Into You - by PM2K

[PM2K]

Been a long while, but here's a new story by me...

Into You - by PM2K

She is up to her thighs and I can barely hold my breath.

We had come here this morning to the beach, a thin strip of gray sand and clay lining the banks of the lake. Along its pine lined shore on the opposite side is a string of cottages, empty due to the lateness of the summer season.

She had remained silent as she walked alone, still pouting after our latest row. Her dirty blonde hair hung past her waist, spilling over the back of her cotton tank top to brush her tight and bare midriff. A single gold ring glitters from her navel, contrasting with her tanned honey brown skin.

Bright blue denim shorts painted to her shapely hips, which swayed as she strolled away from me. She held her flip flops in her left hand, swinging them casually in time with the beat of her bare soles against the sand.

The outfit always scandalized her parents, much like her current choice in boyfriends, and she never passed on an opportunity to flaunt us both, like a fashion accessory. It seemed the idea of watching her folks squirm at the thought of someone like me - a mere local, a towny - manhandling their daughter mattered more than.... but I had long ago figured that out.

I wasn't blue blood, you see. Not their kind. She never had real feelings for me. Like her navel ring, I'm something to show off her rebel side during the months spent at her family's summer home. By fall, she'll be back among the Ivy League set, with rebel, ring and me set aside and quickly forgotten.

I know all this, and yet.... I love watching her move. She possesses a sinewy, feline grace as if the bones in her body weren't really connected together. The eyes of an angel, the friendly smile which can light up...

I watch her struggle in the thick silt, trying to pull her long legs free from the wet dark slurry. The grunts and gasps she makes in effort remind me of making love, more so in the way she moves her limbs and thrusts her pelvis. I cannot help but be allured by her form, the way it sways against the suction of the sands, as if seducing them...

The canoe ride to the beach had been her idea. A chance to slip away from the gathering at the family summer home for yet another tryst. She wasn't so crass as to invite me into her bedroom while her parents and friends were under the same roof, but sneaking out for a clandestine romp is more her style. So was letting the secret out later for maximum shock value.

Halfway across the lake, I told her I have had enough. As attractive as she is, as great and passionate a lover, I resented being treated like her personal pet, to be ignored and dehumanized whenever we were in the presence of her peers and my social betters.
It is an old argument, and led into the usual routine of shouting, harsh words, and silence. If the pattern continued as always, there would be pouting, sighing, sulking, then apologies and she would wrap herself around me... Later, I would end up hating her and me, allowing myself to become ensnared within her honey trap yet again...

Hitting land, I decided not to play this game, Tired of the pattern, I had let her march off instead of running after her. She pretended not to notice, and kept going.

I didn't hear her cries for help at first.
They came with such urgency, with such panic in their tone, they cut coldly through my sour mood like a razor. Leaping to my feet, I ran, following her footprints in the sand, across the shallows of a river which feeds the lake, through a thick stand of cattails and grasses, following her voice...

...to here, staring at her stuck in the middle of a silt covered clearing, legs sunk deep into the dark gritty sludge. I watch amazed as her footprints, water filled holes in the muck, melt smoothly into the wet earth.

She glares at me, a look of annoyance etched deeply in her face. I barely hear her voice as it berates me, panic replaced by the sound of anger as she sought to gain control, pleading becoming snapped commands ordering me to get her the HELL out of this stuff NOW and to stop staring like an idiot...

The shrill tone, so familiar, is muted as I watch, hypnotized by the sight of her long legs held tightly by the mud... the way it clings to her skin, slurping greedily as she tries to free her trapped limbs from it... the odd way it ripples and rolls slowly around her in all directions...

Quicksand? The word rises from my inner thoughts, and a strange chill makes me shudder despite the day's warmth. I must have uttered it aloud without knowing, for her eyes widen slightly as she gazes downward at the boggy surface. I thought I heard her say something about not being able to feel anything solid beneath her feet, but it is hard to make her words out through the roaring sound of blood rushing in my ears...

Quicksand. My mind rolls the word around slowly within, as if it is a mouthful of fine liqueur. It excites me, always did. A toolbox I purchased some years ago, complete with a heavy padlock, contains the evidence of this fascination; stacks of CDs and DVDs electronically etched with images both moving and frozen in time. Gathered from many different sources, yet with the same theme.... women being swallowed alive by liquid earth.

My legs give way, and I land with a soft splat on the wet ground surrounding the boggy patch. I am barely aware of the moisture seeping through my nylon shorts, my senses locking on to the spectacle before me, of her struggles, pausing only to turn and glare at me, snarling angry words and accusations in a tone not far from sheer panic.

Part of my mind wondered aloud what I was doing just sitting there, when any rational person would be looking for a way to get her out of there. The rest of my being tingles with excitement and forces my heart to hammer loudly inside my chest, drowning out the voice of reason.

I'll let her sink a bit.... I think to myself. It can't really be that deep. Let her get really muddy. Let her try and explain that to her parents and friends clad in their sparkling white outfits. Once I get her out of there...

Her frowns and angry comments turn to shallow gasps as she fights to free herself. Sweat beads on her skin and dribbles down in response to her efforts, which consist of trying to pull her legs out of the hungry muck through force. The ooze merely belches and farts in response as she pumps her limbs in tandem, first the right one, then the left. She succeeds only in driving herself deeper into the quaking silt.

I stare as the rest of her long legs glide into the dark muck. The hems of her shorts slip under, the fabric ballooning slightly with the air trapped within. She keeps squirming against the sand's suction, her arms flailing for balance, as if she could gain some leverage from the air itself.
Seeing her shorts darken from moisture drawn from the quicksand, I suddenly remember her comments as we slipped out to the dock....
"I'm going bareback..." she whispered...
...and I find myself gasping at the image. The wet denim clings tightly against her skin, and the thought of her bare hips warming that cold muddy water leaves me breathless.

She keeps calling out my name, even as she desperately rolls her pelvis to break the quicksand's grip. The mire slaps thickly in time with her movements against the curves of her ass, sounding eerily like the impact of wet flesh during lovemaking.
The thickening dark ooze swallows her crotch, forcing a sharp intake of breath from both of us.
I close my eyes, and a sharp vision comes into focus... I can clearly see the gritty slime working its way inside her shorts to fill them, cradling her groin and the wet cleft nestled there... and as she sinks deeper the mud will begin the press hard against her, stroking her, stimulating her in time with her struggles, gradually working its way deep within her...

A shrill cry forces my eyes open. I lock gazes with her, and find myself surprised by how deep she has gotten in such a short time.
She screams at me, her face contorted in fury and fear. At first, I don't quite understand, then become painfully aware of my arousal, showing clearly through my shorts. I feel my face flush, then watch hypnotized as her golden navel ring slips beneath the heaving surface.
The quicksand relentlessly devours her, swirling in thick waves about her waist. She cries out, pleading, stretching her hands out towards me.
I almost reach back, the look of panic on her face hard to ignore. But for some reason I hold back.

Just a little deeper, I think, just a little...

She stares, her eyes glittering with puzzlement mixed with fear. Just beneath the sucking mire, her hips continue to roll as she tries to free herself, but only succeeds in driving herself deeper. It laps thickly at her waist, and begins to creep up the curves of her lovely tanned skin.

She calls out again to me, her breathing coming out in shallow gasps as the sloppy weight of the quicksand presses hard against her squirming body. It reaches her rib cage now, and I watch hypnotized as the muck stains the bottom of her tank top.

Desperate to arrest her progress downwards, she places her hands on the muddy surface and pushes hard, but only succeeds in sinking her arms up to the elbows. In panic, she pulls hard to free them, and utters a cry of despair when her actions instead pull her down breast deep in the wobbling slime.

I hear the whisper from my rational mind to act now before she sinks deeper, and look around quickly, trying to find something to help haul her out of this deadly trap. Finding nothing in sight, I try to stand up to begin searching further, but am stopped by her anguished cry to not leave her alone.
I spin around, noticing how her top has been made transparent by the wetness of the quicksand, and I once more sit down just as her dark nipples slip under the surface.

I begin to take off my shirt, thinking perhaps she can grab that, and I manage to choke out a few words to suggest the idea. Instead, she shakes her head violently. Her arms are hopelessly stuck, and in a shrill voice insists I come in to get her.

Briefly I consider the idea, as the rest of her breasts slip under, leaving only her shoulders visible above the sand. I lie flat now, and slither forward, but my arms can find no purchase in the gloppy slurry. Her struggles have liquified the entire area around her, and I realize there is no way to reach her and not end up sinking myself.

I back away, and her eyes flare with anger at the betrayal. For a moment, the terror of her predicament vanishes, and she berates me using the worst possible language. Every facet of our old arguments were spit at me with venom, and I sit silent, letting her curse me out, telling me how useless, how utterly worthless I was, and what a pathetic excuse for a man... but she expected nothing less from a mere towny...

Then the quicksand rolls over her shoulders and surrounds her neck, and her voice melts away to a sobbing whimper. She begs me to help her, somehow...

I wanted to. I really did. Despite the abuse, despite her contempt for me, I still have feelings for her. I didn't want her to...

But I couldn't move. I just keep staring, watching as the quicksand reaches her chin, her hair spreading out on its dark surface. She whimpers, begs, pleads, cries, but I just stare.

She tips her head up, trying to keep herself free of the sucking sand, but it only delays the end for just a few moments. She manages to turn her wet eyes to lock on mine, before uttering a final cry, which is quickly reduced to choking burbles as the cold sand fills her mouth and plugs her nose.
Her eyes, bulging in terror, seem to float for a moment on a sea of gritty slime before slipping under in a froth of dirty bubbles. The surface of the quicksand churns for a time, reflecting her final struggles. Then it stills, leaving behind a shallow puddle of water to mark her passage.

I can't remember when she slipped under exactly, or how long I've been sitting here, staring at the quicksand and the prints of bare feet leading to it.
I just sit and wonder. Wonder what I am going to do next. Wonder what I'm going to tell her parents. What I could tell the authorities.
But mostly I wonder if I would be leaving here soon, or wade in and join her in its cold, sandy embrace.
As time passes, it is becoming clearer what my choice will be.

[quagmire_uk]

Powerful, sexy, and disturbing.

[water_bug_62208]

Wow! An outstanding story! I like how you wonderfully covered the various aspects of a her sinking in quicksand, from the melodramatic to a brief experience of the sensual. Loved how you effectively touched on both of their emotions as she sank further. Also loved how you tied in how she used him and other items of antagonism just to annoy her parents before "putting things away" until she could annoy them again. Very nice how you depicted her with the fearlessness of Kristine Lynn while also showing her vulnerability to desperate situation. Definitely one of those stories where you follow every word. Oh, yeah, and I really enjoyed the slow, leggy struggles of her sink. Her arms getting stuck was also a nice touch. Thank you for sharing this with us!

[maps]

very nice.

[nachtjaeger]

Great story! Very well written. Would stand on its own as a short story.