Two weeks ago, I had my first romp in quarry clay, and it was good enough that I needed to write about the experience. This past Sunday, I had my first romp in quarry clay with another person, and it was good enough to warrant its own narrative. After my first wallow, the experience stuck with me for the entire week afterwards. I made a post asking if anyone wanted to join me and even went back the following Wednesday to experience the whole thing over again. Honestly, after my first trip to the quarry, I'm not sure I can look at mudding, WAM, or even day-to-day existence the same way ever again. It was a life-changing experience in the same vein as finding your soulmate or learning how to walk. So, when nobody responded to my calls for a partner within a few days, I was disappointed but not overly-bothered. I just figured that either nobody was terribly interested or that people were too far-away to make the whole thing worth it. As it turned out, I just had to wait a few extra days for the right person to look in the right place.
A week to the day of my first blog post, I see a new message on my dashboard. Clicking on it, I see a new message from a girl, "PaintPrincess". The message was short and complimented my story as well as mentioning her proximity to me. I'd received a few messages like this since the story went out so I thanked her for reading and reiterated how good the clay was. The day after, I saw a new message from PaintPrincess, stating that she had seen my request for a partner and that she was interested in joining me. Coincidentally, I had plans to go to the quarry again that very night and while I didn't think it would be wise to bring another person with me on only my second trip in, I figured that one more trip would give me enough experience to be a decent guide. I messaged her back, telling her that I would be going back that night and that, assuming all went well, I would be more than happy to have her on my next excursion.
That evening, I made my way back for another long wallowing session. I don't want to get too deep into detail since it would mostly be repeating my first experience, but suffice to say it was just as good; confirming that the first time wasn't just a fluke: quarries are just that magical. After getting back that night, showering, and flopping into bed, I remember one of my last thoughts before falling asleep was the uncertainty of what that experience would be like with another person.
The next day, I woke up and started a long message to my potential mudding partner, giving her information on where the quarry was, when I could get there, protocol for what to bring, and plenty of other logistical odds-and-ends. The time I gave her was that Sunday, partially for security's sake and partially because it was the easiest day for me to get out of work before it was too late at night. Part of me was skeptical that she would still be interested after so much information, but I wasn't going to be comfortable slowly dumping the info on her just to get her hopes up. Later that day, I was surprised to learn that she was completely okay with the time I requested and she gave me a small list of her own personal information to help with my planning. This was the moment that I realized it would work out, and my skepticism quickly turned to excitement.
We messaged each-other back and forth in the days that followed, exchanging contact information, selfies, and other odds-and-ends that would prove useful for the big night. We also started talking about our interests and hobbies outside of WAM and discovered that we had a fair amount in-common. We were both asexual, were pretty introverted, were close to the same age, and even shared some hobbies including writing. As the days ticked by, she admitted that she was really nervous and while I was trying to play the welcoming, comforting guide, it was becoming tough to hide my own excitement and nerves. Finally, that Sunday night, I finished work and immediate set out for our intended meetup spot. Just a little over an hour later, I arrived, and she was already there.
Parking my car, I stepped out and offered to help her with her stuff. She had a big trash bag with her filled with gallon water jugs for cleanup alongside shoes, a towel, and a few other miscellaneous pieces of gear I requested. We both recognized each-other as the people in our pictures and I helped pack her bag into my back seat. She hopped into the front, buckled up, and we set off to the quarry. On the way over, I asked her how she was feeling and she admitted that she had been "bouncing off the walls" with both excitement and nerves for pretty much the whole day. After trying to appease her a bit with some experience and bad jokes, I remarked that she had already done the hardest and most-risky thing by taking the leap and trusting a stranger online. Even if we had been in-contact for almost a week, it was still a pretty big deal and I was determined to honor that trust as best I could. A little over five minutes later, we arrived at the quarry. We hopped out of the car, grabbed our gear, I turned on my lantern, and we started the trek to the clay, across the expanse of darkness between us and muddy paradise.
A little more than five minutes later, we arrived at the mud. Once we walked up the last small hill, she asked "is this it?" I responded affirmatively and we set our gear down before stripping out of our clothes. For me, being naked was mandatory and she seemed to like the idea of nothing separating her from the mud as well. Sitting on the edge of the clay, she remarked that she couldn't believe she was actually about to wallow in it. In a way, the reaction nearly mirrored my own from my first night two weeks prior, and I secretly hoped that her experience would be just as good as mine was. After a moment's hesitation, I started walking onto the unstable clay, giving her small indications of where she should put her feet and how she should move; all while trying desperately to keep my balance. It didn't take long for the first layer of mud to give way under her feet and for her to sink down to her ankles. She paused for a second out of surprise before balancing herself and struggling to pull her leg out. I suggested that she get down on her hands and knees as it made getting across the unstable mud easier and she agreed. After seeing that she was okay moving again, I continued.
I walked myself to the spot that I had churned up that Wednesday and was happy to discover that it was mostly still the same. Taking the lead, I got down on my hands and knees and began crawling into the slop. My hand quickly sunk past my elbows and the soft mud began rising up and over my knees. I hauled myself to the center and started trying to stand up. My previous spot was still in decent shape, but it was a little firmer than it had been. It swallowed me up to my thighs, but it was tough to get deeper than that. The best mud would be out a little further. I sat down, letting the clay swallow my backside and letting out a light moan before beckoning her to get a little closer. She slowly crawled along the solid mud before uttering out one more "I can't believe I'm doing this" before reaching into the thick mud in front of her, and sinking down to her elbows. She gave an adorable little squeal and quickly started to drag herself next to me, resting on her backside but letting the mud swallow her lower legs.
I helped her get a little closer to my position the best I could and we rested a second. I began grabbing big handfuls of muck and smearing them over my chest and arms, which she mirrored herself. After doing this for a minute, she asked me to get her back and shoulders to which I happily acquiesced. I slowly began the process of spreading the slop over her back and, grabbing more of it as I went, spread it over her shoulders, neck, and the top of her chest. Immersing yourself in clay is an amazing feeling but there's honestly something equally-special about smearing the glop on someone else. Feeling the heat of her body under the mud, the texture of her skin under my fingers, and the way she reacted to my touch was more-satisfying than I had ever expected. Weird as it is to admit, it had been so long since I had touched another human being like this that I had forgot how much I missed it. After she was covered from neck to toe, she offered to finish on me to which I happily accepted. Smearing the slop on someone else felt great but having someone else cover you was an equally-amazing feeling. Letting the goo drip over my shoulders, across my back, and down my chest squeezed several light moans out of me and most of them were met by light giggles from my partner. The entire process was sensory fireworks show and by the time we were done, our bodies were slathered in the stuff. Now it was time for the fun part.
I crawled out a little further and found that the mud gave way quickly under my touch. Reaching out, I hauled myself into the fresh goo and began churning it up and mixing it as much as I could. She crawled over to me a few seconds later, and as I was doing my best to remove the lumps and layers underneath me, she sat next to me and announced her limits for how deep she wanted to go. I had no such limits myself, so I pushed deeper until the clay reached my chest and I reached my buoyancy point. The mud underneath me was bottomless, but I had no way to get any deeper. Now that I could go no further, I bounced up and down in the mud and admired how the slop clung to my arms and stomach. Using my arms, I also churned up the mud in front of me, occasionally taking big handfuls of it and plastering my neck, hair, and lower face in clay. Slathering mud into your hair and feeling the weight of it seep onto your head is just fantastic and soon my bounces became more-aggressive as I relished the feeling of the slop flowing over my legs, chest, backside, and crotch. Once I was happy with the status of the slop, I pulled myself out and, with her permission, started shampooing my partner's head with quarry clay. Her hair was thick and silky under my touch and the muck made soft slurping sounds as I smeared it in. After a moment of this, she asked if I wanted her to dunk my head under. At this point, the request was the best thing I could have heard. I got myself in position, said, "ready", and felt my head get pushed under a thick later of gooey quarry clay. I blew bubbles up to the surface and moaned into the sludge. This was heaven on earth, and I was loving it.
When I brought my face above the slop again, I wiped parts of it off and shook the excess mud off my head to the sound of my partner's giggling. Taking more big handfuls of mud, I continued plastering my face and head, getting lost in the moment for a second before coming back to reality and smearing a bit of extra slop onto my partner's shoulders. After a minute of massaging the mud onto her, she asked me to dunk her head as well. I got her in position right above where I had submerged myself, waited for her signal, put my hand to the back of her head and pushed her deep into the goo. She didn't hear me, but I let out my own moan then as she let loose a flurry of bubbles into the ooze. I swear, watching bubbles appear from underneath clay is one of the hottest sights on earth, and being able to see it from a real-life person, directly in front of me, was an experience I'll never forget. She brought her head back up from underneath the slop, wiped her eyes, and shook her head to clear her ears. She was plastered head-to-toe and, like I said to her afterwards, a person just becomes more-alluring when fully-coated with mud. In that moment, I don't think she could have been cuter.
Afterwards, we let our muddy hands roam around each-other for a moment, massaging the mud into each-others arms and fronts before I maneuvered behind her and worked it into her back and shoulders. Occasionally I grabbed handfuls of the top-layer of crust to thicken her coating, which she seemed to enjoy. A few minutes later, she asked me to put my arms around her and I happily did so, engaging her in a full-body mud hug. I leaned back slightly, letting the surface tension of the mud hold me up, as I held her tight in my arms. After so long without human contact, it was both a sensory and emotional cornucopia. After a minute, I asked her if I could touch her breasts, which she was okay with. I slowly took handfuls of mud and massaged them into her cleavage, letting my hands roam around her form and occasionally giving her light squeezes. For most people, this would have been a pretty sexual act, but I didn't see it that way at the time. For me, it was an act not born out of sexual desire, but out of desire for physical contact with another human being. It was a desire we both shared.
After a minute of this, I released her and laid back into the mud, kicking my legs into it and dragging extra slop over my chest. She giggled at the sight of me, totally immersed in the gunk and joined me in laying down, staring at the wispy clouds that covered the stars. It was then that we began talking, not for any particular reason but for a lack thereof reasons. I began by asking her how it was and she admitted it wasn't what she expected, but that it was in a good way. From there, the conversation took on a life of its own. We started mentioning things we enjoyed, family we loved, people we lost, all while completely oblivious to the world's problems. At that moment, for us, it was just the cool mud coating our bodies and each-other venting out the things we never could in day-to-day life. Then, we broke the conversation and engaged in another full-body hug, this time laying down in the ooze. We let our bodies close in, felt the slop drip and squeeze between us, and let our fingers roam over each-other's forms. Occasionally, we broke the embrace for another head-dunking or to smear more mud on each-other, but we said very little and just let our bodies dictate our actions for a solid 30 minutes. It was a blissful experience that I don't think either of us expected to have.
Eventually, we broke the embrace and started talking again. Our conversations drifted between all sorts of things but always ended back on the topics we never felt we were allowed to talk about elsewhere. We let ourselves vent about points of pain, personal failures, frustrations surrounding our lives, and the uncertainty of the world around us. All while occasionally taking breaks to smear extra mud on each-other's nude forms. I joked that more people should try mud-therapy, but maybe I shouldn't have said it so loosely. After the experience, I think both of us felt more-relaxed than we had in quite some time. The filth we were wallowing in was literally washing away our stress, and perhaps that was the most-unexpected and most-rewarding part of the night. It was our own slice of the world, and nothing would take it away from us.
We shifted through a bunch of different positions after that. I sat up while she slowly piled mud onto my head. She sat across from me as I smeared more mud on her exposed breasts. We hugged, we massaged, we dunked each-other, and we just got absolutely caked in the gooey slop. No matter how many times we massaged it into each-other's skin and no matter how filthy we thought we could get, we always managed to beat our expectations and cover ourselves ever so slightly more. Time passed without either of us even being aware of it. 1 AM passed us by. Then 2 AM. By the time we were even thinking about leaving, it was already 2:15; more than an hour later than I'd been in any of my previous visits. However, all good things must eventually come to an end. I helped her out of the spot of churned-up goo we'd created and we crawled our way back to solid land. Using our hands first, we wiped as much gunk away as possible, helping each-other squeeze it out of our hair, off our arms, and off our chest. Then, just as we had planned, we put on our sandals and began the five-minute trek to the wash pond where we would clean up.
I won't go too deep into our light misadventures after that point, but our collective inexperience definitely played a role. I took a steep path down to the wash pit that destroyed her sandals so I changed out of mine to save her feet from the gravel on the quarry roads. My feet were never cut but by the time we were finished, they were moderately bruised and battered. The wash water still had a fair amount of clay dust in it, so we tried using a few of our water jugs to help get the rest of the clay out of our hair. After we finished cleaning, we made our way back to the mud pit, grabbed the rest of our gear that we'd left there, and headed back to the car. It was only once we reached the car that I realized we'd forgotten her broken sandals down at the wash pond, so I got my shoes from the trunk, took a flashlight, and ran down to the pit and back to grab them. Going down to the wash pit and back, it was probably close to a mile and a half round-trip but I didn't mind. Once we got all our stuff re-organized and pulled out of our parking spot, the time was close to 3:15 so I offered to drive her home; a little less than 45 minutes away.
Once we got back to her place, we both took separate showers and embraced one final time before I left. By the time I hit the road, it was almost 4:15. Knowing that I wasn't going to sleep before the sun rose, I took a long, scenic route back to my house. Reflecting on the night I'd just had made it obvious that it was pretty special, even compared to my personal wallows before. I may not have gotten any sexual satisfaction out of it, but instead I received enough emotional and physical comfort to last me for a long time. As nice as an orgasm can be, I'm not sure it could live up to the pleasure I got from just being in the mud with another person. After she woke up the next day, she texted me to let me know that the night was equally-special for her and that she'd love to go again. I don't believe that much of anything is certain in life, but I know one thing: we WILL be back in that mud again before the summer is out. Count on it.
A huge thanks to PaintPrincess both for her part on Sunday night and for her help in giving me recommendations for how to write this. Mud can make any night amazing, but you made it special.