her sopping wet cunt.
With a feral howl, Bart gave one final push into Maggie's pussy, the sound of his cum rushing into her so intense and powerful everyone in the backyard could actually hear each shot of hot, lifegiving spunk splattering against her inner walls. Spent and momentarily exhausted, Bart fell backwards onto his ass, his cock slipping from his baby sister with a moist plop.
"And what a dismount, Jim!"
"He stuck the landing, but will the judges even care, Bob?"
Lisa spun towards Terri, pointing the bottle of suntan lotion at her. Terri giggled, and waved her hand in front of her face, trying to compose herself. "I give it tens across the board."
"And there you have it, Bob! The new world champions of backyard fucking are taking home the pennant, the cup, and the gold! Do you believe in miracles!?!"
Terri lost her shit, laughing at the antics of her new family. "Omigawd, what are you weirdos doing?"
Lisa smiled, munching on a fistful of popcorn. "Fuck-picnic."
Terri strode over to Lisa, dipping her hand into the ice-filled cooler, pulled out a bottle of beer, shook off the ice, and cracked it open. "A what?"
"Fuck-picnic." Ling looked up at Terri, smiling. "We're having a picnic, and we're fucking. It's a fuck-picnic. I'm Ling, by the way."
Terri took Ling's offered hand, and shook it, taking a slug of her beer. "Terri. Bart and Lisa's-"
"Fuckbuddy, yeah, they've said. I'm their cousin."
"Cousin? Sorry, I don't mean to-"
"It's cool. Chinese, yeah, I know. I'm adopted."
Terri nodded along, hoping to mollify her faux pas. "Cool, cool. Sorry, though, I did sound a bit assholish questioning it."
"Nah, it's cool. At least you're not mall security. They used to follow us around when I was little, like my Mom snatched me from a Panda Express or something."
"Fuck, people are the fucking worst."
Maggie, fresh off her cock-high, crawled towards Ling, her ass wiggling with every step, her face a sweat glaze mask of depravity.
“Did you see me, Ling? Did you see Bart fuck me like a cheap whore?”
Ling took her fucked-out cousin’s hand in her own, smiling sweetly at the sweaty, whorehouse-scented girl. “I saw, honey. You looked so fucking beautiful on his dick.”
Maggie reached between her legs, scooping up a heavy dollop of cream from her leaking, bruised twat, and sucked her fingers clean, savouring the tang of her brother’s incestuous seed. She moaned at the flavour, then offered her sticky snatch to her cousin.
“Did you want a taste?”
Ling pulled Maggie up into her lap, kissing her cousin’s cummy lips. It had only been a few hours since the three Simpson siblings had descended from their shower of depravity, when Maggie revealed that she had always had a crush on Ling, and Ling, despite her initial shock, had warmed to the idea of taking Maggie as her girlfriend with breakneck speed.
Ling reached into the cooler and scooped up a handful of ice, spreading it along Maggie’s glistening chest. “You’re overheated, babe. You need to cool down and hydrate before you collapse.”
Maggie giggled and snuggled into Ling’s neck, kissing her sweetly. Bart staggered to his feet, his wet, red cock dangling just above his knees. Inspired by Ling, he grabbed some ice from the cooler, and ran the melting chips over his nude body, shivering as the cold puckered his skin in the sweltering sun. Maggie eyed his swinging dick, and she poked it childishly, watching to see his reaction. Bart smiled at her, and ran his fingers through her hair, before leaning down to kiss her lips. He then turned to Ling, kissing her as well. Ling pulled a water bottle from the cooler, cracked it open, and handed it to Maggie, who suckled from it like a baby, before using the ice-cold bottle to make her nipples stand on end.
Bart stretched his arms upwards, and shook like a dog after a bath, working the tension out of his muscles. He approached Terri, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her in for her kiss, this one deep and wet.
“Hey baby. You missed some fun around here.”
“So I see. Two girls, Bart? Really?”
Bart sheepishly looked back at Maggie and Ling, who were running dewy bottles of water over each other’s bodies.
“Uh, yeah. A lot has happened in just the last twenty-four hours.”
Terri took Bart’s hand, massaging it reassuringly. “Don’t sweat it. At least I know it takes two girls just to replace little ol’ me.”
Terri set up a lawn chair next to Lisa, nudged Bart into it, and planted herself on his lap, wiggling her ass against him. Leaning into him, nibbling Bart’s ear, Terri extended her slender fingers out to Lisa, who gracefully took Terri’s hand and kissed it delicately.
“So where are your folks?”
It was Maggie who responded, in between squeals of shock as Ling dripped ice water onto her naked body.
“They went out. Daddy is at *yeek!* Mr. Flanders borrowing his barbecue, and Mom and Aunt Selma are *stopitLing!* out picking up supplies for the picnic.”
“What kind of supplies?”
“You know, food, snacks, paper plates, probably lube for us kids.”
Lisa snickered. “As if any of us need lube. We make our own just fine.” She reached out for Bart, caressing his hair, licking her lips at the sight of his flaccid cock folded neatly in his lap. “Don’t we baby?”
“Hmm, yeah, it’s like living with a herd of fucking Slip-N-Slides.”
Lisa pulled her hand out of her syrupy cunt, brushing her sticky fingers along Bart's lips, letting her aroma fill his nostrils. "You know you love us, baby."
It was at this point, as Bart was licking the cunny juice from his lips, that Terri noticed that Lisa was naked from the waist down. She squirmed against Bart uneasily. "I feel a bit overdressed here today."
"Well babe, feel free to strip it all off, if you want."
With an impish grin, Terri stood up, hooked her thumbs into the beltline of her tight skirt, then stopped, batting her eyelashes at Bart, and pouting helplessly. "Mmm, help me out of my skirt, Daddy? Pwease?"
Bart choked on Terri's words, beaming a wide, perverse grin to her. Bart pulled her in close, unbuttoned her skirt, and drew the zipper down with his teeth, sliding it to her feet and helping her step out of it. She stood there in lace purple panties that showed off the trimmed lavender bush crowning her pussy. With a lascivious smirk, Bart then slowly peeled Terri's panties from her body, thin threads of pussy syrup soaked into the fabric as Bart pressed them into his nose and inhaled, his cock curving upwards as he sucked in her raw pheromones. Moaning with desire, Terri sat back in Bart's lap, shifting her legs until she straddled him, his hard cock pressed against the sticky cleft of her cunt. Leaning in close, she nipped at Bart's earlobe, her eyes locked with Lisa's, beckoning her to come closer.
"I missed both of you so fffffucking much. Going twenty-four hours without this wonderful cock buried inside me or Lisa's sweet pussy pushed into my face was just too much for me, I had my hand in my panties the whole fucking time, no joke."
Lisa rose out of her chair, entwining her fingers with Terri's, leaning in to kiss her lover. She then traced a finger down Terri's spine, into the cleft of her round, full ass, teasing around the rim of her pink, puckered asshole, Terri letting out a hissing gasp as she prepared to be double-teamed by her sibling lovers.
And then eighty-five decibels of boorish oafery interrupted her roller coaster ride to Orgasmville.
"Bart! Get yer butt over here and help me with this fucking thing!"
It was Homer, dragging Ned Flanders' behemoth of a barbecue down the sidewalk.
"Dad, I'm in the middle of a couple someones!"
"Well reel it back into your pants for thirty fucking seconds, boy! This thing weighs as much as your Aunt--" Homer paused for a moment, remembering recent events and that his niece was within earshot. "As much as your Aunt Patty's dislike of me!"
Good save, Homer Jay, he thought to himself.
With a grunt of disappointment, Bart helped Terri to her feet. She caressed his cock gently, her other hand firmly on Lisa's ass.
"It's okay, baby, you go help your Dad, Lisa and i will warm each other up until you get back to us." To punctuate her words, Terri slipped her tongue into Lisa's mouth, the two pink muscles wrestling together. Bart groaned, his upwardly curved cock throbbing at the sight. He wanted to reach out, to touch them, hold them, mount them from behind and ride them both off into the sunset like Gary Cooper. Yippee-ky-yay, sister fucker.
"Bart! Get your ass in gear, boy!"
Fuck.
With a groan, Bart rose to his feet, and sprinted around the house to next door, his throbbing, hard lovemuscle bobbing with every step. He could hear murmuring whispers of Rod and Todd as he approached the house, and was fairly certain he heard Todd exclaim in pain as Rod no doubt buggered his brother, inspired by their mutual lust for Bart's hammer.
The Flanderses barbecue was like something out of a science fiction movie. Ned claimed that he used it to cook turkey for Thanksgiving, and seeing the size of the thing, Bart imagined that it could cook at least three or four of the birds at once. Homer was straining to drag the barbecue out of the Flanderses' garage, Ned helping him roll it out onto the sidewalk. Seeing Bart approach, dick swinging in the sun, Homer waved him over. Rod and Todd were the heavy propane tanks, eyes glued to Bart's naked body.
"Over here, boy! You take the back and push, I'll pull it from the front."
Bart grumbled as he pushed the heavy barbecue down the sidewalk, Homer straining to pull it behind him.
"So, what kind of party are you guys having?" Rod's voice was strained under the effort of hefting the heavy propane tank.
"Uh...it's more of a...what's that thing Roman emperors used to have?"
"Assassinations?" Todd's voice was chirpy and delicate, and a bit dreamy. Bart surmised that all Todd was thinking about was Bart's ass.
"No, not that. The parties where they eat grapes and slaves serve them wine and everybody's screwing? Like an orgy, but with more music and dancing?"
"A bacchanal." Rod delivered with the knowledge. "Those were Greek, not Roman."
"Yeah, that. We just need to set up a music system and get the food cooking, then it'll be all set."
Rod shifted the propane tank in his grip as Bart and Homer rolled the barbecue onto the grass, pushing it into the backyard. As Rod fitted the tank into the barbecue, he half-turned to Bart; "We can help with that. Dad's got this amazing sound system in the rumpus room, we could hook it up for you guys."
"Shit, really? That'd be great, thanks."
"You'd have to provide your own music," he said with a smirk. "I don't think Lawrence Welk is appropriate bacchanal tunes."
Bart chuckled sarcastically. "I think we have some Tiny Tim or Yanni to set the mood."
Rod stood up, working a kink out of his back. He was about to say something, when the sound of a car door slamming signalled that Marge and Selma had returned from their shopping trip. "Mom's home, guys! Come help with the groceries!"
Bart and Rod were the first to reach Marge and Selma, followed by Homer, then Lisa and Terri, with Maggie and Ling busy seeing how many fingers they could fit into one another. Both mature women wore tiny bikini tops and sarongs around their waists, and both Bart and Homer stared at the ample acreage of exposed tit-flesh on display.
Marge clucked her tongue, and handed out the bags to the kids. "Bart, you take the drinks, there should be enough ice in the coolers. Lisa, here's the plates and plastic cutlery. Terri - hi, sweetie, I hope your folks are doing well; tell me all about later when things are settled, hm? - you can help Selma with the food. Homer, help me put the ice cream in the basement freezer, okay?"
Everyone broke up to see to their chores, Homer following Marge into the basement, his eyes glued to her butt as she swayed her hips playfully. Just before she slipped into the house, she waved at Rod and Todd invitingly. "You boys are welcome to join us later! Bring your father and that new girlfriend of his, too!"
Rod and Todd nodded and ran back home. Homer hefted the two heavy bags of ice cream into the house, grumbling and glaring at his wife's ass the whole way.

In the basement, Marge held the freezer open while Homer dropped the ice cream tubs in. Marge pulled a box of ice cream bars out of one of the bags, tore it open, and rubbed the icy treat over her skin, still in it's white plastic wrapper. She dropped the lid to the freezer, hopped up, and eyed Homer vixenishly, resting the ice cream bar between her full, heavy tits. She parted her legs slightly, hiking her sash up to show off her fuzzy blue bush, dew glistening in slight pearls on her wiry pusy hairs.
"God, Homer, I'm so hot. I need a good hosing down."
Homer gulped noisily, his mouth suddenly dry. Marge's slender, pointed foot poked at Homer's shoulder, before she pulled her husband towards her with her leg.
"Do you know where a poor, desperate woman can get a good, hard hosing?"
Marge ran her ice cream bar along Homer's cock, making his shiver as the frozen plastic caressed his lengthening meat.
"You've been playing with Selma so much lately, Homer; you haven't forgotten my tight, hungry cunt, have you?"
Homer growled at his wife, before crushing his mouth against hers, his thick tongue filling her mouth as he humped against her hairy, moist cleft. "No, babydoll, I haven't forgotten you. Let me eat that hot pussy of yours, Marge; let me show you how fucking well I remember your cunt!"
Homer dropped to his knees, clamping his mouth down hard on Marge's seeping pussy, her legs wrapped around his head. As his tongue worked into her hot, wet tunnel, he rose to his feet, setting Marge on his shoulders, wearing her cunt like a hockey mask. Marge squealed as she tried to keep her balancing on Homer's shoulders.
"Eeek! Homer!! Oh god, baby, don't stop, but put me somewhere safe before we fall! The couch! Take me to the couch, and fuck me like a fucking whore!"
Homer staggered towards the couch on the far side of the basement, stumbling blindly, hands outstretched to keep his balance, Marge hugging herself to his face as he lapped at her cunt. Feeling the edge of the ratty upholstery, Homer bent over, dropping Marge onto the dusty couch while driving his tongue further into her moist, hungry depths. Marge screamed as Homer's nose brushed against her achingly stiff clit, and a spray of thick cunt-jelly splattered against his face. Marge writhed and contorted herself against Homer's face, humping into him, fucking herself on his swirling, digging tongue, her eyes wide and mad with frantic lust. She shook as another orgasm rocked her body, her voice a shrill shriek as she clamped her legs around Homer's head, her fingernails digging into his scalp. Homer managed to untie himself from Marge's spider-like grasp, and stood up, his thick, menacing cock sticking straight out, his fat, heavy balls pulsing with anticipation. Marge eyed the monstrous cock before her like a starving dog with a juicy steak, and slowly swivelled her legs open, prying her cuntlips apart in preparation for her impending impalement.
Homer glared savagely at his splayed out wife, his throbbing cock leaking dewdrops of precum as he aimed his shaft towards her steaming twat. He giggled psychotically as he sank into her, both of them seething with unbridled passion, until his gut crushed against her body, pressing her into the decrepit old couch.
"Ffffucking hell fuck, Homer! Your cock is soooo fucking hard right now! Stretch me the fuck out, baby! Fucking split my cunt in fucking two!"
Homer arched his back upwards, levering his cock deeper into his wife's pussy, then he began battering her ass with his swinging balls as he ploughed into her, rocking the ratty old couch, banging it against the basement wall like a triphammer. Marge howled as Homer reamed her out, his fat cock hollowing her cunt like a Jack O'Lantern with every thrust.The couch creaked and groaned in time to Marge's hiccupping grunts of effort as she forced her stuffed cunt upwards to meet with Homer's driving cock. Homer's hand slid up her body, between her full, massive MILF tits, up her collar bone, to find her slender neck, and gently, he squeezed at her throat, watching her eyes go wide. She smiled, placing her hands over his, pressing him into her windpipe even harder, letting her face turn red as her man choke-fucked her like an animal. The basement soon filled with the whining of the couch's aged frame, the brutal grunting of the married couple, the slick, rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh, all mingled in with the scent of raw, unceasing sex and their radiating heat in the already stifling clime. The concrete walls rang our with the echoes of Homer's grunts and Marge's crescendoing wails as her husband wrecked her mature pussy with his fat, throbbing cock.
The windows of the Simpson house rattled as the copulating couple in the basement shook the foundations of the home with their manic, savage rutting. Outside, in the backyard, as Selma watched over the sausages splitting open and the burgers grilling nicely, her plump, plentiful ass swaying back and forth to the beat of the music piping in through the Flanderses audio system, Bart watched as Lisa railed Terri in the grass with a strap-on that had been smuggled out of the Mackleberry home. His eyes were glazed over with lust, inspired both by the sight of his sister and their girlfriend rutting into one another like horny minks, and also by the manual ministrations applied to his raging, rigid boner by Maggie and Ling, who were kneeling at his feet, stroking his cock playfully., Ling sucking on his tip while Maggie fondled his heavy, swollen balls.

"Mmf, look at them, Bart" Maggie's voice was a deep, silky purr. "Look at how good Lisa fucks Terri. Did you teach her how to fuck like such a fucking bull, hm?"
Lisa smirked wickedly as she watched her sister and cousin tease and jack her brother. Terri clutched at Lisa's hair, tugging her down for a soul-sucking kiss as she pumped her pussy upwards to meet every one of Lisa's thrusts with the silicone cock buried deep in her snatch.
"Is he watching us, Lisa?" Terri's voice was a hiccuping whine as the dildo battered her cervix with every thrust. "Is he watching us fuck? Is Bart watching you breed me?"
Lisa looked up, seeing Ling attempt to shove as much of her skull onto Bart's cock as was humanly possible, managing to swallow all but the last five inches of her brother's amazing meat. Her eyes locked with his, and she played her tongue along her teeth, flashing him a seductive smile before turning back to the lavender-haired girl underneath her. "Oh yeah, baby, he's watching us. Shall we give him a good show?"
In response, Lisa grabbed at Terri's hair, slapped the girl hard across the face, and lifted her ass as the rhythm of her pelvic pounding quickened. Terri gasped, her face stinging, her cunt gushing and spasming around the invading dong as it rooted her out.
Selma planted a hand on Maggie's shoulder, her niece looking up at her fulsom aunt. "Honey, would you mind watching the grill for me for a sec?" Maggie craned her neck to see the grill just past her aunt, then looked back up, almost like an orphan who had just been told that there will be no more gruel.
"But Auntie Selma, I'm playing with Bart."
Selma smiled gently, patting Maggie on the head, prodding her to her feet. "I know, sweetie, but I want to spend some time with Ling, and you've had him all morning. And since your father is balls deep in your mother, I think I'd like to see just what the other Simpson male is capable of."
Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but only a high-pitched yelp came out, as Ling tweaked her cousin's slippery pussy lips. Maggie shot Ling a look, only to soften as Ling pouted, "C'mon, sweetie, Mom and I have barely been in the same room since we got back. I'll make it up to you by eating your pussy later, hm?" Maggie shuddered at the thought of Ling's tongue pressed against her moist slit, and she nodded giddily, rising to her feet and taking Selma's offered apron. Selma edged Ling aside, falling to her aged knees, her eyes locked with Bart's.
"Move over, sweetie. Let Momma have a turn at that monster cock of your cousins."
Selma dropped to her knees, and Bart got a bird's eye view of her ample, sagging cleavage. His cock throbbed at the sight of Selma's mammoth tits barely restrained by her bikini top, and he nearly fainted dead away when she grabbed his root in her slender fingers. A droplet of precum ran over Selma's fingers as she slowly stroked Bart's cock, her usually-rough hand gliding up and down the shaft like a gentle wind.
"You like looking at your Auntie's tits, honey?" Bart groaned as his aunt ran her tongue along the underside of his knob. "Mmf...yeah, they certainly are something, Aunt Selma." Selma chuckled before engulfing the fat monster cock with her mouth, stretching her lips almost to the point of tearing. She hummed in delight as her nephew's long, fat cock slipped into her throat, slowly pulled her head back, then drove it forward again, until her nose was buried against Bart's pelvis. Ling gasped as her mother took every fucking inch of that monster cock, her eyes almost bulging as she watched the meat she had struggled with disappear into her mother's throat. "Ffffuck, Mommy, you can take his whole fucking cock! How do you even do that?"
Selma pulled her head back, thick layers of spittle and foam left in her wake as she popped her mouth off of Bart's cock, her tongue curved to tickle every inch of the underside, then she turned to her awed daughter, and smiled wickedly. "Mommy's had a lot of practice eating dick, baby." She dragged her flat, broad tongue along Bart's knob, then stood up uneasily, her knees creaking in protest. She fumbled briefly with the knot of her sarong, letting the gossamer-thin fabric drop into a heap on the grass and exposing the fattest pussy smothered in the thickest forest of greying hair Bart had ever seen. Thick, pregnant droplets of dew threaded along the strands of pubic hair that covered his aunt's twat like glass beads on a string, and Bart felt his cock jump three solid feet in the air as the strong perfume of Selma's arousal punched him hard in the nose.
Selma widened her stance, swaying her ass side to side as she shifted her feet apart. "Mmm, look at that, Bart. See how hot and wet you made your Auntie Selma." Bart's breathing quickened, and a spurt of precum exploded wetly from his slit, dribbling down the pulsating shaft as he stared unblinking at his Aunt's glory-zone. Selma giggled, then turned around, achingly dropping to her knees, and shoving her ass out towards her horny nephew. "Why don't you show me what you can do, hmm? Give me the cock that's been making my baby girl moan like a whore in heat." She wiggled her ass back at Bart, slapping the thick, jiggling globe and raking her long nails into her soft, giving flesh. "Come on, Bart, fuck your fat, horny Autie's wet cunt. Make me fucking squeal!"
Bart didn't need to be told twice. He knocked over a cup of half-melted ice in his mad dash to mount his Aunt, his stomach pressed against her back, his rod nestled lovingly between her cuntlips. He lifted his hips against his Aunt's ass, watching his cock slide between her fat, plump ass-cheeks, hotdogging himself against her. Her pussy was sticky and slick with love-juice, and with Bart sliding his cock between her jiggling butt-globes, she wasn't running out of cunny-cream anytime soon. Selma shivered at Bart's touch, which only made her plump ass shake and jiggle more, splashing her cunt oils over both of them like a wet dog shaking off the water. "Please, Bart," her voice was a plaintive whine, "fuck me! Stick that cock in your Auntie, sweetie!" Bart smirked, and shot Lisa an evil look, as if they were in on some sinister secret together. His eyes went back to the pulsing, sopping pussy before him.
"Nah, I don't think so."
"What!?" Selma sounded almost fearful. She was burning for cock right now, almost desperate for a good dicking, and the dick of choice was denying her its sweet release. "Bart, I need a cock in me! Please, just fuck me already!"
Bart shook his head, teasing the fat, pink lips of his aunt's cunt. "Nope. Sorry Aunt Selma." He nudged himself back a few inches, dipping his head low towards her pussy. "I can't fuck this pussy until it's well and properly eaten." The instant Bart's tongue made contact with Selma's gamey, soaked cunt, she folded, her head slumping onto the grassy ground of the backyard, her body shivering as her nephew flicked and teased at her stiffened lovebutton.
"Aaaaahffffuck! Oh shit, yes! Unnnf, eat my cunt then, baby! Eat out your Aunt's nasty cunt!" Selma lifted her head from the grass, her face flushed red with heat, a pathetic whimper on her lips as she ground her twat into Bart's face, trying to get as much of his head up her canal as she could. She grunted and mumbled incoherently as Bart slurped and sucked on her thick, juicy pussylips, his tongue easing into her gushing tunnel. She let out a squeal of pained ecstacy, her body trembling as she fought to hold herself up, until finally Bart pulled his glazed face from her cunt, rising up on his haunches and lining his cockhead up with her greasy, glistening slit. Selma shivered in anticipation, her mind going blank as Bart tortured her starving quim, dangling all eight inches of nepotal phallus just within reach of utter, blissful satisfaction. Eventually, the steaming heat rising from his aunt's scalding gully was too much even for him, and with a piggish grunt, he pushed himself up and forward, spearing Selma on his length in one go, making her squeal as her moist cunt was impaled on her nephew's glory. As Bart pushed himself further into his aunt's depths, she hissed and huffed as her tunnel stretched around the invading meatpole, the air rushing out of her lungs as he recklessly battered himself against her cervix. She pushed herself back against Bart's cock, slamming her ass against his abdomen, grunting and panting as she bounced herself on his prick. Selma flexed her aching cunt muscles, intermittently crushing, then releasing Bart's throbbing hard cock as she slid herself along his shaft, nearly snapping it off inside her. Bart reached out, his fingers sinking into the soft, ample flesh of his Aunt's fat, sagging breasts, his thumb brushing against her thick, fleshy nipple, teasing it as their two bodies slammed into one another, groping and pulling at her pendulous mams, eliciting pained gasps of delighted agony from Selma's lips. She pushed herself away from Bart, his cock slipping from her soaked cunt, and threw her leg over, pushing him back against the chair he had been sitting in and straddling him. She pushed the gaping lips of her cunt back onto Bart's cock, engulfing him effortlessly, squishing her heavy breasts into his chest, and slowly began pumping herself up and down on him, her face buried in his neck as she rode her nephew's hard lovehammer, muttering a string of desperate and incoherent prayers to her new phallic god.
"Fuck that pussy, baby. Fill it up, stretch it out. Fuck my hot old-lady cunt, Bart. Fuck it good and deep. Shit, your cock feels so good in my twat, feels right."
Selma leaned back, eyes locked with Barts, and without a word, her breath hot and ragged, she lunged in, devouring her nephew in a hot, abyssal kiss that he could have sworn was meant to suck out his soul. Their tongues melded and wrestled together, their mutual moans reverberating inside their merged mouths. Behind them, on the blanket, Lisa and Terri were entwined together in an upright lotus position, eyes glued to the rutting going on between Bart and his plump, mature aunt, Lisa absently planting a row of kisses along her lover's cheek.
"Fucking hell, Lisa."
"I know, babe, I see it too."
"The way she rides him, it's-"
"-Hypnotic. Like a lava lamp."
Sure enough, Selma's ass rippled like the surface of a lake in a strong wind, jiggling wildly with every bounce and downward thrust upon her nephew's wondrous cock. Selma looked back at her niece and her girlfriend, a perverse smirk on her lips, and slapped her fat, quivering ass.
"Mmph, fuck yeah. Look at my fat ass jiggle! It feels so fucking good to bounce on cock!" Selma wiggled her hips as she pummeled her inner depths with Bart's cock, moaning as she dug her fingers into her soft, supple flesh. Bart's hand slapped over hers, massaging her assmeat as she renewed her pistoning onto his shaft. Selma curled back into Bart, panting hotly into his ear as she rode him, whimpering like an abandoned puppy as he filled her soaked depths.
"Oh god fuck me," Selma hissed into Bart's ear, frantically pumping herself against him, her hips undulating as she careened wildly towards her impending orgasm. "So good, baby, so fuckin' good. Fuck your fat old auntie's cunt, Bart, fuck it and fill it up and make it fuckin' sing for me, baby."
By this time, Lisa and Terri had disentangled themselves from one another, and with the look of a fox slinking up to the henhouse, Terri crawled over to Bart and Selma, staying low to the ground, and pressed her face into the older woman's chunky butt, making Selma yelp in surprise as Terri's tongue made contact with Selma's asshole.
"Oh shit! Aw ffffuck, yes! Oh god, Ling, I'm sorry, baby! Momma's sorry she's such a fucking slut!" Ling, squatting on the grass, her fingers pressed against her sopping mound and her eyes glazed with mesmeric lust, slowly shook her head. "No, Mommy, no; you're fucking beautiful, riding Bart like that." She leaned up towards her mother, slinging an arm over Selma's shoulder and grazing her cheek with a genuine kiss, then slipped her lips to her mother's ear. "Make him plant a baby brother in you, Mommy. I want him to give me a baby brother, please."
Selma looked at her daughter, her face reddened with exertion, and a sly smile crossed her lips. "Oh fuck, you are a filthy one, child. You know Momma can't have babies. If she could, she wouldn't have you, sweetheart."
Ling gave her mother the same look that bought her tennis lessons and guitar lessons and a new car for her seventeenth birthday, that coy, pleading look children learn the day they're born and which they break out only for real emergencies, such as cajoling a particular Christmas present out of the toy store, or to avoid being grounded when the cookie jar suddenly goes mysteriously empty.
"I know, Mommy," Ling's voice had taken on an almost disturbing, child-like pitch; "but won't it be fun to pretend?"
Selma groaned at her daughter's lurid suggestion that she breed herself to her own nephew. She knew it wouldn't happen - she was already too old all those years ago when she adopted Ling, and she certainly hadn't gotten any younger; but the idea, the notion that she could hump herself against Bart until he flooded her womb with his hot,potent seed, that he could plant a new life inside her, it made every nerve in her body tingle and twitch. She quickened her pace, slamming herself against Bart like a machine, like two rams vying for a mate, pussy cream splattering against his loins with every downward thrust as her excited sex engulfed him, chewed him up, then spat him back out. He wordlessly gripped his aunt's hips, grunting as he felt his own climax reaching the boiling point. He looked over to Ling, who had take a step back, watching her cousin-lover and her mother fuck like insane minks, her slender fingers dancing around her slick pussy as she observed the theoretical conception of her own sibling. Terri had to back away from Selma's ass, as the older woman had become a lunatic on Bart's member, her ass bouncing and moving too quickly and too roughly for the younger girl to keep pace. All eyes were on the pair as they fucked away on the grass - Ling playing with herself, Lisa and Terri holding each other, Lisa kissing Terri's hand gently, even Maggie had diverted her attention away from the cooking food to stare as her brother, in one final, primal push, exploded deep inside Selma's hungry trench, her pendulous breasts heaving as her own orgasm agonizingly racked her plump, meaty body. Fluids drenched the grass and soaked into the soil as Selma erupted, her voice a climbing, raspy wail. Fingernails raked up Bart's shoulder, his teeth sank into his lower lip, and in one last gasp of effort, he screamed his final shot, before collapsing back against the chair, his life essence having seemingly been expelled out of his cock and into his aunt's waiting baby chamber.
Bart didn't open his eyes again until a familiar, almost feminine voice stirred him from his post-coital meditations.
"Hey, we--holy shit."
Forcing himself back up onto his elbow, Bart looked around. He had dozed off, briefly, and was fairly certain he had been dreaming something utterly mundane. Maggie had returned her attention to the grill, and Lisa and Terri were helping Rod Flanders fetch a ladder from the shed, while Ned set up a sound system for the picnic. Ling and Selma had pulled out the old kiddie pool, the Itchy and Scratchy one Bart had gotten back when he was seven, and were running the garden hose into it. Selma stopped to aim the running hose at her bare, hairy twat, rinsing off the sweat and cum mixture smeared in her grey-lavender bush. Todd, who was supposed to be helping his father with the speakers, was instead ogling Bart's spent cock, biting his lip as he daydreamed about the ride he could take on that thing.
"Hi, Bart."
Bart shifted awkwardly. He didn't mind Rod or Todd looking at his piece, or being so open in their lust for him - hell, if anything, he was flattered, and, if he was being honest, even a little curious - but his drowsy brain was still fogged from exertion and whatever micro nap he had fallen into. He staggered to his feet, and as he rose, so too did his cock, completely on it's own.
"Hey, Todd. How long was I out for?"
" Mm, I dunno. We only just got here. Not long, I think."
"Five minutes." Maggie intoned, flipping over a burger. A plate of them was all ready to be served up, just waiting for everyone to dig in.
"Shit."Bart rubbed at the red welts running up his left shoulder, from where Aunt Selma had marked him. "She really wore me out. How do porn stars fuck so many women in a day?"
Maggie pressed down on a burger, smirking. "They don't, Bart. Porn stars fuck a few women on a shoot, then they cut, call it a day, rest up, come back the next day and fuck a few more."
Bart slipped up behind his baby sister, his resurrected cock slipping between her bare ass cheeks, nuzzling a kiss into her neck. "And just how does my virginal little sister know how porn stars work?"
He couldn't see her roll her eyes. "It's a movie set, Bart, of course that's how it works. Do you think Jackie Chan can run all over a city, including up the walls, in only ninety minutes?"
With a chuckle, Bart pulled away from his baby sister and the warmth of her ass cleft, and made his way to the garden hose, taking a moment to playfully swat at Todd Flanders' exposed bubble butt. Todd squealed with shock, pain and a bit of glee that the object of his lust had touched him so intimately, and turned his head in time to see Bart take the running hose from his still-flushed aunt, and turn the rushing stream of cold water onto his hard cock, rinsing the melange of fluids from his shaft and letting it deflate limply between his legs. Nephew and aunt shared a warm, lingering gaze, Selma actually blushing at the young man's playful, seductive smile. Bart leaned in to kiss his aunt, only for the older woman to lean back, placing a hand on his firm, muscular chest.
"Whoa there, cowboy," Selma said gently. "It was fun. Hell, it was...unreal, like fucking magical. But the only man kissing these lips is Homer. You want to kiss any other lips there might be on my body, you go right ahead, but these bad girls up here," she touched her fingers to her lips to emphasise her point, "they belong to him. Like how Lisa won't let anyone else fuck her pussy but you, got it?"
Bart withdrew his kiss, thought for a second, then shrugged in concession. "Yeah, that's fair. Still, if you fuck him the way we fucked, then that just proves Dad has some sort of superpower of tripping ass-backwards into luck."
Selma smiled as Bart hosed his cock off, and slapped his ass as she walked over to the food. "Yeah, as if landing two hot bitches like your mom and me wasn't proof enough that that bald doofus was born with horseshoes up his ass. Now where are those two, I'm starving?" As Bart washed his cock in the spray of the garden hose, hissing at the cold water running over his sensitive bits, Lisa carried out a tray of condiments and plastic cutlery, and Ling brought out the salads to set on the picnic table.

Marge teetered up the basement stairs on her worn out, uneasy legs, the sound of hers and Homer's favourite playlist sounding throughout the air. She cupped a hand to her ass, hoping to dam the leakage of gooey cum trapped inside her abused bunghole, while Homer followed behind her, scratching his ass and forgetting to cover a yawn. "Damn...Homie, you kept us down there so long we missed out on helping with the picnic! I feel bad now, having the kids do all the work."
"Oh Marge," Homer said sleepily, "I think the kids are at least intelligent enough to feed themselves. And hopefully not eat it all without us." As soon as the smell of freshly grilled burgers hit his nose, Homer was off like a shot, giddily jogging through the kitchen to the backyard, his ample gut and flaccid member bobbing and swaying as he ran towards the food. Marge watched from the kitchen window as Homer built a pyramid of hamburgers, poured a stream of mustard and ketchup over them all, and planted himself like a housecat at the picnic table to eat. She could have watched her man fuel himself all day, except an aching twinge and a warm moisture pressed against the palm of her hand reminded her of the urgency of getting to the toilet to drain the flood of jism from her asshole. Penguin-walking as quickly as she could, Marge scampered to the bathroom, and kicked the door behind her.
Lisa drizzled her homemade raspberry-lemon vinaigrette over her veggie burger, seated next to Bart, her free hand slowly gliding up his wet, warm cock, teasing him to full hardness. On Bart's left, Terri was cradling his replenishing nutsack, massaging it with one hand, the other carefully and acrobatically balancing a hamburger as she took another eager bite out of it. Across from the amorous threesome sat Selma, smirking as the table subtly shifted and jostled. Homer was oblivious, focused only on demolishing the stack of burgers he had plated and grafitti'd with condiments. Maggie and Ling were spooning on a lounger, feeding each other lettuce leaves and stealing quick kisses, and Rod and Todd sat on the ground, Todd seated on his brother's lap, Rod's bare cock driven into Todd's ass to the root. Marge staggered out onto this scene, and with a motherly smile of satisfaction, plated herself a burger and grabbed a soda from the cooler, parking herself next to Homer. She murmured warmly at her family, sitting together, eating together, just like in those old Norman Rockwell paintings.
Well, not exactly like Normal Rockwell.
"How are the burgers, Homie?" Marge smiled as Homer stacked four burgers into a totem pole of heart disease, ran a kebab skewer through them, and began stuffing them into his mouth, almost like like an assembly line...also of heart disease. "Mmmphgglbrm," was the garbled, half-choked response, as Homer swallowed down the first four burgers in a stilted cough. Marge murmureddisapprovingly, "Homer, what lesson did you learn the last time you took out your special kebab skewers?" Homer swallowed, licked the skewer clean of the smeared grease and mustard, and thought for a second. "Um...some things are inkebabable?" After only a cocked eyebrow from his wife, epiphany hit Homer, and he pouted dejectedly to her. "But Marge, I really needed the extra energy after we screwed like horny chimps in the basement."
Selma let a grin stretch across her face, as she reached for a second burger. "Amen, Homer. I think we all need some extra calories, after the exercise we've been getting today." As she said this, her foot lightly slid up Bart's leg under the table, her toes brushing against his hard shaft in Lisa's hand. Bart's eyes went wide, and he sank in his seat a few inches, Lisa nuzzling against his neck as the young man was tormented by his three lovers. Marge, ever vigilant in the lives of her children, naturally noticed this silent exchange between her son and her sister, and cleared her throat, taking a pull from her soda. Swallowing the cold, grape-flavoured fluid, she stifled a small burp, then spoke up, her voice coy and teasing.
"Did something happen while your father and I were fucking in the basement, Bart?"
Bart's brain was a puddle of mush, smooshed into a fine paste by the unyielding assault upon his dick by his sister, aunt and lover. Too stultified to speak, it was Maggie who responded, from her spot on the lounger, where Ling was licking mustard off her cousin's pert nipples.
"Aunt Selma rode Bart like a fucking rodeo champ, Mom. You should have seen it, it was so fucking hot!"
Homer scowled at his son accusingly, swallowing a load of mashed hamburger bun. "You hornin' in on my territory, boy?"
"Ah, Dad, it's like this - she sort of-"
"Yeah, he got his horn in my territory, Homer." Selma's voice was soft and disarming, not her usual grating rasp. "Relax, he knows where we stand. He's a good substitute dick, but he knows that his Daddy owns my twat."
To emphasise this point, Selma rested her free hand on Homer's lap, caressing the thick appendage curled against his leg. "Besides, I had to make sure that pecker was good enough to poke at my little girl."

It took another thirty minutes for the burgers to vanish completely, mostly into Homer, and for the salad to disappear, almost entirely into Lisa. Homer may have accidentally eaten some of her veggie burgers, and absolutely ate a few fish burgers, but he didn't seem to mind, and with a mighty belch that rattled windows, set off car alarms, registered a solid 4.7 on the Richter scale and frightened local religious nuts into declaring that the Final Trumpet had sounded and the end was nigh, make thy peace all ye sinners, the picnic was declared done and a resounding success. Having seen to the actual cooking and preparation of the food, Lisa, Selma and Maggie were given a full reprieve from the cleanup duties. Rod and Todd had dismantled their sound system, and with the assistance of both Selma and Homer, carried it back home, while Bart, Ling and Terri packed away the dirty paper plates and plastic cutlery into the wheeled garbage can. Marge was left to scrub the grill, a task she took to with stoic resolve, the wire brush making short work of the gristle burned into the aluminium elements.
Terri had to snap Bart out of a dreamy reverie with a soft elbow to the ribs, his eyes glued to his mother's bare ass, as she dropped a stack of soiled plates into the trash bin.
"Hey," her voice a harsh whisper, "now's your chance, loverboy."
Bart, despite his best efforts and many improvements over the years, was still sometimes very much a Simpson, and as such, his brain sometimes took a while to fully get up to speed with the world around him. Which naturally explains his slack-jawed response of, "Huh?"
"Your mom, baby. Your dad is at the neighbours with Selma, probably playing 'bury the weasel;' And your mom is just right there, ass out, and all you gotta do is go make your move. So get to it, honey!"
Bart chewed on Terri's suggestion for a moment, his eyes locked onto his mother's shapely, full ass, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth, a soft lullaby in motion, swaying like a metronome, keeping rhythm with Bart's racing heart, drawing him in with supple curves and rippling flesh and the momentary peak at the thick, meaty lips of her love tunnel and the ocean blue tuft of hair crowning her glory. Without thinking, Bart took a step towards his mother, firmly bewitched by Marge's form, then another, then a third, until he was right behind her.
Marge muttered a string of minced oaths under her breath in frustration at the grill's stubborn refusal to submit to her intense scrubbing, and was so involved in her task at hand, that she could only gasp in shock and drop the wire brush when Bart threw an arm over her, kissing her shoulder.
"Is that your pecker in Mommy's ass, young man?" Marge smiled playfully as Bart pressed his hardness into the cleft of his mother's buttcheeks.
"Mmm, it could be." Bart kissed her shoulder again, closing in on her neck. "Just say the word, pretty lady, and you can have my pecker wherever you want it."
Marge couldn't help it, she would swear that in a court of law, on a stack of Bibles and maybe even a pile of Korans, her eyes just seriously, literally, rolled on their own, completely without her input, and she put down the wire brush and turned to face her hung, satyrian offspring, the sticky knob of his gift to the world grazing against the cerulean bush cresting her cunt.
"Sweetie, we've been over this. Someday Mommy will take you on a ride around the fucking world, but 'someday' is not today. Besides, how do you even have any energy left? How many of the fillies in your stable have you already fucked today?"
Bart leaned his head back, counting off in his head and ignoring his mother's stern rejection. "Let's see...Lisa and Maggie in the shower...then I had Ling while Lisa explained the picnic idea to you and Dad...then Maggie again while you were shopping...then Aunt Selma..."
"Jesus Christ, boy, we need to bottle whatever it is you got running through your cock and sell it to NASA as rocket fuel. Even your father goes soft after the third or fourth nut."
"What can I say, I got stamina." His voice was a liquid purr, dripping with lust and an attempt at seduction.
Marge gently pushed back on Bart, making him take a step back, his machismo and bravado suddenly deflating. His cock, however, never did, something Marge very much noticed, her eyes glued to her son's impressive treasure. "Hold your horses, Mister. You may have stamina, but I just took a two by four made of silk and hot iron up both my holes and they need a break." Her delicate fingers caressed Bart's shaft, making it pulse and jump in anticipation. "Mmm...but that is a nice one, and it would be a shame to let this pecker stay dry." With a predatory purr, Marge shepherded her son up against the wall, tracing her fingers down his chest, over the slight paunch of his gut, to the thick, throbbing cock that had melted the brains and twats of so many already. Bart gulped loudly, nervously, as his own mother wrapped her slender fingers around the circumference of his root, and watched with awed delight as she sank to her knees, and took his pride into her mouth. Letting out a low, throaty moan as the tang of her son's penis hit her taste buds, Marge slowly began sweeping her tongue along the underside of his knob. She watched his face, his eyes closed, his lips pulled into a dopey grin, and just when he seemed to sink into the pleasure of his cock inside his mother's warm, wet mouth, that's when she turned up the pressure, sucking him hard, crushing his glans against the roof of her mouth with her tongue even as she formed a perfect vacuum. Her cheeks hollowed inwardly as she began pulling her head back and forth along the silky smooth rod trapped between her lips.
"Ah....ffffuck, Mom!" Bart's head bumped hard into the wall of the house as he leaned back, barely able to keep to his feet, his body overwhelmed by the pleasure being applied to his dick. "Homer's a lucky man to get this mouth all the time!"
Marge let her son's penis fall from her lips, a stern look on her face. "Honey, let's not bring up your father when I'm blowing you, hm? It's...awkward."
Bart smiled sheepishly. "S-sorry, Mom. But he is."
"Mmmm," was the only response, a rumbling murmur, followed by the thick, wet slurping sounds of a mother sucking her son's raging hard cock like a professional two-dollar whore. Bart's compliment warmed Marge's demeanour considerably; she had been working on her head game - she was certain that was what the kids called the thing he generation referred to as a 'hummer' - by blowing Homer any chance she could. While Homer's cock was certainly thicker than Bart's by at least half, her son's member was considerably longer, and still held the faint tang of all the pussies he had ploughed today - Marge quivered at the thought that she was indirectly tasting the pussies of both her daughters, her niece, and her sister. The notion of it all sent convulsions down Marge's spine, and she let Bart's cock slip from her lips as she shuddered, her quim dripping onto the grass.
Bart's vision was swimming at the intense sensation of being blown by his mother. Of all the girls he had fucked, even on that day alone, none of them could hold a candle to Marge's cocksucking skills. He looked down at her, her face flushed, skin coated with sweat and drool, and gave her a weak smile, which she apparently took as a signal to dig back into her boy's piece. Marge never was one to turn down a request, and, lifting Bart's spittle-flecked shaft, she ducked her head into his ballsack, noisily, greedily, slurping on his fat, heavy life-giving orbs. This time, it was Bart's turn to shiver as his nut came ever close to exploding. Marge wasn't done rocking her boy's world, as she went further, deeper, lifting Bart's leg onto her shoulder, spreading his asscheeks, and dipping her face into his crack.
Really, it was when her tongue made contact with his bunghole that he lost his crap. Not literally, of course, but he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from crashing the yoghurt cart all over his mother's towering blue beehive. A bit of pressure, then a wet, wriggling invader exploring his forbidden depths, his breath becoming shallow and ragged as Marge tongue-fucked his ass.
"Mmmfffffucckkk, Mom! Holy shit, what are you doing to me?" Bart struggled to keep his balance under the anal assault of his mother's oral ministrations. A brief oasis of respite appeared only when Marge lifted her face from her son's asscrack, her cheeks flushed and red. "What's wrong baby," she said between gasps, "doesn't Lisa toss your salad for you?"
Bart could only meekly shake his head. "No...Mom, please...keep going, but let's not mention Lisa while we're...you're right, it's awkward."
Marge gave her son a tired, but sweet, smile, and dove back into his crack, lapping at his pink hole, this time stroking his hard cock with her free hand, coaxing his seed out of his heavy balls. Her fingers pressing against the silky-smooth rod of hot iron in her grip, her tongue probing into her son's depths, Marge felt her body shiver with an electric current, her pussy sweating her arousal in wire-thin tricklets. The sudden urge to dip her fingers into her cunt, to churn her quim like a whore in heat, burned through Marge's body with the same intensity as the knowledge that it was her son's ass she was eating out, and she decided that after Bart had blown his load, she would find Homer, bend him over, and compare tastes between father and son.
The pressure within Bart's nutsack built up to a crashing electric crescendo, and, his toes curled into the lawn in the backyard, and with an agonised grunt, a hot torrent of jism erupted from his cock, arcing briefly through the air before settling into Marge's big blue bouffant. His anal ring convulsed and spasmed, letting his mother know that he had arrived, and after a few more probes with her long, pointed pink tongue, she withdrew, licking her lips and savouring her son's tang.
With a grunt of effort and the crack of her knees, Marge rose to her feet, daubing at the blots of seed hanging from her hair. She smiled dreamily at Bart, who was half-slumped against the exterior of the house, his body drained of energy, his heart stumbling back to a normal rhythm.
"Mm," Marge hummed, sucking a cummy finger clean with satisfied relish. "I see why Lisa puts it in her coffee. It has a...nice, subtle nutty flavour. Not as strong as your fathers, but still nice."
Seeing how exhausted Bart was, his eyes struggling to stay open after yet another day of marathon ball-draining, Marge playfully, teasingly pressed her fulsom tits against her son's chest. "You did very well, sweetie. As far as I'm concerned, you're much closer to finally getting a shot at Mommy's pussy." Bart's brain was too fogged and numb to respond with anything more complex than a primal groan, and Marge, almost giddy with arousal, slid a finger along the cleft of her mons, and rubbed the oily digit against her son's lips, dosing him with her own flavour.
"There you go, a small hint of things to come, if you keep up your stamina training." Before Bart could form a coherent thought, his mother was off in the direction of the Flanders house, her bare ass swaying side to side as she sauntered away. Terri, who had been sitting on the picnic table, munching on a carrot stick and watching the analingual congress between mother and son, hopped off her wooden perch, stretched out her arms overhead, and saucily approached the worn out young man. Bart flopped his head back against the house, trying to focus his eyes at the pale, lavender-haired girl and her sly, wicked smile.
"Okay, wow." She poked a finger into Bart's chest, tracing it down his stomach to his wilting, exhausted cock. "I never thought I'd see something as hot as a woman blowing her son's asshole, but damn, baby, that was a learning experience."
Reaching down, Terri cradled Bart's spent member, the thick, warm meat pulsing in her hand. She pouted impishly, feigning disappointment at it's flaccidity. "Sigh," she literally said 'sigh', slumping her shoulder melodramatically, "looks like I'm the last girl at the ball to dance with the prince."
Bart plopped his butt on the ground with a grunt of effort, sweeping his sweat-soaked hair back. His eyes seemed more focused, and with a small burst of strength, he was able to lift his head to Terri, a weak smile on his lips. "Sorry, Terri, I guess everyone else had their turn and now the merry-go-round broke down."
Terri sat herself next to Bart on the ground, a hand on her lover's thigh. "It's alright," she sighed. "You rest up, get your mojo flowing again, and when you think you can, you come find me and use me as your personal breeding mare, okay?" She leaned in and kissed him sweetly on the head, pushing herself up to her feet. Bart looked up after her, the sun putting her face in shadow. "Wait, 'breeding?'"
Terri grinned a mischievous grin, as she walked off, swaying her ass playfully. "Well yeah, can't let Lisa have all the fun. Someone's got to give you some kids that aren't also their own cousins, right?"
Bart wanted to say something after Terri, something pithy and cute and more in line with his bad boy image, but he could only muster enough strength to slump his head against the house, let out an exhausted sigh, and close his eyes. He'd be clever once he had rested a bit, his nuts in particular needed to recover. Part of him was glad to finally know he had an upper limit, that he could only fuck and cum so many times in one day. He just wished he had more cocks to please all the women in his life.
As Bart drifted in a deep, recuperative slumber, Terri began climbing up the rickety, splintered plywood ladder up to the treehouse, where she found Lisa, reclining on the floor in front of the window, reclining like a cat in a sunbeam, her left leg stretched behind her. Terri watched as her other lover rolled onto her back, pressed her knees to her chest, then rolled to her feet like a gymnast. The beautiful blonde girl flashed her lavender-tressed girlfriend a sly smile, approaching her warmly and touching her arm.
"Hey, you're not fucking Bart? I thought for sure you'd get some your first day back."
Terri returned Lisa's smile, and began caressing her arm back. "He's recovering from a rusty trombone your mom gave him. I'll get his cock later tonight, when he's recovered."
Lisa's eyes went wide in surprise. "Mom? Mom knows what a rusty trombone is? Well damn, you think you know someone..."
Terri moved in, holding Lisa close, squishing their full chests together, her lips at her lover's ear, her hot breath sending a shiver down LIsa's spine> "Oh baby, you should have seen it, she ate his ass like it was a pie. He came all over her hair, it was so fucking hot."
Thin fingers dug into the soft, giving flesh of Terri's plump ass, making the pale girl moan. "I see. And it inspired you to come up here to test out your own hole-eating skills, did it?"
"Nope," Terri's voice was soft and velvety, smooth and liquid with lust. "I've been jonesing for my baby girl's hot wet cunt for days, is all."
The finger traced downwards from Terri's ass, dipping furtively into her soggy cleft. "Mmm, I think I can help you get your fix, then. Come into my parlour, said the..."
A finger pressed against Lisa's lips silenced her. Terri didn't need any clever comments, she needed Lisa; and she communicated that hunger, that driving need, by jamming as much of her tongue as she could, into as much of Lisa's windpipe as was physically possible.

"No fucking way." One researcher, Patrick Gannigan, the one with the red beard, scoffed at his colleagues' assertion.
"I'm telling you." The fat one, Eugene Proctor, insisted emphatically.
"You're shitting us, Gene." Matt Kelly put his now-empty coffee cup down on the table to his left.
The three researchers were huddled around a bank of monitors in the darkened emergency cabin, the screens showing video feeds provided by drones hidden around Springfield. The main monitor, the largest one, was locked onto a certain two storey house located on Evergreen Terrace, it's occupants lounging about the backyard. Eugene pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling through for something. "I'll show you guys, I'm serious, it's him."
"Bullshit," Gannigan shook his head, "bullshit, man. Why would he be living in some money pit dump in some hick town in the asshole armpit of nowhere. He should be a fucking Senator, not - "
The lights came up, sending the three men scrambling in a panic to look busy. COming through the doorway with the mien of a stormcloud was Dr. Margot Jeng, site supervisor under FEMA Director Kowalski. Her eyes narrowed at the three researchers, slits of pure suspicion, her right hand on her hip, the left having just flicked on the lights. The three men swallowed nervously, having been caught with their hands in the cookie jar and now having to face Mom's ire.
"Oh for fuck's complete sake, gentlemen; tell me you aren't circle-jerking to this shit." She stomped out of the entrance, towards the hive of monitors. "This is a legitimate emergency, not some excuse for you assholes to watch free porn."
She scanned the screens intently. On several of them, the subjects were either rutting like wild beasts, sleeping off a recently complete power-fuck, or just about to stick it in. With a disgusted groan, she snapped off the monitors and turned to the three men, eyes rolling in disappointment. "I swear to Christ, guys. These people are in real danger and you're jacking off to their trouble."
Eugene's face lit up at his phone, and he held it overhead triumphantly, as if presenting the severed head of a slain foe to his patron gods. "I got it! I found it! I fuckin' told you guys!"
The men huddled around the phone in Eugene's hand, which naturally sent Dr. Jeng into a smouldering fury. "Holy shit, you dumbfucks, I'm scolding you and you're still watching fucking phone porn? I'm going to make sure you peckerheads wind up in the fucking unemployment line for this bullshit!" She charged towards the huddle of men, reached in, and snatched the Proctor's phone away angrily. "Give me that, you degenerate fucks! Jesus!"
"Hey! I was-" Eugene's plea was cut short when he saw the dark, murderous glare in Dr. Jeng's eyes, his courage suddenly leaving him to go to the store to buy cigarettes and milk. "Not. On. Fucking. Word. Eugene."
Margot scrolled through the screen, a barely hidden sneer of contempt on her lips. "I swear, the Director gave me chimps to work with. Horny chimps with no impulse control. What the fuck were you perverts looking at, anyway?"
Gannigan spoke up, figuring he had nothing left to lose save his job. "Eugene thought one of the names on the town register sounded familiar, so he's been trying to convince us all that some music legend from the 1980's lives here."
An eyebrow of disbelief went up. "That's it? Some popstar moves to Buttfuck, USA, and that's all you clowns were doing? Who is it, the other guy from WHAM!?"
"His name is Andrew Ridgeley, and no, it's not him. It's Homer Simpson."
Both eyebrows went up, interest piqued. "From the Be Sharps?" Margot's older sister Clarice played their music all the time when they were kids, and Margot always thought Homer was the cutest one of the group. That was just the rules, Homer was the cutie, Apu was the mysterious foreigner, being French and all, Barney was the sensitive soul, and Seymour was the funny one. "You're telling me a Grammy-award winning, genre-redefining musical genius lives in this diseased jerkwater berg?"
Eugene motioned to the phone in Margot's hand. "They all do. Um...Homer works at the nuclear power plant here in town, Apu ran the local convenience store until one hold-up too many made him a paranoid recluse who never leaves his house and hasn't been seen in public in years, Seymour Skinner is the local Elementary School Superintendent, and Barney Gumble is...um...a five-star admiral in the US Navy."
Margot kept scrolling through the phone, looking for whatever evidence Eugene had found, or had thought he had found, finally stopping when she saw Homer's face pop up. It was an old photo, at some birthday party it seemed, where he was basically just shoving an entire three-tier cake into his mouth. She smiled. He was still so handsome, even after all these years. Tapping on the picture brought up the Snitchipedia article on the Be Sharps, and from there, she went to the article on Homer Simpson, her eyes scanning for any information.
"...Homer Jay Simpson, age fifty-four...won three Grammys in 1986...huh...first civilian to go into space in 1994...son of a farmer and a left-wing radical terrorist...half-brother to automotive magnate Herb Powell...only son is an Oscar-award winning filmmaker and former professional skateboarder...742 Evergreen Terrace, Springfield...hmm...yeah, it's him."
Gannigan scoffed. "Bullshit. Why would a Grammy-winner be living in this mildew-bowl? Why isn't he living in LA, making more music?"
Still reading, Jeng glared at Patrick from the corner of her eye. "Because he tried a comeback in the mid-90's with a grunge band that soured him on the music industry, apparently."
Margot continued perusing the article, ignoring the three men she had just moments earlier castigated. Nervously, Eugene spoke up. "Um...so are we still in trouble?"
"Hm?" Honestly, she had completely forgotten about them altogether. "Oh, no, uh...just...don't do it again. In fact, why don't you recall the drones and do a maintenance check? 'll...go over the data collected so far.
With a buzz of confused grumbles, the three men rose from their seats to leave. Eugene hung back, hovering near the doctor. "Uh...can...I have my phone back, Doctor Jeng?"
"Hm? Oh...oh yes, of course." She seemed confused that the man would want his property back, but shrugged and handed his phone back. "I'll just...um..." she turned back to the monitors, motioning to them vaguely, "I'll just review what we've already learned."
Eugene took his phone, and quickly, ashamedly, lurch-sprinted out of the tent. Margot sat in the chair most opposite the hive of screens, reached for the remote and turned them on, focusing on the big blocky box of a house sitting at 742 Evergreen Terrace. She pressed the rewind button, leaning back in her seat, licking at her parched lips, her eyes fixed on the video showing Homer Simpson, musical god of her youth, swinging the fattest pipe she had ever seen on a human, casually strolling about his backyard nude.
The sight of Homer's cock swaying as he walked made Margot shiver, and she slowly slipped her hand down the front of her slacks, turning off the world around her the only thing existing being the looped video of Homer taking five steps, his hog slapping against his thighs as he moved. Margot Jeng shuddered as if she had been given a jolt of electricity, and she hadn't even touched her clit yet. She knew she was going to enjoy this.
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Love Is In The Air