Facesitting in Quicksand/mud

[Hardcorercker13]

If you ever need to draw inspirations for you art definitely draw from this.

[quagmire_uk]

Wow, I've never read that before! That's fantastic!

[Hardcorercker13]

Man I wish I could haha but I don't have the time nor money! #ActiveDutyNavy#Life
I guess I'll keep pushing my girl to try it. She does both separately so I got a chance!

Hey being navy and in WA means we might be kind of close together. Where ya stationed? Feel free to email me your answer if you don't want to say publicly. canyouendure@yahoo.com

I Pm'd you. You get it?

[QUIXXSANDER]

Sounds titillating from any angle or preference.

[Torrid]

Great stories!! I'll go ahead and post an old story from 1998 by "Tempus", legitimately one of the hottest quicksand stories I ever read -- I'm not sure what the title is (the characters are glitchy ASCII; the filename is Quickclay.txt. Very intense and sexy story

Here it is--I hope everyone likes it.
ÐÏࡱáþÿÿÿFby Tempus
(QS, m, f, oral)

Once again, I tug at my legs, buried deep beanath the surface of the gooey muck, causing the smooth grey surface of the bog to ripple and undulate hungrily with
my movements. I accomplish nothing, save to make the mire slurp and suck eagerly at my legs, and slip down another two inches more quickly. I hiss a curse and look for anything that I might use to extract myself from the sticky trap, but anything strong enough to support my legs is a good three or four yards out of my best reach.

Anaya and I have been in this world for less than two days, and it's at least another three until I can reopen the vortex with any degree of safety. Mind you, the next world may not be any better than this one, but then again, we may find ourselves home.

Worse, there's been no sign of people, human or otherwise, on this world.

For the three or so years we've travelled in each other's company, Anaya has loathed inactivity more than almost anything else. In a fit of boredom, she announced her intention to hunt something palatable to supplement the food concentrates we purchased on the last world (admittedly a noble task, as bootleather would have better flavor), and, with the abruptness typical of a Drow, stalked off into the jungle. After waiting more than six hours, I became concerned that something had happened to her, and decided to go look for her, to make sure she was safe.

I wrote a quick note to her, in case she returned before I did, and walked in the she'd left in.

Anaya's trail was very hard to follow--even a Drow raised in a cavern can handle himself (or herself) better than nearly any human in most enviroments, and most
off them are expert hunters--but it eventually led me through the dense underbrush to a river, perhaps a mile from camp. At first the beauty of the place dazzled me--beautiful flowers the size of dinnerplates, water like blue crystal, and dazzlingly beautiful insects like tiny jewels. But after a few minutes, the beauty began to pall. Almost every plant and vine had vicious thorns, the leaves were coated with skin irritants the medikit's autodoc wouldn't touch, every insect seemed to either sting or suck blood, and the waters were filled with tiny fish with huge teeth. After swatting bugs for what seemed like hours, none of whom were in the least deterred by my dwindling stock of insect repellent pheremones, I began to wonder how, with the minimal clothing she favored, Anaya had managed to avoid getting stung into insensibility.

Her trail led through a series of clearings near the river, but oddly enough, her faint trail stayed within the dense grass between the clearings, where walking was hardest. An unseen root tripped me up unexpectedly, and I fell forward, falling to my hands and knees in the center of a large clearing. The deceptively solid-looking surface gave way beneath me. I tried to push myself up and make my way out of the bog, but found the sticky muck kept giving way under me. Slowly, I began to sink.

Now, sunk nearly to my waist in the sucking quagmire's center, slowly going down and feeling foolish as hell, I throw my head back and shout for help...

* * * *

I arrive back at our camp, only to find Lorne gone, and a small note written in High Drow, which I taught him to pass the time about a year or so ago, tacked to
the bark of a nearby tree. I read it, and crumple the note up in fury--why didn't the idiot have the sense to wait for me? He should know by know that I'm
more capable by far of taking care of mmyself in a strange enviroment than he, even WITH his strange technomagics!

Angry, I stamp back into the bush to find him, but somewhere beneath the irritation, I feel a surge of flattered pleasure that I meant so much to him that he would put his own life at risk to make sure I was safe.

Before we met three years ago, I was a soldier in the city of Menzoberranzan. The idea that someone would willingly risk their life for another with no desire for compensation was a concept foreign to me then, and to most of my people as well. He appeared in my world by accident, in a blinding vortex of light, and overwhelmed me when my squad had tried to take him. For my failure, Matron Baenre had decreed that I be given to mother Lolth along with the human as a sacrifice. However, Lorne had escaped from his cell in the House dungeons, and, in a bizarre fit of conscience, had freed me as well. When he had been able to
reopen the vortex, I was pulled through by accident.

More frightened than I had ever been, I tried everything I could think of to force Lorne to take me back to my home. After all, I might have been under a sentence of death there, but it was the only home I knew. When he refused, not understanding his explanation, I tried to force him to take me home at swordspoint.

When I awakened hours later, I found myself bound hand and foot, and totally helpless. I expected him to kill me, for it was only logical to eliminate potential risks to oneself. I had resigned myself for death at the hands of the human, but I was stunned when his only response was, "Got it out of your system yet?"

His treatment of me was nothing less than honorable, even when my treatment of him wasn't as comendable.

Later, I learned that he was as helpless to find my world as he was his own. We gradually learned to depend on one another, for mutual survival alone at first, but slowly it began to deepen. Now, I cannot imagine a life complete without him, and he me (although, try as I might, I cannot fail but to be amused at his ideas about the relative worth of males and females; many males may be worthy of great respect, but females simply *are* naturally superior, after all!).

A Drow child of twenty seasons could follow Lorne's trail easily, although his trail closely matches mine. He's learning, I think to myself, though his woodcraft isn't as good as mine yet. I follow it for a quarter of a league or so, and find myself back at the river when a hear a cry for help somewhere ahead of me. The bogs! I had detected and skirted the quicksand pools easily enough, but a human might not do as well as a more surefooted Drow.

I race through the dense undergrowth until I come to the clearings along the bend in the river, where his trail ended. I break through the tough grass to see him at the center of the pool, sunk almost to the bottom of his ribcage, and stop...

* * * *

A few yards away, the grasses part and Anaya steps lightly onto the narrow bank of the quagmire. Her flat-soled boots, supple roethe-leather boots that reach
halfway up her thighs to protect her legs, indent the soft surface of the bank but she doesn't sink any farther. On her dark, narrow face is an expression of great concern, but warring with it is another look--wonder. Her lips part slightly, and she wets her lips without being aware of it.

"I'm sinking--help me! " I plead.

* * * *

The sight of Lorne, trapped and sinking, suddenly brings to mind a most unexpected memory.

Sasaya and I had been friends since childhood. We had attended the Academy, and stayed together as friends afterwards, a very rare thing in Menzoberranzan. Once, while on routine patrol in a cavern almost two days beyond the boundaries of Menzoberranzan, in a huge cavern near a river, we had accidentally stumbled into a deep pool of sticky clay. Our cries for help had gone unheard as the main body of the patrol was several miles away at the time. After sinking nearly to our chins, our feet had finally touched bottom, and gradually our terror at drowning deep in a bottomless shifting mass of quickclay had given way to feelings of shocking pleasure at the way the mud cradled and caressed our flesh. The feeling of the warm mire sucking and lapping hungrily at our bodies had awakened feelings of desire, and we had made love to each other in the sticky pool until we fell asleep in each other's arms, sunk to our chins in sticky warm clay, and when we had awakened, we had made love again.

Seeing Lorne brings back the feelings in a sudden rush--the stickiness of the mud, the feel of our breasts brushing together in the mire, the sound of her moans rising in synch witth mine, the heat in our loins as we thrust against the hungry mud and each other's hot flesh, the smell of her hair in my face...before I know it, my hand has found my wetness under my clothes.

* * * *

" Anaya..." I began. She shushes me softly.

"Be still, Lorne. I think I have you right where I want you." She smiles, a warm, pleased smile filled with the promise of sensual pleasure. Under her clothing, little more than a leather harness for carrying weapons and hanging armor, her slender fingers seek and probe. Her moist lips part, and her other hands search out the clasps holding her harness to her body--is she utterly mad? I push down on the surface of the quicksand, and feel myself slip down another couple of inches. My arrms plunge through to above my elbows in the sticky ooze, and I extract them only with difficulty. I'm now submerged nearly to my chest. Her harness falls to the ground, forgotten, and I'm treated to the site of her small dark breasts tipped with swollen, flushed nipples. The situation seems unreal, somehow. This can't be happening. Surely I'm not slowly sinking in a pool of quicksand, while my companion watches and strokes herself. Is this some sort of revenge for taking her out of her world, virtually kidnapping her, watching as I sink and drown in the sucking mire? Soon, I realize that she has something else in mind.

She loops a length of slim cable around her waist, a thin, soft silken rope stronger than a length of hipolymer three times its thickness. The other end she affixes to a sturdy tree nearby, a few yards from the shore of the bog.

Then, apparently satisfied with her security, she takes a deliberated step out into the bog. I watch in shocked disbelief.

She plunges in to her calves at her first step, near the edge of the bog, the mire rippling around her legs hungrily as it greedily tries devour this new, unexpected treat. She steps towards me, sinking deeper with each step, until she stands before me, her slender ebon legs sunk to midthigh. I am now nearly to my shoulders, my arms trapped deep in the goo.

"Please...I'm sinking--you've got to get me out of here!" I cry out in panic.

Above me she grins. "Not just yet. Tell me, have I ever told you about Sasaya? She was a--friend of mine. We played like this, once."

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. I'd known that Anaya was an extreme risk-taker, but this is a little far out even for her. But she's not finished yet.

"You're in a bit of a bind, I see. I'll get you out of there...*if* you can convince me that you're worth it!" she says huskily.

* * * *

The look of shock on his face is exquisite. Surely he knows that I wouldn't actually allow him to drown in there? But for some reason I'm pleased that heisn't totally certain.

I tower above him, my thighs parted and half-buried in the warm quicksand, its creamy caress a delicious counterpoint to the heat in my loins. Involuntarily, my eyes slip shut, and my fingers act almost of their own accord, seeking my own quicksand bog, dipping in and out, covering my fingers in my own slick juices. My clit throbs in time to my stroking fingers. I'm sinking, very slowly, but I don't care. I throw my head back and moan softly, overwhelmed by the heady rush of power I have over this *male.* his pleasure, his pain, his life, hisdeath--all at my whim, mine alone..

I can see he's getting aroused by my little exhibition, in spite of himself. No longer struggling, his sinking has slowed. He watches rapty as I masturbate myself, his face only inches now from my wet cunt, his breathing ragged, his face flushed. I can see that he wishes his hands were free...

* * * *

Anaya towers over me masturbating, sunk to her hips, her lips parted, her wet slit only inches from my face. Beneath the mud, my hips are making small, involuntary motions, thrusting into the clinging mire. Her breath comes in small pants, her nipples magnificently pointed and thrusting proudly. Her fingers plunge in and out of herself, stroking wetly against her swollen clit, her dark nether lips parted, revealing the lush scarlet folds within, now glistening with her arousal, framed by her own pale fur. I can hear the soft sound her fingers make as they move inside her slit. Insanely, my cock is now rock hard against the thick muck, and I wish only that I could get a hand free to ease my aching need, or to pull her to me.

Suddenly, as if reading my mind, she answers my unspoken plea. She stops masturbating, and her hands twine on my hair. She thrusts her hips forward, her cunt coming to my face, as if to draw me in, another . The musky scent of her sex is quite strong, and I find myself revelling in it. My toungue snakes out, seeking the warmth of her crevice, and her taste is succulent primal madness. Her thigh moves through the muck, coming to rest behind me, over my shoulder, and she presses herself to my face, holding onto my hair in a death grip, the pain not mattering to either of us. "Lick me for your life!" she hisses through her clenched teeth, and I endeavor to comply.

Her weight presses down on me, forcing me deeper. My toungue works, savoring her taste, licking at the juicy inner walls of her wet cunt, the mud rising around me. Beneath the mire, my hips work, thrusting into the smooth sucking muck as if I were fucking Mother Earth. I moan with pleasure, with desire, with my aching need. My cock is enveloped by the cool creamy mud, so swollen it hurts, and the mud sucks at it like a mouth, like the best blowjob I've ever had. She grinds herself hard against my face, now framed by the quagmire, and I take her clit into my mouth, sucking hard, sucking her as the quicksand sucks my cock, as the quicksand sucks both of us into its stygian depths. Her clit is fat in my mouth, tangy with her juices, and I nibble at the tip, nipping at it playfully, before sucking it back in. She moans, and I suck harder.

I stop sucking, listening to her breathless urgent pleas for release, and my toungue slides down to the very bottom of her slit, burrowing deeper yet. She cries out as my tounge slides into the crack of her ass, and then within still, probing the soft pucker of her asshole, before continuing its moist journey back up her sticky loveslick cunt to her aching clit.

But our frantic motions have sped our descent into the hungry bog. The mud rolls up and over, seeking to cover my face, and I take a final gasping breath before the quicksand rolls over my face. Under the surface now, swallowed up by the deep yearning cunt of Mother Earth, I continue licking and sucking, my final breath starting to burn in my lungs. She grinds herself against me, her cunt seeking to engulf me as the quicksand had, neither of us caring if we should never escape. Beneath, I thrust wildly as the muck sucks at my swollen cock, my mind filled with visions of a frantically sucking hot mouth and the taste of Anaya's pussy, filling my mouth, mixed with the earthy taste and smell of the thick mud, seeking to fill every opening of my body.

My lungs on fire, my cock spasms and explodes, one pulse, two, four, sixteen, my hot cum spooling out in a thick torrent, my cum mixing eagerly with the quicksand. My orgasm goes on and on, seemingly forever, my lungs burning with lack of oxygen, my mind filling the darkness with brilliant rosy light, as above me, Anaya cries out and grinds down hard onto my upturned face, her cunt throbbing with her own earth-shattering orgasm. If mine went on forever, her orgasm lasts multiple eternities.

Beneath the surface, my mind begins to dim, the sensation of oxygen starvation mixing deliciously with the rose glow of my orgasm. My dimming consciousness is barely aware of strong, slim hands slipping under my armpits, pulling me slowly to the surface. The next thing I know, I am spitting and retching up the quicksand that has filled my mouth and nose.

In pulling me back above the surface, Anaya has pulled herself in almost to her chest. Her proud breasts now jut only inches above the mire. She wipes th
worst of the mud from my eyes and mouth, and leans forward to envelope me in a passionate kiss.

Dazed, I respond in kind. She smiles, and in a voice thick with sensual promise, says:

"Next time I won't be so easy to please,"

The End (?)

I do believe I remember this story.

[Torrid]

As a woman, I think this is an amazing idea. While it is okay to see women sinking in mud, I do prefer my men helpless and trapped by my mires. Those damn men in distress...
I actual have an amazing way to film it too.

What I see are two different types of ways of trapping the man:

1) She happens to be out all alone in a swampy area and is pleasuring herself. Because, as we all know, there is nothing like feeling the mud wrapped around you. Suddenly, here comes this hero in the story. Our woman spots the man long before he sees her, and the wheels get to spinning. Let's face it: self pleasure can only do so much, my fingers can only go so deep. So she pretends to be a helpless victim who had been kidnapped and tossed in this muddy pit and begs for him to save her. She promises that she will make it worth his time, with a smile and a quick lick of her lips.
She gets him out into the mud, and onto his back. She climbs on top of him and lowers her muddy pussy over his face, her juices as well as the mud dripping into his mouth before he is met with her pussy. She tells him that if he can make her cum that she might consider letting him up, otherwise his bubbles will be tickling her pussy as his last breath escapes his mouth.

2)Of course the other way here would be my favorite. But I can't give away too much now can I? Let us just say, I, Torrid, love to lure my men: I am the great trickster.

[Anna_Sinks]

This is something my wife and I want to do sometime next summer in a thick clay pit. This idea is a huge turn on for both of us.

[joedeep130535]

This is probably the most erotic quicksand story I have read-loved every minute of it
My major mud fetish is to be stuck in thick clay struggling
helplessly as sink .I don't have a death wish but to be totally subjugated by an attractive girl as I sink ever deeper fulfils my wildest dreams.What would I do for her? Anything she wanted as long as she allowed me to escape that wonderful, muddy,end as I bring her to her climax.Both of us nearly submerged in the sucking mud
You would have no need to entrap me-Just be there to use me as I sank!!!

[quagmire_uk]

As a woman, I think this is an amazing idea. While it is okay to see women sinking in mud, I do prefer my men helpless and trapped by my mires. Those damn men in distress...
I actual have an amazing way to film it too.

What I see are two different types of ways of trapping the man:

1) She happens to be out all alone in a swampy area and is pleasuring herself. Because, as we all know, there is nothing like feeling the mud wrapped around you. Suddenly, here comes this hero in the story. Our woman spots the man long before he sees her, and the wheels get to spinning. Let's face it: self pleasure can only do so much, my fingers can only go so deep. So she pretends to be a helpless victim who had been kidnapped and tossed in this muddy pit and begs for him to save her. She promises that she will make it worth his time, with a smile and a quick lick of her lips.
She gets him out into the mud, and onto his back. She climbs on top of him and lowers her muddy pussy over his face, her juices as well as the mud dripping into his mouth before he is met with her pussy. She tells him that if he can make her cum that she might consider letting him up, otherwise his bubbles will be tickling her pussy as his last breath escapes his mouth.

2)Of course the other way here would be my favorite. But I can't give away too much now can I? Let us just say, I, Torrid, love to lure my men: I am the great trickster.

Wow Torrid, I love that scenario you've described there!

[H8ms2014]

As a woman, I think this is an amazing idea. While it is okay to see women sinking in mud, I do prefer my men helpless and trapped by my mires. Those damn men in distress...
I actual have an amazing way to film it too.

What I see are two different types of ways of trapping the man:

*Snip*

Option A = Yum. The chance of drowning if I don't succesfully service my "Lady"
Option B = Yum anything involving a mixture of mud, women, pleasure, and or peril; plus some mystery? Yes please

Either way I have fantasized about rescuing a damsel, or being rescued; or "tortured' sounds like a lot of fun