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Love Is In The Air	By : LordKuyohashi Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 18605 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
The automatic doors at the Grocery Maximus slid open with a pneumatic hiss, and a rush of chilled air washed over Maggie as she pulled Bart in after her, her slender fingers locked around his wrist. Bart had given up trying to wrest himself free of his baby sister’s vice-like grip halfway through the parking lot, and instead amused himself by watching her smooth, well-toned ass flex and jiggle in her tight pink boyshorts, images of her butt bouncing against his cock distracting him right up until the blast of air conditioned atmosphere hit him in the face.
Maggie came to a skidding halt a few steps in the entrance, and beelined for the shopping carts, wrangling a quarter from her pocket, and slotting it into the cart’s lock mechanism, pulling it free and returning to Bart, all sunshines and giddiness.
“You got the list, Maggie?”
Maggie nodded excitedly, pulling a folded sheet of stationary from her back pocket.
“Yup! Where to first, Bart?”
Bart looked around the supermarket, mapping out a route in his mind. “We’ll need the dry ingredients first, so the baking aisle first, I suppose. I want to check out the international section, too. What should we have with the golden chicken, Mags?”
Maggie thought for a second as Bart took the cart from her, guiding her out of the entranceway and towards the produce section.
“Well, can you make your asparagus and rice again? That was really yummy, too!”
Bart smiled; it had been a good, solid forever since Maggie spoke to him with anything other than annoyance, and he was beginning to feel spoiled by his sister’s newly rediscovered awe of her big brother. “Sure, we can do that.”
Bart let Maggie pick out the bundle of asparagus, wondering if she was cold in her tight, thin outfit. Maggie hadn’t yet developed Lisa’s love for tight pleather pants and fishnet t-shirts, but wearing tight short-shorts and a baby tee that showed off a teasing hint of underboob in the produce section of the supermarket must have been chilly, all the same.
The asparagus was healthy and green, and Bart led the way to the deli section, picking out a small wedge of Leyden cheese. The sharp cumin in the cheese would pair well with the sweetness of the asparagus.
As Bart dropped the cheese into the cart, he felt a hand slip into his back pocket, squeezing his butt playfully.
“What are you doing, Maggie?”
“Shopping wiff my big bruvver.” Her voice was light and babyish, and if Bart had to pick any other word to describe it, that word would have to be…”pink.” Definitely “pink.”
“I mean, why is your hand in my back pocket?”
Maggie made a sound, one Bart hadn’t heard since she was little and was pouting about not getting a cookie, somewhere between a grunt and a whine. Bart stopped pushing the cart, turned to his baby sister, and gave her that look he had seen his mother use a thousand times; head tilted down, jaw set, eyes hooded, what he was certain the internet called the Kubrick Stare. Although in their family, it was used more to cajole the truth out of fibbing children than anything else.
“Maggie…” his voice was stern and paternal, and as Maggie looked up into her brother’s blue eyes, she felt a primal shudder run down her spine, and spend an inordinate amount of time loitering around her pelvis.She sighed, and shook her head, her shoulder-length blonde curlicues bouncing as she chased the tingles and cobwebs out of her head.
“‘No’ what? What does that mean?”
Bart wasn’t angry, and he didn’t sound impatient. In fact, he sounded bizarrely authoritative, completely unlike the Bart she knew. Or thought she knew.
“I jes’ wanna put my hand in your pocket, that’s all.”
“Mm-hmm.” His tone was doubtful.
Maggie pouted, a thick, exaggerated pout where her lower lip hung out like an awning in front of a shop, and Bart swallowed the lump that formed in his throat when he saw how cute his baby sister was acting. He had seen her be hot and sexy and post-orgasmic, but cute? It had been ages since she was cute. Mostly, in recent years, she had been annoying, then annoyed, then disgusted with her brother. Seeing her be ‘cute’ made Bart’s mind race and his heart skip, and he cleared his throat to focus his thoughts.
“Well, okay then Just…stay close to me, alright?”
Maggie nodded enthusiastically, and Bart continued down the aisle. Maggie gave a wicked, evil look to a huddle of girls standing by the ice cream section as she and her brother passed by; they had been eyeing Bart, sizing him up, undressing him with their eyes, and Maggie was having none of that. A quick hand in his rear pocket sent the message that Bart was taken, and Maggie glared hot doom at the confused girls, letting them know that their nefarious plans had been thwarted.
The baking aisle was the next stop, home to all sorts of spices and seasonings. It was Bart’s favorite aisle, mostly because it allowed him to experiment beyond his mother’s limited palette. The woman didn’t even know what oregano was, for God’s sake!
Bart was halfway through the aisle when he felt the hand in his pocket slip out and heard quick footsteps racing away from him; by the time he had turned around, Maggie was out of sight and around the corner.
“Maggie? Mags?”
Bart took a step after his sister, only to have her barrel into his chest at top canter, giggling like a toddler and holding a long, oblong package, wrapped in bright blue and white cellophane, a pack of chocolate-creme cookies. She presented her bounty to Bart, her eyes wide and bright and peering up at him from an oddly coquettish expression.
“Bart, can I have these, pweeeeease?” To sell her plea, she lifted the bottom of her tiny, tight t-shirt, just enough for one of her perfect, creamy nipples to pop into view teasingly.
It was the “pwease” that took Bart back the most. It took him a second to digest the absurdity of Maggie’s tone and affectation, then he burst out into a light chuckle.
“I don’t even know what is happening right now, Maggie. Yeah, sure. We can have them for dessert.”
Maggie snatched the cookies back, as if she had been bitten, clutching them to her chest and glaring angrily at Bart, a sour pour on her lips. “No! Not dessert, for me! Just for me!” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and Bart looked around, hoping nobody heard his sister’s unusual outburst.
“Alright, fine, fine, yours, they’re yours. We’ll…I dunno, find something else for dessert. Just put them in the cart, okay?”
“Yay!” Maggie actually jumped and bounced as she dropped the cookies into the cart, and threw herself into Bart, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, big bruvver.” she chirped, looking up at him with her big bright eyes.
Bart hoped against hope that she didn’t feel how hard he was at that precise moment.
She had. And she enjoyed it so, so very much.
Bart sighed heavily, and planted and hand on his baby sister’s ass, pulling her to the side of the aisle.
“Alright, Maggie, what the hell is going on with you?”
Maggie took a step back from Bart, pouting childishly as she peered at her brother from behind the curtains of hair framing her face.
“I jes’ wanna be your widdle babygirl.”
Few have ever accused Bart of being a genius, and those few who did, eventually changed their minds. But given enough time and hints, even Bart could put two and two together and come up with the fact that his sisters were a couple of fucked up sluts.
“Ah shit. Is this a kink thing? Like Lisa and her latex and electrical tape?”
Maggie’s head bobbed up and down quickly, her face brightening up like a spotlight.
Bart scratched the back of his neck. “Right, everyone’s got one, don’t they? Lisa likes pain - not like she wants me to hammer roofing nails into her tits, thank god, but she really likes peeling electrical tape off her nipples - and I swear to God I saw Dad browsing Deliveroo for a fucking Optimus Prime mask for some godless reason. So what do we call this now, Mags?”
Maggie slinked up to Bart, slipping her arm around his waist and tucking her hand back into his rear pocket.
“It’s kinda a lot of things. There’s some DD/LG, some ageplay, and a lot of bimbo play.”
Bart leaned against a rack of spices, careful not to put down too much weight, and gave his sister a comforting smile. “Alright, pretend I’m descended from Homer Simpson and have a reputation for not being the brightest bulb, and walk me through what all that means.”
Maggie looked around, and stepped aside to let a couple pass with their cart, pushing their own cart off to the side. She cleared her throat, and pulled up the imaginary cue cards she had committed to memory for just this occasion.
“Okay, so, .basically, it all means that…um…okay, DD/LG, do you know what that is?”
“Something to do with voltage, I guess?”
Maggie giggled, shaking her head. “No, silly! It stands for ‘Daddy Dominant/Little Girl.’”
“Mags, I love you, but I’m really not into kids, so-”
“Not real little girls, you dick. It’s just pretend. Like, you make the rules, tell me what to wear, we cuddle - sex optional, but let’s be real, we’re both horny sluts - I wear cute clothes and act like a brat until ‘Daddy’ - that would be you - disciplines me.”
“With my dick.”
More head shaking. “Nope. With time outs, or groundings, or even spankings if you think I’m being bad enough.”
“But…why?”
“Because acting all helpless and innocent and, not to put too fine a point on it, dumb as a sack of rocks, is such a fffucking turn on for me.” She punctuated this point by pressing her hand between her clenched thighs, and Bart could see a thin trickle of lovehoney running down her leg from under her shorts.
Bart ruminated on Maggie’s words for a moment, before straightening up. “So…you want me to be your…what, ‘Daddy? I dunno how to feel about that. And Lisa would outright hate it.”
“Well, I’m not a big fan of industrial adhesive on the tits, but as luck would have it, it’s not my tits she’s putting the tape on, now is it? Lisa can have her ick moment all she wants, but this is my thing, Bart, it’s what I want.”
“What about Ling?”
“She knows, we talked about it. She doesn’t know if she can act all ‘little,’ but I put on my baby voice for her, and…Bart, I swear, she was part anteater, how deep in me she pushed her tongue. It really got her going.”
“I see.” Bart looked down at his baby sister, who was still rubbing between her legs, looking up at him in raw anticipation. “Well, I don’t see why this couldn’t be fun.”
Maggie skipped and clapped in ribald jubilation, realising too late that as she had clapped, she had splattered some of the nearby shelves with a light drizzle of her juices. She quickly fished a tissue out of her tiny powder blue purse, and wiped her hands clean, before threading Bart’s offered arm with her own. As they continued down the aisle, Maggie poked at the stiff lump in her brother’s shorts.
“You gonna do your shopping with this monster?”
“Maggie, we’re in the middle of the supermarket.”
“Yeah, and you fucked Lisa in the middle of a crowded park. And Ling in a dingy alley. Don’t go pretending like you got standards, big bruvver.”
“...Fair point, I have no further objections. But, I don’t want to get my dick out right in the middle of the store; I’m not so much self-conscious or anything, I don’t give a fuck who watches me ball my baby sister. It’s just, this store is fucking cold as tits, and I don’t want my cock catching a cold from the air conditioning, you know?”
Maggie gave her older brother a wicked grin, and lead him by the hand, pulling him and the cart through the aisle, to the far side of the store, back towards the deli; specifically, towards the counter that sold ready-to-eat meals - rotisserie chicken and potato wedges and croquettes and the like. Next to the service counter was a black mesh bench, and a sign that read, “Grocery Maximus loves lovers, but hates bleaching the aisles every ten minutes! If you need to snuggle, snuggle here!”
Maggie dragged Bart over to the bench, and climbed up, wiggling her butt at her brother.
Bart only stared, dumbfounded at the entire situation.
“Oh dear Lord, what is all this?”
“The managers couldn’t get people to not fuck in the store, so instead of sending out the janitor every three minutes to hose down the floor with industrial disinfectant, they set up this little section so people can shop, stop off for a quick screw, and get back to shopping before their ice cream even melts. Think of it like a diaper changing station, but for busting a nut.”
As Maggie explained all this, she shifted on the bench, sitting with one knee raised, her other foot flat on the ground, her thin fingers slowly dragging the zipper of her boyshorts down. Her shimmering eyes watched as Bart dumbly devoured the sight of his sister undressing, her spare hand pulling her top up over her pert, supple breasts.
“Fuck, Maggie, and I thought Lisa was crazy.”
Tight pink shorts slipped stiltedly over delicate ankles, before sitting in a small heap on the floor; Maggie’s knees parted, and her glistening slit split open, revealing it’s pinkish center, throbbing and winking like the mouth of a baby bird begging to be fed.
“Mm, you want crazy, big bruvver? Come give your baby sister her wowwipop, right in her tight, wet pwincess parts.” She capped it off with a giggle, coquettishly chewing on her finger as she shifted up the bench.
Bart shook his head in disbelief, eyes locked on his baby sister’s dripping wet flower.
“Wowwipop. Oh jesus, even for us this is fucking weird.”
Maggie reached her hand out, batting her eyelashes to Bart. “I’m jes’ a widdle babygirl, big bruvver. You like my pwincess parts, don’t you? I can see how big and hard your wowwipop is getting, you must like it.”
With a single fluid motion, Bart fished his cock out of his shorts, eight inches of solid yellow flesh pointed skyward, veins pulsing, a pearl of precum forming at the tip.
“Damn right I like your…umm, pwincess parts. Do we have to talk like this? I feel like I’m about to stick it in Elmer Fudd.”
“But I’m jes’ a widd–”
“Widdle babygirl, yeah." Bart licked his lips as he climbed onto the bench, looming over Maggie, his gaze riveted to her pussy. "Mm, you know what I like about you girls? Each of you is sexy in a different way."
He cupped her left tit, making her coo lightly. "Terri has these nice, big tits." He then pinched at her nipple, tweaking it, tugging at it. "Lisa's nipples are so sensitive, probably why she likes pulling tape off of them."
With his other hand, he caressed Maggie's thigh, touching along the contours of her ass. "Ling has this amazingly thick, juicy booty that looks like jelly everytime it bounces on my cock." Maggie squirmed, panting as her brother touched her, groped her. Bart's hand reached her pussy mound, clamping his fingers on it's side and jiggling it. "But none of them have a pussy like yours, Maggie. Tight and hot and so fucking chubby. Look at the baby fat on this pussy mound, I could just fucking eat this cunt all day." He released her puffy, fat mound, and in one sharp motion, hooked two fingers into her cunt, making her head swoon and her back arch upwards, squealing, grunting like a pig in heat.
"Ahhh ffffuck, yes!” She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, before looking pitifully at her brother as he began finger-fucking her. “Oops! Pwease don’t tell Mommy I said a swear, big bruvver, pwease?”
Bart only heaved an exhaustive sigh, working his fingers in and out of Maggie’s clenching cunt.
“How about this, Maggie: when we’re having our special snuggle time, you can say any swear word you feel like, okay?”
Maggie squealed as she nodded her head, chewing on her lip, panting like a bitch in heat
“Pw-pwease, big bruvver!” she whined, writhing against Bart’s pistoning fingers.
“Please what, baby? Tell me, use your words, what do you want?”
She struggled for a moment, as if her brain were trying to remember how to function. She thrust her hips against Bart’s hand, trying to force him deeper into her pussy, her vision filled with fireworks as her tunnel clenched and undulated on his invading digits.
“I w-wan’--” she let out a rasping hiccup before composing herself, “I wan’ your big thingy inside my kitty!”
Bart yanked Maggie onto his lap, his baby sister as light as a doll, his hard cock resting just in the cleft of her slit. Her skin was hot and flushed, her breathing ragged and wet and hungry; she glared at her brother like a wolf eyeing a lamb. She fidgeted on his lap, trying to impale herself, failing, and whimpering pathetically as Bart’s cock went everywhere except inside her needy sororal twat.
“Big bruvver,” she pouted, her wet blue eyes looking at Barn forlornly, “he’p put your big thing in my kitty, pwease.”
Bart bit his lip - he hadn’t thought babytalk would get to him like this, but every rhotacism out of Maggie’s mouth made his cock jump and throb painfully - and nodded without a word. He slipped his left hand to her ass, holding her still as he supported his cock with his right, aiming it for the creamy centre of her drooling cunt. Maggie held her lower lips open, and together, they both guided her down onto her brother’s dick, a wave of electric joy rushing up her spine. She let out a long, almost wailing sigh as she sat on Bart’s cock, wiggling herself on his lap to get him all inside of her, planting her head on his shoulder until she felt ready to move.
Slowly at first, she lifted herself up, then dropped back down, driving Bart back into her depths. Rising, dropping, riding her brother like a carousel pony, thrusting her hips back and forth as she found her rhythm, her breathing becoming ragged and wet with every push against Bart’s body.
“Nng! B-big bruvver!” Maggie whined, clutching at Bart as she drove herself onto his member, her cunt muscles gripping and sucking and massaging his length. “My kitty loves eating your big thingy!”
Before Bart could say anything - as if he had enough blood in his head to focus on speaking at that precise moment - Maggie pushed herself back, supporting her exuberant dick-bouncing and giggling like a madwoman as Bart’s cock pounded into her deepest parts. “Nom nom nom nom nom! See, kitty likes your thingy!”
Bart cracked a smile; Maggie hadn’t looked this cute to Bart in ages, certainly not since she had hit puberty all those years ago and decided that her screw-up of a brother wasn’t worth anything more than her disdain. That Maggie, the scornful harridan that only ever thought the worst of him, she was a long-faded memory now, replaced in Bart’s mind with the giggly girl writhing in near-mindless ecstasy on his pecker, wringing his seed from his aching balls.
Looking over Maggie’s shoulder, Bart could see people in the store; some were ignoring the two siblings, rutting like savages in the deli section, going about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary were afoot - which to their mind, it wasn’t. Some, however, had stopped to gather and gape in stupefied awe as Maggie bounced and writhed on her brother’s cock, her lithe body undulating like flowing water as she rose and fell onto his prick, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing and dancing with her movement. One pair of faces in particular caught Bart’s eye - a familiar piggish nose lying just under a pair of sunken, sleepy eyes, and the coffee-coloured skin of a less familiar individual.
Nelson Muntz had his hand down the back of Janey Powell’s short skirt, his index finger running laps around her loosened asshole, chewing on his lip as he watched with perverse glee as his old rival Bart Simpson fucked his baby sister in the middle of the store. Janey gasped and wriggled under Nelson’s teasing, trying to position herself so that her butthole opened up for her Daddy’s finger-fucking. Bart and Nelson locked eyes, a wordless challenge issued between the two young men - whomever could get their girl to cum the hardest would clearly be the superior lover and therefore, the greatest and manliest man, EVER!!
Bart set his jaw, eyes hooded in determination, as he began pumping his hips upward into Maggie’s clenching pussy. She leaned back, her body supine as she slipped her top off completely, her pert titties popping free. A few gasps from the audience at the supple beauty of her breasts only served to cheer Bart on, made Bart even harder. His hand ran up Maggie’s stomach, between her jiggling tits as she bounced against him, to her slender shoulder; taking hold, he held her in place as he stood up, humping up into her as she tried to hang on, her hands scrambling for his body, failing to reach him as her brain turned into warm mush. After a few seconds trying to drag herself up to hold onto Bart’s body, Maggie gave up, went limp, and just let him fuck her standing, her ankles locked behind his back, her boneless body arching backwards until she was upside down, her pussy devouring her brother’s dick before an ever-growing horde of onlookers, some of whom had their phones out to capture the sight of brother and sister breeding in public.
The world was blurry and inverted from Maggie’s point of view, as she swayed along the floor, her pussy stuffed, cunny-drool running down her belly, trickling around her tits and pooling in the valley of her throat.She reached down, planting her hands on the floor, doing half of a handstand while her brother used her lower body, rutting into her, making her body dance and shudder with pure liquid delight.
“Hi, ever’body!” her voice was sharp and sweet and giggly, “My big bruvver’s fuckin’ me sooo good! Look at how good he’s stuffin’ my kitty with his nice, hard cock!”
Lewd chuckles rose up from the gathered crowd, and amongst the watching throngs, Nelson scoffed at the pitiful display put on by his childhood nemesis.
“Bart thinks that’s fucking?” He pulled his hand from Janey’s ass, and undid his pants, letting them slide to his ankles, his thick, stubby cock springing forth. “C’mon Janey, bend over and we’ll show them what real fucking looks like!”
Janey Powell had been Nelson’s girl since they had locked eyes on the bus one sunny summer morning about ten weeks ago, when a sudden urge to fuck had swept over every passenger. Janey and Nelson had been sitting across from one another, and one three-hour stint of unbridled, raw sodomy later, they were inseparable, and she was completely devoted to him. So, without a word of protest, Janey shimmied her skirt down to her feet, kicked it off towards the bakery aisle, and stood in front of her man, bending herself at the waist and reaching back to spread her creamy brown pussy lips. Nelson grinned at the pink center of his girl, and grabbed her by the hips; a quick spit-job into his palm to lube his cock, and one deep push into her, and Nelson was nice and snug in the best pussy he had fucked since his Mom jumped out of the wrong cake at his sixteenth birthday party.
Janey cooed as Nelson sank into her. She didn’t care about showing Bart up - honestly, she hadn’t tossed Bart the slimmest of thoughts in all the years she had known his sister Lisa - and simply wanted to feel Nelson fuck another monster load into her guts. She grunted and hissed as Nelson humped into her, her hands on her knees to keep her balance. She never realized that as Nelson was fucking her from behind, he was also flipping Bart the hardest bird he was capable of, wordlessly telling the spikey-haired young man to try and do better than his own performance.
Bart gritted his teeth. Fucking god, Nelson pissed him off. Always had. And here he was trying to shine Bart on in the one thing he was still good at.
Well fuck that fat pig-faced cocksmoker. Bart thought, his eyes narrowing aggressively. He’s probably still mad I switched his sixteenth birthday cake with the one meant for Lenny’s retirement party.
“Nobody puts Baby in the corner.” Bart whispered harshly to himself. He grabbed Maggie by the waist and swung her up, squealing as she flew into his arms, his hand on her ass to support her.
“Ooh! Big bruvver, you’re so strong!” Maggie giggled stupidly, wrapping her arms around Bart’s neck for leverage. She humped herself like a brainless little fucktoy against his cock, giggling madly with every pump, puddles of love juice pooling at his feet. Pressing her tits against his chest, drawing circles on his back with her fingernail, Maggie pulled herself closer to him, her lips nuzzling at his neck.
“Fuck me, big bruvver,” a scalding erotic hiss filled his ear, his eyes locked on Nelson, who was still pumping away like a madman into Janey’s cunt. “Fuck me like a dirty fucking slut and put a baby in me. Let’s make a baby in front of all these people, let them see my big bruvver breed me like a good little whore.”
Bart’s fingers sank into Maggie’s assflesh, making her squeal in tortured glee as he pummelled her pussy walls. Juggling her to his chest with one hand on her ass, holding her up, Bart pulled her head back roughly by the hair, his teeth at her throat, his tongue writhing against her hot, salty skin. Maggie tasted like sweat and candy, and her squeals of carnal delight filled Bart’s brain with a lustful fog that drowned all thoughts, all memories and feelings, save the savage, primal need to FUCK the ever-loving shit out his babysister’s hot, tight cunt. Maggie pulled herself up, her hair still wrapped in Bart’s cruel deathgrip, her brilliant blue eyes red with tears and madness, hot, sour breath pumping into his face as she panted, her pussy walls convulsing along his raging stiffness as it plundered her starving depths.
“Fuck! Fuck! Oh god, Bart, do it, fill me up! Take that pussy, you own it big bruvver! Take it and claim it and fffffucking shoot all that hot, sticky, yummy cum deep inside me! Fucking please!”
Bart gladly obliged Maggie’s depraved request, rutting into her, making her whole body jiggle and jolt with every upward thrust into her splayed, soaked pussy,
Maggie threw her head back, panting and huffing as if she were running a marathon. From her inverted perspective, the crowd of onlookers and voyeurs had begun to feel the infectious warmth and estrus radiating off the carnal young woman as she shoved herself against her own brother’s rigid cock with reckless abandon, and a few in the audience had started to grope and molest themselves and one another. Whatever clothing was worn, was pulled aside to allow access to fingers and tongues; bodies fell to their knees, and within seconds, about twenty people were grunting and moaning as they fucked like manic animals in the deli section.
“Holy shit, Bart! L-look at what we did to them!” Maggie’s voice was a stuttering hiccup as she jostled on her brother’s cock, her fingers tweaking at her reddened love button. “W-we made a fu-fucking o-orgy happen!”
Bart only grunted in response, his fingers digging painfully into Maggie’s ass. He pulled his face towards her ear, hissing savagely to her, “I’m gonna cum, but you’re not allowed to, got it? You can’t cum until I say so, no matter what.”
Maggie whimpered pathetically at her big brother’s cruelty, but she nodded anyway, slamming her cunt against his cock over and over again, yelping with ever penetrating thrust.

“Mmf-mm,” she whined even as she assented, “I not cum, big bruvver. I. Be. Good. Girl.” The last four words were punctuated by what must have been four truly painful slams into her cervix, her words slurred with perverse and hungry agony.
Bart bit down on his lip as he hammered into his baby sister’s sucking cunt. He could barely hear his own grunts of aroused effort amidst the drowning din of the other shoppers, by now fucking one another loudly, and as he felt his balls tighten up for his big finish, his eyes locked with Nelson’s, who was pounding just as vigorously into Janey as he had been into Maggie, the coffee-skinned young woman’s face a mask of mindless bliss as her mouth and pussy both drooled a small pond onto the supermarket tile. Nelson’s face was a dismissive and smug sneer, aimed right at his longtime rival, a message that for all Bart’s successes and improvements over the years, he was still just a pale runt walking in the shadow of a greater man, and Nelson Muntz was going to prove it in the most depraved way his tiny, atavistic brain could muster.
With a brutish growl, Nelson sank his fat fingers into Janey’s soft, fleshy ass, his hips pumping in and out of her sopping wet cunt, a fleck of froth forming at his fat, calloused lips. Janey howled as Nelson filled her with his hot load, her knees finally giving up the ghost and buckling as her own climax hit her like a tidal wave, the trickle of girljuice running down her legs turning into a rivulet of running pussygrease. With one final, primal growl, Nelson slammed his cock in to the hilt, held it as he unloaded his heavy balls into Janey’s twat, then, his breathing ragged and tattered, he pulled out, letting his pet cunt collapse into the small pond of juice she had released onto the tile, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his piggish face.
Top that, you pathetic fucking loser, Nelson thought at Bart, his mouth too dry to actually speak his taunt.
Bart got the gist of Nelson’s jibe, and with the kind of vigour only possible when fueled by old hate, tortured Maggie’s poor pussy, battering it with his girthy dick, pistoning in and out of it with such fury that, had she not been absolutely drenched, her cunt would have caught fire from the heat and friction. Maggie’s cries of ecstatic bliss had given way to whining pleas for help, as her brother-lover punished her poor pussy for some unknown crime, her inner walls clenching around Bart’s invading rod, squeezing it for all it was worth. Bart hugged Maggie to his chest as he pumped her up and down on his meat, crushing her against himself, Maggie drooling mindlessly on his shoulder and down his back as she fought the urge to surrender to her animal lust, to allow herself to explode into the cotton candy pink orgasm she could feel building up inside of her with every upward thrust of Bart’s magical, magnificent fuckstick, her very nerves a tangle of electric-hot barbed wire as she bit down on her brother-lover’s shoulder to goad him onward, harder, faster, deeper, that he might finish and give her respite.
The sharp pain of Maggie’s bite made Bart wince, and he quickly bit his tongue to keep from yelling out, grunting and growling as he punished her cunt. His balls tightened up, and in one final assault, he flooded his baby sister’s guts with his thick, gooey load, pumping it deeper into her womb, pushing it towards any eggs he may have rattled loose. He could barely hear Maggie hiccuping as her innards were drenched in hot, thick baby batter, her teeth clenched to keep her own orgasm down and under control, and after a dozen or so deep, long shots of cum into his baby sister’s fertile belly, Bart staggered backwards a few steps and slumped onto the cold steel-mesh bench behind him, his vision ragged and his breathing wet and laboured, Maggie still clinging to him like a koala, mewing softly as she ever-so-slightly gyrated against Bart’s pubis, letting the last lingering shots of his nut butter plaster her inner walls.
It took a few minutes for Maggie’s brain to come back to itself, for her awareness to return; she was in the grocery store, she remembered that, and from the delicious stinging ache in her cunny, she had just been railed good and proper by Bart’s luscious cockmeat.
It wasn’t until her heartrate had slowed back down to normal that Maggie made any overture that she had survived Bart’s intense fucking, sluggishly shifting her weight as she made the Herculean attempt to pry herself away from her brother’s hot, sticky body, thick, gluey threads of her pussy juice snapping silently as she rose to stand on her gelatinous legs. Giggling softly, madly, to herself as she nearly slipped in the puddle of cunt cream she had leaked onto the floor, she looked around, taking in the sight of the orgy she and Bart had inspired. People of all shapes and ages, pounding, pumping, FUCKING like the filthy, horny animals they were, all at her instigation. The idea made her toes curl and a jolt of perverse pride run through her body.
Bart weakly rose up from the bench, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder to alert her to his presence. Scanning the crowd of rutting, naked people surrounding them, Bart motioned towards their cart nearby, a sleepy smile on his face.
“Come on, we still have shopping to finish up.”
He offered his arm to Maggie, who hooked her hand through and leaned against his chest, as they awkwardly navigated around the fuckpile, careful not to slip on the puddles of cum and pussy oil as they headed towards the spice aisle.
By and large, the rest of the shopping trip had been uneventful - sure, Maggie couldn’t keep her hands off of Bart’s cock, which he had elected to leave bare, their clothes crumpled and set on the seat of their shopping cart, and sure, Bart reciprocated his sister’s attentions by groping her ass, caressing her tight, virgin butthole teasingly, but aside from this light flirting, they kept it rather restrained.
The trip back home was tricky - Maggie was teasingly rubbing her battered, puffy red slit, whining and whimpering at her long denied orgasm. Her head lolled to the side deliriously, her anxious eyes begging Bart for relief.
“P’ease, big bruvver? I be good girl, p’ease let me have cummies?”
Bart shook his head, a sly smirk on his lips, as he stopped at a red light. “I know you’ve been a good girl today, Maggie, but I need you to hold on until we get home. Can you do that for me?”
Maggie grunted, her slender fingers strumming her fat, puffy pussylips, a spattering of cuntslop ejecting out of her burning gash and soaking the car upholstery.
“You mean!” She stuck out her fat, quivering lower lip, letting her propped-up right leg dropped from her seat and withdrawing her fingers from her gooey twat.
Bart shook his head, clicking his tongue, putting the car back into drive as the light turned green.
Maggie whimpered and pressed her thighs together the rest of the drive home, trying to give herself some relief while still obeying Bart’s command. The car rolled to a stop in the driveway, and with a twist of the key, Bart killed the engine, and exited his side, walking around to Maggie’s door and opening it for her.
“We home. Now can I have cummies?” Her blue eyes were big and wet with tears that Bart was convinced were as fake as the bubblegummy coo in her voice.
“Help me carry everything inside and you can have your treat, okay?”
Maggie huffed, her lower lip stuck out like a balcony, and with all the grace and calm of a simmering tantrum waiting to be thrown, she stomped out of the car, grabbed the absolute lightest bag from the boot, and stormed into the house, turning around to stick out her tongue at her cruel big brother before going inside.
The remaining two bags weren’t that heavy, really. Bart was able to lug them into the kitchen without any trouble, although he did swear under his breath that nobody had come out to help him. He was going to all this trouble to make dinner for these people, and the only help he got was an ornery little sister pissy that she hadn’t had her bell rung just yet.
He shook these thoughts from his mind, and set the bags on the counter. He could hear Terri and Ling outside, chatting about something, and a quick glance through the window showed them, at the picnic table, Terri still naked and Ling, her face glazed with something clear and sticky. Bart could guess what had been going on while he and Maggie were gone, and Bart Junior twitched back to life at the thought.
A sniffle of pure, languid melancholy drew his attention to the sitting room, where he saw Maggie, still nude, staring out the front window at the street.
“Maggie? Come here for a minute, sweetie.”
Maggie sluggishly tore herself away from the window. Inwardly, she was giddy and excited, and still humming inside from the grocery store and the sensation of being used publicly by her brother. But she was committed to being a little baby girl at that particular moment, so she silently trudged into the kitchen, still pouting, still playing up the brattiness, knowing that her prize was within sight.
Bart was putting the groceries away when Maggie stepped onto the cool tile floor, his back turned to her.
“Have a seat.” He hadn’t even turned to face her, he just knew that she had obeyed him. She was a good girl, after all.
The chair squeaked against the tile as Maggie pulled it away from the table, and the laminated wood seat was cold on her bare ass, sending delicious shivers up her spine. It was happening. Oh god, this was real. She could practically hear the cunt gravy drooling from her anxious slit and pooling under her ass cheeks.
Bart had his head inside the fridge, his hips swaying back and forth, his cock and balls on full display, and Maggie felt her cunny twinge and ache, wanting him back inside her in the worst way.
“Well?” Bart’s voice was muffled by the fridge, as it’s motor came up with a droning hum. “Go on, make yourself cum.”
“What?” Maggie’s brain was still all pink and fluffy and little right now, so whatever Bart’s evil master plan was, she was utterly clueless, just sitting there in a cold kitchen chair, cunt grease running down her legs.
Bart straightened up and turned to his sister. She could see that his cock was stiff, jutting out from his body like a thick, delicious tree branch.
“I said, make yourself cum.”
It only took a second for Bart’s words to register in the fuzzy haze that currently made up Maggie’s mind, and considerably less time for her hand to snap to her sloppy cunt, rubbing her puffy pink lips roughly, fingers teasing at her stiff clit. She arched her back, lifting one leg onto the breakfast table, her eyes locked on her beloved brother, boring hot holes of volatile lust into his gaze. She whimpered as her digits massaged her pussy, her natural perfumes filling the kitchen, her oils trickling down her elevated ass cheeks and pooling under her thighs.
Bart licked his parched lips, devouring the sight of his baby sister as she frigged herself stupid at the breakfast table. His nostrils flared, and the scent of her animal arousal filled his head, making his cock dance and pulse in anticipation. He wanted to sink to his knees, clamp his hungry mouth around Maggie’s leaking snatch, and suck her fucking brains out, but he held himself back, his lust well-hidden, as he watched her churn her soggy twat.
A whining squeal slipped out of Maggie’s lips, a wordless, droning moan that rattled in the air. Her body was electric, hot, aching to reach that near-death peak she had been denied all morning. She replayed memories as she strummed her drooling cunt, flashes of Ling buried between her thighs last night, of hearing Bart and Terri this morning, or her parents and Aunt Selma the night before; of tongues and fingers and cocks and quims all pressed against her quivering, omnivorous sex; of cum and juices and saliva and sweat staining clean bedsheets and carpets and skin. She pulled her hand away from her slit, slapping her meaty cuntlips sharply, the delicious stinging pain against her protruding lovebutton making her yelp like a kicked puppy. She slid down into the chair, one foot on the table, the other planted precariously on the countertop, her pelvis thrust upwards to display her glistening treasure, fingers a blur against her slick, oily cleft. Her breathing came in brief, hiccuping pants and whimpers, gasping whines as she pushed her fingers into her weeping sex, her nerves on fire. Deeper and deeper she probed into herself, faster and faster her hand pistoned in and out, fingers excavating her raw, smouldering depths with a desperate frenzy.
Bart had to bite the inside of his cheek as he watched Maggie frig herself stupid, humping at the air like a slut in heat, her shrill shrieks of utter delight ringing in his ears. He barely had time to duck out of the way when, with an ear-piercing howl that rattled the windows, a gush of clear liquid sprayed from Maggie’s cunt, hosing down the kitchen; the table, the floor, the bottom edge of the counter, the light fixture, the top of the fridge, the ceiling, two walls and about three feet of hallway leading to the basement and garage, all bathed in Maggie’s love-oil, the young woman reduced to a muttering puddle of fucked-out stupidity sinking into a cunt-drenched chair onto pools of pussy juice on the slickened tile floor. Bart was relatively dry and safe from Maggie’s impromptu showering, a spritz of juice grazing his chest, but the kitchen was effectively baptised in her cunnygrease.
Terri and Ling had caught the last few moments of Maggie’s apocalyptic orgasm, and witnessed the geyser of sex-juice she had unleashed, poking their heads into the back door, each wearing a Cheshire grin as Maggie ragdolled into a sleepy heap on the floor.
“Holy shit, Bart, what did you do to her?” Ling was the first into the kitchen, boldly stepping into the cooling lake of cream Maggie had left on the floor. “I’ve never seen her cum that hard.”
Bart smiled proudly to himself, and turned back to putting the groceries away.
“What can I say, Ling. There are some things only a ‘big bruvver’ can do for his baby sister.”
After Ling had tucked Maggie away onto the living room couch to sleep off her monster cum, she, Bart and Terri cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as best they could. By the time Marge and Selma walked through the door, all evidence of the youngest Simpson girl’s brain-melting onanism session had been erased and replaced with the soft, comforting scent of Lemon Pledge, which was even now giving way to the warm smell of cooking cinnamon and oregano mixed with simmering chicken fat.
“We’re home,” Marge called out from the door, a fan of shopping bags hanging from her fingers. Terri and Ling met the women at the foyer, and relieved them of their burdens, as Bart kept watch over the oven and its contents.
Marge stepped into the kitchen, her skin flushed with sweat from the oppressive heat outside, and quickly opened the fridge, withdrawing a can of ice cold lemonade and pressing it against her neck, letting the dew trickle down her throat.
“Lisa was right, that Lady Slutterly’s place is amazing. Your father is going to lose his mind when he sees what Selma and I bought.”
Bart was transfixed on the stovetop, in particular on a saucepan full of sweet, bubbling golden liquid. Marge brushed the dewy beverage in her hand against his shoulder, making him shudder and snap back to attention.
“What you making?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing.”
Marge inhaled, sucking in the melange of aromas, and hummed hungrily. Cinnamon, basil, chicken, cumin, and the sweetness of oranges and lemons.
“Ooh, golden chicken tonight? What’s the special occasion?”
Bart shrugged. “I promised Maggie I’d make some to make up for waking her up with the garden hose.”
Marge arched an eyebrow, intrigued by this bit of randomness. “A garden hose? Praytell, sweetie, why a garden hose?”
“It wasn’t on purpose; Terri and I were screwing-”
“Well I just naturally assumed, yes”
Bart smiled, turned to his mother, and broke into a chuckle. “No, I mean…well, yes, we were screwing, but this was after. We were screwing around with the hose, cleaning ourselves off, and the spray went wild and…two angry, soaked bisexuals later, golden chicken.”
“I see. What else are we having?”
“Sesame asparagus in Leyden, and Thai rice.”
Marge ducked her head into the oven to see the chicken roasting, nodding along as Bart described the night’s menu.
“When did we get the ingredients for all this? I know I’ve been a bit lax on the grocery shopping, what with all the snuggle-fucking we’ve been doing. It’s so hard to find the energy to leave the house when your father plants his seventh load of the day into my cunt, and it’s not even nine in the morning.”
Bart motioned to the grocery bags hanging off a nearby chair. “Maggie and I went shopping.”
Marge straightened up, watching her son stirring the saucepan, keeping the sweet, citrus-scented liquid from burning, and smiled warmly to herself. A sense of pride at her son’s self-reliance swelled within her, and without warning, she leaned into him, carefully draping an arm over his chest, her lips caressing his cheek.
“So proud that you can take care of yourself, sweetie.”
Bart shrugged silently, and Marge stepped back towards the foyer.
“Let me know when it’s ready, okay? I wanna take a shower, get some of this summer grime off me first.”
A nod was the only response Marge got, not out of any disconnect Bart had with his mother at that particular time, but solely out of a need to keep a watchful eye on dinner, lest it burn to cinders. Humming to herself, Marge climbed the stairs to the master ensuite, peeled off her sticky, sweat-soaked clothes, and stepped into the shower, her fingers drifting down towards her leaking cleft, thoughts of her manly, self-sufficient son filling her mind.
By the time Lisa and Homer had both returned home - Homer first, then Lisa not fifteen minutes later - dinner was ready. The table had been set, and the latecomers had only minutes to get upstairs and wash up. Lisa took a little while, stealing a quick shower and coming down in her newest white gossamer nightie. As she sat at the table, across from Bart, she looked around, taking in the sight of her family, happier than they had ever been in quite some time. The table was crowded - three new seats had to be added when Terry, Ling and Selma joined the household and the family hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the cramped accommodations - but the conversation was light and happy and relatively free of sex talk, although Maggie did go on at length about how well Bart had fucked her brains out during their furlough to the store, and her baby sister seemed to glow whenever she looked at Bart. Lisa tried hard to think of the last time she had seen her family be so…normal? So…suburban and Rockwellian? She didn’t know the word for it, but this was the same father who had his loved ones strapped into chairs and electrocuted by a quack to teach them to be normal. And now he was eating quietly, fingers entwined with Marge’s, loving gazes exchanged across the table between them and Aunt Selma - Aunt FUCKING Selma, of all people! - it took her a moment to realise that this was all real.
Dinner itself was sublime - Bart had an unexpectedly deep creative side, given his talent for art, ballet and cooking that belied his reputation as a notorious trouble maker - and it was Homer letting out a window-rattling belch that signalled the end of the family meal.
As the ladies cleared away the dishes, and Homer planted himself on the couch to resume his busy night of beer and tv, Lisa pulled Bart into the foyer, her finger entwined with his. She leaned him up against the wall, and without a word, crushed her lips against his. She pulled away, short of breath, her eyes fogged with that familiar lustful heat that Bart knew so well.
“Fucking hell, baby, I needed that today.” Lisa wiped the thin coat of drool from her chin, grinding herself softly on Bart’s thigh.
“You could have gotten some this morning, if you hadn’t left so suddenly.”
Lisa shook her head, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “No, I had an appointment that I couldn’t miss.”
The word ‘appointment’ made Bart’s ears prick up, and an anxious look of worry fell over his face. “Oh?”
Lisa smiled, that coy, angelic smile she could whip out to disarm her brother, to make him do anything she wanted, and caressed the back of his neck playfully. “I’ll tell you all about it, but away from busy ears.”
As Bart digested his sister’s words, trying to anticipate whatever revelation she had in store for him, Lisa took him by the hand, leading him upstairs, her heart beating like a triphammer in her chest.
Bart sat on the edge of Lisa’s bed as she silently closed the door. He had an idea of what would happen next - of course Lisa would jump on his cock, she couldn’t help it. Or he couldn’t, either way.
Come on, Lisa, she thought as she tried to calm her shaking hands. This is easy. Just say what you have to tell him. A lump had formed in her throat, nerves and anxiety and stomach acid that only faintly tasted of Bart’s divine dinner. She slowly turned to face her brother, her eyes roaming over his face - his eyes, his nose, those lips that had explored her body so thoroughly in the past. Continuing downwards, to his chest, heaving with breath as he anticipated her gossip, down to his lap, his cock already hard for her. She figured he must have fucked more than one of the other girls today - that was the routine, after all - and with a loud swallow, she forced herself to shake the carnal images of pure unadulterated rutting from her mind.
There will be time for that later.
Pulling her chair away from her desk near the bed, Lisa sat down, crossing her legs demurely, hands folded atop her knees.
“Easy, boy. I’m not here for that.” She motioned to the raging boner cresting from Bart’s loins, a hungry flicker in her eyes. “At least, not yet. Let me say what I need to say first, then we’ll play, okay?”
Bart gave that boyish smile that made the ladies melt and quiver. “It’s all good, Lees. I’m all ears, so what did you want to tell me?”
Lisa fidgeted in her seat. A warmth was spreading throughout her body, and she clenched her eyes, admonishing herself.
Fucking hell, girl, reign it in. Get that pussy under control. It’s you, not some…
She coughed, clearing her throat. Right. Get it over with. Quick, easy, then you can pogo your fucking bimbo-slut brains out on your brother’s hog.
With a sweet smile, surely a sign of the apocalypse, Lisa opened her mouth to speak.
- 8
- 9
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Love Is In The Air