Allie's Awakening

[jack c]

(This is my fourth try at a newly written story - a bit longer - hope you all find it worth the read)

ALLIE'S AWAKENING By jack c

Allison (or Allie, as her friends called her) was a college senior, nearing her Spring graduation from the University of
Rhode Island. She had gone to URI because of the excellent marine biology program there. Some of the class work was actually field work at Point Judith, at the juncture of Narragansett Bay and Block Island Sound (pretty much the open ocean). She had gone through her last two years without a steady boyfriend, something that had given her a lot of flexibility with course work, field work, and visits home to Westerly, on the Connecticut border, where she had grown up. Allie was a tall (5'-10") brunette. While she had an athlete's physique, she had never played organized sports. She liked sailing, canoeing, scuba diving - anything that had to do with water, fresh or salt. She pretty much had herself together, a smart and pretty young woman headed for marine bio grad school.

Her first peculiar experience had happened on a Saturday, several weeks before graduation, watching TV in the background while finishing her senior thesis on tidal environments and their continuing endangerment. The local Pawtucket TV station had a weekly "serial theater" double feature, which usually ran back-to-back black-and-white "B" movies. This week's fare was a Tarzan doubleheader. The first one had been Tarzan's Revenge, which had starred two former Olympic swimmers (they certainly weren't Olympic actors). It was a plodding movie until one scene commanded her attention. Eleanor (both the actress's and the character's name), while engaged in the cliche foolish walk across a swamp on a log, naturally slipped off and plunged into a murky mixture of dark water and vegetation. She wound up chest-deep in the water, though she said she was sunk up to the knees in the mud beneath, while her bumbling boyfriend did nothing to help her. Boyfriend leaves, Tarzan shows up and pulls her out - then throws her back in. Safari shows up and pulls her out again.

Allie couldn't exactly describe the sensation, the appeal of the scene, but as soon as it came on, she was riveted to the TV screen. When the scene ended, it left her mildly breathless, with a noticeably pounding heartbeat. She shook her head and went back to her writing, but her mind distractedly kept placing the Eleanor swamp pool in place of her (somewhat similar) tidal environment. Gotta take a walk and clear my head! Allie thought. Which she did - taking a walk around the block of her off-campus apartment in Kingston. Back to the thesis. She had left the TV on; she now noticed that it wasn't the same movie on, but it was still a Tarzan jungle flick - must be the second movie. This one was a little better - the Tarzan was a hunk of an actor that she remembered seeing in some sword-and-sandal films (Sons of Hercules or something like that). No Jane in this one - just a Jill, who was some jungle nurse, although the actress, Vera (Ralston) Miles, looked like she had never spent one day in a jungle in her life.

Some guy is sick. Some nasty hunters pretend to be photographers. The nasty hunters take the good doctor into the jungle. Some guy is whacking a baby elephant - Oh! - Jill grabs a rifle and shoos him off. Gets in the old car. Drives into the jungle. No! - the car gets stuck - couldn't have guessed that was going to happen! Should she press on alone? Of course she will, just like the girl in the horror movie going down into the dark basement alone. But - Allie is suddenly fixated again - she tries to push aside her usual cynical movie observations. The blonde nurse is now lost, stumbling in the jungle (why? - all she had to do was follow the road - is that now harder on foot than it was in the car?) But again, enough with my jokes. This scene is really good - good in a viscerally exciting way for her. Jill's Saks-5th-Avenue safari dress is being gradually torn and tattered - she rips some of it off herself. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! How come her hair is curly now? And straight now? - cut the comments!

Allie had then become aware of her pounding heart - yet again! Thesis now forgotten, she had placed herself into the scene. She was the jungle heroine, lost and stumbling, gradually being de-clothed, being drawn away from civilization back to a primodial time where being eaten for breakfast can really happen to a girl. Allie had right then instinctively known where this scene was inevitably leading, especially having seen the previous, more amateur, swamp scene. Jill (Allie) was going to fall into quicksand. So? Why the breathless excitement? I've never felt this way except ... except ... yeah, except when I'm really getting turned on! (she made this judgment based on limited experience with a couple of boyfriends).

Sure enough, Jill (Allie) stumbles again - backs against a tree - Tarzan is following her trail - she stops again, grabs a branch - suddenly a (poorly spliced in) snake is coming down that very tree. Then it happens - she steps forward and - SLURP! - Jill (Allie) plunges both legs into a rolling pool of mud and vegetation. This scene is much more powerful than Eleanor up-to-her-knees-in-the-muddy-bottom in the previous flick. This stuff is thicker and more dangerous -she struggles valiantly, but of course she goes down deeper and deeper - she pushes against the surface - her arms disappear - HELP! - finally calling out to no one. Then - plunk! - a rope! No, a vine! - from nowhere! Look up, he's there, in the tree - "Girl be still, not sink." Grab hold! - slowly pulled up, up, and out of the muck - solid ground - a hug - then blackness.

Allie had had to shake her head. She had been so focused into this sequence that it had almost felt as if it was she who had fainted - she who was being cradled in those big arms - she who - WHOA! - into the drink! After this wild sequence, the movie had gotten more mundane and boring. But it had taken several more walks around the block and finally a shower in order for Allie to get back and finish the paper. As she drifted off that night, she thought: Have to get to the bottom (no pun) of this. Why so riveting? To quote Heath's Ledger's Joker in Dark Knight, Tell me - why so serious?

Graduation came and went in a whirl of family visiting and good-byes to friends. Allie was taking a Masters program at URI in September, so she had kept her Kingston apartment. Finally, on the Thursday after Commencement, she sat at her Macintosh and typed in the fateful query quicksand. The cornucopia of sites that popped up overwhelmed her at first. She had to sort through the rock group Quicksand sites and the Mickey Rooney movie Quicksand sites and the science-digest-type sites. That left what looked like a number of fetish-type sites, mostly guy-oriented, mostly clips and pix and manips of variously clad women sinking into quicksand and dark mud. She recognized a few female pseudonyms among the posters on several sites, though they were in the distinct minority. One female poster's observation jumped out at Allie. The poster said something to the effect that, when she saw a photo of a woman sinking, she was that woman. She automatically put herself in the pictured woman's place. Bingo! This described exactly Allie's sensation watching that second movie (which by the way she discovered was Tarzan's Hidden Jungle and apparently was very popular among the male posters - almost a classic in this community). And though Allie had always pooh-poohed the media's overuse of the term "community," that's how this felt to her. She felt a kinship with the material and ideas she read on these forums.

Over a period of several days of net-surfing, Allie had put two-and-two together and confirmed in her mind the sexual connection. It felt a bit strange and even embarrassing at first, but, then, whom did it hurt? Why wasn't she entitled to a particular personal turn-on? Just because it wasn't totally mainstream? Whoever had produced and directed that Vera Miles scene had certainly treated it like a labor of love - so well done and detailed. And she had even read that Gordon Scott and Vera Miles had gotten married right after the film. Hmmm! ... wonder if there was something subliminal going on between those two? ... maybe more than subliminal! It was now clear to Allie that the thought of herself slowly sinking into quicksand was arousing to her. Likewise, a guy sinking was also a turn-on. Picturing herself and a guy sinkng - well that would be thrilling, but how the heck do you bring that up in mixed company? - heck, she wasn't even dating anybody right now.

Curiously, it had taken just the two movie scenes to pique Allie's interest. She wondered why, at age 23, she had never encountered these feelings before. Since she rarely watched TV and went to few movies, she surmised that it was simply because she had never before watched a quicksand scene. Too bad for her it hadn't been years earlier - and too bad for her it hadn't been a guy scene!

Having OD'd on all of this on-line material, Allie wondered: what to do about it? She had joined several interesting forums, but she had been up until now what the guys called a "lurker." She would read and view, but not post. Well, why the hell not start? she concluded. And so she did, finding out through questions, comments, and answers that some of the other posters had gone through the same awakening process, had felt the same confusion and excitement. One recurrent suggestion she received in reply to her posts was: go out and try it for yourself. She now understood that quicksand was not the automatic death-trap portrayed in the jungle movies. She vowed, on one Friday night while on line, to try it for herself the next day - just the thought of it made her tingle. She knew that going by herself was some risk ... but she just wasn't ready to trust anyone else with this thing yet.

Now, URI sits in a unique location from a sinking perspective. Just west of Kingston is a wildlife management area called Great Swamp WMA, named after the swamp itself. She remembered getting lost once and skirting the swamp on a back road. It was an endless expanse of small trees and overgrowth, dismal and wet. She recalled seeing great black mud-holes right up next to the road. Of course, she hadn't been as curious about the mud-holes then as she had become now. This seemed like a logical area to look for sinking spots. She remembered another good female post: always look for locations on public land - that way you are never trespassing - good advice. She did a quick Google satellite of the area and downloaded a park map. It was hard to tell from the grainy satellite picture, but she got a general idea of the locations of creeks and trails running toward Worden Pond, at the south edge of the park. She figured that areas near the creeks and streams, moving water, would be the best places to look for soil in the quick condition. She wanted someplace away from the roads, even slightly beyond the two trails she saw on the map running south into the swamp towards the great pond.

Next morning, a crisp May Saturday dawned. Armed with the map, she drove out and parked in a dirt lot. She took the trail heading south toward Worden Pond, into what looked like the heart of the wooded swamp. After about a mile, the trail became very wet and muddy. Allie's white canvas walking shoes sank in several times, and it was this wet just on the path - how wet was it off the path? - she wondered. She hadn't noticed any posted signs, but the trail was very faint now, as if she had hiked past trail's end somehow. A small animal track continued onward, so she kept on going. She came upon a small brook, really only a couple of rivulets of water, and started following it downstream. After a bit, the trickles spread out over a muddy flat area. No time like the present, she thought. A slow step onto the mudflat - her shoes and ankles disappeared, but there was a solid bottom. A few more awkward steps out - sinking a little deeper with each step, until out in the middle she stood sunk just above her knees, again touching bottom. This still felt pretty safe, so she decided to mentally take inventory of her sensations. The mud was cool, but not cold. Its encircling grip pressed in around her calves and knees, actually a rather pleasant feeling. Trying to pull out her left leg she found that, while requiring some effort, she could readily extract her legs and make progress through the bog. She tried a few feigned struggles, copying the Tarzan-Jill movie. The muck jiggled and heaved pleasantly, but she sank no deeper.

Okay, what next? Let's try kneeling in a little deeper. With a quick intake of breath, Allie leaned forward slightly, bending her knees. With some knee-and-leg pumping motions, the muck gave way and allowed her knees to slide down deeper into the shallow bog. Continuing the slow leg-pumping, she settled in until her kneecaps touched bottom, leaving her (in appearance at least) engulfed just past her waist. Since there was no one around, Allie tried a little play-acting, as she had seen in some of the web clips ... softly crying, "Oh no, it's quicksand! How did I get myself in quicksand?! ... I'm going down deeper - got to find a way to pull myself out! ... Help! ... is anyone out there?!" This was both fun and exciting. She loved the way she felt gripped and enveloped. Okay - time to move on.

She managed to clumsily extract first her butt, then her legs from the mud, and then make her way slowly to dry shore. She took inventory. She had trashed her white (now dark brown) shoes; her cutoff shorts were saturated with muck, and the lower exposed portion of her white one-piece bathing suit was stained brown. Oh well, nothing that can't wash out, I guess. She decided to continue heading downstream, away from trail's-end. After a few hundred more feet of tough going, she came upon a bigger flat area of dark mud, where another stream joined into this one. Let's go double or nothing, she thought.

Allie repeated her cautious entry, step by step. Here, when she got about eight feet out onto the flat, she was sunk knee-deep, only this time she felt no hard bottom - rather she was partially supported by the muck, which had more movement to it than at the first spot. Deciding to go with it, she pumped her legs, just as before, slowly ... continuing to slowly sink ... now at mid-thigh and going ... up to her hips ... getting a little nervous now ... stomach-deep ... oh, no! ... yes! - finally grounding on something solid, ribs-deep. Now she could repeat her play-acting while really sunk this deep! Some more fake struggling, reaching for the non-existent branch or root, watching the black muck heave and vibrate all around her body - some more (still soft) cries for rescue. This is absolutely fantastic - here I am really sunk almost up to my chest in real muck. Is this what quicksand is - just dark mud? Or is black muck just another form of quicksand? Whatever it was, Allie was quite worked up by this time - extremely turned-on, more so than with any of her few boyfriend experiences. She wondered why it had taken so long for her, almost accidentally, to discover this source of excitement. She stopped moving and remained still for several minutes, simply savoring the sensation of total envelopment.

She had just snapped out of the swoon she had been in when she heard a branch behind her snap. Then another two snaps! Then,

"Hello ... anyone out there? Whoa! Are you OK? Need some help?" It was a young male voice, familiar to Allie. He was behind her - she would have to twist around to see him. But she remained totally still - simply mortified -How could I be so stupid that I get caught like this the first time I try it?! Finally, slowly she twisted sideways, and almost simultaneously, they both:

"Allison - Allie! ...[Steve!] ... is that you?" (Allie and Steve had been lab partners in senior organic marine chemistry - they had worked well together).

Allie: "Ummm ... hi, Steve ... er ... so, how're ya doing?"

Steve: "Wow, ... guess we're a long way from the lab right now, aren't we? In more ways than one." Steve was taken by the lovely sight before him right now: a dynamite girl that he knew, in a smooth white one-piece, sunk into black muck up almost chest-deep.

Allie: "I ... ahhh ... er ... guess you ... I mean, you must be wondering what I'm doing here like this?"

Steve: "I could be tempted to ask you that question, yes. Are you really stuck in there - do you want some help getting out?" Even though Steve knew enough to know that Allie was pretty safe here, his concern was genuine. She seemed flushed and worked up - he attributed it, incorrectly, to her being scared.

Allie: "As silly as it sounds, I'm really OK ... and I don't think that I really will need any help getting out. I'm just kind of embarrassed that you came along. I'd like to say 'I can explain this,' but I'm not sure you'd believe me." A normal passer-by, seeing a woman sunk four feet into black muck, would figure she was in real trouble. However, Steve wasn't just the everyday observer in this regard.

Steve: "Let me come around in front of you so we can at least have a proper conversation, that is, if that's possible under these circumstances." Steve gingerly worked his way around the edge of the clearing. "Sorry, but I gotta tell you - you look beautiful in there."

And she did - her dark hair tumbling over the white bathing suit, down over her chest (which certainly filled out the suit), and strands of brunette locks actually spread out over the bog's surface. Her arms were still above the muck, spread wide at angles in front of her, just touching the surface.. "Sure you're OK?" Steve queried again.

Allie: "Well, I've probably been better, thanks - it may look like I'm stuck, but I'm touching bottom. And even if I wasn't, I would ..."

Steve: " ... you would float in this muck about shoulder-deep, right?"

Allie: " ...what do you mean? ... how do you know that? ..."

Steve: "Sorry I have you at such a disadvantage. Actually,what I mean to say is that you have very discerning taste in sinking location selection. Sorry that I startled you. If you were a little calmer, you would have thought to ask me what the heck I'm doing way out here. If you're as smart as I know you are from class, you may have already figured it out. By the way, I've had a crush on you big-time, since junior year. I've been in a lot of your classes - I'm staying for a Masters, too. I guess I kind of thought that a girl as smart and pretty as you was just plain out of my league. And ... oh, what the hell ... the reason I'm out here is that this is one of my better locations."

Allie: " ... better ... locations ... for what?"

Steve: "Take a look in the mirror and you tell me."

Steve couldn't avoid staring at the remarkable sight before him. And here I am, standing here on relatively solid ground, carrying on a strange conversation with a woman four feet below me - only visible from her chest up!

Allie: "You mean, for ... sinking?"

Steve: "Exactly - I mean, what else is there to do here? You seem pretty confident, to be out here all by yourself. Something tells me you didn't stumble in there by accident, after all. Tell me, have you looked anything up about deep mud on the Web?"

Allie: "Yeah, ... well ... a little."

Steve: "The mud here acts like quicksand, even though it isn't very sandy. Do you realize that you're basically in quicksand right now? Aren't you at least a little nervous?"

Allie (blushing, but sticking up for herself, too): "Like I said, I'm touching bottom. But yes, I have read up quite a bit about deep mud and quicksand - enough to pretty much know what I'm doing, I think. I know more than I think you think I know ... you know. Wait, that didn't come out right."

Steve: "OK, OK, I'm really not trying to talk down to you ... wait, that didn't come out quite right, either. OK, so you've done your homework - not surprised - you always do. Ever drop in on a site named, quite appropriately, quicksandfans?

Allie (still blushing): "Well, yeah, ... maybe ... this is getting a little embarrassing ..."

Steve (with a genuine smile, returning Allison's blush): "You don't need to feel embarrassed on my account. You happen to read any posts by a blogger named QSSteven?"

Allie: "You mean that ... no, wait ... that's you?"

Steve: "One and the same. I try to keep my posts positive and relatively tame, but it's a fact that quicksand is a real turn-on for me. And, now that I think of it, there's been this new poster on the forum in the last couple of weeks. This poster is obviously female and goes by the name of marinebiogal. You wouldn't, ah ... by chance ... maybe know her, would you now?"

Allie (never felt more embarrassed): "That must be some other ... oh, what the hell - yes - that's me! I can't believe it - I am SO EMBARRASSED!!"

Steve: " About what? I think marinebiogal's posts have been really cool. I've responded to a couple of your posts, a couple of questions that you had. You sent me back two very nice responses - I think I've read them over a dozen times each. I'm also the guy who posts in the Stories section; I write the long corny stories with all the too-cute coincidences in them."

Allie (warming a little to the conversation): "Actually, I've read all four of your story posts, Mr. Quicksand Steven, if that's what you like to go by. They're all about the same thing: a guy and a girl, like, sort of discovering each other and going sinking together. They gave me goosebumps, because ... well ... I guess I'd like to do that, too. You don't think I'm loony or anything?"

Steve: "Lovely, maybe. Loony - no way. Quite the contrary - like I said - you have no idea how really fantastic you look in there with your white suit and your hair floating and your arms floating - I wish I brought a camera, but I wasn't expecting company. And by the way, it's about another foot deeper over to your right a couple of feet - that's the best spot in this location."

Allie: "Thanks for the nice compliments, but believe me, I'm not out of anybody's league. And actually, I've always thought you're kind of cute. So you know this location pretty well, don't you? You know many others?"

Steve: "Maybe half a dozen. I don't get that much time to go looking. How many places have you found?"

Allie: "Ummm ... I'm a rookie - first time out."

Steve: "Well, I was curious when I saw the trail of footprints on the way in here. I knew they weren't deer prints - now I know they were yours. I guess you just got lucky first time out. It took me four tries to find this place."

Steve had noticed a change in Allie's expression over the last few exchanges. She had gone from looking-embarrassed-blushing to smiling in a flushed and almost-flirting way. He found the change at once pleasant and a little disarming.

Allie: "Well ...?"

Steve: "Well, what?"

Allie (an idea now forming - a lovely idea): "Well, you were coming to sink, just like me, or weren't you?"

Steve: "Yeah, I guess I was ... but I'll come back later - I know another place just through those trees. I don't own this spot - first come, first served."

Allie: "I thought it was 'no shirt, no shoes, no service.' "

Steve: "Well, I can't tell if you're wearing any shoes, but it looks like you did get service. If you think you're OK here, I'll clear out. Sometimes it's safer to come out with a partner - for future reference."

Allie: "Then why are you out here alone?"

Steve: "Well, ummm, ... actually ... you're the only person I've ever discussed this with - in person, I mean. It's all pretty anonymous on line. The couple of girls I've dated at school ... well, I ... just couldn't find the right time to bring it up."

Allie (suddenly getting right to the point): "Do you think I could buy you a drink sometime, Steve? You know, a drink?!"

Steve: "A what? A drink? Out here? What, are you asking me out or something?"

Allie (big blush): "Actually, ... I was going to ask you ... in. It sounds like I can learn a lot from you - my first time out and all. And then you can show me your other spot - I'd like that a lot."

Steve (not believing this): "Wow - that's the best invite I've had in years. Right now? (an enthusiastic nod from Allison - reaching her right arm out to him). OK, I can sort of wade out to you - just stay put."

Allie: "Stay put, he says! That won't be too hard, in case you hadn't noticed!"

With that, Allie began to fake-struggle again, for Steve's benefit, twisting and turning, saying, "Gee, I hope somebody comes along to help me!" As she moved, her chest dipped briefly into the churned-up muck, emerging with a new high-mud-line across her white bathing suit. Despite himself, Steve couldn't help but be instantly excited by this impressive sight. Slow down, Steve - he thought - pinch me, I'm dreaming ... no, this is better than anything I could dream up.

Steve, step by deeper-sinking step, worked his way out to a spot next to Allie. The muck was up to Allie's chest by then, as she had again relaxed her knees to allow for a few inches more immersion - moving the high-mud-line to new heights. They briefly looked each other in the eyes, both kind of admiring the sight of one another - then couldn't help but both break out laughing. Since Steve was 6'-2", he touched bottom a half a head above Allie's face. But he was close enough for ... "ummmmmhhh ..."

"Hey what was that for?" Steve asked, after a full minute when Allie finally let him break off from the deep kiss she was planting on his mouth.

"That's an advance on the thank-you for the sinking lesson. Sorry - I'm really not that easy. It's just, ... well ... the quicksand and all, I guess - sorry - I'm kinda pretty worked up here ... you know," Allie admitted, still blushing, her voice unsteady. "You, too?"

"Yeah, me too, Allie." (Another kiss, this time no surprise - more tender, deep, and passionate - they both broke off, breathless). Man, I can't believe this, Allie. All that time in class and lab together. You're more than I ever imagined ... and, um .. well, I imagined quite a lot about you."

"I guess I'll forgive your evil thoughts, since this is how it all worked out," answered Allie. "Or do you just want me to say 'my hero?' Did you come in to rescue me, or what?"

"Eventually, I guess - why hurry?" said Steve.

It was a really nice scene, if anyone else had been around to see it - two mild acquaintances (both very nice people) suddenly and unexpectedly being thrown together at just the right time and place to discover and share a mutual "hobby." Steve for years, Allie only recently, had dreamed of finding a special someone with whom to share this experience. After finally pulling each other out, they decided to check out Spot #2, as Allie had wanted to.

Holding hands, they walked the short distance with some anticipation, now adventurers together. This was a deeper and sandier spot - more like what you'd see on a movie set, but still the real thing. The surface rolled with more of the classic waterbed motion. It was over their heads, so they both took things a bit more slowly here. They took turns watching each other try dramatic sinks, making suggestions on techniques, movements, dialogue, and anything else. The feigned theatrics actually got quite interesting. Steve finally convinced Allie just to try one sink with her arms in. He thoroughly enjoyed watching this, but this way seemed a little scarier to Allie. "Then don't do anything you're not comfortable with," was Steve's advice. They decided to definitely bring a video camera next time.

After the last pull-out, as the shadows lengthened (it had been a long and memorable day for both), Steve and Allie hugged, both of them wet and muddy. In a shaky voice, Allie whispered, "Maybe it's time to go buy you that drink now - you think?" Steven broke the hug and gazed into Allison's eyes. As Allie smiled back at him, Steve (ever the movie buff), in his best Bogie voice, drawled out, "Allie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

END

[PM2K]

Fabulous!

[Nessie]

Ya know, I have spent MORE TIME wondering if I'm ever going to find anybody in my bogs.

I mean, it just seems that there's not that many locations really, 'cause I've worked my muddy heinie off to find the ones that I use. At any given time I have at least a couple, and sometimes I've had as many as four or five, but that's not really THAT many useable bogs, considering that my hunting grounds comprise about a forty-mile radius, with my house at the center.

So, that's no more than five bogs, ever, in a circular area that'd measure, I guess, about forty miles in diameter.

If there are any Quicksanders living near me, logically, you would think that we would be drawn to the same places.

And eventually, you'd think that the law of averages would tip, and I'd get to a bog and find somebody already using it. That somebody probably would be a man (because us gals are very badly outnumbered) and I'd bet you a buck he'd be somewhere in our online community too.

It has never happened. Intruders, once in a great while, but actual bog-users? Never.

Wonderful story. You did well on the dialogue that occurs when they find each other at the bog.

And actually, this situation no longer seems completely impossible to me.

Nessie

[jack c]

PM2K - thanks for the nice comment - I enjoy your art posts.

Nessie - you've got five private locations in a 20-mile radius? I envy you, though it sounds like you exercised considerable due-diligence to find them. I have one so-so spot, and one more I will try this weekend, that I'm not sure I can properly access on foot. I don't know where you live, but SE Pennsylvania is the pits (no pun intended - actually, it's the "non-pits"). I hope the reverse scenario of this story doesn't happen to me. At least it will be warm here, if a bit rainy. Thanks for the response.

[p-cooper]

Wow, Jack. I have read all 4 of your posted stories now. They are all nicely written with a sense of humor, and all are about the same theme - a guy and girl discovering a mutual interest and sinking together. And the first one Summer of 76 - some of this really happened? You must be one lucky guy! I have enjoyed reading all of the posted stories here - I'm a newcomer. Keep it up.

[stevensenechal]

Another thoughtful read and turning out to be a nice series as well. Keep it up my friend.

[Mudsocks]

Very good story. I can relate to the awakening.

[jack c]

Mudsocks,

Thanks for the comment - actually, though at a younger age, I, too can relate to the awakening portion of the story, but from a male perspective. I enjoyed your clips on Deep Sinking, and I am flattered that you would comment on this story.

- Jack

[TBoneTony]

I can definitely relate to this story.

The internet is a safer place to talk about things like this. It was so hard trying to talk to real people about it because you don't know what their response will be.

At least on the internet, there is some information and also some positive stuff for the quicksand fettish.

[jack c]

Tony,

You certainly have posted a number of interesting stories. Thanks for the comment on this, rather long, one. The places here are real - I really did live in southern RI for a time - my brother went to URI. It is indeed an interesting place. Allie could be any of the female posters on this board - remembering the first awakening time of this interest. I have enjoyed your posts to date, as well.

_ Jack