The Promise - (sinking, sensual, submergence)

[PM2K]

The Promise – by PM2K

Tara watches quietly as the flat-bottomed boat shivers, then sinks, slipping silently beneath the bayou's black waters.
Her head is a tangle of dark brown hair which hangs damply over her shoulders and down her back. She adjusts her grubby T-shirt – a faded orange color with plunging neckline, exposing her generous cleavage – and rolls her denim clad hips. Her shorts are tattered and well worn, skin tight against her firm rump. Strategic holes in the fabric showing flashes of tanned skin, reveal her lack of underwear.

She stretches her long, well tanned and toned legs, testimony to her love of mountain biking, rising up on her bare toes which peek through her sandals. Her blue eyes remain locked on the bubbles streaming upwards to mark the water vessel's final resting place.
That boat's been in the family for 35 years... Daddy got it the same summer I came along.... Under that murky water, even if the slimy bottom didn't gobble it up, it is unlikely anyone would ever find it.
Tara smiles to herself, laugh lines crinkling. It isn't a wicked or sad smile, exactly. Just one which is tired, like her eyes. Weighed down with hidden knowledge.
“So...” she says aloud, the strong hint of a Southern accent dancing along her tongue. “That's that...”

She turns then, turns her back to the water and the greenery of the tangled maze of cypress trees, draped in rich spanish moss, and moves inland, wading through the shoulder high grasses and cattails, following a hidden path.
The summer sun is faded, screened through the murky layers of humidity rising from the swampland. Its heat remains oppressive, smothering. Soon Tara's clothing is stained dark, soaked through with sweat. She soldiers on, moisture slimy on her skin.
The ground is wet and greasy underfoot, giving a little bit to cushion her footsteps. Faint sucking sounds are generated as the muddy ground grasps at the rubber soles of her sandals.
Birds call, bullfrogs ga-rumph, and insects buzz around. Something splashes nearby, and Tara finds herself really hoping she doesn't trip over an alligator... but it is unlikely. The hunting isn't too good around these parts. More likely any 'gator would be hanging around further south, towards the fishing grounds. Cottonmouths, though...
The one thing she didn't have to worry about stumbling across is people. No one is within miles of this hidden backwater. Hell, no one would be able to find it even if they came looking...
Except maybe Jorie...

Tara keeps moving, weaving through the tangled growth. Everything looks so different now... but it was stupid to assume it would have remained the same. A lot can change in 17 years... yet there remains something familiar... something tickling at the corners of memory.
It is the smell which struck her first... a sharp, slightly rotten earthen smell, speaking of wet sloppy earth and rich decay. Tara's heart suddenly speeds up, and she finds her pace quickening. The mud underfoot becomes wetter, more slippery, yet she manages to stay upright.
Then, she spots it. Something moving between the stands of waving grass and reeds. Tara shivers, then slows her pace, taking more careful, measured steps. At first, she can't believe her eyes... but as she gets closer, it becomes more apparent, more undeniable.

Christ... it's still here... after all these years...
Tara reaches out, and grasps the black-colored cloth hanging off of the woody brush. She turns it over in her hands, and bites her lower lip. Tears cloud her eyes. She unfolds the wadded material, revealing it to be a T-shirt. Amazingly, the decal is still intact... she can still read “I Survived Y2K!” emblazoned on the cloth.
Tara's gaze follows a remembered path through the grass and weeds and fragments of drowned trees. Her hands clench the shirt tightly, squeezing out nearly two decades of rainwater out of it...



“You gotta check this out!”
Jorie dashes ahead of her, flitting between the tall reeds like a wood nymph. Tara is panting as she tries to keep up. Crazy bitch... No one in their right mind would run through a swamp.
“Holy shit, girl! What's keeping you?”
Jorie laughs, her short red-coloured hair flashing in the sun. It contrasts well with her rich cinnamon skin. Tara shakes her head, while leaning against a dead tree to catch her breath. Honestly...
“Just... trying to catch... up...” she says. They were both raised in the bayou, but Tara is becoming convinced her girlfriend might be a different beast all together.

She pushes forward, and sees Jorie has stopped, standing bare footed in a pool of dark mud. She leers at her, tongue running over her lips, then tosses her backpack several feet away.
“You dirty girl...” Tara says, slowly moving towards her.
Jorie laughs again, then whips off her black shirt, flinging it into the brush behind Tara. She sees the girl hadn't been wearing her bra again, much to her delight.
Jorie grasps her breasts and shakes them.
“Maybe these will inspire you...” she says, grinning as she watches Tara break free from the heavy underbrush, tearing off her own shirt and the sports bra underneath, freeing her firm orbs. With a growl, she tackles Jorie and both topple into the thick brown mud. It is warm and slimy against their skin as they roll around in it, smearing the substance over each others bodies.
Tara loves how Jorie's nipples harden under her mud slick hands. The two grapple some more, getting thickly coated in the sticky earth. Then Jorie grasps a handful of mud and thrusts it down the front of Tara's shorts, working her way past her panties to apply it directly to her bare crotch.
“You bitch!” Tara gasps, and struggles to dunk Jorie's head into the muck. But she keeps on massaging the mud across her cleft and clitoris, and Tara feels herself getting hot and slippery. Growling, she lunges forward and plunges her right hand down Jorie's pants, discovering a distinct lack of underwear. Her fingers find her hot crotch is wet and sloppy, and before she realizes it, two of her digits are sinking inside...

Jorie stiffens, and utters a sharp cry. Tara stops, worried she may have hurt her, then is surprised when Jorie grasps her wrist to hold it in place, then begins to thrust her pelvis against the hand, rolling on top of Tara, pinning her in such a way she couldn't withdraw her fingers if she wanted to...
“Don't stop... don't stop... don't stop...” she gasps, red hair dripping with sweat and droplets of mud. She squirms on top of Tara, grinding mud into her skin, smearing it over their bellies, mashing their breasts into each other.
Tara's own furnace begins to melt. Jorie's free hand is busy stroking Tara, teasing her hard clit, then slipping her fingers inside. Responding in kind, she starts to pump Jorie with her right hand, amazed at how her insides begin to squeeze down hard on Tara's fingers. Jorie lets go of her wrist, and while her left keeps busy, her right reaches up to grasp the back of Tara's head, pulling it and its open mouth towards her...
Their lovemaking is fierce, sustained by the strength and power of their youth. The girls, well practiced and eager, devoured each other, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure out of themselves.

Finally, Jorie and Tara collapse on top of one another in a dripping mass of tangled limbs and musky flesh. Neither can find the strength to move as they lie atop the mud bank, slathered in wet earth and sexy kisses. For a long time they remain silent, save for their ragged breathing.
Finally, after a long stretch of comfortable silence, Jorie looks over to lock her gaze with Tara. She smiles gently in return.
“Can you feel it?” her lover says, voice hushed.
“I sure did...” Tara says, grinning broadly. “Gawd... I haven't gotten off like that in... well... ever... I seriously thought I was going to die...”
Jorie smiles and nods.
“Anything else?”
Tara frowns. Their skins glisten in the moist heat. It is late afternoon, and while she can hear the buzz of insects, something seems off... Then it hits her.... Mosquitoes. The pair should have be swarmed and drained dry by now, being in the middle of the swamp naked and all. And yet...
Jorie grins at her confused expression.
“You knew my Grammy was pure Creole, eh? Born and raised and died in the bayous...” she says. “She always told me of the natural magics which hold the world together... and the places they would gather in... ready for those with the sight to tap...”
Jorie leans in, her breasts jiggling. It is all Tara can do to resist pouncing on them. Damn...
“You feel it too, right? That burning, tingling feeling, makes you want to gush like a fountain? That is the energy of this place... an energy only women are blessed to sense...”
“Lucky us...” Tara says quietly. Despite all of their lovemaking, or maybe because of it, she feels herself becoming wet again... and she starts squirming, the slippery heat building inside her groin...
“That's the energy of Gaia... the life force of the planet... the energy used by the spirit world...” Jorie says, sounding awestruck over her own words. “And when you're talking about life force... you're talking about sex...”
“ I think you should stop talking...” Tara says, and hauls Jorie down upon her...

Later...
“Why did you bring me way out here?” Tara asks, some time after both had gotten their breath back. She runs her hand along the brown flank of her friend. “We could be doing this a lot closer to home... I told you, my mother is out for the day...”
Jorie is silent for a time. Then, quietly, she begins to speak.
“I told you... this place is sacred... Grammy always said these places only appear to the ones it feels are worthy of becoming one with it...”
Tara frowns. Jorie's tone is so serious, so unlike her, it is almost frightening.
“What... what do you mean?” she stammers, suddenly unsettled. There is a weird, wistful look in Jorie's eyes, as she begins to glance towards the wide expanse of greenish black muck.
“She waits...” Jorie says. “She waits for me...”
Tara sits upright, and grasps Jorie's upper arm. She stares intently into Jorie's face.
“What the hell are you talking about?”she says forcefully. Jorie looks back, then gently removes Tara's hand from her arm. She kisses it, then smiles again, in a more subdued way.
“You know... I have this funny feeling that right in the middle of that...” she gestures towards the morass, “... if you waded out into it... one could sink right into the heart of the earth...”
Jorie looks back at Tara. Her eyes sparkle.
“That excites me...”

Tara is feeling uneasy at the direction their conversation is taking.
“You aren't serious, right?” she says. “I hear those bog holes are bottomless... I mean, for real.”
Jorie smiles wistfully.
“Oh, I am serious...” she says. “I've never been more serious... I've been having this dream... about this place...” she says. Noticing Tara's expression, she laughs. “I know how that sounds... but think of it... You know these backwaters as well as me... have you ever seen this place before?”
Tara shakes her head, and frowns. Granted she hasn't explored a lot of the swampland, but still... Tara wants to speak... but there is something in Jorie's voice which keeps her quiet.
“You know they are never going to accept us...” Jorie says. “Not your mom... not my aunts and uncles... not our classmates... Everyone in town thinks we're freaks...”
Tara sighs. It is a familiar topic of theirs.
“Who cares what they think?” she says. “We're graduating next month... then we can go anywhere we please after that. Maybe go to some art college on the West Coast where we'll be trendy...”

Tara grins broadly at her display of wit, but her smile fades when she sees Jorie's resigned expression. She shakes her head.
“Neither of us have the money to go to college... my family doesn't have it, and you have your mama to look after... and they certainly won't go out of their way to help two kids wallowing in sin...”
“I don't mind wallowing in your sin,” Tara says, smiling gently. Jorie sighs deeply.
“We can't keep this a secret all of our lives... especially in this shitty town...” she says. “I think people are suspecting... Uncle George wants me to meet some friends of his son... He keeps saying it is time I started thinking about finding some guy...”
Tara doesn't reply. Her mother has been saying similar things... and has been asking some pointed questions about Jorie...
“Face it... all we got to look forward to is getting fat and old and being stuck behind a counter or in a diner serving coffee... or worse, married and squeezing out babies...” Jorie says, sighing.
“That's a cheerful way of looking at things...” Tara states, but can find no way to counter the argument. There was no one in town who were able to escape it... unless they joined the military. That option didn't appeal to her. When one really looked at it, their futures were pretty bleak.
Trying to change the subject, Tara brings up Jorie's dream.
“You never said what it was...” she says.
Then, Jorie starts to smile again.
“Oh, if I tell... it won't come true...” She then stands up, clumps of dried mud falling off her perfect, curvy body.
“Come on...” Jorie says, reaching out with her hand. “Let's find out how deep it is...”

It takes Tara several moments to get what her lover is saying. She finds herself horrified by the request. At first... But then thinking further...
“Please... Tara... I brought you here to join me...” Jorie says, her tone both pleading and inviting. “No one would ever find us...and we can make love for all eternity...”
Tara sits up, feeling the slimy mud under her rounded ass. She stares into Jorie's eyes and finds her friend is serious.
“Jorie... you... you can't be... I mean... you'll drown! Or smother... or whatever happens in swamp muck...” Tara stammers. Mud wrestling is one thing, but this...”
“Why not?,” Jorie says, her eyes alight with excitement. “Life will never get better than it is now...” Her tone is passionate. “We will never be this beautiful, this alive again... Imagine being violated by that sexy mud in every way... as it devours us... inch by inch... until we slip under... out of this world...”
“But... we'll die! I mean...” Tara wants to leap up and grab Jorie, drag her from the swampy mire before she gets closer to it... talk some sense into her... but something holds her back.
“The earth wants me, Tara... it desires me...” Jorie says, her voice husky with what could only be described as lust. “I have to... I must...” She takes another step towards the muddy bog. “Please... join me?”
Tara wants to... oh, God... she so wants to... She can feel it... a dark thrumming pulsing through the soggy ground, vibrating through her flesh... stimulating her to the point she might go insane...
But... her mama needs her... she isn't well... and has no other family except her since Dad took off. Forgive me, sweet Jorie... I just cannot leave my mama...
She wants to say something, but finds she cannot. Instead, eyes suddenly wet with tears, she shakes her head.
Jorie smiles sadly, then nods. Silhouetted against the summer sky, she looks like a goddess.
“That's okay, Tara...” she says softly. “Promise me you'll stay to the very end, okay? When you are ready... you will find the way back here once again... I'll be waiting...”

Tara nods, stifling sobs. She feels waves of love for Jorie... as well as a surge of intense arousal, watching Jorie's naked hips sway hypnotically as she walks slowly into the mire. Her lover selects her footing carefully, stepping from mossy clump to grassy hump as she works her way close to the center of the mud pit.
Tara can hear the wet slurping sounds as Jorie slogs ankle deep through the jiggling muck. Tara stares as the whole boggy expanse wobbles and shudders, forcing waves rippling across its sodden surface.
The sounds... are so sexual... Tara feels her floodgates begin to open... She senses a thick drool of musky juices oozing out from her pussy to trickle over her crotch and inner thighs... Unbidden, her right hand moves in to cup the sodden mass of dark pubic hair...
What the hell am I doing? Tara cannot believe she is actually about to masturbate to her friend's slow death... Looking up, she sees Jorie about six feet away... she has turned around to face her... hand buried inside her snatch. At that very moment, the ground melts beneath her and she drops to her thighs in the morass.
“Oh... yes...” Jorie purrs.... “Oh, God... this feels so good...” She is fisting herself, the slurping sounds quite audible as she pumps herself past her wrist. Only her right thumb remains outside of her body, and it is busy massaging her clit.
“Tara...” she gasps. “Please... sit there so I can watch you frig yourself...” With her eyes and a jerk of her head, she indicates a log located at an angle, half sunk in the bog. Its roots touch the shore, while its other end rests about a yard from where Jorie is standing.
Nodding, Tara makes her way to this wooden bridge, nearly hunched over. Her insides feel as if painfully filled with molten wax, and she is afraid if she stands up straight, she may wet herself...

Jorie grins, watching Tara make her way over to the log. She can feel the mire sucking hard on her legs, dragging her downwards, and by the time her girl sits down mere feet away from her, she has already sunk past her groin. The mud pulses and quakes against her, as if it is a living thing determined to swallow her whole...
Tara sits down, thighs spread wide, then pushes her feet into the mud. After an initial resistance, they glide down smoothly, taking her shins in to her knees. She sees Jorie lick her lips as she slips down to her slightly rounded belly in the thick swamp mire. A sharp moan spills from her slightly open mouth, her arm still plowing through the muck to batter her sunken crotch.
“Oh... god... girl... I can smell your snatch from here...” Jorie groans. “It's a good thing you are out of reach... I'd haul your ass in and feed on that pussy until we were both sunk...”
Tara cannot believe how wet she has become, staring at Jorie... naked and helpless as she is sucked down by the swamp. Her hand reaches her sodden groin and begins to tease it... her fingers running along the slippery edges of the folds of her sex. Her thumb finds her clit, rock stiff and twitching, and she presses it in hard against it... grinding it in slowly in a series of clockwise motions.

Jorie quickens her motions, rocking her now sunken hips against her right fist, which is still deep within her hot furnace. The mud makes hungry slurping noises in time with her thrusts, and she quickly starts grunting and groaning, her mouth agape, her breath coming out in short gasps. Sweat generated by her efforts makes her skin glisten.
“Come on... Tara... let's... cum... together....” she grunts, getting lost in her own pleasure. “I want to see that pussy gush!”
Tara starts to cry out. Her fingers stiff, she slams them in deep, impaling herself in time with her thumb's strokes against her clit. Her left hand alternates between her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Her pelvis moves on its own, pumping her hand, making gloriously obscene wet smacking sounds... Her pussy dribbles and squirts, soaking itself and the log she is sitting on, while the deliciously erotic mud squeezes her sunken legs...
“Ah! Ah! Oh.... fuck.... Fuck!” she shouts, opening her eyes to stare at Jorie. She is sunk past her waist now in the dark quaking mud, the large orbs of her beautiful brown breasts bouncing in near perfect time. She arches her back and thrashes, her motions making the mire ripple sluggishly to lap against Tara's knees.
“Yes...yes... oh, god... yes!” Jorie gasps. “Look into my eyes, Tara! I want to see your eyes as we cum!”
“Oh... gggg.... ugh! Aaaaaaa! Fuck!” Tara shouts, arching her back as she explodes, her juices spraying with force past her right hand to splatter over the heaving mud. Her ears throbbing, she can barely hear Jorie as she squeals, her own pussy gushing directly into the hungry mire.
Climaxes fading, both girls go limp, drained of their energy. When Tara's vision clears, she sees Jorie has sunk breast deep in the mud, her arms swallowed by the swamp. Sweat flows over her rich brown skin, glistening in the sunlight.
“Jesus... Tara... you almost soaked me...” she says, a silly grin on her face. “Never saw you explode like that before...”
Tara grins back. “I don't know what got into me... besides my fingers...” She laughs. “Must be staring at those brown sugar tits of yours bouncing around like that...”
The pair laugh lazily, then fall silent. It is clear even if Tara wanted to rescue Jorie, there is no way to do it, with her arms sunk deep into to the mud.

Seeing her friend's question in her expression, Jorie shakes her head. “I still can't feel bottom here... none at all...” she says. As she speaks, she settles in deeper, her stiff nipples disappearing beneath the slowly churning muck. Bubbles from disturbed gasses form around her, burbling quietly.
Tara stares entranced as the mire slowly devours Jorie. It fills her cleavage, spilling over her breasts, and climbs over her collarbone... soon, the firm orbs vanish completely, leaving her shoulder deep in the muck.
“Are you.... happy?” Tara asks suddenly. Jorie frowns for a moment, then grins broadly.
“I'd be happier if you were sinking with me...” she says, “but... yeah! Yeah, I'm happy...” More bubbles swell and pop, and the thick mud begins to flow sluggishly over her bare shoulders. In a moment, the bog slime has surrounded her neck, and is rapidly rising.
“Guess this is it...” Jorie says, panting. “I can feel it sucking me down...” Her chin presses into the thick, wobbling surface. “God... I wish I could kiss you one last time...”
Tara, eyes glistening, lifts her right hand to her mouth and blows her a kiss. “Goodbye, love...” she says quietly, choking back sobs. “I love you so much...”
“Me, too...” Jorie smiles as the mud laps at her lower lip. Her ears are filled with warm gooey silt, so all she can hear is the muffled sound of her heart and her ragged breathing. “Remember... I'll be waiting for you.... I'll.... mmmmphph!”
Tara watches Jorie's mouth slip under. Her nostrils flare, noisily sucking in air.... her eyes widen as they too vanish, stopped up with mud... A froth of bubbles and wet sloppy earth forms in front of the shrinking island formed by Jorie's eyes, forehead and red hair... All Tara can do is stare as the bog heaves and ripples, mirroring the way Jorie's naked body thrashes beneath the surface, struggling to escape the death trap, to grab one more mouthful of air...
Instead, the rest of Jorie vanishes with a slurp, leaving behind a shallow dent in the mire's shuddering surface. Tara catches a glimpse of red hair before the mud flows over it, then the wet earth explodes in bubbles as Jorie's last breath escapes...
“Goodbye, Jorie...” Tara says quietly, hot tears cutting down her cheeks.

She stares silently as the mire slowly ceases quaking and rolling. A final burst of bubbles explodes through the thick surface, and then all is calm. For a moment, Tara nearly launches herself into the muck to follow Jorie, but instead slowly rises and returns to shore, physically and emotionally spent.
She sheds no more tears as she quietly gets dressed and gathers Jorie's clothing. All except her Y2K shirt. No idea where that got to... and with the evening coming, and the daylight beginning to fade, she has no time to look for it.
Tara heads for the boat the pair had traveled in, vowing to dispose of the clothes somewhere in the swamp. She didn't want to sink the clothing in the mud... it felt wrong, somehow... but there were plenty of places along the way to sink them.
Reaching the boat, she turns to look back once more towards the place Jorie is now buried, and finds the trail has vanished completely. Even the shoreline no longer looks familiar. Tara smiles quietly, not in the least bit surprised...



“Hey, Jorie... I'm back... as promised...”
Tara squats close to the muddy, green coated expanse which stretches ahead of her. Her feet are now bare, and she relishes the sensation of the slimy ground licking her soles and oozing between her toes.
The swampy mire looks different. It is more green than it had been, patches of moss and clumps of grass thickly dot the wet surface. She spies the faint outline of the log she had sat on, legs sunk in the mire, 17 years ago. Thin puddles grease the surface, adding a glittering sheen to the bog.
“You were right, you know...” Tara sighs. “Things never did get better...”
She sits down on the damp ground, feeling the wetness soak through her denim shorts to the bare skin beneath. She always liked the sensation... it was kind of like being licked by your pants.
“No one suspected a thing...” Tara says. “I just told the cops who asked you ran away and had wanted me to follow, but I didn't...” She smiles sadly. “Well, it was the truth...”

Tara stretches out her legs, until her bare feet graze the edge of the mire. It quivers at her touch.
“I tried to get together with Bobby... you remember him? The grease monkey? Nice enough feller...” she says. “More for Mom's sake, really... doc said she wasn't going to get better... so the wedding cheered her up...”
Tara sighs, then laughs. There's a harsh sound to it.
“I couldn't give him kids, so he traded me in for a newer model...” she says, shaking her head. “Well... no great loss. Just going through the motions, anyway... I mean, he couldn't make my hips shake like you could, Jorie...”
She laughs again, then falls silent. The dark mud burbles quietly, waiting patiently.
Finally, Tara stands up. She strips her sweat-soaked shirt off, exposing her breasts to the damp air. Neither have sagged, testament to her fine physical shape. She drops the garment on top of her sandals, which lie beside her feet.
“Momma's dead... died a week ago...” Tara hooks her thumbs under the upper edge of her shorts and pushes them down, exposing her ass and bare crotch to the swamp atmosphere. The denim lands with a wet plop, and she deftly steps out of them. Bending over, she picks the shorts up and adds them to the pile. Then, she grasps the old Y2K shirt, and, with a few motions, wraps it around the rest of the clothing, tying up the loose ends. Finished, she picks up the misshapen fabric ball.
Tara feels the weight of the sandals, then nods. That should work.
“I once thought I didn't want to contaminate you...” she says to the patch of mucky ground. “But somehow, I don't think you'd mind now...”
With a heave, she shot puts the mass far out into the bog, noting with satisfaction the wet smacking sound the bundle makes when it strikes the mire. The package vanishes almost instantly, leaving behind only a ragged watery hole in the thick gummy surface.

Tara stands straight, enjoying the caress of the humid breeze on her nude form, the feeling of damp hair stuck to her bare back. Not a single insect comes to bother her. A familiar arousal starts to build, making her slippery between her legs.
“I left no notes, no traces. I paid most of my debts, and signed the house over to the bank to cover the rest...” she says, her voice strong. “Get ready, Jorie, 'cause here I come...”
Tara walks onto the thick, rubbery surface of the mire, sensing its hidden depths beneath her feet. The whole pit reminds her of the waterbed she and Jorie fucked on throughout a rainy summer weekend, when they were able to get away together. She smiles at the memory.... even as the bog shakes and bubbles...
She had gone past the spot where Jorie had vanished, and for a moment toyed with the idea of heading over there, the thought of their skeletons intermingling giving her a shiver... but she realized her feet were taking her well past that area, towards what she senses is the true heart of the swamp.
Everywhere, Tara can feel Jorie's presence. Perhaps she became a part of this mud pit, she thinks, rather liking the idea. The surface remains firm, yet wobbles jelly-like, making her wonder if it is even possible to...
Shlooop!
On cue, the ground melts, taking Tara down past her knees in the slimy mud. It is warm against her skin, reminding her of the secret, damp intimate spots she liked to violate with tongue and fingers.

A grin breaks over her face. Tara attempts to free her legs but finds them quite stuck, making her feel like a fly in taffy. Wriggling her pelvis, she finds all she can do is make the bog ripple, and drive herself downwards. Deep beneath, she strains to move her feet, wiggling and pushing at her toes so they point downwards... to speed her decent.
“Okay, Jorie.... take me home...” she says.
Swaying in place, Tara shifts her weight from one leg to the other, straining to force her legs deeper into the mud. It obliges, giving way to the pressure to allow her limbs to glide down into the shifting thick mass.
As she works the mire, Tara feels sweat forming a greasy film on her naked flesh, beading on her forehead, and trickling in rivulets down her back. Her crotch is getting wetter, too, and tingles with anticipation. Remembering Jorie's reactions as she was sucked under, Tara wonders if it could be that wonderful. The mud does feel good against her skin, as is the way it is sucking hard on her legs.
Up to her thighs now, her bare groin hovers mere inches above the muddy surface. Tara's breath is coming out in short gasps now, a combination of exertion and arousal. Her right hand slides over to her crotch and she begins to finger herself. Groaning, she can feel her wetness begin to flow freely, making smacking sounds as her pussy sucks hard on her fingers.
Tara rocks her hips against her hand, moaning softly. She shudders as the mire rises to cup her ass... then swallows her groin. She bares down on her pelvis, grinding herself deep into the swamp muck.
“Oh..... fuck.... I... I get it now...” she gasps, wriggling in place. Tongues of gritty mud have started to penetrate her pussy and ass, oozing inside her... Using her left hand, she kneads her breasts, squeezing hard enough to make them hurt. Her right, sunk deep inside herself, keeps pumping her with a slow, steady rhythm, and she rocks against it as the mud licks her sensitive areas.

Her first climax catches her off guard, hitting her with the force of a truck. Tara cries out, her back forced backwards into an arch, driving her pelvis and belly deep under the churning mud. Beneath, she feels her pussy gush like a fountain, her hot love oil squirting between and past her fingers.
Gasping, Tara finds herself waist deep in the mire, her every movement provoking little flares of pleasure. She can feel the mud working its way deeper inside her, filling her inner cavities. On impulse, she wiggles around, and feels the muck rolling around inside her... An aftershock of pleasure ripples through her, forcing out a groan from between her lips.
“Oh... holy crap...” Tara pants. “Oh, Jorie... I should have taken you up on your offer sooner...” The mire shudders and bubbles in response as she feels her body slip deeper. The mud surrounds her ribs, forming a thick ridge like rubbery lips, slurping her down.
“Guess I'm not getting out of this...” Tara says. Even if she changes her mind, there isn't a way to haul herself out of the soft death trap. No branches, no vines, no horny jungle queens... just bottomless sucking mud. Staying still, she feels herself sink slowly... inch by erotic inch into the gently heaving mud... Her ribs slip under one by one, then she sighs as she feels the undersides of her breasts press into the warm mire.
“Oh.... Jorie... you were so right about this place...” Tara moans. Her buried right hand begins to move again, this time joined by her thumb as she rubs her clit. She teases her nipples with her left hand, while gently humping against the mud.
She feels her boobs slip under, the jelly-like mud flowing thickly over them, kneading the flesh. A second orgasm makes her shudder in place, and she moans softly, even as her left arm sinks below. Soon, the mud is lapping at her collarbone, then it oozes its way over her bare shoulders.
“God... what a way to go...” Tara utters, her voice sluggish, drunk on sensation. The mud is heavy against her body, making it harder to breathe... it surrounds her neck... then presses under her jaw...

“Jorie... get ready, baby... I'm coming...”
And she is. Tara feels her innards twist and spasm with pleasure, even as the mire laps over her lips. Her ears stop up with warm ooze, silencing the outside world...
“Oh.... mmph... I... gg... mmmm... mmmph... Mmmph!”
Tara moans through the thick muck covering her mouth. Her nose flares, dragging the wet, earthy scent of the swamp deep inside.... then her air is shut off as the bog rises to fill it...
Tara's impending suffocation triggers a massive climax, forcing her body to thrash through the swamp mud. She screams into the sloppy slurry of wet earth, her voice mutated into harsh garglings that explode onto the surface in a foam of dense bubbles.
Then, she is gone. The rest of Tara's face and head slide under the liquid mud in an eye blink, her hair forming a loose mat on the surface before being pulled under in a thick swirl. A final burst of bubbles and froth appear, marking the spot where she has vanished... The mire heaves and shudders for a time, then all is still once again....

[velocity88]

Some people say that they want to go "back to nature"; she really meant it!

You have delivered as promised once again, Purple Monkey. At least they're both together now. A lady should never be left to sink by herself.

[DJlurker]

Great work as always.

[muckerman_01]

Nice work. Well written and with a great level of description.

Very well done indeed!