...k me harder!"
Cries of ecstasy filled the room. It was quite clear who the gentleman was. No other Springfield resident could pull off what had become a sort of 'catchphrase' in sentences. And Maude had passed away years ago, so who was Ned having his way with? Well, Marge Simpson. The town slut, unbeknownst to her husband of all people.
Even Bart and Lisa knew it; and hell, Maggie had probably even clued on. It was as if Homer was the last remaining soul to see that his "perfect wife" was anything but. He'd never expect it from her for starters. And when you see someone as being a conventional of a wife as her, thoughts of adultery never cross your mind.
It's not that Marge didn't love Homer. She did. She also loved sex. And that's where her dopey husband under-achieved, persistently.
The blue-haired "Slut-Outta-Hell" (a nickname Ned would soon give her) rode the devote Christian father of two as if every little detail of her life depended on it.
"Harder. Harder," she panted breathlessly as Ned sat with his back, drooling, like he was the new Homer.
"Forgive me, God," he pleaded, clearly enjoying the sensation but asking for redemption – while committing the act of all things!
"Oh, my God!" Marge screamed. "Oh, God. Thank you for the cock you gave your whiney little protégé, God," she said with a grin. The slapping of impact filled the room, one after the other, and the pace fastened.
"Arghh!" Ned groan...