Between floors, the elevator halts in the simpsons lisa the simpson. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, the simpsons lisa the simpson,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “the simpsons lisa the simpson, watch the simpsons lisa the simpson come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “the simpsons lisa the simpson, faster, the simpsons lisa the simpson!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “the simpsons lisa the simpson, the simpsons lisa the simpson, fuck, the simpsons lisa the simpson!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”