Chapter Two : Life on the Fast Lane

One day, as Lisa walked through the crowded hallways of Springfield High School, her thoughts drifted to the illicit afternoons she and Bart had been sharing. Little did she know, her secret was about to be exposed by the smug grin of a boy named Milhouse. "Hey, Lisa," he called out, his voice carrying a hint of malice. "I know what you and your brother do when you think no one's watching."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him with a mix of fear and defiance. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Milhouse stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "I've seen you two going at it."

Lisa's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "That's not true," she protested, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He smirked, knowing he had the upper hand. "Prove it," he challenged. "Let me fuck you, and I won't tell anyone."

Her stomach twisted with disgust, but the fear of their secret being revealed was too great. With a heavy sigh, she nodded, her eyes filled with resignation. That afternoon, in an empty classroom, Lisa allowed Milhouse to claim her body.

Milhouse's grip was like a vice, his clammy hands squeezing her breasts as he sucked on her erect nipples, leaving a trail of wetness and redness in his wake. His teeth grazed her sensitive flesh, sending shivers down her spine that were a mix of pleasure and pain. Lisa's body was on autopilot, responding to the raw physical sensation despite her inner turmoil. She could feel his excitement growing, his breath hot and ragged against her neck as he marked her with his teeth. The suction was intense, almost to the point of discomfort, but she bit her lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting her.

With a wicked grin, Milhouse pulled his glasses off his nose, the magnification of his pupils making his eyes seem darker and more intense. He paused for a moment, savoring the power he had over her, then leaned back and placed the cool metal frames of his spectacles against her vaginal lips. The sudden chill sent a jolt of sensation through her body, making her gasp involuntarily. He chuckled, mistaking it for pleasure, and began to rub the frames in a slow, deliberate circle, the glass lenses acting as a unique form of clitoral stimulation.

The friction was unlike anything she had ever felt before, the smoothness of the lenses gliding over her sensitive flesh sending waves of heat through her core. Despite her disgust, Lisa's body began to betray her, her pussy growing wetter and her breaths coming in shallower gasps.

Her clit pulsed, begging for direct contact, but Milhouse remained cruel in his attentions, keeping her on the edge of pleasure and frustration. Her pussy grew wetter with each pass, the fabric of her panty becoming more and more transparent, revealing the pink, glistening flesh beneath. The smell of her arousal filled the room, a potent aphrodisiac that seemed to only fuel Milhouse's determination to claim her completely.

Milhouse's sadistic smile grew wider as he set aside his glasses and slid his hand under her skirt, his thick, stubby fingers making contact with the soaked fabric of her panties.

He chuckled darkly and inserted a finger then another, stretching her pussy wider. He began to pump them in and out, his movements growing more vigorous as she moaned quietly. His thumb remained on her clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles that grew tighter and faster with each thrust. Lisa's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth opening in silent ecstasy as he continued to manipulate her body.

Without warning, he pushed his fist into her pussy, the sudden intrusion making her cry out. She was so wet that his hand slid in easily, the sound of her wetness echoing in the quiet classroom. Lisa's eyes went wide with shock and pleasure as he began to fist her, his wrist moving in a steady, pumping motion that filled her completely. Her pussy stretched around his hand, the sensation of being so utterly filled both terrifying and exhilarating.

Milhouse watched her face contort with each thrust, his own excitement building as he felt her walls tighten around him. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, completely at his mercy and unable to resist the perverse pleasure he was giving her. Her moans grew louder, her body writhing in ecstasy as she approached the edge of a powerful orgasm.

With a groan that was half-desire and half-revulsion, she felt his digits plunge into her slick folds, filling her almost to the knuckle. His grip was tight, his movements brutal, as if he were trying to conquer her very soul with every thrust. Her inner walls clenched around his hand, trying to resist the intrusion, but the sensation of being so completely filled was undeniably arousing.

The way his thumb found her clit and rubbed it mercilessly, had her hips bucking involuntarily. Despite herself, she could feel a warm, wet glow spreading through her, her body betraying her with every little moan that escaped her lips. Her own juices were now coating his hand, making his movements smoother, more slippery, as he pumped in and out of her with a fervor that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The sight of his hand disappearing into her, his knuckles brushing against her pubic bone, was almost too much to bear, and she had to lean her head back and close her eyes to keep from crying out in a mix of despair and unexpected pleasure.

Milhouse's erection stood tall and thick against his pants, straining against the fabric like a caged beast eager to be set free. His other hand, sticky with her arousal, moved from her clit to his own throbbing member, stroking it with a hunger that mirrored the one growing inside her. His eyes never left hers, a dark, intense gaze that seemed to bore into her very soul.

With a smug smirk, he pulled out his cock, the tip glistening with precum, and began to pump it in rhythm with his thrusting fingers inside her. The sound of his fist slapping against her wetness filled the room, mingling with her muffled gasps. His hand was a blur as he stroked himself, his movements growing more erratic with every passing moment. Lisa could feel her body responding, her pussy tightening around his digits, her hips moving in time with his cruel ministrations.

The conflict within her grew stronger, torn between the repulsion at what she was allowing to happen and the undeniable fire he had kindled within her. Her own hand, trembling slightly, reached down to touch herself, to take some semblance of control, but Milhouse slapped it away with a snarl, claiming her body as his own plaything. His grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back as he plunged deeper into her pussy, his strokes now punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. Despite her fear and anger, she could feel the beginnings of an orgasm coiling in her belly, and she knew that she was going to be the one to give him the victory he sought.

With a smug grin, Milhouse watched as Lisa's body responded to his brutal manipulation. His hand stroked his own cock more roughly now, the veins bulging and pulsing with the force of his desire. The sound of his fist smacking against his shaft grew louder, echoing in the quiet classroom like a declaration of victory. His eyes remained locked on hers, dark with lust and triumph as he claimed her body. The precum leaked from the tip of his cock, coating his hand in a slick sheen that only served to increase his pleasure. His strokes grew faster, more frenzied, as he approached the brink of his own release. His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving with each powerful thrust of his hand.

Lisa could feel the pressure building within her, her pussy clenching around his invading fingers, her clit swollen and begging for more attention. Despite her resentment, she found herself arching into his touch, her body desperate for the relief that only he could provide. The air grew thick with the scent of sex, mingling with the faint aroma of fear and humiliation that emanated from her very pores.

Milhouse's smirk grew wider, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her: vulnerable, needy, and utterly at his mercy. He pumped his cock harder, the sound of his hand slapping against his skin now a steady beat that matched the throb of her own pulse. The tension grew unbearable, her body poised on the edge of climax, and she knew she was about to shatter into a million pieces of pleasure and despair.

"Look at you," Milhouse sneered, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure as he watched Lisa's hips rise to meet his hand. "You're just a dirty slut, aren't you? You like it when I treat you like this." His words were like a knife, cutting through her self-control and slicing into her vulnerability. He knew just how to push her buttons, to reduce her to nothing more than a quivering mess of desire and shame. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the heat spreading from her core to her face as his words echoed in her mind.

The orgasm grew closer, a crescendo of pleasure and humiliation that she couldn't resist. "That's it," he goaded, his voice low and taunting. "Take it, you little whore. You know you want it." And with that, Lisa did shatter, her body convulsing in a powerful climax that left her trembling and gasping for air. Milhouse's grin never faltered as he watched her fall apart, his own release following swiftly, painting her stomach and breasts with his hot, sticky seed. He leaned back, wiping his hand on her shirt with a look of satisfaction that was all too clear. "You're mine, Lisa," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "And no one will ever know how much you love being my slut."

She pushed him away with a look of revulsion, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You're disgusting," she spat, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and humiliation.

Milhouse merely smirked, tucking his now-flaccid cock back into his pants. "You liked it," he said, his tone taunting. "I could feel you getting wet for me." "Look at the mess you've made," Milhouse chuckled darkly, his eyes flicking to the puddle of cum that now adorned her trembling stomach. "You're going to have to come to me for more of this," he said, still stroking his now-softening cock with a smug satisfaction.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she held them back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "This doesn't change anything," she said, her voice firm despite the tremble. "Our secret is still safe."

He nodded, his grin never leaving his face. "For now," he said, his eyes gleaming with a hint of malice. "But I'll be back for more. And who knows, maybe next time I'll want a little more than just a quick fuck in an empty classroom."

He zipped up his pants and stepped back, leaving Lisa naked and trembling in the empty classroom, the only sound the slow drip of his cum from her skin. "See you tomorrow," he said, as he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him. Lisa remained there, alone with her thoughts and her shattered dignity, her body still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure that she never wanted to admit she enjoyed. She knew she was trapped in this twisted game, but she also knew that she'd come back for more, even if it meant selling a piece of her soul to the devil himself.

The encounter left her feeling dirty and used, but the fear of their secret being exposed was temporarily assuaged. As she pulled her clothes back on, she vowed to never let anyone else in on their intimate moments, not even the cruel whispers of the schoolyard could tear them apart.

Despite her disgust, Lisa couldn't help but acknowledge the raw power and male sexuality that was being wielded over her, a stark contrast to the gentle and loving touches she had become accustomed to from Bart.

The next day in school, Lisa found it almost unbearable to maintain a facade of normalcy as she walked the halls with her books clutched tightly to her chest. Her mind was still reeling from the events that had transpired in the empty classroom the day before. She couldn't shake the feeling of Milhouse's cruel touch, the way he had claimed her body and brought her to orgasm despite her disgust. To make matters worse, she couldn't escape the sickening knowledge that she'd be going back for more.

As if to twist the knife deeper, she overheard Milhouse bragging to his friends Bart, Martin and Nelson about his new crush, a new student from Phoenix, Samantha Stanky. The very mention of Samantha's name sent a jolt of anger through her, as she knew that she was now nothing more than a dirty little secret to him. But the anger was quickly followed by a twinge of something else: jealousy.

Lisa, with a coy smile playing on her lips, approached Milhouse, "You left these in the classroom yesterday." Milhouse's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he realized they were the same glasses that had fogged up from the heat of their illicit encounter. He took them with trembling fingers, his heart racing as he recalled the encounter. "Th-thanks, Lisa," he stuttered, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

That evening, Lisa returned home feeling conflicted and defiled by Milhouse's actions. She needed a release, something to cleanse her mind and body from the disgust she felt. She retreated to the privacy of her room, her thoughts racing as she sought solace in the familiar comfort of her favorite toy: her saxophone. But tonight, she would use it for something far from music. With trembling hands, she unzipped her pants and slid her underwear aside, revealing her glistening, swollen pussy. Gripping the cool metal of the sax, she slowly inserted the mouthpiece into her wetness, the smoothness and shape of it surprisingly satisfying.

As she began to thrust it in and out, the vibrations resonating through her body, she closed her eyes and thought of Bart's gentle touches, his tender kisses, and the love they shared. The sound of the fabricated music grew muffled by her moans as she found her release, the tension draining from her body with each stroke. This act was her secret rebellion, a silent declaration that she belonged to no one but herself and her brother. And as she climaxed, the instrument of her pleasure became a symbol of their unshakeable bond, a reminder that she would do anything to protect their love.

Lisa's eyes snapped open, the vibrations of her climax subsiding. For a moment, she felt like a Buddhist monk who had transcended the physical realm, her body a mere vessel for the sacred union she shared with Bart. The mundane object in her hand had become an extension of their love, a silent declaration of the purity of their connection. Her breathing slowed, and she gently removed the saxophone, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over her.

The act had been a form of meditation, a way to cleanse herself of the taint that Milhouse had left behind. With each stroke, she had chanted an unspoken mantra of love and protection, her body responding to the rhythm with an intensity that transcended the carnality of the act. She knew that no matter what the outside world threw at them, she and Bart would remain untouched, their love a sanctuary in the storm of life. Carefully, she placed the instrument back on its stand, her mind and spirit rejuvenated, ready to face whatever challenges the new day would bring.

The door to Lisa's room creaked open, and Homer's heavy footsteps could be heard approaching. Panic surged through her as she hastily tried to hide the evidence of her private act, her heart pounding in her chest. "Marge, you gotta come here!" Homer's voice boomed through the hallway, interrupting the quiet of the house. "I just caught Lisa playing with herself!"

Marge, who had been busy in the kitchen, rushed over, her expression a mix of shock and concern. "What?!" she whispered harshly, pushing Homer aside. She peeked into the room, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her daughter, still flushed from her recent climax. "Lisa, what are you doing?" she hissed, her voice a fierce whisper.

Lisa, caught in the throes of embarrassment, couldn't find the words to explain. She looked up at her mother, her eyes pleading for understanding. "It's okay, honey," Marge said, her tone softening as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "But you have to be quiet. Maggie just fell asleep, and we don't want to wake her up."

The tension in the room was palpable, but there was something else in Marge's gaze, something that made Lisa's cheeks burn even hotter. A knowing look, a spark of curiosity that hinted at her own hidden desires. Marge sat down on the bed beside her, placing a comforting hand on her leg. "It's natural to explore your body," she said gently, "but maybe you should be a little more...discreet."

Lisa nodded, her eyes cast downward, her mind racing with thoughts of their secret love and the fear of losing it all. "I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling a strange mix of guilt and relief.

Marge sighed, her hand sliding up to rest on Lisa's shoulder. "It's okay," she said, her voice low and soothing. "But you and Bart...you have to be careful. What you're feeling is complicated, and people won't understand."

The weight of their secret grew heavier, but in that moment, Lisa felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, their mother could help them navigate the stormy seas of their taboo love. Or maybe, she was just as lost as they were, her own desires hidden beneath the façade of the perfect housewife. Either way, the walls of their secret world had just grown a little thinner, and Lisa knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Marge looked at her daughter with a mix of concern and understanding, her gaze lingering on the discarded saxophone. "Lisa," she began, her voice taking on a softer tone, "there's something I need to show you." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small key, unlocking a drawer in Lisa's desk. Inside was a DVD titled "The Art of Pleasure." She handed it to Lisa, who took it with trembling hands. "This is how a woman truly satisfies a man," Marge whispered, her eyes drifting to the door as if listening for any signs of Homer. "I found this a while ago, and I think it might help you understand."

With the door closed and the TV turned on low, Marge sat beside Lisa on the bed, her eyes glued to the screen. The video featured a beautiful woman with lush, red hair performing a mesmerizing blowjob on a man with a thick, throbbing cock. Lisa's eyes widened as she watched, her own curiosity piqued. Marge leaned in closer, her hand reaching out to stroke Lisa's cheek. "This is how you do it," she murmured, guiding Lisa's gaze to the screen. "You take it slow, tease him with your tongue, and make sure to swallow every drop."

Lisa's breath hitched as she realized her mother was speaking from experience. The scene grew more intense, the woman on screen deep-throating the man's cock with ease, her eyes watering with pleasure. Marge's hand slipped down to her own lap, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress, hinting at a hidden desire that matched Lisa's own.

The sight of her mother's arousal was both shocking and exciting, and Lisa felt a new bond forming between them. They watched in silent kinship as the woman on screen brought the man to a powerful climax, his cum spurting into her mouth. Marge leaned over, her breath hot in Lisa's ear. "Practice this," she instructed, "and make sure you're ready for it.

Marge took a deep breath, the tension in the room thickening as she continued. "Lisa," she whispered, her hand still resting on her daughter's shoulder, "you know your father...he has needs. And sometimes, I just can't... well, I think it would be good for you to help me out with that." She paused, her eyes searching Lisa's for any sign of understanding. "I know it's strange, but it's just for the family," she added, her voice barely above a murmur.

Marge's confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Lisa's mind raced, trying to process the idea of fulfilling her father's "needs." With trembling fingers, she took the DVD from her mother's hand, her eyes still glued to the screen where the red-haired woman was now riding a man's cock with wild abandon. The woman's moans filled the room, echoing the turmoil in Lisa's mind. "Okay," she murmured, swallowing hard. "I'll do it."

Marge's eyes searched hers, a mix of relief and something else, something darker that Lisa couldn't quite place. "Thank you, sweetie," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "It's for the best, you'll see."