"Melvin," Emilene screeched, imitating the tornado alert siren as usual, "when're we gonna get us one of these here Dutch doors for our trailer?"
"When we stop spendin' our dad-blasted money on trips to yore hypercondorack sister," Melvin grumped. He puckered up as Molly Jean leaned down over the bottom half of Lucas Bennett's door.
"Bye, Daddy," Molly Jean said with a humongous grin. "Bye, Mama. Give Aunt Patsy mah love."
Emilene kissed her, too. "Bye, young'un. Now, you mind Mister Bennett, y'hear? Lucas," she bawled to the man standing behind Molly Jean, "I shore appreciate yore watchin' her fer us agin. Don't you let her give you no trouble."
"We ain't never had us no problem," Lucas drawled, hands affectionately patting and squeezing Molly Jean's supple shoulders. "Y'all drive keerful and don't have no wrecks or nothin'. Tell Patsy I said tuh git well soon, and don't worry if'n she needs yuh t' stay another day or two. We'll be jest fine, as always."
Lucas dawdled behind Molly Jean while her parents disappeared around the end of their trailer, Melvin with his head down and his hands in his pockets and Emilene loudly suggesting that Melvin saw their front door in half.
Molly Jean clenched the top edge of the door's bottom half, arched her back downwards, and squeezed shut her eyes. "Ah like these here Dutch doors, too," she said with a breathy moan.
Lucas's hands dropped, pushing her panties down further because the elastic was pinching his nut sack. "When they ain't keepin' people standin' and yakkin' a blue streak in front of 'em, they shore do got their advantages," he grunted, grabbing her hips, then withdrawing and humping back into her steaming diddle-box twice before spurting.
© Russell Hoisington 2006