Evil Under The Sun

BY : Jeffrey Opstik
Category: +S through Z > Simpsons
Dragon prints: 10151
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.




Chapter 1


The dreams had become too vivid for Marge Simpson. Falling asleep and dreaming of other men had begun to weigh heavy on her conscience. Falling asleep beside her husband and waking up on a beach in the tiniest bikini imaginable where some unending marathon of strange men would pour margaritas down her neck and then heartily guzzle the iced concoction from the indenture of her cleavage. Her senses were not aware it was dream, the flecks of ice in the drink  as they crawled over her skin made her nipples hard and they tented the micro bikini top, pulling and peeling more material away from her breast, much to the delight of the locals and a few tourists. 

Marge looked down, her breasts looked augmented, though not by surgery but her own wanton imagination. It was true that when she did think of sex she tended to feel just this inflated and enormous but she'd never had an image before her eyes to so perfectly articulate her distorted self image in that moment.

Something like a wave of sensation struck her as she saw the other strangers staring, it enveloped her every nerve ending as her embarrassment, her feelings of exposure and subjugation became euphoric and then orgiastic. She was taken to a stool at a bar a few feet down the beach, a bar tender poured something smelling sweet and potent down her chest as another man, whose face she'd still yet to see, fondled her breasts while drink from between them. The bar tender tilted the bottle more and it made its way, evading gravity, up her neck, over chin, her lips, nose, forehead and then through her hair, pasting it against her back.

The next moment she was being dragged down a hallway to a hotel room. The door was suddenly open and she was tossed out onto the bed. As the springs in the mattress began to settle down she heard a pop. She looked down and saw where a large pair of hands had just stripped her bikini bottom of the material concealing the axis of her hips. A gash yawned wide revealing a runway strip of blue pubic hair and the pink depression of her pussy.

The top came next as Marge got her first look at the face of her partner.

It was Artie Ziff.

But then it changed.

No, it was Moe. No, it was Mr. Burns. No, it was Snake.

The face continued to change though the body remained tall and lean and the gaze oozing lust. Marge didn't put up a fight as her thighs were pried apart and then with a pitiless thrust he was inside her. Fucking her lovelessly throughout the night, his lips and hands mauling then memorizing her bare breasts and soft lips. Marge felt her inside wind tight around his cock as some form of sourceless paranoia set in. She looked around her and the items of the room began to take on a eerie familiarity. Throughout the night she'd made love to every man, or at least every face of every man in Springfield. All but her husband, who was vacant and yet she hadn't cared until now. Then she saw the picture on the night stand.

It was her and Homer. It had been taken the day they moved out of their apartment and into their house on Evergreen Terrace. 

This was their room. Then she looked beyond the man who was nourishing his libido with her body, and she saw Homer sitting on a chair beside the door. The stricken look on his face set in just as she felt this man erupt inside her. The hurt look in her husband's eyes twisted into shock as she too seized up and her orgasm strike. She could feel her insides squeezing more of the man's cum into her. 

The man on top of Homer's wife looked back at Homer, and smirked as he reached up to fondle her breasts, mocking the cuckolded voyeur. Throughout the night he fucked Homer's wife, stopping only to tease already hurt man. Marge couldn't stop herself and even when she did she was raped until the desire returned, much to the despondence of her husband. As Marge was fucked her compassion for her husband receded and was replaced with want for another cock. She knew somehow that this one man wouldn't be enough. She'd leave when he was done with her and she'd find another man, and then another, and another. And each one would fuck her on this bed, and each indignity would be unleashed before the eyes of her husband. 

And with that decision and with that last warm burst felt inside her she awoke on the plane to Hawaii, beside her husband, from a horrible nightmare. From one into another.


To Be Continued....



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