The Girl (Part 7): Angela's Proposition

[JSample]

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

by Jason Sample
December 2018–May 2019

After learning that Jason had risked his life to save her from the quicksand, Angela is ready and willing to give herself in every way to her hero, to the man who had put her first, even before himself... only to discover just how completely he is willing to do that for her sake.

(Author's note: If you have not yet read "The Kid," you may ignore the rest of this paragraph and enjoy the latest installment of "The Girl." However, if you have read my earlier story, you will quickly notice that the narrative sequence in the remaining two chapters of this story parallels that of chapters six and seven of the previous one. Jason's and Angela's conversation and interactions with each other after he rescues her from the quicksand are necessarily identical in both stories, as are their interactions with other characters who eventually arrive on the scene, but whereas "The Kid" told its story from Jason's viewpoint, "The Girl" presents the same sequence of events from Angela's perspective... the result being an entirely new story.)

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The Girl (Part 7): Angela’s Proposition


Angela gazed deeply into Jason’s eyes, her weight shifting ever so subtly upon his lap as she straddled him in the mud, her heart enamored of the older man who had risked his life to save hers. Do you know the feelings I have for you, Jason? she asked him silently, hopefully, her youthful, mud-streaked face glowing with new-found desire, her breasts heaving with her every shivering breath, waves of arousal coursing through her nubile form. After all you’ve done for me… all you risked for me… can you sense what I want with you right now... what I want to show you… what I want to share with you? She found herself drawn irresistibly toward the man who had become her hero just as surely as she had felt drawn toward the mire before, as ready to give herself to him now as she had been earlier to give herself to the mud.

Jason certainly did seem to sense how she felt and what she wanted; his eyes had become as wide as saucers, utter surprise and amazement reflected on his face… as well as hesitation. “Um… Angela… I…” he stammered as she leaned closer to him.

“You jumped into the quicksand to save me even though you knew you might die trying,” she whispered insistently, holding Jason’s gaze as her lower torso began to squeeze against his.

“Well, yes… but…”

“That was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard of anyone doing for someone else,” she persisted as her taut, fit abdomen met his somewhat soft, out-of-shape belly, “and also the bravest.”

“Well… um… you know…”

“There was no way I could have saved myself. I would have died back there, alone and helpless, drowned in the quicksand,” she said urgently, her full, muddy bosom meeting his decidedly flat chest, her virgin form quivering in ardent anticipation of the intimate consummation that she now craved as she never had before, that seemed but moments from fruition.

“Listen, Angela…”

“But I didn’t,” she exulted, her face aflush with ecstatic expectation, “because you kept your promise! Unlike all those other jerks I’ve ever known, you kept your promise, because you’re nothing like them! You’re my hero, my knight in shining armor, rescuing your damsel in distress, just like in a fairy tale!”

For several seconds Angela’s eyes remained locked with Jason’s as her face drew nearer to his, her breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps as she pressed her fit, toned body firmly upon the hardness inside his shorts in the shallow mud. Oh, my brave hero, she rejoiced exuberantly in her heart, a euphoric smile on her face, everything those jerks tried to take from me… everything that the quicksand would have taken from me… I’m now ready to give to you… Her fervent longing embodied a depth of emotion and desire that she had never before felt for any man, the wide, obvious gap in their ages a nonissue to her and in fact an allurement as she considered the kindness, maturity, and respect that he had shown to her in contrast to the lustfulness and selfish immaturity of the other would-be suitors her own age and older whom she had previously encountered. As the distance between their faces slowly closed, Angela imagined how earlier, when she hadn’t been breathing after he had pulled her up from the choking ooze, Jason would have pressed his mouth tightly against hers in a desperate attempt to save her life. But she had been unconscious then, oblivious to his efforts on her behalf; now that she was fully awake and aware, she longed to join her lips to his of her own volition, knowing full well what their urgent reunion would portend… and ready and willing for what would inevitably come of it. Sink into me, Jason, she silently implored him as she again pressed her weight upon the hardness between his legs, a hardness that she yearned to hold between her legs… deep between her legs. As deeply as I had sunk into the quicksand… sink into me…

Angela’s face was now mere inches from Jason’s, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, and as her glistening eyes gazed into his she saw reflected therein the man of whom she had dreamed, the hero who had demonstrated that he deserved the love and trust that she would give to him, who would always put her first, even before himself. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly as she leaned in toward him, inhaling deeply in anticipation of what would surely be the most passionate kiss of her life, a mere prelude and foretaste of what she now wanted more than she ever had before… only to feel her forward motion halted not by the warmth of Jason’s lips but by the fingers of his hand against her own lips. She opened her eyes, a look of confusion on her face.

“Angela…” Jason said softly as he leaned back slightly from her.

“Why… why did you stop me?” she asked, a worried look in her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Angela, it’s just…” he started to say.

“Don’t… don’t you want…?” she stammered, unable to understand his resistance. “I mean, I can tell that you’re… you know…” she added, looking down to where she was straddling his lap in the mud, as fully aware of his arousal beneath her body as she was of her own.

“Oh, I’m very much… ‘you know,’” Jason replied, chuckling shakily, “and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to. That I didn’t want you. You’re young, you’re gorgeous, and you’re sexy as hell. You’re ready and willing, and it would so easy for us to… ‘you know.’”

“Then why…?” she asked, her question trailing off in puzzlement. After having spent her adolescence and young adulthood fending off immature, boorish, wanna-be boyfriends who had pursued her solely as a potential sexual conquest, she felt utterly flummoxed that a mature, older man who seemed to be nothing like them, who had willingly risked his life for her, and to whom she was now ready to give herself completely, would refuse her willingness. “If anyone ever deserved what I have to give…” she said hesitantly, “what I want to give…”

“Angela,” Jason spoke her name gently again, a kindly expression on his face as he straightened up and braced himself with his arms in the mud, “you don’t owe me anything.”

“But… you saved my life!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in perplexity. “I would have died back there! I owe you—”

“No,” Jason interrupted her, shaking his head and speaking to the bewildered young woman before him in a fatherly tone that was both firm and affirming, “no, Angela, you don’t owe me anything. You owe yourself everything.”

Angela looked at him uncertainly; no other guy whom she had ever known had spoken to her in this way. “I… I don’t understand…” she replied, shaking her head slightly as her voice tapered off into unsettled silence; this was not at all how she had envisioned that her first intimate experience with a man would be.

Jason paused and took a deep breath before speaking again. “I didn’t jump into the quicksand to save you for my sake,” he finally said, leaning toward her once more. “I didn’t do it for my own gain, for my own advantage over you, or to obligate you to me in any way once I’d pulled you out. I did it for your sake.” He gestured broadly with his hand as he glanced around at their immediate surroundings. “You have your whole life in front of you,” he offered encouragingly. “You deserved a chance to live your life, not to lose it needlessly… like that,” he added, nodding toward the middle of the mud pit. “That’s why I did what I did.”

“But I don’t think you did it for yourself,” she protested quietly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I don’t think that at all. I really do believe you did it for me, for my sake. That’s why I want… why I wanted… to…” Her voice trailed off again, her heart awash in both arousal and confusion as tears began to fall from her eyes.

Jason closed his eyes momentarily and smiled before speaking again. “I know you do, Angela, and there’s a very real and insistent part of me that wants to as well.” He paused for a moment, and Angela sensed in his expression a deep struggle on his part to remain true to himself and his integrity amid deeply conflicting feelings and motivations. “But there’s another real and insistent part of me that knows that I shouldn’t, that I can’t,” he finally continued.

Angela gazed longingly at him, desire and disappointment reflected on her tear-streaked face. “Why?” she finally asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Well, for starters, there’s this,” he answered softly, lifting his left hand and wiping the muck from it to reveal the gold band on his ring finger.

“Oh,” she responded bewilderedly, her eyes widening in chagrin as she shifted her body uncomfortably on his lap, “oh… I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know...”

“More than thirty years,” he replied, a gentle smile coming over his face, “longer than you’ve been alive, but it hadn’t come up in conversation before now. Besides, up till now you and I’ve had more pressing concerns, such as saving you from the quicksand.”

Angela lowered her head as her face reddened, feeling both embarrassed and ashamed over her forwardness. Oh, god… how could I have been so stupid?! she berated herself. At his age, of course he’s married, and he probably has kids, maybe even daughters, my age! He risked everything to save my life, and here I am, making a complete fool of myself… She felt as though she would never again be able to look him in the eye, that now he must surely think the worst of her. “You must think it was really slutty of me to have wanted…” she finally replied, humiliation and self-incrimination filling her heart as her voice trailed off quietly.

“No, Angela,” Jason responded in a gentle, reassuring tone, “I don’t think that at all. I think you’re a wonderful, beautiful young woman, and you deserve to share the most tender, intimate part of yourself with someone who loves you as you love him, someone who’s ready and able to share that same part of himself with you.” She felt another tear trickle down her cheek as he gestured at the mudflat behind her. “But think about everything you’ve just gone through,” he continued. “You were trapped in the quicksand, sinking, scared to death, and then you actually went under. You really would have died if I hadn’t been able to pull you out, and you almost did. Your emotions and feelings are all on edge. They’re over the edge. So are mine, to be honest.” Angela felt him shudder under her weight as his own words trailed off momentarily in the face of the grim reality of what had almost happened to them both.

“Angela, there’s a very real part of me that truly wants to make wet, messy, passionate love to you right here, right now, in the mud,” Jason affirmed as he pointed emphatically toward the muck in which they were both sitting, his face flushing with the directness of his words as he looked into her eyes. “Believe me, that part of me is telling me so in no uncertain terms,” he added as Angela closed her eyes and turned away slightly, feeling embarrassed again at hearing her own desires spoken out loud. “But I can’t,” he continued, “and not just because I’m married. Remember all those boys and men you told me about, who treated you like shit?”

“What about them?” she asked quietly, glancing back toward him.

“You said they only wanted you for sex,” Jason replied, “that they thought you were ‘good for fucking’ and that was it. They saw you developing into a beautiful young woman and all they wanted was either to possess you or to tear you down if they couldn’t have you.”

Angela looked aside again, the memories of how she’d been so frequently treated by boys and men while she was growing up still weighing heavily on her heart. “They saw me only as a plaything,” she sighed wearily, “something they could use and toss aside when they were done with me... if I’d let them.”

“You said I was nothing like them—” Jason started to say.

“You’re not!” she insisted, turning her gaze back toward him. “You’re kind and sweet, you’re brave, and you care about me! You risked your life for me! You’re nothing like them at all!”

“I hope I’m not,” Jason responded quietly, “I like to believe that I’m not. But I also know there’s a very real part of myself that could be just like that, that could and would use you for my own gratification. I could easily be just as much a monster toward you as all those other guys were, and what better excuse, what better justification, than that I had saved your life and you wanted me to!”

Angela smiled at him through teary eyes at the irony of his words. “I’m having a hard time picturing you as a monster,” she said, laughing lightly.

“That’s why it would be so easy for me to justify it, to rationalize it, because I don’t seem to be like that,” Jason replied. “Think about it. Say we did go ahead and make love to each other right here, right now, in the mud. What would come of it?”

“What would come of it?” Angela repeated back to him as she began to giggle, a playful smile crossing her face.

Jason grinned and rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he said with a chuckle, “poor choice of words. What I mean is, what would be the result? I wouldn’t leave my wife and family to be with you, and I wouldn’t expect you to put your hopes and plans for the future on hold to be with someone who’s old enough to be your father, maybe even your grandfather!”

“Huh,” Angela grunted quietly, turning the disconcerting image over in her mind; of all the figures of speech that he could have used, he would have to employ one that referenced her grandfather, whose love and attention toward her had certainly never been prurient. “Eww, now that you put it that way,” she laughed again, her feelings of sadness and disappointment beginning to dissipate.

“As I was saying,” Jason replied, laughing along with her, “if we were to do this, to go ahead and… you know… in the future you would always have reason for doubt, for wondering if your ‘hero’ were really just another monster who had used you for his own pleasure and then tossed you aside when he was done with you. There’s only one way for both of us to be certain that I am in fact ‘nothing’ like that, as you said, and that’s if—”

“If we don’t… do this,” Angela finished his sentence for him. She sighed wistfully as she lifted her head and looked up at the trees and the blue sky above them, her own sense of arousal and desire slowly fading, and then turned her body to look at the river and the miry spot behind her that had nearly claimed her life. Huh, she reflected silently while shaking her head lightly, the one man I’ve ever wanted to make love to, and he says no for all the right reasons… not because he thinks I’m not worth anything… but because he thinks I’m worth everything… Her hero, her shining knight, truly had put her first, she realized… even before himself and his own desires. She inhaled deeply as she continued gazing at the muddy expanse for several seconds, seemingly lost in thought as she reflected upon the events of earlier that afternoon that had brought them both to this point, before she finally turned back toward Jason. “You know,” she said at last, “you still haven’t asked me what I was doing out here in the mud in the first place.”

“Um… well,” he said, the memory of his eye-opening encounter with her earlier that day clearly still evident to him, “it was kind of obvious what you were doing.”

“Very funny,” she laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. “I mean, you haven’t asked me why I would want to… enjoy myself like that in the mud, even after what it led to.”

“I figured it was none of my business,” Jason replied, shaking his head. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to be walking down the trail earlier only to come across a beautiful, naked girl standing thigh-deep in the mud and… um… enjoying herself, as you put it, but once you fell into trouble and I came back to help, I wasn’t going to demand an explanation or lecture you before trying to pull you out: ‘Now see here, young lady…’” he said jokingly in a nasal, faux holier-than-thou tone of voice as he wagged his finger playfully in her face.

“Stop it,” Angela laughed again, lightly batting his hand away. “Though I do feel like a real fool about what happened, especially since we both nearly died because of it,” she said as she turned and pointed to the riverbank near the mudflat behind her. “This has always been my favorite spot to sunbathe, especially now because it’s so isolated and almost no one ever hikes this part of the trail anymore because of all the trees and boulders that fell after the storms a couple of years ago,” she explained. “I think the storms may have even carved out this whole mudflat area when the river flooded, because it wasn’t always here,” she continued, gesturing toward the miry area behind her. “Anyway, once I discovered it, I thought from time to time that it might be fun to explore it, but today was the first time I worked up my nerve to finally step into it.” Angela smiled as she thought back to her virginal, naïve expectation of her first time going into the mud. “I liked how it felt around my legs,” she went on, “and as I moved further and deeper into it I realized that I really liked how it felt around my legs, so… well…” She chuckled as she turned back to face him, the seductive allure of the thought of her body sinking into the mire momentarily sparking her arousal again. “I thought I’d have the whole place to myself, so I decided to take off my bikini and have a little private… playtime. I sure wasn’t expecting to see you step around the end of all this greenery any more than you were expecting to see me pleasuring myself in the mud!”

Jason chuckled along with her at her mention of that fateful moment. “I’m not sure which of us was more embarrassed,” he said, “you trying to cover yourself with your hands or me trying not to stare at you!”

Angela brought her hand to her mouth and giggled, her eyes sparkling as she recalled her futile attempts to conceal what she had been doing the first time they’d seen each other. “That must have been quite an introduction,” she said with a widening smile on her face. “‘Pleased to meet you; pardon me while I come!’” They both broke down laughing at the memory of the titillating moment, and Angela marveled at how free and comfortable she felt discussing such intimate matters with someone whom she had only just met and was only just beginning to get to know.

“Anyway,” she continued, still chuckling, “it turns out there’s a drop-off over there in front of where I was standing when you came by and saw me, like there is on this side,” she said, pointing back to the other side of the mudflat. “Only I didn’t know there was a drop-off in front of me; I thought it was all maybe waist-deep at most… you know, perfectly safe… and so after you went on up the trail and I went back to my… private time, I wanted to see if I could get a little deeper in the mud so I could pretend I was sinking in quicksand while I—”

“Waaaiiit a minute,” Jason interrupted her, a startled expression overtaking his face, “you wanted to pretend that you were in quicksand… the stuff that almost killed you… while you…?” He stared at her, utter confusion etched on his face.

“Um… uh, yeah,” Angela answered after a moment’s hesitation, her face reddening again as she realized that she had just revealed something else quite personal about herself to someone who was still essentially a stranger. Oh, my god! she scolded herself, Why did I go and say that?! She swallowed hard as she considered how she was possibly going to explain herself to him, especially after what they had both gone through only a short while before; however, given how very much she had already shared about herself with him, to say nothing of the very intimate sharing of herself that only minutes before she had freely and urgently offered to him, she knew that there was no real reason to hold back now from telling him everything, no matter how uncomfortable or embarrassing it might be to do so. “Okay,” she continued after several seconds, her eyes wandering uncertainly, “you might as well know, especially since you risked your life for me.” She took a deep breath and nervously tapped her hand on her thigh as she prepared to share something about herself that she’d never told another person face to face. “Deep mud and quicksand are… kind of a… fetish… of mine.”

Jason stared intently at Angela’s face as she nervously smiled back at him; she could only imagine the incredulous thoughts that must surely be racing through his mind after her most recent revelation about herself. Boy, she said silently as each gazed at the other, I’ll bet that’s something you never expected to hear a girl tell you when you started hiking the mountain trail earlier today…

After several seconds of wordless consideration Jason inhaled deeply and cleared his throat. “All right,” he said at last, more to himself than to Angela as he continued looking into her eyes, “let me get this straight. You have a thing… a fetish… for deep mud and quicksand.”

“Yeah,” she replied, laughing uneasily. “Not to go under and die in it, of course, but for the thrill, for the fantasy of sinking and being trapped and in danger. I guess it’s kind of a… ‘mud bondage’ thing for me. I’ve had this fascination for as long as I can remember.” Along with a fetish-creature whom I just discovered today that wants to smother me in quicksand, she added silently.

Jason went on staring at her for several seconds in an obvious attempt to assimilate what she was confessing about herself before he spoke again. “And when I came by earlier before you fell into trouble and you were… enjoying yourself in the mud,” he finally continued, “that was part of your… fetish.”

“Uh-huh,” she answered hesitantly, averting her eyes as she wondered how highly her “hero” still thought of her.

“Then after I left,” Jason went on, “you went back to your fetish fantasy of… pretending… that you were trapped and sinking in quicksand while you… enjoyed yourself.”

Angela turned aside, her face blushing both at hearing her private “kink” being discussed out loud by someone who was old enough to be her father, maybe even her grandfather (eww), and at the memory of what had happened next. “Yeah,” she finally answered as she looked back at him, “but like I said, I didn’t know there was a drop-off where it would be over my head. So once I moved forward to where I thought I would be in the deepest part of the mud but still safe, I let my fantasy take over, but I didn’t know I was right at the edge. Well, just as I came I lost my footing… and I…”

“And you went over the edge in more ways than one,” Jason interjected, “and your fantasy became a deadly reality that almost killed us both.”

Angela looked down again and closed her eyes, certain that she had just squandered what remaining good will that she might have had with Jason now that he knew that the whole reason for why he had had to risk his life for her was because of her private fetish. She wished that she could crawl into a hole and die… or, absent said hole, perhaps jump into a convenient, nearby pit of bottomless quicksand to achieve the same result; her fetish-creature would certainly approve of that second course of action. “If you didn’t think so before,” she finally replied, embarrassment evident in her voice, “you must really think I’m the biggest slut in the world now.”

“No,” Jason responded gently as he reached out toward her, cupping her chin in his right hand and lifting her head as he looked at her, “no, I don’t think that at all, Angela. I suppose that everyone has their private turn-ons, some more unusual than others. And regardless of how you ended up in real danger, you still deserved a chance to live, and I don’t regret jumping into the quicksand to save you,” he continued. “But considering that we both very nearly lost our lives over your… fetish… well, speaking as someone who’s old enough to be your father, maybe even your grandfather, there’s something I have to say to you and that you need to hear.”

Here it comes, Angela closed her eyes and sighed as she braced herself for Jason’s inevitable “parental” reprimand. After what they had both been through, after what she had put him through, whatever he was about to say, she knew that she would deserve it.

Jason held her gaze for several seconds before slowly raising his right hand and extending his index finger toward her face. He took a deep breath and, after a moment’s pause, said to her, “Now see here, young lady…” in the same joking, nasal tone of voice that he had used earlier, a wry grin coming over his face as he winked at her and wagged his finger playfully.

Angela’s eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected show of humor as she burst out laughing, relieved that he wasn’t angry with her. “Oh my gosh, I was so afraid that you hated me!” she cried as she joyfully flung her arms around his neck in a spontaneous embrace, knocking him back into the shallow mud as she held on to him.

Jason laughed along with her as he returned her hug. “I could never hate you, Angela,” he replied, smiling back at her as he held the elated young woman in his arms. “If I’ve learned anything from raising five kids and getting to know their friends, it’s to be open and accepting of others despite the differences between them and myself,” he chuckled as he looked into her shining green eyes. “Though I will admit, your telling me that you have a fetish for the very thing that almost killed you because of that fetish was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

She smiled and laughed lightly at his sense of irony as she lay on top of him in the mud. “Yeah, especially since I’d never tried anything like this before,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Leave it to me to nearly kill myself the first time I finally do!”

Jason chuckled at her self-deprecation even as his voice took on more of a sober tone. “Listen, Angela,” he said to her, “I’ve joked about being old enough to be your father, although the ‘old enough’ part isn’t really a joke...” Angela giggled at his own sense of humor over the wide gap between their ages. “And I don’t presume to tell you how to live your life,” he continued, “but if you’ll let me put on my ‘dad’ hat for a moment, I want to say that whenever, if ever, you try this again, whether it’s here or somewhere else, please take along a rope or a pole you can use to make sure you can get back out, especially if you don’t know how deep it is.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, rolling her eyes again and sighing over her earlier carelessness, “but today was impetuous, spur of the moment. I looked out at the mudflat after I got up from sunbathing and thought, ‘I’m gonna do this.’ I really didn’t plan it in advance.”

“That can really mean the difference between an enjoyable time and a tragedy,” he said, nodding his head, an earnest expression on his face, “and it might be even better to bring a friend along with you in case something goes wrong, like what happened earlier.”

“Oh, I’ve never told anyone I know about my fetish!” she replied, her eyes widening uneasily at the thought. “I mean, besides you now. And I’d be too embarrassed to… enjoy myself in the mud in front of someone who didn’t understand it.”

“I can… appreciate that,” Jason responded, a momentary pause in his reply, “but still, the next time you indulge your fetish like this, please be careful. I don’t want to have to say, ‘Now see here, young lady,’ for real!” he added, once again wagging his finger playfully at her.

“Okay, ‘Dad,’” Angela replied, snickering at his jocularity as she pushed herself up with her arms while still lying on top of him. As she gazed into his eyes, which she again noted had followed her eyes as she rose and not her bare, muddy breasts, which were now dangling before him, she found herself wishing that her own father had been like Jason: encouraging and supportive of her, faithful to his wife and family, respectful of women, educated and knowledgeable about—

“Say,” she then added, a curious expression coming over her face, “how do you know so much about staying safe in deep mud and quicksand? It’s not like they teach classes on it in school or anything.”

Jason's face reddened beneath her as an odd expression came over his face. “Um… it just… um… makes sense, I think,” he answered hesitatingly, “to make sure your fantasy of being trapped in quicksand stays just a fantasy. If you don’t know anyone you feel you can trust to be understanding about your fetish,” he added, the same unsettled look in his eyes, “I think it’d be a good idea to at least have a rope handy to pull yourself out with, or a long pole you can use for leverage.”

“Hmm,” she replied as a mischievous grin came over her lips. “A long pole, you say?” she giggled as her lower body still lay against his in the mud, the residual hardness inside his shorts beneath her weight still evident to her. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I indulge my… fetish.” She broke out laughing again at the playful naughtiness that she felt so comfortable expressing in Jason’s presence as he chucklingly joined in with her hilarity.

As their laughter began to recede, Angela found herself reflecting upon Jason’s specific knowledge about mud and quicksand, his hesitant reaction to her comments about her attraction to it, and what her creature had said about him when she had been trapped beneath the miry surface after her first disastrous indulgence of her quicksand fantasy. Recognizing that her creature’s suspicions about Jason were in a real sense her own, she decided to probe a bit more deeply. “Speaking of fetishes,” she said matter-of-factly, “there’s a whole community of people on the Internet who have a thing for sinking in mud and quicksand. Did you know that?”

Jason stared at her wide-eyed, his face flushing as though she had just unearthed a deeply buried secret. “Um, uh, no, Angela, I didn’t,” he stammered in a way that immediately suggested to her that he was being less than truthful… which only further spurred her curiosity.

“They have an online forum for discussion and videos and member contributions and everything,” Angela explained in a nonchalant tone of voice, testing the waters. “It’s been around for quite a while, but I only discovered it a little over a year ago. Sometimes I’ll leave a comment, but mostly I just lurk and read what others post.” She sensed Jason’s increasing uneasiness as he lay beneath her in the mud, which only further convinced her that she was now on to something about her hero.

“I’ve never met any of them in person, only online,” she subtly baited him, angling for a bite, “but from what I can tell they’re all good, decent people who happen to have this… thing… for mud and quicksand.”

“I’m… sure of that,” Jason spluttered haltingly. “That they’re good and decent people, I mean.”

“Mm-hmm,” she concurred, a coy smile coming over her face. “For a lot of the guys, the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing, watching a beautiful woman sinking helplessly in quicksand, is a real turn on. Some people really get off on it.”

Jason only stared back at her in reply, seemingly at a complete loss for words as she felt the hardness between his legs growing only harder beneath her.

“Of course, I never thought I’d one day be that kind of ‘damsel’ in real life!” Angela said laughingly as she turned and looked back toward the deep area of the mudflat where she had nearly drowned in its smothering depths. You know, Jason, she said silently in her heart, my creature insisted that you have a fetish for women sinking to their doom in quicksand, she reflected as she stared out over the miry place, and now I think you really do, even if you don’t want to admit it to me… and if you are who I think you are, I’ve already read on the forum what you said about your own monster in your head and what it wants, she considered as she recalled her terror at being trapped beneath the surface of the sucking ooze, but what matters is that you put me first, before yourself and your fetish… so you could save me. She turned back toward him, gazing at him for several seconds with an odd little smile on her face that suggested that she knew something that she wasn’t going to say out loud.

“You know, I’m feeling really beat after all that’s happened,” she finally said, a hint of wistfulness still evident in her voice. “I know we’re not going to… you know… but would it be okay if we just… lay down here and rested for a while?”

A smile came over Jason’s face in response to her innocuous words, and Angela sensed relief on his part at what she had proposed. “C’mere,” he said gently, putting his arm around her shoulder as she settled against his chest while he reclined in the shallow mud. Her struggles against the grip of the quicksand, both before Jason had arrived and afterward, truly had drained her of her strength, she recognized, and, despite her lingering sense of arousal, she found herself craving sleep as she never had before. She lay next to him on his left, her head nestled under his chin, her body partially draped over his as she breathed restfully, their respiration and heartbeats mingling and from time to time synchronizing as they lay next to each other, and as Angela felt herself sinking into unconsciousness a random memory surfaced in her reposing mind, a memory of the times in her childhood when she would curl up next to her grandfather in his easy chair at the end of a busy day on the farm and take a nap in his strong but gentle embrace, and in her heart she knew that she was once again safe.



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

To be concluded in Part 8: “Angela’s Promise.”

[Solrex]

In the original story, I remember screaming "Just tell her you have a quicksand fetish! She just told you!" But now I'm at least comforted by the fact that she knew all along. This was a great story, and I'll save the last part for when I'm in the mood to read it, I've really enjoyed reading this whole thing. I hope I could write a massive multipart story like this one day, but for now, I'll just have to settle for smaller stories.

Question though, did you take 6 months to write and edit all of this, or was a lot of that time just spent doing other stuff because you lacked motivation to finish the story? Cause I'm kinda stuck for writing my Animusa Part 2 and was wondering if you had something similar going on here, or if I'm just a lazy writer, and you were just editing this whole time. Either way, if you could explain that, it might help me improve my writing skills and/or writing.

[JSample]

In the original story, I remember screaming "Just tell her you have a quicksand fetish! She just told you!" But now I'm at least comforted by the fact that she knew all along. This was a great story, and I'll save the last part for when I'm in the mood to read it, I've really enjoyed reading this whole thing. I hope I could write a massive multipart story like this one day, but for now, I'll just have to settle for smaller stories.

Ha-ha, I remember when I was writing "The Kid" and had reached the point where Angela says to Jason, "You still haven’t asked me what I was doing out here in the mud in the first place," and as I kept writing I said to myself, "Okay, what was she doing out there in the mud in the first place? Oh, wait... of course... she must also have a quicksand fetish!" I literally did not think to give her character such a fetish until the words popped out of her mouth... er, out of my keystrokes. At first my thinking had truly been that she just liked how the mud felt on her legs and then had had the naughty idea to strip naked and pleasure herself in it. But as I kept writing I realized that there had to be more to it than that, that she too must have a quicksand fetish and that, at least for the sake of the story, she must also be on the quicksand forum... and must have also read Jason's earlier posts! At that time I hadn't yet decided to write "The Girl" as a side-quel to "The Kid," and part my motivation for Angela's eye-opening revelations about herself to Jason was not just to develop her character but was also to poke fun at the character representing myself, as a way of keeping my character (i.e., myself) humble and off-balance since I had already cast myself as the hero of the story! But once I started writing this new story, I took what had started out as a humorous twist in the first story and developed it, along with her negative experiences with boys and men, into the foundation of Angela's entire character and background in this story.

I'm really glad that you've enjoyed my story so far, and I believe that you could also write an extended story of your own once you set your mind to it. But there's nothing wrong with short stories as well; what matters is saying what you want to say, however long or short a story that takes. I've got some additional story ideas of my own that I know would come nowhere near the length of my last two stories and might actually make it as one-parters.

Question though, did you take 6 months to write and edit all of this, or was a lot of that time just spent doing other stuff because you lacked motivation to finish the story? Cause I'm kinda stuck for writing my Animusa Part 2 and was wondering if you had something similar going on here, or if I'm just a lazy writer, and you were just editing this whole time. Either way, if you could explain that, it might help me improve my writing skills and/or writing.

It was the fourteen months I spent writing "The Kid" that actually saw a lot of time spent with me doing other things and letting the story lie fallow for weeks at a time without my working on it because I didn't feel like it, although between July and October of last year I put more regular, frequent effort into finishing it before posting it over several weeks in November. For "The Girl," however, I spent time almost every day since early December writing or at least thinking about what I wanted to do with it when I had the opportunity (my business is computer service and repair, which I do out of my home, which allows me time to think about and write quicksand stories). I spent much of December writing chapter one, January writing chapter two, and February writing chapter three. Because chapter four paralleled chapter three of "The Kid," the conversation between Jason and Angela had already been written; I just needed to adapt it and their interaction to Angela's perspective, and that only took a week-and-a-half or so in March. Then I spent the rest of March writing chapter five. Then because the last three chapters in "The Girl" parallel corresponding chapters in "The Kid," again much of their content had already been written, requiring me mainly to adapt the narrative perspective from Jason to Angela, removing references to what he was thinking and replacing them with what was going on in her mind. That took only about three weeks, at which time I felt ready to post chapter one almost four weeks ago on April 21st. There was no lack of motivation to finish the story; I wanted to finish it, but I also already knew what direction I wanted to take it and where and how I wanted to finish it because its "template" had already been written.

Having said that, I also want to say not to sell yourself short or think that you're lazy just because you feel stuck on your own story. Everyone has his or her own approach to storytelling and writing style; mine just happens to be highly detailed and multi-layered, but I can also assure you that not all the details of my stories are mapped out in advance. I didn't know that Angela was going to confront her fetish-creature face to face until it showed up in her reflection in the quicksand while I was writing chapter three, neither did I know that she was going to have a full-on near-death experience in chapter five until I was writing her sinking sequence near the end of chapter four, nor did I know that Angela's creature was a succubus until it became clear to me that it was while it was torturing her beneath the surface of the quicksand. This is another way of saying to let your story take you where it wants to go while you're writing it; maybe the best way to get unstuck on part two of your story is simply to start writing and see what happens, regardless of whether you know where you're going to end up; after all, you can always hit "backspace" or "delete" if you're not happy with what you've written and try a different direction. Also, don't be afraid to incorporate aspects of yourself and your own experiences in your story, regardless of whether the story is about "you" or not. Also, while I wouldn't presume to tell you how to write part two of your own story, I will go back and reread part one of your Animusa story just to remind myself what you did with it; I might be able to suggest some ideas for you if you like.

[Solrex]

In the original story, I remember screaming "Just tell her you have a quicksand fetish! She just told you!" But now I'm at least comforted by the fact that she knew all along. This was a great story, and I'll save the last part for when I'm in the mood to read it, I've really enjoyed reading this whole thing. I hope I could write a massive multipart story like this one day, but for now, I'll just have to settle for smaller stories.

Ha-ha, I remember when I was writing "The Kid" and had reached the point where Angela says to Jason, "You still haven’t asked me what I was doing out here in the mud in the first place," and as I kept writing I said to myself, "Okay, what was she doing out there in the mud in the first place? Oh, wait... of course... she must also have a quicksand fetish!" I literally did not think to give her character such a fetish until the words popped out of her mouth... er, out of my keystrokes. At first my thinking had truly been that she just liked how the mud felt on her legs and then had had the naughty idea to strip naked and pleasure herself in it. But as I kept writing I realized that there had to be more to it than that, that she too must have a quicksand fetish and that, at least for the sake of the story, she must also be on the quicksand forum... and must have also read Jason's earlier posts! At that time I hadn't yet decided to write "The Girl" as a side-quel to "The Kid," and part my motivation for Angela's eye-opening revelations about herself to Jason was not just to develop her character but was also to poke fun at the character representing myself, as a way of keeping my character (i.e., myself) humble and off-balance since I had already cast myself as the hero of the story! But once I started writing this new story, I took what had started out as a humorous twist in the first story and developed it, along with her negative experiences with boys and men, into the foundation of Angela's entire character and background in this story.

I'm really glad that you've enjoyed my story so far, and I believe that you could also write an extended story of your own once you set your mind to it. But there's nothing wrong with short stories as well; what matters is saying what you want to say, however long or short a story that takes. I've got some additional story ideas of my own that I know would come nowhere near the length of my last two stories and might actually make it as one-parters.

Question though, did you take 6 months to write and edit all of this, or was a lot of that time just spent doing other stuff because you lacked motivation to finish the story? Cause I'm kinda stuck for writing my Animusa Part 2 and was wondering if you had something similar going on here, or if I'm just a lazy writer, and you were just editing this whole time. Either way, if you could explain that, it might help me improve my writing skills and/or writing.

It was the fourteen months I spent writing "The Kid" that actually saw a lot of time spent with me doing other things and letting the story lie fallow for weeks at a time without my working on it because I didn't feel like it, although between July and October of last year I put more regular, frequent effort into finishing it before posting it over several weeks in November. For "The Girl," however, I spent time almost every day since early December writing or at least thinking about what I wanted to do with it when I had the opportunity (my business is computer service and repair, which I do out of my home, which allows me time to think about and write quicksand stories). I spent much of December writing chapter one, January writing chapter two, and February writing chapter three. Because chapter four paralleled chapter three of "The Kid," the conversation between Jason and Angela had already been written; I just needed to adapt it and their interaction to Angela's perspective, and that only took a week-and-a-half or so in March. Then I spent the rest of March writing chapter five. Then because the last three chapters in "The Girl" parallel corresponding chapters in "The Kid," again much of their content had already been written, requiring me mainly to adapt the narrative perspective from Jason to Angela, removing references to what he was thinking and replacing them with what was going on in her mind. That took only about three weeks, at which time I felt ready to post chapter one almost four weeks ago on April 21st. There was no lack of motivation to finish the story; I wanted to finish it, but I also already knew what direction I wanted to take it and where and how I wanted to finish it because its "template" had already been written.

Having said that, I also want to say not to sell yourself short or think that you're lazy just because you feel stuck on your own story. Everyone has his or her own approach to storytelling and writing style; mine just happens to be highly detailed and multi-layered, but I can also assure you that not all the details of my stories are mapped out in advance. I didn't know that Angela was going to confront her fetish-creature face to face until it showed up in her reflection in the quicksand while I was writing chapter three, neither did I know that she was going to have a full-on near-death experience in chapter five until I was writing her sinking sequence near the end of chapter four, nor did I know that Angela's creature was a succubus until it became clear to me that it was while it was torturing her beneath the surface of the quicksand. This is another way of saying to let your story take you where it wants to go while you're writing it; maybe the best way to get unstuck on part two of your story is simply to start writing and see what happens, regardless of whether you know where you're going to end up; after all, you can always hit "backspace" or "delete" if you're not happy with what you've written and try a different direction. Also, don't be afraid to incorporate aspects of yourself and your own experiences in your story, regardless of whether the story is about "you" or not. Also, while I wouldn't presume to tell you how to write part two of your own story, I will go back and reread part one of your Animusa story just to remind myself what you did with it; I might be able to suggest some ideas for you if you like.

Thank you for this. It helped.