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Dirty Pictures (mf, voyerism, mud b/d)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This short, fictional story contains adult situations and mud.
If any of these might offend you, please do not continue. The author
gives rights for the non-profit distribution of this story provided it is
unaltered
and includes this message and credit. All comments, suggestions, related
experiences and stories are welcomed by the author and may be sent
to: [email protected].
***Dirty Pictures***
by [email protected]
About 5 years ago I was out with Jen, a new friend of mine
who wanted to get into modeling. We were going to do some shots
along a nearby lake. As we were driving out to this spot I knew
of, we crossed a little bridge that apparently was to undergo
construction (2 to 4 lane expansion) and the brilliant Texas
construction crew, as bright as most of them are, came up with a
solution to the problem of what to do with the water flowing
underneath. They had bulldozed a dam of earth into the river
which was about 20 feet wide at that spot, but flared out to over
75 feet thereafter. Well, the riverbed was made up of deep,
black silt, and the dam squished all of the mud under it forward,
on top of the existing mud. So behind the dam the water was
rising, and in front of it was a big sea of mud!!!
After a couple of quick rolls at the other site, I told Jen
that we HAD to go back! Once there we hiked around it, tossed in
rocks that quickly sank with a "blup." Jen knew EXACTLY how to
egg me on, and began to do so.
"Man, that looks deep... I don't think anyone could make it
through that stuff..." Like a bull charging red, I picked up an
empty pop bottle (unfortunately plenteous around Texas lakes) and
replied "Put your cheesecake where your mouth is (she made *great
strawberry cheesecakes!). Toss it in & I'll bring it back here."
"Shoes on for the strawberries?" she confirmed. At this
point I began to sense that she knew a little about mud (as you
might know, mud suction on shoes is MUCH more than around smooth,
bare feet). I nodded and she wound up and whipped it EXACTALLY
to a little point at the farthest point away, about 60 feet....
It was then, by her confident smirk, that I realized she played
softball (pitcher, in fact). After asking her if she wanted to
try another, she shook her head, smiled and pointed out across
the mire.
I got a 5 foot running start and leapt off the bank, hoping
to gain a 5-8 foot head start. Totally to my surprise, I sunk
immediately to my belly button! It was that thick, oily, black
mud that wasn't runny enough to be a liquid, but easily yielded
to any pressure. About 3 feet below, the mud was thicker and as
I tried to extract one foot, the mud sucked relentlessly, only
causing me to sink deeper. Jen sat and chuckled, obviously very
much enjoying my predicament.
Up to my chest, I asked "Just strawberries for shoes?" and
she conceded that if I still got the bottle without getting
pulled out, the cheesecake without strawberries was mine. I slipped off
the shoes (old sneakers, never to be seen again) and as my submerged
bare feet provided less suction, they also provided less support and I
wallowed a little deeper, until floating just under my armpits in
the wonderful, black ooze. It was being French kissed all over
my body and I was content to plunge my arms in and slowly "swim"
for a while. I noticed Jen starting to writhe a bit and
occasionally biting her lower lip. When I invited her to join me
she shook her head, smiled and said "No thanks... I'm *very*
content to just watch..." which much to my surprise, I thoroughly
enjoyed!
After a few minutes I realized that if I was to actually
collect on the bet I had better save some energy and get going!
So I floated myself up to the top and started "swimming" toward
the half submerged bottle. It was slow going, with the mud
getting thicker across the middle (further from the standing
water). The mud started coating my body thicker and thicker,
until each arm weighed seemingly a ton heavier, and stuck like
glue to anything it came in contact with. After 10 minutes of
struggle, I reached my trophy, and threw the mud-laden bottle
back. It made it only to about the point where I had
wallowed before, about 15 feet more "inland."
The return trip was quicker, since I stayed on top more and
went across the firmer middle. But when I reached the bottle,
the mud became a cross between the liquid-oily mud and the thick
tar-like mud. It was just thick enough to squish delightfully
between my toes but still not thick enough to roll across. As I
again sank, I tossed the bottle up onto the bank, with an
unenthusiastic round of applause from my willing audience. I
couldn't get out as easily of this new, slick mud. I writhed until I
had sank up to my armpits and Jen exclaimed: "I'm getting the
camera for "black-mud-mail" shots! Better get out quickly!" and ran
for the car. I realized that Jen would most likely post the photos on
the campus bulletin boards. The thought of being seen like this by
my peers was disastrous, so I frantically tried to extract myself.
The lower mud was much thicker here and after the past 25
minutes of struggling, I was starting to tire. As she ran back
to the mudhole, she snapped a couple shots. Realizing that she
would get back before I could get out, I decided to give
her an added surprise (my motto is if you're going to do
something, do it all the way!) She sat down and with that
earlier smile said "Well, keep struggling!" to which I
responded by tossing my muddy shorts, removed while she was away,
into her lap! The slick, cool, slippery muck quickly caressed
the newly bared skin as I squirmed, seeping between my cheeks and
making everything so wonderfully slick and smooth! I realized
that even if my mind wanted to get out, my body was very content
where it was!
She picked up my mud-laden shorts and started to
wipe the goo off of her crotch. Then her hand slid into her
shorts and began caressing her own wet mire. This only
encouraged me to struggle harder and faster. Jen also noticed
this and slowly put down the camera and began
slowly writhing as she indulged in watching my actions, however,
she resisted all of my encouragement ( & pleas!) to come on in
and join me. Soon her hand was struggling and
floundering as much as I was and I imagined that *I was* her hand
in her deep, wet, warm bog. The mud sucked and caressed my naked
flesh like I imagined she would until she started a long,
growing moan, which put me over the edge. Crying out, we both
came in unison, bodies arched in ecstasy. Afterward, we relaxed,
I floating in the bog and her on the firm, solid shore. Finally
she looked out at me, breathed a content sigh and said "I'm
leaving in 15 minutes to get a beer... you had better get out!"
It was getting close to sunset (I had been in the mud about an
hour) and I started to slowly extricate myself as Jen snapped the final
pics, nimbly dodging the mud-missiles I threw at her.
Finally, I managed to work my way to the surface and slither out.
My exhausted, mud-caked body was no match for her slim, nimble
motions, and she dangled my mud-caked shorts just out of my reach
as I chased her around the edge of the mud. Finally, she tossed
them into the clean water beyond the mud and ran for the road and
the safety of passing traffic, leaving me with no choice but to
clean up and trudge back to the car with promises of beer and
cheesecake. She kept the pictures, and only posted them on the
note board in her bedroom... a memento of the day.
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