Why do teens suddenly want to walk the dogs?
Helter-skelter —all holes sex — in the great outdoors.
Margret and Tim Jones were finally adults fed up with the loud music from their college-aged siblings' rooms after dinner — every bloody evening.
Tim devised a compromise solution that Margret thought the 'kids' would never agree to — walk the dogs.
It was years since Lu or Cam had walked the labradors: the golden male, Baz and the black bitch, Pepsi.
Margret's thoughts wandered — College-aged kids walking old dogs along the creek track regularly only increased the chance of Lu getting pregnant to some local drop-out or, God forbid, Cam posting naked selfies on social media.
Cameron, however, embraced the idea of walking the dogs because Lucy was getting so frickin loud every time he rammed into her recently, and the music was getting louder and louder, covering their combined sexual energy.
Lucy was okay with walking the dogs after dinner on the long daylight-saving evenings they enjoyed. There was always the chance of running into J'Arnie and Hamish, their friends being risqué off the track, or catching that pair skinny dipping at the weir.
The four of them had had great fun on recent sleepovers
They needed to catch up again.
Baz and Pepsi were harder to rouse for a walk than teens on a Monday morning for school. The two aging labradors preferred to rest.
The two college siblings, in contrast, were intent on bush sex action. Baz was so lazy he ignored two flies on his nose. Pepsi was trying to slink back into her kennel.
Jonesy had the leads on the pair and gave Baz to Lucy. Pepsi was taking some budging to get moving out of their yard.
The dogs saw the back gate and flopped on the lawn.
Cameron wondered, How did Dad usually walk the pair alone?
"Cam, take these," said Tim Jones, coming out the back door and passing him a sachet of dog biscuits.
Tim was glad to delegate even for one evening. After all, the dogs belonged to the kids. They had nagged at the end of primary school for puppies —and guess who looked after them.
In the end, Tim, once college had commenced,
Still here, volunteering again — together — nice to see them mature.
The only thing Lucy wanted to mature was her breasts.
Flat-chested pimples, she called them herself — so embarrassing!
Jonesy didn't care about walking the dogs, who were finally out the back gate and wending their way to the bush line and down the bank to the creek track.
It wasn't Lucy's tits on his mind. It was her pussy. Her plump camel toe was his priority. He never lost interest in it. God, his adopted sister was hot, and it was that thought that allowed him to repeatedly fuck her.
Yes, they were related on paper, but like a cunning law—all semantics — still she was, but wasn't his sister. He would access her sweet coochie— that was his plan— somewhere in the bushes, and not much else was on his mind.
Baz and Pepsi only had dog biscuits on their agenda.
Cam thought they might run into Hamish and J'Arnie on the trail.
He couldn't understand why Hamish, his mate, was always going on about Lucy's flat chest.
Christ, she had nipples, nothing else.
Now, J'Arnie, there was a girl with curvy muffins in which to bury your face.
"Down the track towards the weir or up towards the ford, eh Luce?"
It was decision time on direction.
"Up … there's more bush there, and J'Arnie and Hamish might be there!"
One bite each and a long sniff of a bickie got Pepsi and Baz moving at a sedate pace.
Ms Jones and Jonesy would have preferred speed —the swiftness of their bedroom encounters.
All it took was locking the door, amplifying the music, and rip-stripping clothes off each other.
And beds were softer —than what?
Ferns or pebbles under your arse!
Lucy wasn't sure about bush sex — yes, she was — she would have her brother be the cushion for her butt. His arse could flatten the rough bracken.
It took about ten minutes to get to the Ford.
Hamish and J'Arnie weren't around, but no one else was either.
They tethered the dogs. Baz and Pepsi were close to comatose except for their mouths full of doggie biscuits.
Lucy and Cameron were scouting around for a private nooky.
Both were unsure about this and decided the dogs were not the ideal cover for their searing mutual needs.
This was shaping as an ill-conceived one-off already. There was nowhere decent in the bush to shag.
Lucy couldn't see anywhere, suggesting a humping hot spot. The creekside was scrubby, clumpy and rough fernery.
Jonesy was equally thinking…where to lie…someone was in for a scratched arsehole.
He realised how crappy the spot was, and his thinking centred on —dogging his sister from behind while she leaned into a tree.
Like a dog, he was looking for that gum tree that wasn't shedding bark.
Lucy was back on the track — fuck this —and she was ready just to give up and accept coochie's frustration — at least till she got home.
Cam gave up because the tree he thought would do, on close-up inspection, had inch ants roaming everywhere for sap.
He had the desperate male thought that the coochie so close wasn't going to be made available, and it was internet porn at home for his pecker later.
Fuck walking the dogs —never again.
The exasperated, sexually frustrated siblings gave each other the mutual disaster mope.
The mutual forlorn genital vexation look.
They had failed in their joint lust plan.
Their eyes went to their feet. This wasn't what needy coupling was about.
Failure!
A botch up!
Fizzled lust!
Univiting nature beating pussy and cock.
Hell, their privates belonged here together in nature.
Their natural urges demanded release, and that moment of fantasy sex —naked in the trees was fading.
The path was worn smooth and was summer dry.
Their eyes saw the even, level, cleared space beneath them.
They didn't need a signal to start exploring each other's bodies.
Behind schedule, they made up ground fast.
Past the point of want.
In the realm of passionate bawdy need.
It was the roughest and wildest groping they had ever initiated together.
A frenzy of pushing tongues into each other mouths. A blending of skin under rapidly moving hands over each other's seemingly heated, demanding young bodies.
It was straight to pants down and underwear around the ankles.
Female fingers grasping and working up pecker. Male fingers sliding over, then poking into Luce's fem-mound — building wetness fast. Moisture dripping in a hasty seep.
Lucy was down, taking head on her bended knees. Cam's pecker pointing down the track. Ms Jones's face locked around cock, facing his body up the track. She was crouching and balanced by his cock. She avoided skinning her knees.
The dogs were dozing.
In contrast, Lucy was ploughing into Cameron's meat stick, and saliva was spread in generous drenching blasts onto his aching balls, which were licked to pleasurable male delirium.
The lad was groaning loudly, "Orrgh, that's good. Yeah, aah, aah!"
But no one but Lucy could hear.
Ms Jones had his dick in her grip. Her index finger and thumb were around his base.
Her frickin lips them gliding over his sausage so perfectly, all the way down to her finger hold.
She was angling his stiff pecker down like a lever.
Luce was in control.
They both loved the excitement because she had the frictional slobbery wetness of her saliva covering every centimetre of his sausage.
Glistening, dripping, and pre-cummy, all combined for male delight.
Cam looked down at the trickling stream along his rod.
Oh my God, his sister was feral, but hey, his pecker felt great.
She had his slurpy male pole drenched and was giving him a series of tongue-tip flicks under his happy knob, driving his need to pump cock into her crevices immediately.
However, Cameron lost the thought as Lucy went the whole ball suck, drawing his tightening sensitive sack skin into her mouth, then easing one ball at a time into her gob — playing fair — and giving each nut equal satisfaction.
Cam was putty in her hands.
She knew it.
He knew it.
His cock knew it.
Lu-lu's mouth and her pussy were setting the agenda here.
"On the track — on your back."
Jonesy was down, only his pecker stiff and upstanding. His body was horizontal—his wood vertical.
Ms Lucy Jones stabbed directly onto his glistening, hard meat. She surrounded it with her shaved, cunny wetness.
She rode like a she-devil. Up and down, hard and completely uninhibited. She was moaning in rapture as her clit pushed into his pubic bone with every grinding gyration of her cute body.
"Ooh yes, ooh yes, ooh!"
There was nothing for Jonesy to control.
Lucy had the tempo.
His stepsister had his pleasure lever enveloped to full throttle.
Total commitment to dual orgasm by the lass.
Her energy was unbelievable. There was pussy vigour. There was body pumping force.
Still, Lucy managed, " Jack, your rod in my hot aching, puckered rosebud!"
Cameron obliged.
"Ooh yes, ooh yes," cooed Lu-lu.
Her balloon knot exposed flesh space like an unbolted trapdoor.
"Ugh, ugh! " she responded to a spiking stiff sausage massaging her rear innards.
Her cinnamon do-nut crimped and compressed pecker tighter than a champagne cork.
"Oof, raah! Sheez, that is so excellent! So frickin' good. Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Her patootie O-ring constricted tighter than an unreleased fart in a silent auditorium.
Lucy's body hit auto-climax mode, and so did her brother.
The exertion and the input from youth doubled as Jonesy thrust into his sister's crack as she drove harder down onto his cock.
They were tireless in these blissful minutes in their binding, insistent bodily need for orgasms.
"Aah, aah, ah, ah!" from the lass.
"Ugh, ugh, orrgh!" from the dude.
Ms Jones felt Jonesy jerk into her with uncontrolled power.
With a startling heady loud groan, her cornhole luxuriated in the clout of cock power for a glorious fraction of a second before her head and body became cloudy in the sensation of an embrasive orgasm.
Her climax went coursing through her body and echoing through the bush —released in her guttural, expansive, unladylike pitched moan of complete cascading pleasure.
" Uggh, uugghhh!"
Lu-lu collapsed on her brother, down across his body.
Her head was on his chest as her arse released his cock.
A gush of moisture dribbled out of her cunny, and a wad of man-sauce seeped from her bahoochie in complete saturated satisfaction.
Sheez was she wet between her legs.
Lucy had to clean herself up with some creek water.
There was no way she could pull her panties and jeans back up; it would have soaked through both, she thought before she got back home.
Jonesy was getting his pants done back up. His happy pecker packed away.
But he was watching his sister douche her pussy and starfish — splashing and sprinkling water between her spread legs —the clefts of warmth joining them a minute or two ago.
Now, her softest flesh was goose-bumping with invigorating cold creek freshness.
He watched her. She was so self-absorbed between her legs —naturally douching her flapettes and back crevice. Then, patting her sensitive parts dry with her panties as she covered up.
Then, she zipped up her jeans.
Now you couldn't tell what either of them had been doing a few minutes ago…yet… god, they had fucked each other on the creek path.
Anyone in the suburb could have walked their dog right into their copulation.
Baz and Pepsi were roused by the smell and nibble of another biscuit, and the two labradors and the two siblings wandered easily home.
The group strolled along without any cares in the world. They sauntered in through the back gate and kennelled the dogs quietly.
The pace and urgency of the creek path were gone as the two college siblings cruised indoors, relaxed and both within themselves —like emerging from the most satisfying of dreams.
If you had asked the pair —they would have said blankly — life was good, and fucking was sensational.
Tim wanted to maintain their calm. He didn't ask them about the walk.
Christ, it was a vast improvement on the loud music.
But he was hopeful… very hopeful…he would get more than one day of relief from the dogs.
So he asked, "Are you on for tomorrow?"
"Yeah, the dogs…sure," said Jonesy, still in the male daze after great sex.
Lucy was more forthcoming: "No problem…we want to do it regularly for a while… it's fun."
Mrs Margret Jones knew her teen siblings were young and unpredictable, and this sudden interest in walking the dogs wouldn't last — excuses would probably emerge tomorrow evening.
However, the regular doggy walks were still going strong as the Jones siblings dragged Baz and Pepsi through the back gate for the fifth consecutive night.