Mud Angel

This is my first story, so any feedback is greatly appreciated

(Also sorry about the lack of indentations, I can't add them for some reason)

On a trail overlooking the Meramec River, two lovers walked hand-in-hand, as they often did when they took hikes together. The river's bold, gleaming waters ran parallel to the trail off to their left side, providing a picturesque scene against a backdrop of oaks and white ash trees. The trail was about a hundred feet away from the water's edge, separated by a wide, flat bank and elevated by a steep slope.

Everything was going great, except for the fact that it was a blazingly hot, humid summer day, especially for June, and they were starting to regret their decision to come all the way out here. They hadn't seen a single other hiker so far, and they had been walking along the trail for over three hours. Sweat dripped down his face and chest, sticking his shirt to his skin. She had tied her hair up in a bun to keep it off her neck and hopefully stay cooler, but it didn't do very much. She was sweating profusely as well, and sweat ran down her neck and pooled in the band of her sports bra.

They had walked for a few minutes in silence and were approaching a bend in the river when she finally said, "Man, it's getting really hot," and shielded her eyes against the brilliant sun as if to prove her point. "Do you want to stop here for a while and eat lunch?"

"I think we need a break," he agreed. "But where are we supposed to eat?" he asked, indicating the lack of flat spaces or benches around.

"What about down by the river? Wouldn't that be so romantic, Nick?"

He chuckled. She, ever the bold and adventurous one, never passed up an opportunity to do something fun and unique, and always took risks. She was very headstrong too, so if she suggested something, he always had to go along with it. That was okay though, because as long as she was with him, he'd do anything.

"Well, I suppose it would be romantic. Let's—"

"Great," she interjected, grinning at him. Then she scrambled down the slope, slipping and sliding on loose rocks and dirt and using tree roots as handholds to get down to the bank of the river. She had already reached the bottom by the time he even started climbing down, going much more slowly and carefully.

She thought that a picnic by the river would be romantic, but there was another reason she wanted to go down to the river: Mud. She had always had, well, something for mud, and she always wanted to mud wrestle, especially with Nick. While up on the trail, she had spied a large patch of glistening mud on the outside bend of the river, the color of raw sienna, and probably a thick, sticky clay at least a foot or more deep. The mud would also be a fantastic way to cool down in the intense heat. He finally hopped down to where she was, completely oblivious to both the mud and her intentions.

Excited at the prospect of getting muddy, she started walking toward the river.

"Claire?" he asked. "Why not just eat right here?" He pointed to a convenient wide slab of rock that jutted out of the ground several feet away to his left.

"Sorry," she grinned, and she walked back to him. "That sounds good." She vaulted onto the rock with ease and helped him climb up. He took off the backpack he was wearing and dug out their lunch: Turkey sandwiches, chips, some trail mix, and an orange for each of them.

As they ate, he couldn't help but cast his loving gaze upon Claire instead of the scenery around them. The high sun shone down on her body, the sheen of sweat coating her skin seeming to make her glow. She had the body of a ballerina, strong yet lightweight, with big, gorgeous eyes the color of pale jade and velvety soft skin that made all other girls jealous when she wouldn't reveal her secret skincare routine. He wasn't all too familiar with it either, she didn't seem to have any products she used, but he didn't bother to question her. Framing her attractive face was her long, wavy, luscious hair, the color and texture of melted dark chocolate—he loved it more than any other part of her body. But really he just considered her looks a nice bonus to her personality: She had a loud, fiery spirit that was impossible to extinguish and made doing anything with her so much fun. Although she was reckless, she was also extremely intelligent, often using her clever wit in combination with sexual innuendo against him. They had met each other in college and were each other's first relationship. Now, a year later, they still loved each other just as much and were completely loyal. They had an open, honest relationship; in fact, one of them had once or twice walked in on the other masturbating, but they both laughed it off and only loved each other all the more.

Lunch passed relatively uneventfully, and once they had finished eating, he started to clean up. "Ready to go, angel?"

She blushed. She loved it when he called her that.

"Actually, I had an idea. See that over there?" she asked, pointing at the river.

"See what?"

"On the bank, right next to the water?"

He saw the mud she was pointing at but didn't think anything of it. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The mud!" she cried.

Nick laughed nervously. Knowing her, this couldn't be good. "Uh, what about it?"

"Don't you think it would be fun? Plus, it's good for your skin, and it would really cool us off."

Before he could respond, she kicked off her boots and socks, jumped down from the rock, and went running towards the river. Closer to the river, the bank quickly became softer and wetter and clung to her feet, forcing her to slow down. She started to wade deeper until her feet were completely covered and mud splattered the hems of her leggings. Still confused by what she was doing, he followed her, but kept his boots on and stopped a safe distance away once the ground started to become soft. He expected the mud to smell absolutely revolting, but it actually didn't smell that bad: It had a very faint smell like earth and salt.

She squished her feet around and thick, cool mud squeezed between her toes. "Oh my god," she said with a huge smile. "That feels... amazing." She pulled a foot out with a soft sucking sound, and the clay-rich mud hung on in thick layers like stockings, dripping and falling off in soft clumps. "Look at this stuff. It's so heavy," she said. The cool mud on her feet felt great—they had been trapped in her boots for the past few hours, so it felt so much better for her bare feet to be surrounded by the wet earth. She squealed like a little girl and kicked and splashed her feet in the muck.

"You must really like mud," Nick said, amused.

"Well, yeah, it's really... refreshing."

"Maybe if you're a pig," he laughed.

"What? No! You should at least give it a try," she said and began to make her way towards him.

"Um, I'm perfectly fine right here."

"You need to try!" she encouraged again and reached for his hand. Too slowly he tried to back away, and she grabbed him and pulled him towards her.

"It feels great, trust me," she said.

"Fine, whatever," he sighed. As she pulled him towards the river, the slightly springy ground shifted and moved underneath his boots, sticking to the soles. In just two more steps he was ankle-deep, his boots almost completely covered and mud was splattered on his socks and legs. It had a strange, sloppy consistency, almost like cake batter, but it was sticky like clay. As he tried to pull his foot out to take another step, the mud suctioned him firmly in place. He yanked his whole leg upwards, mud squelching and gurgling, but it did no good. He tried again, with minimal results.

"Well now I'm stuck," he sighed. "Happy?"

"Much better," she smirked.

He began to pull upwards on his legs with both hands. Claire watched, laughing, as he struggled uselessly. Despite this, he continued, wrenching desperately, as the mud bubbled and shifted. "C'mon, c'mon..." Suddenly there was a loud slurping noise and his right foot slid a few inches deeper. The mud climbed completely above his sock, clasping on to his shin greedily. Nick cringed at the feel of the cold, wet slime against his skin.

"That's not going to work," she laughed. "Don't struggle. The more you struggle, the deeper you sink. Move slowly."

"How do you know so much about mud?"

"What?" she said, taken aback. "It's just common knowledge."

"Whatever. I'm just going to try to untie my boots. I literally can't move right now."

"Sure."

He bent over and reached down, sinking even a bit lower, and plunged both hands into the slime—it shocked him at how cool and soft it felt on his palms and between his fingers. He found his laces under several inches of mud and blindly untied them. He was able to slide one sock-clad foot from his boot but ended up covering it in mud as he did so. Then he took his other foot out and took his socks off. It was weirdly uncomfortable to be barefoot in the mud, which squished between his toes and made him feel like he was going to sink into the soft ground if he wasn't careful. Fortunately, he found that he was no longer stuck and was able to move his feet freely. "Claire, this is so gross."

"It feels great though. It's good for your skin."

"I suppose," he chuckled.

"Mhmm, it's therapeutic, don't you think? Just getting dirty like a little kid and not worrying about staying clean?" she asked. Before he could respond to her question, she bent down and ran the tips of her fingers through the mud, coating them, and casually flicked the mud in his direction, producing a smattering of muddy flecks on his shirt.

"Claire!" he gasped.

"Oh, stop overthinking," she said, reading his mind. "Just have some fun with it."

However, he couldn't focus on anything but the mud—on his shirt, covering his feet and ankles, and his completely ruined boots and socks... It was getting ridiculous. And who knew if anyone was watching? They hadn't seen anyone else so far that day, but if someone was walking by, they could see a muddy Nick and Claire in perfect view. He felt completely exposed and embarrassed.

"Claire..." he groaned again.

She giggled happily in response, and this time, ran her whole hand through the mud and flicked it at him, splattering much larger globs of mud on his shirt.

He froze in surprise and disgust. It was getting worse by the second.

She took advantage and slithered up behind him, grabbing his chest with her muddy hands and sliding them up and down. He could only look down in abject horror as she thoroughly ruined the front of his shirt. This was so bad. Why was she even doing this?

It took him a second to regain the use of his tongue. "Claire, what the hell?"

"Mmmm... doesn't it feel good?" she murmured lazily.

"What? No! You're ruining it!"

"But it's so hot... Don't you want to get me muddy? I'm still clean."

He froze again. On one hand, he wanted to get her muddy as payback, but on the other hand, he realized it was probably just a ploy to get him even muddier as well. He desperately desired Claire, but at the same time, he realized that meant mud. She confused him so much. One minute, they were calmly enjoying a hike together, and the next, she was doing... this.

"Well, what will it be?" she whispered in his ear. When he remained frozen, she sensually slid her slippery hands up farther, crawling up past his collarbone and to his neck. The feel of the disgusting mud was only heightened on the more sensitive skin. Normally, he loved the feel of her gentle fingertips there, but definitely not while they were covered in mud. He tried in vain to get out of her grip, but it was a losing battle, her arms were much too tight. She slowly caressed his throat and firmly pushed her fingertips into the soft, vulnerable flesh.

"Does that feel good?"

He could only groan in response, but if anything, it only encouraged her more.

"C'mon, Nick, are you just going to let me do this to you? You aren't even going to fight back?"

"Okay, okay... Please, just let me go."

She let out a small giggle and granted his wish. He rubbed the sides of his neck, forgetting that his hands were muddy, and inadvertently smeared on even more mud.

"Just breathe," she instructed him. "This is supposed to be fun."

Well, he figured the mud really couldn't hurt that much. And he had to at least get her muddy as well.

He picked up a handful of mud and slapped it onto her shoulder, then smeared it up her neck to her cheek.

"Oh, yes!" she laughed. To Claire, having him rub the ooze onto her was an other-worldly experience. For how long they had been together, Claire couldn't believe that they hadn't done this much earlier.

He smiled weakly. "Is that it? What am I supposed to do now?"

"This." Suddenly she grabbed him and unceremoniously slammed him into the mud. He cried out in surprise as he twisted and fell onto this side, his arm sinking up to the elbow into the deep mud and it splattered his legs, shorts, shirt, arms, and head. Unsure of what to make of his new situation, he gaped up at her in surprise. He felt utterly helpless—he realized the mud was going to cover him regardless of what he thought about it—Claire was clearly in control, teasing him with the mud. But it was impossible to be angry at her, his clothes were already ruined, so there was no point in trying to stay any cleaner, and she clearly wanted him to fight back, so that only left one option.

He stood up and slung a huge ball of mud at her with both hands, and it splattered onto her leggings; she gasped and giggled at the feel of the mud clinging to her legs. She took that moment to untie her hair from her bun, and she gently shook her head as it elegantly fell down around her shoulders. Once her hair was down, she lunged for him, brandishing her mud-caked hands.

In mock anger, he pushed her hard and grabbed onto her body, and they both collapsed into the deep mud, making a huge splatter. Claire, underneath of him, yelped in delight. A cute little spatter of mud adorned the side of her face like freckles.

For some reason or another, he found her muddy form to be oddly attractive. It was strange, but the mud smeared and splattered on her almost seemed to accentuate her beauty, as if she was some sort of elemental mud goddess. She seemed at home playing in the mud, just being her goofy self, getting messy, and not caring what anyone else thought.

Now that they had churned up the mud with their bodies, it's damp, earthy smell was much more pungent. He smeared one muddy knuckle across her cheek, making a streak under one eye. She shivered at the messy, slithery sensation on her face and closed her eyes in pleasure. He smeared the other side of her face and added another streak down her nose.

"Nick, can I tell you something?" she asked. "Just between you and me?"

"Bit of a strange place to be asking me these kinds of questions," he admitted, "but you can always tell me anything."

She blew out a nervous breath, weighing her words. She had known him for almost a year now, and had always put up with her and always loved her, but what if this was just too much? But he was waiting for what she had to say, so she might as well tell him.

"I'm sorry that I've been keeping this from you for a long time now, but, uh... I have a fetish for mud."

He started at her for a second, completely caught off guard, then burst out in hysterical laughter. Claire was full of surprises, but this was certainly something else.

"What?" she asked abashedly, her cheeks heating slightly.

"Sorry, it's not you, just the way you said it— A mud fetish— I never knew—" he managed to choke out before another fit of laughter consumed him.

This was probably the best outcome she could have hoped for. At least he wasn't angry at her or completely disgusted.

"That explains... so much," he said, once he caught his breath. "Wait... you said it's good for your skin... is this why your skin is so soft and why you won't tell anyone how you do it?"

She blushed even more until her cheeks were the color of a strawberry. "Uh... yeah... Sorry again I didn't tell you."

"I'm just so confused. When? Where? How?"

"Well, in the woods behind our house, there's a creek that runs through there and, well... I'll just have to show you."

He smiled, mostly out of amusement and confusion. "Y'know, I'll always love you, angel, even though you're a really strange girl."

"Thank god," she murmured. "I'm glad you're not disgusted with me."

"Yeah, it's kinda weird," he admitted. "But I'm always willing to try new things."

"Good." Immediately, she grabbed the back of his head, her muddy hands tangled in his hair, pulled him down, and kissed him deeply, breathing in his scent and the earthy smell of mud. His eyes widened in shock, but he quickly caught on and kissed her back. Claire loved the feel of his warm weight pressing her body down into the mud, and of their lips firmly pressed together. The closeness of their bodies made her excited, which she expressed by reaching under his shirt with both hands and rubbing his back.

He was the first to pull away from their kiss, breathing hard, and he flashed her a goofy grin. "Oh my god, what got into you?" he said sarcastically. "Kissing me in the mud." Claire laughed and reached for his face with muddy fingers, but he bent backward away from her.

"Come and get me," he said and stood up. Claire, left stranded and suddenly feeling very cold, sat up to reveal her backside covered in mud, her tank top plastered to her skin. Most of her body was covered in a glimmering coat of brownish-red mud, with only a few clean patches on her face and arms. Some mud had seeped through the large armholes of her top to smear the sides of her white bra.

"How can a person look so beautiful covered in mud?" Nick asked her in disbelief.

"Because mud is sexy," she replied happily. "And me. I'm sexy, too," she clarified. Laughing, he extended an arm. She clasped on and he pulled her up, then she squeezed him tightly, drawing their bodies close together. He squeezed her back, and she started to twist and sensually grind her body into his; the slimy mud took an edge off the delicious friction and added a completely new, cool, wet feel.

"Look at us," she murmured into his ear, "all covered in mud." He grunted in response as her pelvis passed over his crotch.

"Do you want to mud wrestle?" she murmured passionately. "We couldn't have done all this and not mud wrestle. I'm totally going to win though."

"Well, my clothes are already ruined," he responded. "So we can wrestle. But there's no way I'm going to let you win."

"We'll see about that," she said, stopping her body's movements and pulling away. "Okay. We start now." Just then she tackled him and fell with him, landing on him with a splat and squish of mud. Already in a disadvantageous position, he grabbed tightly onto her arms and tried to push her off him, but with little success, as the mud just caused his hands to slide. Claire fought back, but with a mighty shove, Nick pushed her off and rolled her onto her back, straddling her so that she couldn't escape. Claire, taking a very different approach to mud wrestling, grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up above his head, throwing it to one side.

His upper body bare and exposed to the breeze, he exclaimed, "Oh, it's over for you." Nick scooped up as much mud as his hands could hold and then dropped it onto her, making a nice big pile of mud on her stomach. Claire groaned at the surprisingly heavy weight of it all, and she helped him smear it up and down, delighting in ruining her clothing.

When they finished, she pushed him hard, and he found himself lying down in the mud with her body on top of him. Claire grinned at him, and he didn't know what came over him, but suddenly his hands were under her shirt, smearing sloppy mud up and down her back and over the band of her bra. Soon enough he withdrew his hands, and Claire took the opportunity to move off his body and pull off her tank top, to completely expose her white sports bra, streaked with mud and dirt, in stark, bright contrast to the brown mud around them.