The Girl (Part 2): Angela's Pleasure

[JSample]

THE GIRL (or, Angela’s Story: A Side-quel to “The Kid”)

by Jason Sample
December 2018–April 2019

In Part Two of "The Girl," Angela, having decided at long last to indulge in real life her fetish fantasy of pleasuring herself in deep mud while pretending to be trapped in quicksand, steps into the expansive mudflat before her, pushing the boundaries of both her safety and her sexuality as she gives herself to the deepening mire. Aside from a momentary interruption, to her delight and gratification she finds that her experience exceeds her wildest expectations... until she discovers that she has inadvertently slipped in over her head into trouble.

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The Girl (Part 2): Angela’s Pleasure


Angela glanced cautiously around herself as she stood at the edge of the mudflat to ascertain that she was indeed alone; having now worked up the nerve to indulge her secret, years-long passion for deep mud for the very first time in real life, she had no desire to do so under the curious gaze of a random passerby. The hedge of vegetation many yards before her on the other side of the flat would provide sufficient privacy from any hiker who might happen down the mountain trail from the summit, although that was unlikely, given that the trail was still blocked in places by fallen trees and boulders, but behind her there were gaps between the bushes and small trees that grew along the shore that could potentially leave her visible to someone out on the water. However, while the river was open to canoeists and kayakers over most of its course, there were dangerous rapids and a series of falls half a mile downstream from this spot, and the last pick-up point for such boaters to go ashore and catch a bus for the eight-mile ride back to the campground that rented out the boats was a mile upstream, on the shore opposite her family’s waterfront property. It was the regular presence of so many people exiting the water in view of her family’s dock on the river that had initially inspired Angela to swim downstream a couple of summers before to seek out a private place for sunbathing, and she had never seen anyone paddling by this location since she had discovered it.

Satisfied that she was alone and unobserved, Angela turned her attention back to the expansive mire that stretched before her, the surface of which lay about a foot below where she stood on the riverbank. The mud itself was a rich, deep brown in appearance, overlaid with a thin, glassy sheen of moisture that brightly reflected the mid-afternoon sun overhead. It occurred to her that, because she didn’t know how deep the mudflat was or what its bottom topography was like, perhaps she should enter it from a place where the miry ooze met solid ground so that she would have a stable surface near at hand should she need to quickly extricate herself in case her first step took her in dangerously deep; after all, she had no intention of drowning herself in the mud but simply to enjoy the experience of sinking into it. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that the flat was only a few inches deep at most across its entire area; what a disappointment that would prove to be! She looked first to her right and then to her left, where she noticed that the sloping ground of the bank merged with the flat skin of the mud about ten feet away from where she was standing. There, she decided as she started making her way to the spot, would be where her fantasy would begin to meet reality.

Once she reached the level area, Angela discovered that there was no clearly defined edge between stable ground and yielding muck; each seemed to melt seamlessly into the other. Placing her left foot as close to the mud as she could while still standing on dry earth, she tentatively extended her right foot over the surface of the flat and, after a moment’s pause, placed the sole of her foot onto the ooze. She wasn’t sure at first what she had been expecting; the sensation itself seemed rather mundane: her foot was simply in contact with the wet, muddy earth. But as she slowly leaned forward, transferring her weight from her left leg to her right, her foot began descending into the muck, the surface of which momentarily retained the outline of her foot as she sank down to just above her ankle before reaching the bottom. She watched with fascination as light brown water slowly leeched from the walls of the foot-shaped hole that she had made in the mud before it began to collapse over her foot, burying it completely beneath the surface. With a smile and a chuckle she leaned back on her left leg to see how much force it would take to extricate her right foot. The sticky mud held her foot captive briefly before releasing it, and in the moment before it came free Angela again felt that old familiar thrill of being trapped in the mud, the sensation that had taken her so many years to understand and appreciate. She shivered in anticipation as she examined her mud-covered foot, giggling as she watched the ooze drip slowly back to the surface as it again became one with itself. She decided that, no matter whether the mudflat turned out to be deep or shallow, in one way or another she was going to enjoy herself in it.

Convinced by her first step into the mire that her second probably wasn’t going to take her in over her head, Angela again placed her right foot into the shallow mud and then brought her left leg forward from the stability of the shore, momentarily placing all her weight on her submerged foot. She couldn’t tell if it had sunk any deeper into the ooze, but as she brought her left foot around and placed it in the mud a couple of feet ahead of her right, she found herself descending slowly to halfway up her shin. She inhaled quickly in amazement as her lower left leg disappeared into the mire; she felt as if she were sinking into deep, thick velvet, soft and smooth. The fineness of the silt that comprised the flat had a clay-like consistency, yielding to pressure from above while retaining its viscosity beneath, and she inquisitively began moving her leg around in the mud, back and forth and from side to side. The sensation was almost indescribable; it felt as if the wet earth were softly kissing and sucking at her skin as she moved her leg about, and with a gasp of surprise she realized that her bikini panties were becoming wet at the base of her pubic area. With a little effort she pulled her right foot from the ankle-deep ooze behind her and brought it forward to join her left, quivering as it sank to the same depth as its mate. Even though she was standing little more than a foot deep in the mud, her legs were indeed stuck, and she found that it took an appreciable amount of exertion to pull either foot free from the bottom. The feeling of again being trapped caused the wetness at the base of the most private part of her anatomy became even more pronounced, and Angela’s right hand instinctively wandered to the sensitive spot between her legs where years of intimate experience had taught her that her most exquisite pleasure could be summoned.

But even as she began to stroke herself through the fabric of her bikini panties, Angela suddenly stopped moving her hand despite the sensual demands that her arousal was making of her. Yes, she was finally indulging her most secret fantasy, and yes, she sensed that it would take very little time or effort to bring herself to ecstatic release… but this was her first time deliberately going into the mud, her virgin sink, so to speak, and she wanted to savor it and make it last. She also wanted to make it count, she thought as she looked down at her legs, both stuck shin-deep in the mire. She wanted and needed to be deeper in the ooze, to bring her fantasy of being trapped and sinking in quicksand as close to reality as she possibly could, especially for this her very first time. Not only did she need to be deeper in the mud, she realized, but also, as she had learned in her private moments of pleasure while lying wrapped in her sheets on her bed while pretending to be caught in quicksand, she very much needed to be naked.

Angela inhaled sharply as she reflected on the implications of what she was about to do. Never before had she stripped naked while outdoors for any reason whatsoever, much less for the explicit purpose of pleasuring herself in service to her secret fetish. The risk of being discovered by someone while she was doing so, no matter how unlikely that might be in this remote location, gave her a naughty thrill unlike any that she had ever felt before, promising to make her playtime in the mud even more intense and rewarding. As she began turning around to make her effortful way back toward solid ground where she could remove the top and bottom of her bikini without fear of losing them in the ooze, a momentary flush of arousal shot from the nerves at the base of her pelvis to her brain as she pulled her right foot free, stopping her in her tracks and reminding her of just how attuned she now was to the eroticized demands of her body… and how quickly those demands might overwhelm her.

After a few tugging steps through the shallow muck she returned to terra firma, and as Angela turned again to face the flat she extended her right hand behind her back to undo the clip that held her bikini top around her chest. A few fumbling moments later the straps fell away, and Angela reached with both hands behind her neck to pull the remaining loop of material over her head, allowing the cups of her top to fall away from her bosom and releasing her full, ample breasts from their confinement. They had become slightly sweaty within her top due to the warmth of the day and her exertions during her initial foray into the mud, and she enjoyed how the light, cool breeze from the river seemed to blow soft, tender kisses over them. She then grasped her bikini panties at her hips and slid them down her thighs, bending one knee and then the other as she pulled them over each foot, seeking to avoid smearing mud on them as she did so, although she wasn’t quite sure why that should matter. Finally she tossed both pieces of fabric onto the sloping riverbank to her right and then turned back to face her objective.

Having stripped herself bare at the edge of the mudflat, Angela again glanced around herself to make certain that she was still alone. As difficult as it might be for her to explain to a wondering passerby why she was wading about in a mud pit, it would be even more difficult to explain why she was doing so completely unclothed. Assured of her solitude, she closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the bright sun overhead as she clasped her hands above her head, arching her back and pushing her bare bosom forward and upward almost as an offering to nature while she stretched her body under the contrasting sensations of the warm sunlight pouring upon her from above and the cool river breeze rustling through her hair and across her figure from behind. Enraptured by the sensations upon her skin and the natural beauty surrounding her, she felt more fully alive and sensually aware than she ever had before, and she trembled involuntarily in anticipation of her imminent moment of intimacy with the mire.

She lowered her arms and opened her eyes as she looked down at her body, cupping her full breasts in her hands and bouncing them playfully in the sun while admiring her taut abdomen and the reddish, curling hair that concealed her pubic area. Unlike many of her female friends from middle and high school with whom she had progressed through puberty to young womanhood, Angela had always been pleased with her developing curves and the appearance of her body and had made it a point to embrace exercise and fitness routines to keep herself looking and feeling healthy and attractive. The upside to this was that during her teenage years she had grown into a strong, physically fit young woman whose success in track and field had eventually earned her an athletic scholarship to college, through which she hoped to become a “big sister” fitness mentor to disadvantaged young girls. The downside of her commitment to health and exercise was that the crowd of hormonal adolescent boys and young men whose attention she had tended to attract during this time were interested only in bedding her if at all possible in order to satisfy their lust for her body, and when she would refuse and reject their salacious advances they would nurse their wounded egos by spreading false rumors about her, claiming not only to have slept with her but also that she was morally loose and easy, willing to “give it away” to anyone and everyone who asked. They couldn’t conceive that a beautiful, voluptuous young woman such as she was considered herself to be of infinitely greater value than simply to be some guy’s sexual plaything. Even when they would promise and swear up and down that they were interested in her mind and personality, the way they would look at her and talk about her behind her back told a very different story. Unfortunately, the grown men whom her mother had brought home as new boyfriends in the years after the divorce hadn’t proven to be much better, and Angela had long suspected that some of them had started dating her mother for the purpose of trying to seduce her eldest daughter. On at least two occasions as a teenager she had had to fight off the advances of a couple of her mother’s more lecherous beaus, who didn’t seem to care that Angela was still a minor at the time; all they could see was a sexy young girl whom they wanted to manipulate and control for their own power and pleasure.

Despite her negative experiences with young boys and men thus far in her life — Wouldn’t they just kill to see me naked like this? she chuckled to herself — Angela nevertheless held a positive view of herself and looked forward to having a husband someday, and though she doubted that any of the jerks whom she had ever had to fight off would believe it, as far as intimate relations with anyone were concerned she was still a virgin, and was such by choice, her years of solo experimentation and self-pleasuring while fantasizing about quicksand notwithstanding. When she had affirmed her “untouched” status to her persistently inquisitive mother a couple of months before, the older woman had congratulated herself for the moral and religious example that she had set for her daughters (although, Angela had thought at the time, her mother’s “moral example” often seemed to fall by the wayside whenever a new man would catch her eye). In reality, Angela’s decision to “save herself” had little to do with her mother’s morality or religion and far more to do with her own sense of self-worth. She would be perfectly willing to give herself physically and emotionally to a man someday, but only once he had proven to her that he was nothing like the teenage and adult Lotharios who wanted only to seduce her as their personal sex toy. That special man would be someone who deserved what she had to give, she had long ago decided, who valued her for the worthwhile person whom she was, and who put her first in his life, even before himself. And then once he had demonstrated this to her beyond all doubt, she would fully and freely give herself to him in every way. Yes, someday she would indeed gladly give herself to such a loving, deserving man, she reflected as she looked away from her body and out again toward the miry expanse stretching before her, but for today, she thought with a naughty chuckle, she would give herself to the mud.

Angela quickly entered the mire again, placing her right foot into the slight depression in the surface where she had first stepped a couple of minutes before and then bringing her left leg forward again as she had done earlier to the spot where she had sunk halfway up her shin. She then pulled her right foot free from behind her, but rather than plunging it into the same spot as before to join her left, she now extended her arms and balanced herself on her submerged foot as she swung her right leg around and then hesitated, the sole of her raised foot barely touching the wet skin of the flat. She turned her head and looked back to the sloping bank and the dry spot from which she had first trod into the ooze, and then forward again to her right foot, still holding it above the miry surface. If this next step were to take her in deeper than seemed safe, she considered with a shiver of momentary trepidation, she would already be too far from the solid ground to reach back to use it to try to extricate herself, and the muddy bottom beneath her left foot might be too slick for her to gain a handhold. Something instinctual warned her to beware the unfathomed depths of the mud before her, while something more primal urged her forward, reveling in the thrill of the unknown danger.

Balanced in this awkward position, Angela wavered for several seconds between the safety of the shore behind her and the fulfillment of her secret desires before her until she finally made her decision. In for a penny, in for a pound, she chuckled nervously as she slowly leaned forward and committed herself to her next step, no matter how deep. She gasped quietly as her right foot and lower leg began descending into the mire, which felt just as thick and soft to her skin here as it had earlier, while a slight cry of alarm mingled with elation escaped her lips as she continued downward into the muck. For a split second she envisioned herself sinking endlessly to her doom beneath the surface as a helpless victim in one of those old horror movies that she and her sister used to watch, the thrill causing another brief twinge of electricity to shoot from between her legs to her brain, until her foot eventually settled on the muddy bottom beneath it, her right leg engulfed to her knee.

She looked down at her half-sunk leg, an astonished smile on her face. What was I afraid of? Angela snickered to herself as she pushed down on her submerged foot, ascertaining its stability beneath the surface; This is just soft mud, not “bottomless” quicksand like in those movies. Keeping her weight on her right leg, she looked back at the other and began tugging it free from the mud, the effort bringing a playful smile to her lips as she fought against the mire’s grip on it. After several seconds and a few flailing sweeps of her arms, her leg finally came loose from the muck, dripping ooze back to the surface as she pivoted on her right hip and swung her free leg in front of herself. This time she had no misgivings as she leaned forward and plunged her left foot eagerly into the surface, inhaling sharply as the mud welcomed her leg into its embrace up to her knee and then beyond, slowly but steadily enveloping the limb all the way to her upper thigh before her descent finally halted, the surface of the mire now only inches below the sensitive flesh of her nether regions.

Angela stood trembling in the mud, her mouth open in breathless amazement as she looked down her body to where she was standing in the brown ooze. She wriggled her left thigh in the mud, moaning softly at the sensation of the mire kissing and sucking at her skin, only more so now since her leg was more deeply engulfed within the muck than it had been before. Under the sun’s warmth a sheen of sweat began forming on her exposed skin, both from the effort of moving through the thick mud and from the arousal that was now swelling within her, and she suspected that the wetness that she now felt between her legs was due to more than just physical exertion. She looked behind herself and began extricating her right leg from the mire’s knee-deep grip on it, twisting and tugging as the suction gradually released its hold on it, the sensation of being trapped sending a rush of exhilaration from the top of her head to the bottom of her torso. Why did I wait so long to try this? she asked herself in incredulous wonder as her right leg and foot finally emerged from the mud. She pulled her leg forward over the surface, her foot dragging through the ooze as she did so, and then pointed her toes downward as she began pushing her right leg into the muck to join her left.

“Ohhhh, yessss!” Angela closed her eyes and sighed blissfully as the ooze flowed between her toes and around her calf and thigh, the mud yielding to the downward force of her leg pressing into its depths until the sole of her foot eventually settled on the bottom of the mudflat, both her legs now almost completely enveloped within the mire. She looked around herself and chuckled as she thought back to her childhood when she and her sister Amy would play and splash in the mud on the shore of their riverfront home; neither of them had ever imagined that the mud could feel like this. Angela looked down toward the surface again as she began flexing her knees and hips, swirling her legs around and around in the mud, then leaning forward and backward and from side to side, the muck rewarding her movements with a combination of quiet slurping and sucking noises that made her giggle and gasp with delight as the heart of her womanhood moved and swayed mere inches above the wet skin of the flat. She found that the mud would loosen momentarily as she shifted her legs beneath the surface, water flowing into the spaces that would be created between her skin and the viscous ooze, only to stiffen again when she stopped moving. As an experiment she tried to pull her right leg upward in one sudden motion, only to find that the ooze responded to her attempt by suddenly solidifying around her leg like a vise, holding it in place. Not only that, but the effort also drove her left foot downward against the bottom, once more yielding up to her nerve endings the sensation of being trapped, and Angela realized that if she hadn’t already been standing as deeply in the mud as she could, the effect of her action would have been to push her left leg even deeper into the ooze… and herself along with it. People think that mud and quicksand pull you in, she thought to herself with a smile, recalling something that she had read on the quicksand forum, but in fact you pull yourself in, creating a downward suction every time you try to pull your feet up. The key to escaping when she was ready to get out, she remembered, would be to lie on her back and spread out her arms to increase her body’s surface area so that she could float on top of the ooze, and then to wriggle her legs to break the suction as she slowly pulled them out. Sudden movements would only make her sink deeper, or at least they would if she weren’t already standing on the bottom, she understood, which is why the first thing that rescuers tell people who fall into deep mud or quicksand is to relax and remain still.

Relaxing and remaining still, however, were the furthest things from Angela’s mind as she bent over and ran her fingers through the ooze, gathering up handfuls of muck that spilled over and through her hands as it fell back to the surface. The mud here felt just as claylike as it had in the shallower spot earlier, smooth and thick, almost creamy, with no hint of grittiness whatsoever. Who’d have guessed I’d find a private sunbathing spot and a mud spa right next to each other, all for me? she chuckled as she watched the ooze dribble from her hands to rejoin its element. She lowered her muddy hands to her sides and slowly shifted her legs in the mire for a few seconds, and then began pulling upward alternately on each leg, softly at first and then more sharply, reveling in the sense of ensnarement that one leg would experience and in the accompanying downward push that would be given to the other, the rush of exhilaration coursing over her seeming to increase exponentially with every flexion of her knees and hips. Not even when she would wrap herself as tightly as she could in her bedsheets and fantasize about sinking in quicksand had she ever felt such a sensation of bondage, of being so completely entrapped, and she realized that her body was now demanding more and more insistently that she attend to the increasing sense of arousal that was centered between her legs. Without conscious thought she abruptly flexed both her knees at once, the suction of the mud around her lower legs preventing her feet from lifting off the bottom and instead pulling her body downward as the most private part of her anatomy suddenly met and then submerged beneath the miry surface.

Oh. My. God.

Startled by the delicious sensation, Angela held her crouching position in the mud, her breath trembling through parted lips and her eyes wandering in wonder as the wet, malleable ooze pressed and molded itself around her sensitive underside. Never before had anything besides her own hands, her clothing, and various products for feminine care and hygiene ever touched her body as intimately as the mire was doing now as it cradled her form gently and tenderly from beneath. The idea that she was being “dirty” in the “dirty” mud gave her an exquisite thrill, and somewhat naughtily she began sliding her pelvis back and forth in the muck, the slippery sensation of the ooze rubbing against the most sensitive part of her body eliciting quiet moans of pleasure from her throat; she had never felt anything like this. After several moments of stimulating herself in this way she began to straighten her knees to rise from the surface, and then almost collapsed in astonishment as the mud responded to her upward motion by grasping insistently against the bottom of her vulva. Oh… god, she gasped as the mire’s suction against her womanhood sent an electric charge through her body, and Angela realized that at this rate she would end up orgasming in the mud far sooner than she wanted to. When she had first discovered masturbation in her mid-teens, she remembered, she had found to her delight that she could make herself climax again and again once she knew what she was doing, and with practice she had learned how and where to touch her body to draw out the physiological build-up for as long as possible before she would finally send herself over the edge in repeating paroxysms of passionate pleasure. In the same way now, she wanted to savor this experience in the mud and to make it last so that she could satisfy her fetish in her own time and on her own terms, but to do so she needed to let her arousal subside to a level where she could remain in control of herself.

Angela remained motionless in the mudflat, breathing calmly and deeply while basking in the warmth of the sun as she waited for the urgency between her legs to dissipate. After a couple minutes’ relaxation she sensed a calmness coming over her in place of the ardor that she had been feeling before, and she began to gently sway her hips and torso in order to gradually break the suction of the mire against her underside as she slowly straightened up. Once she had freed the most private part of herself from the mud’s intimate hold, she glanced around herself at the expanse of ooze surrounding her on all sides, amazed that after years of indulging her fetish solely in her imagination she was finally experiencing it for real... and wishing that she had done so sooner. She realized that she would really prefer to be somewhat deeper in the mire than she was in order to make her fantasy of sinking in quicksand while she pleasured herself seem even more a reality. However, considering how quickly and intensely her body had been responding to the sensation of the muck around her legs and especially against her pudenda when she had briefly lowered herself into it, she realized that any attempt to move farther out into the mudflat, which in fact might not be any deeper than it was in this area anyway, might push her over the edge of ecstasy before she was ready, and so she decided that the spot where she was now standing would be the place where her yearning for deep mud and quicksand would at last find its fulfillment.

Angela smiled as she looked down again to where the mire encircled her well-toned upper thighs. Some of the ooze still clung to the skin and pubic hair at the base of her vulva from when she had dipped herself into the muck earlier, and she giggled at the “dirty” thought of yielding her maidenhood to the wet, messy lover beneath her that was now gently embracing and caressing her legs. She glanced around herself once more to make certain that she was completely alone, and then, satisfied that she was being watched by no one and nothing except for passing birds and insects, she bent over and reached down into the mire, gathering up in her hands heaping mounds of thick mud, which she then began slathering onto her full breasts as they dangled pendulously over the surface. “Ohhhhhh…” she moaned as her palms and fingers spread the creamy ooze all around and under the soft flesh of her bosom, taking special delight in squeezing her hardened nipples between her muddy fingertips while she slowly straightened up again. This is merely the foreplay, she sighed longingly as she gripped and clutched at her breasts, enjoying how they would slide and pop out of her hands as the smoothness of the mud reduced the friction between her palms and her mammary flesh to almost nothing. She began swaying her hips and torso again as she extended her left arm across her chest, gently cupping and squeezing her right breast in her muddy left hand while cradling her left breast in the crook of her left arm. While doing so she reached down into the mire again with her free hand and scooped up another mass of wet, clinging muck which she then pressed firmly into her pubic hair, under which lay the focal point of her returning desire, gasping blissfully as the mud spread against her groin and oozed through her fingers before dripping to the surface beneath her. The sensation of the muck infiltrating the hair covering her most private place was heavenly beyond description, and as her libido continued rising she envisioned herself as nothing less than a voluptuous goddess of the mud, an alluring angel of the ooze, a veritable Venus de Miro.

“Ohhh-ohhhhhh, yesssss…” Angela moaned with increasing arousal as her fingers navigated through the mud-soaked hair between her legs until they found the nerve center hidden within the folds of her swollen labia and began stroking it knowingly and deliberately. She closed her eyes and threw her head back while continuing to clutch and cradle her breasts, lifting her face to the heavens as she rode the erotic waves radiating from her erect nipples and clitoris, her form swaying and trembling as she reveled in ecstatic response to the touch of her slippery hands against the most sensitive parts of her body, while the surface of the ooze around her legs rippled and quaked to the rhythm of her movements, sucking seductively at her thighs as she pleasured herself in the mud. She felt the certain signs of impending climax quickly expanding under her knowing touch, and as much as she had wanted earlier to stretch out her first sensual experience in the mud to make it last for as long as possible, her body seemed to have taken on a will of its own as it demanded more and more intensely the immediate gratification of the sensual craving that she knew so well how to satisfy. There would be no turning back now; her fetish lust for the mire had overtaken her mind just as surely as it soon would her body as well, and she knew that it would be only a matter of moments before her insistent desire would at last envelop her completely within its all-consuming embrace.

Angela continued squeezing her breasts with her left hand and forearm while stroking the muddy fingers of her right against her womanhood, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as her arousal grew more certain, the promise of orgasmic release now only moments from fruition. This was what she had dreamed of, what she had fantasized about, for years since she had come to understand the mire’s persistent pull on her, and as she felt herself quickly approaching the edge of ecstasy under the gliding touch of her fingers and hands, she chose that moment to open her eyes once more to take in the natural beauty surrounding her even as her own body prepared to bring forth the natural beauty that was swiftly blossoming within her…

…when she looked dreamily into the distance before her… directly into the face of a stranger…

          — watching her —

                    …standing at the far edge of the mudflat where the wall of vegetation ended…

                              — watching her —

                                        …an expression of wide-eyed wonder on his slack-jawed face…

                                                  — WATCHING HER! —

                                                            …while she masturbated in the mud.

Each gasped in unison with the other as the stranger abruptly turned his face away from her, seemingly more embarrassed for the naked young woman pleasuring herself in the ooze than he was for himself. “Oh, excuse me!” he said emphatically and apologetically, lifting his right hand to shield his eyes, “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

Angela stood stock-still, utter mortification etched on her face, the shock of being discovered at the most intimate moment of her indulgence of her mud fetish dousing her arousal as immediately and thoroughly as though a tub of ice water had been dumped over her head. She instinctively hunched herself over and drew her arms inward, the muddy hands with which she had just been stroking herself now trying but failing to conceal the most private parts of her body and what she had just been doing. She continued staring at the stranger, her startled eyes reflecting the panicked thoughts that were now racing through her mind: Who is he?! What might he think? What might he… do? She immediately became aware of how very alone and vulnerable she was in her private mud pit, how very naked and suddenly afraid she was, isolated at the bottom of a mountain trail that no one (well, almost no one) ever hiked anymore and a mile downstream from both the safety of her home and the last spot where any canoeist or kayaker would exit the river to return to the campground far upstream. There’s no one else around… what if he has a weapon? she wondered fearfully. He saw what I was doing… what if he thinks I’m “asking for it”? What if he tries to… rape me? After a stunned moment of uncertainty she impulsively tried to turn and flee, only to find to her dismay that the thigh-deep grip of her miry lover which had been holding her so sensually in its muddy thralldom only moments before was still holding her tightly in place in its gummy grasp, leaving her exposed and at the mercy of whatever sense of human decency and respect that the stranger might possess. Fortunately for her, he seemed to possess a strong sense of both.

“I’m… I’m so very sorry, Miss,” the stranger apologized haltingly, still covering his eyes, “I didn’t mean to stare… it’s just… um…” He seemed to be fumbling for his words, as though he recognized that anything that he might say would only add to her consternation at having been caught in flagrante delicto with the mud. “I’ll just… um…” he finally offered after an uncomfortable pause, “I’ll just… be on my way… um, Miss, and… um… I’ll leave you to your… um… your… private time,” he stammered as he turned away from her and began walking quickly toward the uphill trail that led to the parking lot a couple hundred yards away, shaking his head in disbelief as he went.

Angela stared after him intently from her sticky spot in the mudflat with the same chagrined look on her face, still trying to cover herself with her hands, to see if the stranger would in fact do what he had said that he would do and keep moving up the trail away from her. To her relief he did indeed continue walking away, and as the distance between them increased, she found her initial alarm at seeing him standing at the end of the bank of vegetation and watching her as she stroked herself beginning to evaporate. From behind he didn’t appear to be very threatening, she admitted to herself; he looked to be in his mid-fifties, six feet tall, not very athletic, slightly overweight in fact, bespectacled, with thinning silvery-gray hair that only partially hid the bald spot on the crown of his head. He was dressed appropriately for a late-summer hike in the mountains, wearing a blue cotton pullover shirt, khaki shorts, and athletic shoes over his white socks, with a water bottle clipped to his belt. As he continued making his way up the trail away from her, Angela considered that, despite the frightened worries that had raced through her mind when she had first seen him looking her direction from the edge of the mudflat, the stranger did indeed seem to be an ordinary guy out for a hike who had stumbled upon a scene that he certainly wasn’t expecting to find, and not some voyeuristic pervert who might double back to hide in the bushes and clandestinely watch a naked young woman pleasuring herself in the mud while he imagined what he would do to her if given the chance.

At last the stranger disappeared behind the foliage of the trees and bushes lining the uphill trail, and after a couple more minutes of her watching and listening intently yet seeing and hearing nothing more of him, Angela decided that her surprise visitor had indeed kept his word and left her to her… private time. She rolled her eyes and chuckled quietly as she imagined how astonished and bewildered he must have felt to have stumbled upon what was surely the last thing that he would have expected to see on a warm afternoon near the bank of a river on the edge of a state park. A naked young woman masturbating in the mud? Yes, and that’s just one of the park’s many natural attractions, she joked quietly with herself as she straightened up in the mire.

Convinced at last that she was once again alone and unobserved in her private mud pit, she removed her hands from her muddy bosom and pubic region and let them fall to her sides, sighing as she glanced around herself at the miry surface encompassing her thighs. Her sense of arousal had fled at the sight of the stranger watching her, and for a moment she wondered if she should reengage with her fetish fantasy or begin making her way out of the pit. As she wavered between her options she suddenly realized that the stranger had done her a favor: By interrupting her self-pleasuring while she was at her current depth in the ooze and thereby momentarily tamping down her desire, he had serendipitously given her the opportunity to move forward toward the middle of the mudflat where the mire might be deeper without her continuously being on the brink of orgasm while working her way there; she might yet be able to make her fantasy of pretending to be trapped in quicksand while she pleasured herself more of a reality after all. Huh… she chucked again, a playful smile spreading across her lips, thanks, mister… whoever you are.

Angela began moving her legs and feet in the thick ooze, inviting its fluid content to flow around them so that she could free herself from the sticky spot that had held her fast when she had tried to flee from the stranger’s presence earlier. After several seconds of considerable effort she felt her feet begin to come free from the muddy bottom, and as she held her arms out to her sides for stability she started pulling her right leg haltingly up and then, several energetic tugs later, completely out of the mire. Once it had cleared the surface, she then leaned toward her left and extended her free leg out to her side as she brought it around in front of her, her knee and foot dragging through the mud as she did so. Her exertions to liberate one leg had forced the other a bit deeper into the bottom muck, and she awkwardly balanced on her stuck leg as she bent forward, swinging her arms in front of her to shift her center of gravity toward the middle of the mud pit as she again pushed her right foot and leg downward into the mire about three feet ahead of her left. Her eyes widened in amazement as her shin, knee, and thigh disappeared into the ooze so deeply that her sensitive underside pressed into it as well, much as when she had bent her knees earlier to pull herself down into the quag. She realized to her delight that the mud was indeed deeper toward the center of the flat, so much so that there was no longer any need for her to crouch down to bring her nether regions into intimate contact with the mire. But she still wanted… no, needed… to be deeper.

With growing anticipation, Angela leaned forward to put her weight on her right leg as she wriggled and tugged at her left to extract it from the mud behind her. Once it had come free after much effort, she brought it around in front of herself as she had her right leg moments before and pressed it into the mire a few feet farther ahead, inhaling sharply as its length again descended beneath the surface. She was now about five to six feet forward of where she had been standing when the stranger had happened upon her earlier and was definitely in much deeper mud now, and she watched in wonderment as her left leg sank into the muck and then continued to sink… and sink… and sink, the ooze patiently engulfing her knee, her thigh, her pelvic region — Oh, god, this feels incredible! she reveled in rapidly returning arousal as the mud took the whole of her womanhood into its gooey embrace — and finally her hip, her downward motion stopping only once her navel began kissing the miry surface. Her breaths came in short, staccato inhalations as she looked down to where the muck encircled her abdomen, while the sensual feeling of the mire thickly and completely enveloping her legs and lower torso flooded her mind and body with bursts of ecstatic expectation. Nothing would stop her fantasy from becoming a reality now! After a brief moment of experimentation she found that, at her current depth, lifting her right leg up and completely out of the mire from behind her to bring it around was no longer a viable option, and so with grunting effort she raised her leg as far as she could as she pulled and tugged it forward through the sticky mud until her right foot was resting on the muddy bottom beside her left, her body now waist-deep in the encompassing ooze.

Waist-deep… It suddenly occurred to Angela that she was standing just as deeply in the mud as she had been on that long-ago day when she had blundered into the bog in the middle of the field on her grandparents’ farm… the very same mudhole in which she had had her very first orgasm while her grandfather’s old tractor was pulling her through the thick ooze to solid ground. A wide grin spread across her face as she remembered her sudden shock and amazement at the repeating pulses of pleasure that had exploded from the base of her pelvis as she slid through the mud; if that rope hadn’t been looped around her back and under her arms, she probably would have dropped it in her astonishment. Girl, if you only knew, she shook her head and chuckled as she imagined trying to explain to her younger self what that experience had been… what it had meant… and what it would ultimately become in her life. Eww… gross, the innocent girl whom she had once been would probably reply, she thought with a knowing chuckle.

Angela ran her hands teasingly over the mire in a semi-circular motion as she glanced around herself, her fingertips tracing curving, parallel paths in the wet surface; aside from that unexpected dip in the mudhole on the farm years before, she had only ever been this deep in mud in her private fantasies. She tugged playfully against the deep grip of the muck on her legs and feet, relishing again the sensation of being trapped in the ooze... and now of being intimately cradled in its thick, gooey embrace. Before the stranger had shown up earlier and temporarily squelched her ardor, she had thought that she would have to be content with scooping up the mud in her hands and rubbing it against her body to satisfy her yearning; now, she thought with a naughty smile, the mire would pleasure her directly. She rested her palms on the soft surface and sighed blissfully as her head fell back, a beatific smile on her face, her eyelids half-closed as she lifted her face toward the sun and almost subconsciously began moving her pelvis back and forth in the sticky mud, slowly and hesitantly at first but then more certainly and steadily, as her arousal began to return. The sensation of the muck flowing across the lips of her vagina she found especially stimulating, and she momentarily considered reaching down beneath the surface and spreading open her labia so as to allow the thick ooze to actually enter her –– she had, after all, already decided to give her virginity to the mud –– but then her better judgment intervened at the thought of the kinds of unpleasant bacteria that might inhabit the mire and that she might be inviting deep inside her body. She decided instead to gratify herself with the equally provocative sensations of the mud flowing over and against her engorged clitoris as it responded readily to the continued forward-and-back thrusting of her pelvis in the quag.

“Mmmmm,” Angela sighed dreamily as a cool, steady breeze began to blow in from the river behind her, lightly lifting her hair and refreshingly evaporating the sheen of sweat that had developed on her exposed skin under the warmth of the sun. This is heaven, she murmured longingly as her back-and-forth movements in the mud quickly reawakened the sensual desire that had made itself known earlier while she had been stroking herself in the shallower area of the mudflat before the stranger had arrived. The ooze seemed to know just how and where to clutch and grasp her innervated womanhood as she enthusiastically humped the sticky mud, which alternately pressed thickly against her swollen vulva with her every forward lunge and then sucked possessively against it as she pulled her body back. Although she was still a virgin and had yet to be sexually intimate with anyone, it wasn’t difficult for her to imagine that the mud was the most skillful and accomplished lover that she would ever know; what its sucking stickiness was doing to her now she could only envision as oral sex exponentiated to the nth degree. As her arousal compounded upon itself with her increasingly insistent movements in the muck, she considered how this experience might feel for a guy, his erect penis plowing urgently and repeatedly into the soft, thick mud as he pushed into it, while the ooze would reciprocate by grasping greedily against his retreating shaft as he pulled back. It would be the softest, deepest pussy he had ever fucked, she chuckled to herself as she reflected how the same mire that seemed so intensely masculine to her could seem so yieldingly feminine to a man. Maybe… someday… when I meet… the right guy, she said to herself with a sultry smile, the phrasing of her thoughts coinciding with her increasingly urgent motions in the mire, I’ll bring him… to my mud pit… for some playtime… of our own.

“Ooooohhhhh, yesssss…” Angela’s sensuous moans of desire became more aggressive as she continued thrusting her hips in the mud like an animal in heat, her feet sliding forward and backward over the slippery bottom of the mudflat, the quickening rhythm of her humping movements now accompanied by an almost feral grunting from her throat that was quickly resolving into a repeating mantra of id-level libido. “Fuck-and-suck, fuck-and-suck, fuck-and-suck,” she chanted obsessively in an increasingly loud whisper, her wanton words synchronizing with both her motions and the ardent arousal radiating ever-expandingly from her pelvic floor as she grasped her muddy breasts and began squeezing them tightly in her slippery hands. As intensely as she had ever orgasmed when she would wrap herself in her bedsheets and masturbate on her bed while pretending to be trapped in quicksand, she knew that those fantasy indulgences would only pale in comparison to the absolute ecstasy that was about to envelop her in the mire’s all-encompassing embrace. No wonder people call it… a bed of quicksand, she reflected as her miry lover continued to pleasure her as only it could in response to her ongoing, urgent movements in the muck.

“Ohhhh, fucking yes!” Angela exhaled breathlessly as she felt her impending moment of climax thundering toward her like a runaway locomotive, irresistible and inevitable. Nothing was going to stop her now, not even if a dozen or even a hundred strangers were to suddenly show up as she urgently made wet, messy, passionate love to the gripping mud. Welcome… to the show, she imagined greeting her gathering audience as she continued thrusting her hips back and forth in the muck ever more demandingly, the fuck-and-suck sensations of the ooze flowing against her hyper-stimulated clitoris rendering her oblivious to anything and everything around her as fantasy and reality at last melded into one, her world collapsing upon itself into a singularity of sensuality until finally…

“OHHH, YESSSS!” Angela cried in orgasmic exultation as her engorged womanhood at last exploded in climactic release within the mire’s clutching hold, sending waves of electricity cascading through her body as the breeze blowing around her seemed to surge with her vocal ejaculations. “Yes! Yes!” she cried out again as she came with fervent abandon in the sucking grasp of the thick, sticky ooze, her form convulsing uncontrollably in ongoing eruptions of erotic exhilaration. Not even her very first experience in the mud years before on her grandparent’s farm could begin to compare to this. “Oh, god, yes!” She felt herself shudder under a will that seemed no longer her own as her body flexed and pulsated involuntarily under the seeming supranatural force that had now possessed her. “Ohhh! Ohhh!...”

For a moment Angela’s vision darkened and a heavy buzzing filled her ears, her mind going briefly fuzzy in the throes of la petite mort as aftershocks of ecstasy continued to overwhelm her. She felt suddenly weightless, as if she were drifting skyward on the ethereal breath of an uplifting zephyr, floating endlessly on a cloud of softness in a sweet, satisfying dream from which she wished never to wake. This… is the heaven… of heavens, she murmured in rapturous bliss as her vaginal muscles continued twitching and contracting in random, teasing spasms in the mire’s sensual embrace. For measureless moments she luxuriated in timeless, supernal euphoria, her very sense of self rising and falling with her respiration until she sensed her consciousness gradually reasserting itself, the impression of floating giving way to one of descending ever so slowly earthward, and in her half-lucid state she held her arms out to her sides as if she were a bird spreading her wings to avail herself of an accommodating breeze. But the falling sensation persisted as she continued to recover from her little death, and as she repeatedly but futilely moved her arms up and down to hold herself aloft as had Icarus after he had flown too close to the sun, the spell was at last broken as her awareness returned in full, and she opened her eyes to see what it was that seemed to be dragging her downward.

“Oh...”

To her surprise she found that she wasn’t falling toward the earth; rather, she was… sinking… into it?

Wait… what? Angela protested in startled uncertainty as she looked around herself at the surface of the mire, which was no longer encircling her abdomen as before but had surreptitiously crept halfway up her ribcage while she had been… preoccupied. She recalled with confusion that she had been standing on the slippery but solid bottom of the mudflat while she pleasured herself to orgasm in the ooze… but where was the bottom now?

“Oh… oh…” She craned her head around to get her bearings as she became aware that her still-descending form was no longer vertical in the mud but was leaning forward, as though she had lost her footing in her moment of paradise and had slipped over… something… but what?

“Oh, no… oh, god, no…” The undersides of her breasts were now pressing thickly into the miry surface as she sank more deeply into the muck, and Angela worriedly recalled the sensation of her feet sliding back and forth on the bottom in response to her thrusting movements in the ooze while she had been standing in what she had believed to be the deepest part of the mudflat… but which she now recognized must have been merely the edge of a submerged drop-off over which she had fallen into an area of much deeper mud that was… how much deeper?

“Oh, god!” she cried out again, no longer in pleasure but in sudden panic as visions of the late-night horror movies that she and her sister used to watch flooded her mind. She tried to yank one foot upward and then the other, only to feel herself pulled suddenly downward by a thick, grasping suction that clamped down on her legs in response to her efforts as the muck enveloped the fullness of her breasts along with her nipples… and Angela realized to her shock and dismay that her fetish fantasy of pretending to be trapped and sinking in deep mud had become more of a reality than she had ever intended… a reality that was now well beyond her control.

“Oh, god, please!” Angela cried out in urgent appeal to anyone who might be within earshot as the mire drew her ever deeper into its encompassing embrace, the depth of her peril at last becoming immediately and undeniably evident. “Help me! I’m in quicksand!”



––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

To be continued in Part 3: “Angela’s Peril.”

[MamaWheezy]

HOLY FUCK THIS WAS CRAZY HOT! Can't wait for the next part!

[JSample]

HOLY FUCK THIS WAS CRAZY HOT! Can't wait for the next part!

Thank you! Really glad you enjoyed it!

[Jaina76]

Oh..my...god.

I swear that it seems you may have experienced this in real life, with the amazing detail, and vivid images that this story brings to mind. I would be lying if I said this had no effect on me. I look forward to the continuation. Thank you.

[JSample]

Oh..my...god.
I swear that it seems you may have experienced this in real life, with the amazing detail, and vivid images that this story brings to mind. I would be lying if I said this had no effect on me. I look forward to the continuation. Thank you.

Thank you, Jaina, for your compliments and your kind words. I wish I could say that I have experienced this in real life, but unfortunately the extent of my indulgence of my quicksand fetish has been confined to my imagination... although, as you indicate with your positive comments on my imagery and attention to detail, I tend to have a vivid imagination.

I also want to say thank you to you and to MamaWheezy above for bringing a feminine perspective to my writing (I presume from your avatars and your screen names that the two of you are women; my apologies if I am mistaken). As a middle-aged father of five who grew up feeling ashamed of my quicksand fetish and have never told anyone outside the quicksand community that I have such a fetish, I feel especially honored and humbled to learn that women who share a similar interest in quicksand find my writing and story ideas enjoyable. I hope that the remaining parts of my story live up to what you imagine for it!

[beachbum]

This story is freaking fantastic! A lot of work and detail put into the story. I can relate to prior childhood experiences fueling my fetish. I cannot wait for Part III!

[JSample]

This story is freaking fantastic! A lot of work and detail put into the story. I can relate to prior childhood experiences fueling my fetish. I cannot wait for Part III!

Thanks, beachbum! I plan to post Part 3 over the weekend!

[Solrex]

This is FANTASTIC! I only wish I could enjoy myself as much as Angela, but alas, I have no deep quicksand. So, unfortunately, I am just stuck with my imagination. But oh how I would love to be Angela. I know how the story ends, I read the kid, but man do I wish I was her right now, even including the peril I guess. Honestly, to any real quicksand, if it turns out to not be as buoyant, I want to bring a boogie board or a pool noodle to float on. Just to be safe.

Can't wait to read the next part. When I have time.

[JSample]

This is FANTASTIC! I only wish I could enjoy myself as much as Angela, but alas, I have no deep quicksand. So, unfortunately, I am just stuck with my imagination. But oh how I would love to be Angela. I know how the story ends, I read the kid, but man do I wish I was her right now, even including the peril I guess. Honestly, to any real quicksand, if it turns out to not be as buoyant, I want to bring a boogie board or a pool noodle to float on. Just to be safe.

Thank you very much, Solrex; I'm glad you're enjoying my story so far. Like you, I too am stuck with my imagination when it comes to sinking in quicksand. While you do know how the story ends, having read my previous one, what you don't (yet) know is what Angela will go through on her way to the end of the story.

Can't wait to read the next part. When I have time.

When you do have time, you'll have several parts to read, as you probably already know.