CHAPTER 2:

ONE

BART'S DILEMMA

Bart began to hear footsteps climb the apartment building stairs. He stood up, examined his newly adorned outfit of casual blue jean shorts and a black t-shirt, and sat back down on the bed to wait for, whom he was almost sure was, his sister to open the door.

Bart heard a key get put into the slot of Lisa's apartment door, which opened and was shut with moderate slam soon after. Now, he was absolutely positive it was his sister. He swallowed hard as Lisa walked down the hall, but felt a surge of relief as she passed his bedroom door.

"No way," he muttered in a whisper, but then he came to his senses. "Nah, no way she's gonna let me off the hook that easy." Suddenly, he hears something that made his anxiety return. Something he didn't hear when she entered the apartment, and he was truly regretting giving himself that false sense of relief. He heard his sister enter the kitchen and place a few bags, presumably filled with smaller grocery items, onto the kitchen counter.

"Of course," he thought as he sighed. "What's the point?"

Lisa began walking towards his direction again. He braced himself as if he were gonna be struck by his dear little sister as she knocked on the door. It wasn't an angry knock, just a simple tap.

"Bart," Lisa called. "You better be up!" Her tone was stern, like their mother's.

"It's unlocked," he conceded. "Go ahead and come in."

The white painted door opened with a slight creek, and the once studious Lisa Simpson walked into her brother's room.

"Glad to see you've recovered," Lisa said with smart-ass-like tone. "You sure were in rough shape."

"How'd you know," Bart shot back, but not with contest, but with an emotionless, defeated prodding tone.

"How'd I know," she mimicked. "Well, it's kinda hard to not notice a group of guys carrying my passed out brother into my own home, don't ya think?"

"Carried," Bart asked with a questioning tone, his face taking on somewhat of a befuddled look. "I know I'm not the biggest guy in the world, but I highly doubt Milhouse and Martin would've been able to carry me anywhere."

Lisa's face took on a frustrated look. "No, Bart! I didn't mean that literally. You were staggering and stumbling all over the place. They drug you more than they carried you." The look of confusion slowly faded from Bart's face as his sister continued. "Look, you said you had to work last night. What happened with that?"

Bart pressed his elbows onto his knees, and rested his chin on his folded hands, looking drained and defeated. "Work was crappy." Lisa stood, unfazed by her brother's response. As he saw his sister's anger deepening, Bart realized that he needed to come up with a better answer. "The people there are assholes. It was just a lousy night in general."

"Bart," she said with a sigh; half frustration, half compassion. "It's only been your first week there. I know working isn't easy, but give it some time, I'm sure you'll make it onto somebody's good side eventually."

A slight feeling of relief fluttered through Bart's body as he felt an invisible weight be lifted from his chest.

She continued, "And either way, it's a warehouse job." The figurative small weight on Bart's chest transformed into a building that still proceeded to ascend. "It's not like you need to make friends to get through the day. So what if people don't like you. You never let that effect you when you were younger."

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed with a sigh. "But life's a lot harder now than it use to be though."

"Tch," Lisa snorts. "I bet it is. The world isn't gonna be nice to delinquents who want absolutely nothing out of it. I recommend you suck up whatever's going on at your new job and deal with it. Sure, this isn't the dream job you want, but stick with this until something better comes along. The only way you're going to succeed in this world is by overcoming stepping stones, and that's what this job is, a stepping stone for something bigger."

Bart's eyes travel from his younger sister's face, down to the laminated wooden floor underneath them both, then quickly back up to his sister. "You're right," he said triumphantly. "I'm gonna stick it out. That's all I can do for now. Something's gonna come along... Something better. I just know it is."

A smile flashes onto Lisa's face. "That's the spirit, Bart. I'll be honest with ya though, I don't know if you're pullin' me along, but you better be serious, because if you're not, you're gonna be out in the street." Lisa's smile faded as Bart gasped inaudibly.

"You don't have to be so blunt ya know," he said. "I'm trying my best."

"And your best is coming home damn-near black out drunk, right," she shot back. "Bart, I'm not gonna pretend that I haven't seen you at your lowest point. Can you get worse, absolutely, but stripping is something I thought I'd never see you do. We made jokes about it when Dad told us about what Mrs. Krabappel Said, but that's truly beneath you, Bart Simpson. Not to mention that a good majority of our family and friends know too. That's not a secret ya know. What makes it all worse is you weren't even good at it. Rumor has it, you were performing so badly that you got clocked in the head and had to be helped to the back."

"They're just mad because I had the guts to do it," Bart retorted. "And don't act like I wasn't making decent money, so I wasn't that bad. Sex sells, and everyone knows it. No matter if you're pretty or ugly, there's someone out there who's willing to pay for your looks. Yeah, there were some bad nights, but I always kept up my portion of the rent."

Lisa clenched her fists tightly, and a look of angered frustration took over her. "I won't dispute that, but no matter how much you polish a turd, it's still gonna be a piece of crap. At the end of the day, Bart, you painted a certain image of yourself. From childhood until now, you were always seen as a hooligan, and that's gonna take a lot of polishing to cover up."

Bart fell silent as his sister's remarks landed home one after another. "It's already bad enough we have people talking about how you were out there stripping for money," she continued. "But you can at least attempt to change that. You can make yourself a better person who this town respects. That's all I want from you, Bart, is to do good with your life, not be the black sheep of the family."

Bart stands up from the bed, approaches his sister, and places his hand firmly on her shoulder. "Yeah, you're right again. I'm gonna try and do better... with everything. I promise you that." He opened the bedroom door, and proceeded right, down the hall to the restroom.

"I really hope you mean it, Bart," Lisa said sternly as the bathroom door closed behind her brother. "I was completely serious about what I said. I'm not gonna be supporting someone who's older than me. Only people who deserve that are the kids that I hope to have someday."

In the bathroom, Bart stood silent waiting for Lisa to finish speaking. As the water for the kitchen sink turned on, he approached the toilet stall, lifted the second lid, and dropped his pants to his ankles. He glanced down to his the undergarment he's been wearing since yesterday evening, a black thong that cradled his buttocks and genitals in an all but enticing manner.

As Bart emptied his bladder into the porcelain bowl, he couldn't help but once again reflect on his life up until this point, and whether he'd like to admit it or not, his sister was right about everything she said. She echoed his sentiments of how he felt exactly. He could've done better, but he still has a chance to make some things right. However, he's also secretly glad he awoke before she discovered him in his true work attire. This encounter surely would have went completely different if she had.

TWO

LISA'S SECRET

Noon approaches as Lisa Simpson sat on the couch in her small two-bedroom apartment, partaking in one of the most common but favorite hobbies of all intellectuals, reading. The home phone, a cordless receiver which sat on an end table on the side of the couches began to ring.

"Hello," Lisa answered politely.

"Lisa," a high-pitched, nasally female voice that could only be associated with her mother, Marge Simpson answered back with shrill excitement. "I didn't think you'd be home. How's everything going?"

"Normal," she replied after a deep breath. "Took a sick day today to get some cleaning done. Haven't started that yet, but I did get some groceries."

Marge chuckled. "That's good! At least you accomplished one positive thing today. How's your brother?"

Although Marge couldn't see it, Lisa's hand tightened around the receiver as anger overtook her. "He got drunk last night and had to be carried in by his friends..." she paused before adding with emphasis, "AGAIN! So, I guess you can say everything's normal with him too."

Sensing her daughter's frustration, Marge added, "Sweetie, I know you're frustrated. Maybe I can come over later and we can talk about it? Talking things over really helps ya know."

There was a momentary pause before Lisa said, "Yeah, I guess it won't hurt. What time are you stopping by?"

"I'm doing some house cleaning myself, and I'm about to start dinner soon, so probably around 3:30-4 o'clock. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me," Lisa replied, somewhat dreading the cleaning she also had to do. After talking briefly about how Maggie, the youngest Simpson child, and Homer, the family patriarch, were getting along, they both said their goodbyes.

With a sigh, Lisa, looking rather comfortable in her red pajama set, stood up from the couch, and took a quick survey of her home. After noticing what little she had to do in terms of cleaning, she sprung into action to attack the few mind-numbing tasks at hand. After organizing the kitchen, washing the dishes, straightening up the living room, and sweeping and mopping the floors, Lisa finished her household chores by 1:30.

She returned to the living room, giving it one last glance to ensure its cleanliness, and realizes a crucial error. Her book, Big Man Off Campus, an erotic romance novel by a rather popular erotica author Jamie Rose, laid cover-up on the glass living room table, displaying a young, handsome, college aged man locking lips with an attractive obviously older women.

"Uh oh," she said to herself with a schoolgirlish giggle. "We certainly wouldn't want you being seen now would we?"

Lisa picked up the modestly-sized paperback and carried it to her bedroom to shield it from prying eyes. Although she was 21-years old, Lisa, like most people, wanted to keep her love for erotica a secret from everyone. Her last reading session from the book was interrupted by her mother, causing her to stop in the midst of the first sex scene of the novel. As her memories from her interrupted adventure fleeted back into her mind, she opened the nightstand drawer next to her king-sized bed without glancing in its direction, and retrieved a tan-colored vibrator before heading off to the master bathroom that was connected to her bedroom.

Quickly, wanting to wisely utilize the time she has before her mother arrives, she stripped out of her red pajama set. Now standing in a pair of white panties. She switched on the shower; then, the panties were gone as well and she entered, sliding the shower glass closed behind her with her toy in hand. Lisa placed the toy on a rack the held her shampoo and soaps, and took a moment to feel the warm water against her skin as she ran her hands against her face and through her blonde hair.

Enjoying the water as it splashed onto her smooth yellow skin, thoughts flashed through Lisa's head about the many naughty scenes in the novels written by Jamie Rose. The premises of which include wives with uncaring and uncompassionate spouses being seduced by the kind and loving male neighbors or friends, women in abusive relationships being saved and whisked away by, coincidentally, a heroic male, older unhappy women coaxing the young, naive, but always willing men into affairs behind their husband's backs. Of course, there are other plot lines that Rose focuses on.

Lisa's mind traveled to the first piece she had read from the erotic novelist, a short story titled The Booty Call. She remembered that day down to the smallest detail. She recalled overhearing a conversation between the two identical twins, Sherri and Terri, in the Springfield High-School library about a saucy soiree with Nelson Muntz that, in Sherri's words, had her wet enough to fill buckets.

The young Simpson girl wasn't at all surprised at this rather naughty talk. It was common among the girls as much as it was common among the boys, especially in their teenage years. Lisa, at the age of fifteen, was curious of when her first time would come, who would it be with, and most importantly, would it be good? She was undoubtedly jealous of the twins. Jealous of the fact that they were able to experience such a milestone before her, because she, at least in her mind, was better in every way, but she would never make them, or anyone for that matter, aware of this.

Also, Lisa couldn't deny the fact that she was turned on by hearing this naughty talk. Nelson was far from an attractive fella, but the thought of him banging the twins caused her to get a little wet herself. Even remembering the experience caused her to get wet in the shower. She couldn't help but picture how it all happened. Nelson was a bully. He was rough and tough, so surely he was that way in bed too, right?

Lisa imagined Nelson eating out one of the twins while the other stroked his member. The roles switched, and now the other twin was being orally pleasured by him while the other was returning the favor to Nelson. These thoughts made Lisa's lower body radiate a lustful heat as she began to drip right there in the high-school library, and presently in the shower.

Did Nelson screw Sherri, Terri, or both? The fact that one of them got nailed was without question, but which one? Did he do missionary or doggy style? Did he do vaginal on one and anal on the other? These questioning thoughts, of course, caused Lisa to drip more. However, what brought the innocent young woman to the peak of horniness was the thought of Nelson climaxing. In the shower, with the heat building in her body under the steamy water, Lisa Simpson ran her fingers around her clitoris, and took hold of her toy in her free right hand.

Just the thought of the rugged tough guy pumping his member into the vagina of one of the twins with enough force and intensity to create the rhythmic clapping-like sounds that could only be associated with hot, steamy, lustful sex was enough to cause a small stream of fluid to release into Lisa's panties. Luckily for her, this period happened to be the last one of the school day, which also happened to be ending in under ten minutes. In the shower, Lisa began rubbing the toy up and down her entrance while circling her clit with her left hand, teasing herself before the penetration.

Upon making it home, underwear slightly coated in her juices, Lisa headed to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her for privacy, and sat on her bed with her tablet in her hand. Lisa, at this time, enjoyed erotica. She could even have agreed to having a rather strong fondness of it, if she didn't mind anyone knowing about it, which she did.

After perusing some of her favorite Reddit forums for book suggestions, she repeatedly saw the name Jamie Rose. She goggled the name, and found a wide list of short stories, but one stood out to her specifically.

The story titled The Booty Call had a rather provocative anime-inspired cover that displayed a young fair-skinned female with long, bright, beautiful blonde hair who wore an unzipped black sweater with a white shirt underneath. A male, also fair-skinned, but with short black hair and black t-shirt was behind the woman with his hand clasped firmly around her waist.

Reading the story, Lisa realized that the female was her in a nutshell. Angelina, or Anne, was a nerdy college student who had little to no friends. Due to her awkward nature, she always had trouble fitting in, and was viewed as the oddball. Also, like Lisa, she was a virgin, and the story recounts her first sexual experience. That afternoon, Lisa read this tale, imagining that she was pure, innocent, nerdy, and secretly naughty Angelina being seduced by a college jock and getting nailed in every position imaginable as the jock released seed after seed.

At first, Lisa inserted the dildo into her vagina slowly, enjoying the length of it as it slid deep into her. Still maintaining a standing position, facing the shower glass with her legs spread, she moaned slightly as she squatted down on the toy which was still in her hand, attempting to mimic a riding motion. Lisa, like Angelina, now at the age of 21, is still a virgin and is waiting for the day she can achieve what the twins did six years ago.

Just like back when she read Angelina's story, she stimulated herself until she orgasmed, dripping the results of her pleasure onto the shower floor instead of a towel as she did six years ago. Her body was craving the first moment a man noticed her, craving the first time a man would pleasure her, and craving the first moment a man would just have his way with her. Lisa Simpson wanted it. She craved it. She needed it.

AUTHOR TO READERS:

For those of you who have made it this far with this story, I personally want to take this opportunity to thank you for your support. Regardless of the quality of this piece, I sincerely hope you enjoy it and the chapters following it as much as I enjoy writing them. Please be sure to follow favorite, and review with feedback or suggestions.