Snatch And Grab

I should have known that you were the sort. The way you looked at me at the caravan park told me everything, but I ignored it. I thought I should assume better from you, but that look in your eyes and that fake white smile. I knew what you really wanted. I just didn't think you were so desperate.

How long were you watching me for? You were patient; I give that to you. Probably watching from somewhere in the trees. Did you watch me look at the lake, lusting at its cool water? Did you notice that I was braless beneath the sundress? Did you watch me take it all off? The dress, the purple panties. Were you watching me as I dived into the lake, naked? Or were you still distracted by the panties? And how clever of you to wait. You probably didn't even bother checking me out in the water. Each time I swam away, you moved closer. I imagined you were dashing from tree to tree like those cartoon spies. And it worked. I didn't even see you take my clothes. You might have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for your stupid fluorescent yellow tank top. What were you thinking?

You might have caught me naked, but I was going to kick your ass. Your skinny legs wouldn't carry you far enough, you pervert. You had the head start, but you made so much noise, I could have followed you blindfolded.

Now, the quicksand. I don't know whether you planned that or not, but I didn't see it coming. Not until I jumped into the clearing and landed right into the middle of it. I know you weren't there. You were probably jacking off to my panties, so let me describe it all to you. You see, I was thinking ahead. I figured you'd try to lose me at the creek, so I went around the other way to cut you off. I saw your yellow tank top running the other way. You didn't even see me. I would've jumped on your skinny ass if I hadn't fallen into the quicksand first. I thought was it just a plain, normal, sandy clearing, until I was up to my thighs in the stuff. It was so thick. It looked like porridge and felt like cement. It hugged my legs and kept on pulling me down. The whole surface shook. That's when I knew I was in deep trouble. Really deep trouble. I forgot about you.

I stopped and caught my breath. Staying calm is really hard when you're sinking in quicksand. I held my arms out for balance, but the quicksand kept on shifting beneath my feet, throwing me off this way, then that. Each time I stumbled and windmilled my arms, I plunged deeper. I had a moment of inspiration and tried to pull my foot free, but the sand moved just at that moment. My other leg drove through the soil. My foot nearly got out, but the weight of the sticky sand snagged it before I pulled it free. I tipped forward and nearly planted my face into the sand, only stopping myself by pushing my arms out in front. The quicksand grabbed hold of my arms and I was nearly up to my armpits, and my tits dropped right into the muck. It actually didn't feel too bad, with the smooth warm sand cupping my breasts. You probably don't know what that feels like.

I had to get out though, and my arms were really stuck. I was nearly laying on top of the shifting sand. I dug my legs in and tensed my stomach. I took a few minutes to agonisingly bring myself up. The quicksand really wanted my boobs. After a lot of wriggling, I broke free, and my arms slid out as I pulled myself upright. Except I was still standing up to my hips in the quicksand.

Now that was a new feeling. The quicksand was really warm. It wanted to get into my pussy. It licked at me, forcing me to squirm and twist, pushing my hips up, but the movement would pull me down deeper, where the sand got more intense. It was a devious trap. One you would have enjoyed, if you were smart enough to realise what you had set me up for. I could barely stop myself from moaning. I wasn't going to call for help. I wasn't going to give you the pleasure.

I had to think of a way out, and fast. It's hard to think when the quicksand is giving you a huge blowjob - not that you would know what that feels like either. I looked around. There was nothing around me but quicksand. No roots or vines within reach. I was really in danger. And it felt kind of sexy. Still, I had to get out. I could either lean back to try to work my legs free, or I could lean forward and swim out. I wasn't sure if swimming worked in quicksand, so I tried the first option. It worked. Kind of. It was awkward. The sand had softened up with my movement, so when I leaned back, my hips and back sank right in. I only stopped my torso from going under by spreading my arms out. I hit the surface with a loud slap. My legs were still directly under me, but I could feel them slowly rise. I couldn't rush the process. Tensing my legs only made my upper body sink deeper. I had to wait until the sand grew tired of fighting my floatation. In the minutes that passed, the quicksand continued to tickle at my crotch. I closed my eyes and moaned. It was going to take a while, so I might as well enjoy it.

Eventually I got my knees up. My butt was buried deeper, but this was the best it was going to be. I thought that I might kick off and slide over the wet surface, but most of the moisture had disappeared. I had to twist around to get the water to saturate the sand again. I turned onto my side. I realised that the quicksand was returning to its solid form. Thinking I had an easy way out, I wriggled my legs free, turned onto my chest and began to crawl out. That didn't last long. My movement disturbed the sand, and once again the surface turned into a sticky trap, threatening to pull my hands in. My escape was less of a crawl and more of a silly sideways wiggle. I managed to stay on top of the quicksand though. It took me ages, and by the time I got out, I was caked in wet sand. I was tired, but at least I didn't drown in quicksand.

You know how that feels like.

You see, I was ready to give up. I was heading back to the caravan park, naked and embarrassed. But then you called for help. How long were you trapped for? Half an hour? You weren't as clever as I thought. While I was patiently making my way out of my quicksand pit, you found your own. But you didn't have a clue. You tried to fight it. You tried to run through, then when that didn't work, you dug at it and tried yanking your legs free. You probably sank to your chest within a minute. Then, with your arms stuck, you waited. Poor you. Your jeans and boots were dragging you down so you couldn't float. You had to wait.

What would you have done if I didn't turn up?

Seeing you up to your neck was the best thing in my life.

I could see that you dropped my clothes before you fell in. I could've picked them up and left you. But I didn't.

I suppose I could try to save you.

But quicksand is very dangerous, you know. I know. I might become stuck again. You looked at me desperately. You begged me to come and save you. I said I couldn't. I took a step in to prove it. I sank to my knees, and then I hopped back out. It was far too dangerous. No, I couldn't reach you. I could try. I got onto my knees and reached out. I couldn't climb over the sand. No, that would just get me stuck too. I reached out to you again. I made sure that you could see my breasts swaying in front of your face. Oh, if only your hands were above the surface. I could leave you here and get help. But you were crying. You were going to die. You tilted your head up to keep the sand from going into your mouth. You shouted and moaned for help. And you know what I did?

I played with myself. I sat on the edge of the quicksand, just enough so that I could dip my feet into it. Now that I was free of it, I remembered how it felt. I played with my nipples, and rubbed my clitoris. I moaned extra loud just for you. It felt so fucking good. Then, when it felt too much, I let myself slip into the quicksand. I could just hear you shout 'No!' before your mouth went under. I felt the quicksand lick at my wet pussy. I rocked my hips, letting myself sink deeper and deeper, and the quicksand made out with me. I orgasmed and sank to my breasts. Poor thing. You couldn't even see it. My sexual movements made the sand quicker and you were being pulled under. You shouted at me again. You called me a bitch and a pervert. Oh, the irony. And then you went under. But at least I tried, right?

You probably don't remember any of this. You were under for a while, but I pulled you out in the end. I got my dress back and went back to the caravan before you woke up.

You can keep the panties.