It was all agreed upon beforehand. I was as ready as I ever would be, looking ridiculous in my bright peach coloured swimsuit (a size too small), thin black stockings and two inch black heels. The original dare involved going out in the day time, so the dayglow colour scheme had been a compromise when I refused. It would be difficult to see my face in the dark, or any real detail, so the neon peach colour would draw some attention to me. I looked absurd, but that was the entire point.

My friend Sam and I had been giving each other silly, sexy dares for some time now, but in recent weeks they had started to escalate. What had started with knicker-free work days or hiked-up miniskirts had grown into humiliating but adrenaline-pumping acts of exhibitionism.

Today it was my turn.

The dare itself was simple, but the execution would have my heart pounding. It already did, just thinking about it. I felt a nervous twinge in my stomach as I wriggled into the swimsuit. I'm quite busty, but squeezing my chest in was only half the battle. My round hips mean I have quite a large ass to match. I don't mind admitting it, after all, it's quite a popular look these days. Regardless, there was no way this swimsuit was going on properly. It wasn't supposed to be thong-backed, but that's how it ended up. The front was no better either. Basically I would have a constant wedgie till the dare was over.

Oh right, the dare. Sorry. Got a bit distracted there. As I was saying, it was quite simple. Sam dared me to go for a jog in an outfit of her choosing. The route was mercifully short, but, living in the countryside, I would be in plain sight at all times and I would be jogging across muddy fields. In heels.

As if that wasn't stupid enough, just to make it extra silly, Sam decided I need some yoghurt down the front of my swimsuit. It was my own fault, really. I had been reading about a messy food fetish not long after we had started our little game. I thought it would be fun for her to do her weekly shop with shoes full of custard. It had indeed been fun, apparently, but this was her revenge.

But as I stood in my kitchen, directing the yoghurt into the crotch of my ill-fitting swimsuit, I thought I might actually be glad of the cooling. Jogging in this thing was going to lead to a lot of chafing. The yoghurt might act as lubricant if I was lucky.

All set, I sent Sam a quick picture of my messy crotch as evidence and texted it to her, simply saying "here goes." She replied seconds later with "LOL have fun x."

Well there was no more time for stalling. I opened the front door and looked out. There was nobody outside at this time of night, of course, but plenty of front room lights were on. It was cold, too, I noted quickly. Not freezing, but certainly brisk enough to have my nipples standing to attention in no time.

I looked down at my absurd attire one last time, took a deep breath to calm myself, and set off.

I quickly ascertained that actual jogging in heels was not an option. Walking would take far too long. It would give me far more chance of being spotted and would be far too cold. I opted to power walk the only sensible medium between a potentially ankle-breaking jog and an almost certain risk of being recognised.

So I power-walked down the drive and onto the main road. It was well-lit, but mercifully deserted now. I was soon thankful for the yoghurt, too. The swimsuit was rubbing against my vagina and ass with every single step. Without the yoghurt it would have been agony. With it, it was sort of enjoyable, but still faintly irritating.

I soldiered on with my gooey pussy. It was only about 100 anxiety-filled meters from the end of the drive to the country lane I often jogged down. The route took much longer than usual, power-walking in heels, but thankfully I didn't see a single car headlight until I had already stepped off the pavement and onto the mud path. My tits were bouncing and jiggling comically the whole time. My flimsy, too-small swimsuit could barely contain them but, fortunately, it was too tight for them to spill out.

My nipples were sore by now, and they had no comforting yoghurt. It was about to get worse, I knew. The muddy path wasn't a great surface at the best of times, but in heels, in the dark, it would be a nightmare. On the bright side, my having to slow down on the muddy path meant that my breasts wouldn't be jiggling as much, so my nipples wouldn't be rubbed quite as raw.

Ah, but it had rained. I had forgotten about that. The path, never great, was now basically one long mud puddle. My heels sank into cold, muddy water, which quickly flooded them completely, eliciting a sharp gasp of shock from their current inhabitant me. My stockings and shoes were both utterly soaked and caked in mud. In fact, it was even worse than that: my shoes were stuck. I tried to lift my foot but the shoe wouldn't budge. I managed to wriggle my toes free, but the shoe was done for.

I stood there for a moment, balancing precariously on one leg as I worked out a plan of action. Sam had been quite specific about me having to wear heels for this increasingly dangerous jaunt, but even if I dug them out with my hands, they would just get stuck as soon as I put them on. Carrying on barefoot through the mud seemed like the sensible option or at least, the least stupid option and me traipsing my dainty feet through the mud certainly be in the spirit of the game. I would just have to come back for my shoes in the morning and hope they were still there.

Sighing again, I let one foot sink into the thick, cool mud, and wriggled the other out of its shoe. I was back on my way, squelching my nylon-clad feet through inch-deep mud with every step. It was hard work lifting mud-caked feet over and over again, but at least I was moving again.

I was just starting to relax a little as much as possible, given the scenario when I heard footsteps up ahead, round the bend. I wasn't the only idiot out in the mud, apparently. I live in a small village and the person around the corner would almost certainly recognise me. I had to think fast.

Looking around for anywhere to hide, I stepped off the path and into the field alongside it. Except I had forgotten about the ditch between the two. It was only about three feet deep, but it felt like more as I slipped and slid my way down it gracelessly, landing face and chest-first in several inches of slimy, muddy, cold water. Still, at least I must have done it quietly because my fellow outdoors enthusiast walked by, oblivious.

It was scant consolation, though. My swimsuit was now as soaked as it was intended to be, but my entire front was caked in mud and cold water. My face had avoided any impact, but it was splashed and splattered with the same muck. My previously near-pristine blonde hair was ruined, matted to my head. It took me a couple of attempts to pull myself out of the mire, but eventually I stood in the ditch, dripping and shivering. I tried to claw my way back up the banking but after slipping and falling on my ass, I gave up. Now it took was soaked, as if I had pissed myself and left it to go cold.

I got up again as quick as I could, but this time I paused to look around. I couldn't see a great deal in the dark, but the ditch grew shallower further along. From here, it looked like I might be able to just step back onto the path rather than hauling myself out. It had to be worth a try, I figured, so I set off, wading through shin-deep cold water and God only knows what else. I was certain I felt something wriggle past my feet at one point, but it might have been my overactive imagination.

Once I reached the shallower-looking banking, I was relieved to find that I could in fact step right out. I did so carefully, but without further drama. I was back on the muddy path, but it was a marked improvement over the freezing-cold water. Better yet, the end of the trail was in sight. I trudged on, squelching through the mud. The wet swimsuit chafed my poor nipples and my pussy, but I was nearly back on the road at least.

Every step felt like a struggle, but I made it to tarmac and civilisation. And a parked car, full of people.

The headlights were pointing straight at me, so I couldn't make out the car or any of its inhabitants yet they would see me clear as day. It was on my street, I noticed, but there was nothing I could do about it. I decided to forge ahead and hope they were just lost tourists or something, rather than somebody who would recognised the mud-soaked, swimsuit-clad mess of a woman they saw.

Whoever they were (I didn't stop to find out), they didn't quite manage to muffle their laughter as I passed. I could hear it quite clearly. Perhaps they thought the engine sound would block it out or perhaps they didn't care. I sped up a little, hoping it would go unnoticed, but I still heard someone in the back say something about me looking "like a duck, soaked, and waddling look at that fat arse wobbling."

That got another laugh, of course, no matter how much one girl in the car tried to hide it. One final humiliation before my dare was over.

It had been a hell of a half hour, but now I owed Sam big-time. Still, I had to admit my heart was pounding and my clitoris, despite being a little sore, was throbbing away. I had come to realise I craved the humiliation of these dares. I couldn't wait to get it and get dry, but also I couldn't wait to finger myself senseless.

I stripped at the door and went straight for a towel. Then I headed for the bathroom, but not before picking up my phone and writing Sam a new message:

Can't believe I agreed to that. You are in for it missy.

Now it was time to relieve my adventure from the safety of my own shower. I couldn't help myself thinking about Sam as I did it. The middle and index fingers of my right hand rubbed, vigorously but carefully, at my throbbing clitoris. I pictured her being the passer-by on the path, but instead of walking by she stopped to push me over one more time. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to orgasm in no time. I pictured Sam on top of me in the mud puddle, grinding her wet cunt against my face. As I slumped forward in the shower, groaning with pleasure, I pictured a carful of people watching us both pointing, laughing and jeering. My breath grew quicker, closer as my body tensed up. I was always so easy after one of her dares. I groaned noisily as the pressure built inside me, until

Bliss.

And then nothing. Nothing except the sound of running water, my heavy breathing and the thrum of my pulse in my ears. I opened my eyes, took a moment to catch my breath and continued on with my shower, completely spent.