Can't not share. The result of reading one of your stories whilst flicking through some of your photos! Hope you enjoy. X

I was at a favourite muddy place, a secluded tidal creek which is the most mindblowing location known to me: a vast expanse of mud which starts off at toe deep, ending up deeper than the tallest person could stand in. The mud is creamy, thick, heavy clay with, considering its weight, the most gravity defying tenacity. I'd gone there alone as I'd done many, many times before over several years. The tide was still retreating, I could relax with several hours to have fun in. I was getting really into it, both in terms of mess, stuck into it way beyond my waist, and also in the headspace. It was a sunny, quiet day, the mud was deep, warm and gooey and I was starting to get pretty carried away.

Then, out of the blue, I heard the unmistakable squeak and clatter of a metal 5-bar field gate. There's only one nearby, and the only reason you'd climb or open it is to reach the isolated little field which led to where I was playing. I've never, in all the times I've been there, heard that gate, apart from when I use it myself to come and go. Stuck almost up to my chest in this heavy thick mass, I knew I didn't have time to wriggle myself free and get out to the safety of the bank... Past experiences told me that it would take at least 5 minutes to free myself and get to the bank, when by contrast it was maybe only a minute's walk across the field from the gate. I knew that this was it, I was probably going to be spotted, but by who? Would they think that I was in danger and dial 999? That's a recurring fear from choosing to play on this coastline, a place which catches out so many of the unwary that it has it's own dedicated rescue team, a horribly awkward situation to explain away to would-be rescuers.

With few options and so many uncertainties I decided the best thing I could do is to try and hide exactly where I was. Wriggling myself about, I plunged my hands deep into the thick clay mud and pulled myself further down into it, then slathered loads of it over my head and face to try make myself blend in. In no time at all I'd built up a little mound of gooey clay all around me... And I was plastered. Perfectly disguised, and the warm, almost foetal embrace of the clay felt exquisite. Nobody would spot me now, and besides, being stuck in like this felt GOOD.

No sooner had I done this, did I see the rushes on the bank waving about. A female figure appeared. A slim, petite female, wearing a white T shirt and dark tight jeans. Her body language told me that she'd not been here before. She looked out across the vast sea of mud, then exclaimed. "Oh my *GOD*..... This is INSANE" she said loudly to herself. I wasn't alarmed, since undeniably what lay before her was indeed an awe inducing, almost... *shocking* scene, the vast expanse of smooth, warm, inviting, PERILOUS mud. At the beaches nearby, countless others have required rescue, helplessly stuck and unable to free themselves, but so long as you know not to panic, know how to play the mud, it's ok here. I watched her meander back and forth along the edge of the bank, obviously moved by the almost indecent scene before her eyes... Just as I had done, years earlier on my first time here. I saw her get out a phone, she seemed to be taking photos... And who wouldn't? This person hadn't wandered so far as to see my rucksack and snacks which were hidden further along amongst the rushes.

There was no need to be alarmed, just someone taking a wander. I'd put my phone on silent, all I've got to do is keep still and wait for her to go. But she wasn't going. She seemed transfixed, almost hypnotised. She definitely hadn't seen me though, I was sure of that. She'd not once looked quite in my direction. But I'd come here to have fun and she was interrupting that. Several minutes passed. "Why doesn't she fuck off" I silently cursed in my mind. I started to become irritated, my sense of fear had gone, replaced with the frustration of not being able to do my thing. There was no risk, she's just looking, but she needs to go now and let me have my fun.

"This is going to be amazing" she said, taking off a small rucksack I'd not noticed until now. Hang on, wait, who's she talking to? Theres nobody else with her! But I was sure, certain that she could not see me. There was no way. In any case, I didn't recognise her, so why would she be talking to me? I looked at her again, a slim figured female in skinny jeans. There was something about those jeans, how she looked in them, how they fitted her, revealing her figure. The contrast between the dark fabric of her jeans and the perfect whiteness of her T shirt. Both looked new. My heartbeat strengthened. "Fucks sake, get a grip, what are you doing?" I silently mused to myself in my mind. "I just need her to go, not attract her attention". By now she'd got the rucksack off, out came a bottle of flavoured water which she sipped, almost as if contemplating something. Then, more rummaging about inside the bag. "So, which one of you wants to have some fun?" she said. "What the hell?" I thought. "She's talking to herself, why doesn't she just piss off? ' From her rucksack came a pair of really delicate slip on shoes with a ribbon bow, and then several pairs of socks, all black with brightly coloured heels and toes. 'What the fuck?' I thought. What is she DOING? Briefly I wondered if she might be some crazy trashing an ex boyfriend's clothing, but no, this wasn't a mans clothing. She was talking to herself again. "Which one of you wants to go on a little adventure, hm?" she said. Is this woman insane? I was so close, full of impatience to carry on with my bit of fun, to just calling out and telling her to go away. But that would reveal myself and make things really awkward.

The girl sat down on the bank and removed a pair of walking boots. They looked really big next to her tiny feet. Then her socks came off. "You'll do" she says, sounding pleased. "You're getting a surprise!" I watch her putting on a pair of socks from the collection which had come from her rucksack. They were jet black with bright pink heels and toes. That rich, thick pink which is the declaration of femininity. They looked new. Then, on went this pair of thin soled, summery, well, they couldn't count as shoes but were too classy to be called slip ons. My impatience grew. 'What the fuck is she doing?" I thought." Why doesn't she just fuck off?"

She stood up. "Are you ready? Because I am! We're gonna have some fun!" she said. Talking to herself again. Ffs. The urge to get on with what I'd been so rudely interrupted from, was getting quite intense. She walked closer to the edge, where the firm grass met the perilous goo.

Then she did it. Gingerly, slowly, but very deliberately, she lowered a foot from the safety of the grassy bank and onto the smooth mud. Suddenly, in a flash, my impatience evaporated. I knew what she was doing. A massive lump appeared in my throat and my heartbeat felt *dangerously* fast. But, she still hasn't seen me. I'm safe, and I know what's going on now. This is gonna be the best thing I've seen in AGES. I fought the thick clay to slip a hand towards the tingling below my tummy. "This is MENTAL" I thought.

My head spun. I felt dizzy. This can't be real. But the mud she'd set foot on was surprisingly firm. This slip of a thing couldn't weigh much, she was barely leaving footprints. Hesitantly, she took her first steps. There wasn't much to write home about, she'd chosen the highest, firmest place, where the mud is only dampened by the very highest of tides.

She wandered about, slowly, watching her feet leave impressions maybe only an inch deep. Pausing every now and then to look back at where she'd been. Then something catches her attention. She changes from a meander into a definite course. Her pace quickens. "Ooh HELLO" I hear her say. "Someone's been having fun. Look at THOSE!" Then stops. "That's a big footprint. I wonder who made that?" She hovers a foot above it, then pauses. Her feet must be half the size of mine, but the hole left by my size 11s has begun to close up, so is probably about the size of her own feet now. Her foot goes down. A sickening, loud, wanton squelch sounds as her foot sinks into the print left by myself. She erupts in laughter. Loud, confident, carefree laughter that rushes to the core of my bones. "Hahaha, this is WICKED!!!" she gleefully says. My heart RACES. I'm trembling. Her other foot enters the next available print of mine. The same vocal outburst happens again. Then another step. It's getting deeper, but she's gaining confidence faster than depth. More steps.

"Ooh, this one looks REALLY gooey" she says, pausing. The mud at the creek is like that, firm dryish mud quickly changes to the opposite, within impossibly small distances. For this next step she pauses, foot hovering above the printhole, then plunges her foot down fast. A truly disgusting sound emerges which echoes around the creek, followed by a gush of goo which forcibly ejaculates from the foot-hole and straight up her thigh. She absolutely erupts in laughter, again. "Fucking yyyYYEEEESSSS!" she cries out loud, and I can *hear* the adrenaline in her voice. I feel dizzy, unable to tell which of that scene has pressed the most buttons. The way she just stomped her foot down... The sound it made.... The spurt of mud which absolutely *spunked* up those skinny jeans of hers.... And THEN, the laugh she gives, a delighted, ecstatic, devil-may-care laugh, at something which would leave most women recoiling in horror. Then her voice, the words she says at what she's just done. The obvious fire in her belly, that waver to her voice which tells me she's excited as I am. Is this a dream, I wonder? And then the next step. The mud is wetter here. She plunges her foot down. Another loud, obscene squelch, another spurt of mud up her other thigh, but, wait. No laugh. She pauses. What's happened? I can see. It's done more than muddy her thigh. The evidence runs right up her T shirt, and since she was looking down at the moment of plunging, globules of mud, forced up by the vigour of the foot she so gleefully drove down into this deep, sucking squelchole, have splattered her face. There's a pause as she raises a finger to her face, then studies what's on it. She erupts in sound. "Awwwwww YESSS! YES YES YES YES, this is WICKED! " she bursts.

She's standing still, in glee, visibly quivering with excitement. Still murmuring to herself as she tries to wipe splats of mud from her face. It's not working. Suddenly she leans down, plunges both hands into the goo, grabs huge clumps of thick, heavy clay, then holds them out in front of her for a few moments, watching it gloop between her fingers. "It's so HEAVY" she murmurs. Then, suddenly, deliberately, almost defiantly, she slaps each handful against her breast. "Fuuuck, YES!"

"This is AMAZING" she coos to herself, massaging the thick heavy goo into her chest, it dragging the thin material of her T shirt down with each movement. She sways back and forth as if in a trance-like state. Words can't begin to describe how I'm feeling, stuck fast in my mudhide with an absolutely pounding heart, raging arousal and feeling dry in the throat. But then her attention is taken in another direction. Just the small body movements arising since her last step forward have seen her feet sink downwards, the mud now approaching her knees. She tries to lift a leg. The other sinks a little more. Being able to see her leg muscles tense and strain through the muddied, skinny jeans makes my heart thump even more. Seeing her struggle against this clinging, heaving mass really turns me on, I want to see her to power through ready for her next step.... But maybe, not too easily! She clasps both hands beneath a thigh and slowly, imperceptibly, her leg rises. And she's beaten the grip of this thick clinging clay. GOOD GIRL, YOU GO GIRL! She's only small, but this woman has some strength to her! One foot forward, this time not back into an existing print but onto firmer untouched mud, then the next is free. There's something about the look of those jeans, how they are holding up in the mud, which really does it. "Yeah" I think with a hint of satisfaction. "my footprints are getting her proper stuck". I feel a sickly grin spreading across my muddied face.

She looks down at her skinny jeans, taking some time to admire their new state. She takes a finger and pokes the mud that's coating them. "It's so thiiiick" she coos, and indeed it is, a glistening coating around 3cm thick. Then, a sudden movement. She touches her feet. Firstly the toes, then the heel. Then the next foot. She looks behind her. Her little shoes have been left behind. It's obvious she is thinking of trying to retrieve them, but at which footstep did they disappear? "Ok socks", she says. "It's just you and me now. I hope you're enjoying this!" She holds up a foot in front of her and wriggles her toes. A fist-sized lump of mud forms a teardrop beneath her sole, then slowly breaks away to splat back into the mass below. As it parts company from her body, her foot twitches upwards a few inches; the weight of this stuff is incredible. She stands up straight, hand in the air, stretching herself tall. Another pause, catching her breath. Then, "Ohhhh YES!" she cries to herself, before jumping as high as she can, launching herself forwards so that each foot lands in the next deep, silent, sucking prints I'd left behind me. This time, straight up to her knees with two simultaneous filthy sounds as the trapped air in the footprints is forced past her feet. She swears again, louder. FUCKING YESSSS! FUCK this is AMAZING!!!!!!!! and as her cry trails off, a huge clump of mud that's been flung skywards past her, lazily, squalidly, yields to gravity and splats down onto her head, sullying her (until now) clean hair. She feels its impact, reaches up to verify, and indeed, what she thought has happened, has. "Oh my god, FUCKING YEEEESSSSS!" she cries again, before doing a little dance on the spot, her feet rising from the sucking holes before plunging straight back in." Yes yes yes yes!" and I'm thinking exactly the same. I'd PAY for this, and it's happening right in front of me. I can feel that feeling deep inside me, I'm becoming aroused to near the point of no return.

"I'm gonna go RIGHT into this mess, this is fucking awesome fun" she murmurs, lunging forward one step after the other. Then I realise. Of the many I've left there today, the particular trail of prints she's following, lead straight to me. Fuck. She's gonna stumble, literally, right across me. I mean, literally right across me. Suddenly, my excitement vanishes and the lump in my throat flicks to one of fear. What the hell do I do now? Maybe she'll change course. It gets deeper, maybe she'll turn back. But no. She follows my prints. She's not heavy enough to make the mud play for her, so she's taking advantage of what I've laid before her. My course meanders, but this is it: it leads to me. I can't escape this. Another step forward. She's over her knees, and obviously, still absolutely loving it. I, meanwhile, am quaking, badly. Her excitement drives her on. She thinks she's alone, that nobody can see her. What will be her reaction upon realising that there's an audience? More steps, and she's now really close to where I am. I'm in total AWE of this girl. I'm not sure what I'd like most, to be her boyfriend, or just to *be* her. More steps. She's up to the middle of her thighs. My gods. I mean, I go deep, but this looks like the first time she's been here.... This girl's got BALLS. "She's amazing" I think. Then she stops. Barely 3 metres away from me. Facing me. But she obviously hasn't seen me, I'm so covered, with a little mound of mud around me to disguise the only part of my head which is above the surface. I'm squinting my eyes so she can't see their whites. She's stopped. Looking down. She senses danger, perhaps. "It's getting deeper."

This time her voice is quieter. There's a pause. I'm almost eye level with her middle, snugly buried, hidden in the wallowpit I've stirred up to play in, with her, just a few metres away, in the creamy, clinging, heavy goo that's slowly creeping higher up her thighs. Each time she moves, mud squeezes up between them, only to suckingly slip away with the opposite movement. "Mmm, this is nice" she murmurs quietly. The movements get repeated. Each time the mud oozes upwards more than the last, each time closer to where the legs of her jeans join together. I wonder how on earth these low cut jeans are even staying up, then cast practicalities aside to think about what's going on inside them. How I would LOVE to be her in that moment, to experience everything that she's thinking and feeling! The fear in me has gone again. I'm biting my lip, HOW can she not hear my heart, for it is thumping away like a demolition hammer? "Mmm, this feels GOOOOOOD" she purrs. She squeezes her thighs together again, and the creamy mud rises up between them... And apart, and it gloops away, pulling at the tight material, making gentle sucking sound as it subsides. Each time, inching closer to where the zip begins, gently, subtly threatening to engulf her most private place. I'm absolutely beside myself. Given the choice, would I watch this all day, or would I prefer my head to be between those muddy legs, gently squashed or eventually submerged? My heart has never raced so fast, how have I not passed out, how much more of this can my body take? My mind is a mess of emotions, all as gooey as the mud itself. It feels as if my brain is about to explode, I reach my hand around everything I've got and drive my fingers in hard around it, in the way that people bite their finger to distract themselves from pain. Her T shirt, now heavy with the mud that's symbolically spurted up her, clings tightly around her tummy. I'm watching it rise and fall, clearly, her breathing is as out of control as mine. She's looking down, moving her thighs together and then apart, watching the mud squishing and squeezing between them. Her eyes close. A hand reaches down. This must be fake. My lips start to shake.

Then it happens. A huge pocket of trapped air rises from around my body, and bursts at the surface. Loudly. Right under my chin. I see her focus. Then another, bursting at the surface with a singular loud splatting sound. Her look of pure, peaceful, self absorbed indulgence turns to one of confusion. I've been bubbled, literally. Now she's studying me more. Does she know there's a person here?

I move a little. She moves backwards with a face of horror. Yep, I'm done. I don't know what to do, but speak. I push down to raise my mouth from the goo which has until now, been concealing my identity. All I can manage is a weak, trembling voice, so starkly in contrast to hers, which emerges from the mud molehill in front of her. "Hi. I'm, er, ummm.... I was just playing in the mud". She looks stunned. There's another silence. It's terrible. She can't move much, and I really can't move at all. Stuff it, I've been caught anyway. There's no going back now. I shake my head to fling the mud off it. Hands emerge to clear the mound around me. "Nobody else ever comes here", I feebly offer. Then her face changes. "Hi. Er, I'm playing in the mud too." Ok I think, this might not be a case of calling the police after all. She speaks again. "You been there long?"...I reply. "I'm really sorry. I didnt know you'd be here. I've been here for hours. You arrived after me. I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to alarm you. I was hoping you might go away, but... She laughs. A big, fat, carefree, ballsy laugh. Then she speaks. "You thought I'd be put off by someone else in here? Dude, I didn't know other people were into this! Look at the state of you, you are fricking AWESOME!"

Who is this amazing woman? Where has she come from? And how has fate worked that our paths have crossed? I look at her, completely awestruck for a few moments which seem like hours. After all my worry about freaking her out, suddenly I have her approval. She smiles. The little freckles of goo spattered over her face make her look even more striking, naturally pretty, and turn my mind into complete mush. A dollop of mud lazily curls off her chest, gathers size as it snowballs slowly down her thigh before splatting in the quivering mess from which her legs emerge. I have never felt such a speechless, helpless state in all my life. The relief of it not being an awkward situation is immense, my head was spinning, the scenes of the last half hour flicking before me as if I'd just cheated death. She emits a nervous laugh, then smiles, her eyes dancing. I'm spellbound. In that moment, I'm hers, there's literally nothing I wouldnt do for this total stranger, a wonderful feeling of not being in control of my own mind that's as dreamy as the slowly flowing clay itself. And then, unstoppably, it's at this point my dream is rudely interrupted by the physical manifestation of this amazing subconscious experience, and I wake, writhing and groaning as my bed is wrecked with an outburst of passion.

I guess this is what comes from reading your stories just before bedtime, hope it makes you smile!