Pleased to post it on Splosh! If you like muddy naughtiness you might enjoy it:Katty and I - Muddy Runners
I’m running after Katharine. I’m chasing her out of our terraced street, past the newsagents, across the Park, over the main road and down South Lane. I’m chasing her because she’s wonderful and lovely and she’s turned my life upside down in the last six months.
Three bored teenagers watch me go by. I want to shout out ‘Hey, I’m a runner!’
I wasn’t one six months ago. When I met Katharine she convinced me to give it a try. Last month, she kitted me out: two-up in a fitting-room cubicle trying on ridiculously flimsy lyrcra pants and sports bras. I never knew keeping fit could be so much fun. Now, I’m a proper runner in black running tights, white trainers and a slinky little neon green singlet.
She’s waiting for me by the gate that leads onto the track down the side of the big wood. Her face is bathed in sunshine.
‘Wow! Look at you…what a star. Eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds. ‘
I’m struggling to reply. That hill is tough. She puts a hand on my shoulder.
‘You okay?’
She sees my flashed smile and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
‘Down this track and meet again in the valley bottom?’
Now it’s her flashed smile that I catch – a mischievous grin this time. We’re off again. Down the hill, arms and legs are struggling to keep up with each other. The dappled sunlight through the trees is warm and in the valley bottom summer has definitely arrived. Scents of wild garlic and the sound of chirrupy bird song feel so much more intense on the stressed body.
Katharine is next to a little wooden stile and we stop for a minute again to get our breath back. She looks me up and down and comes closer.
‘Fancy an off-road shortcut? ’
The way she says it makes it sound exciting and dangerous and risqué. Of course I fancy it.
We’re over the stile and heading along an impossibly narrow track between bushes until it opens out onto a farmer’s fields. Down to the right is a clump of bulrushes and a small overgrown area fenced off from the rest of the field.
‘Where’s the path Katty?’
Katharine puts a finger to her lips in a mock ‘Shhhh’ and beckons me to creep after her through the tall grasses down towards the bulrushes. The ground falls away to reveal a pond. It’s about the size of our living room, but most of the water seems to have gone and all that’s left is a skin of smooth mud on the surface. It reminds me of drinking chocolate. All of a sudden, the sounds of the countryside disappear.
I have no idea what’s going on but Katharine steps off the bank and sinks into the drinking chocolate. She plodges forward awkwardly. Her trainers come off and I see flashes of white sock. When she moves forward again, deliberately and slowly, she sinks knee deep. Just as she’s about to get stuck fast she reaches some softer mud and wallows onto her tummy.
‘Oh my God!’
I can’t believe what I’m seeing and yet I can’t take my eyes off her! She rolls over onto her back and looks oh-so-comfortable sitting there like Queen Muck of the Mire. A wicked little glint in her eye melts my heart.
‘Well…? Are you just going to stand there?’ she says.
‘Oh, you…you fucking filthy little bitch!’
I’m pulling at my laces, hopping around on one leg. I want to be in there so badly. Shoes and socks off. That first step off the bank feels like a stride into a giant warm chocolate cheesecake. When my second foot goes in, the first sinks deeper, nearly to my knee. I try to pull the first foot out and feel it sucking at my calves to keep me trapped. I can’t help noticing the filthy brown tide-mark of mud on my pristine spandex leggings but then it’s into the mud again, deeper this time.
And then, ‘oh, no!’ this stilted mud-walking isn’t for a novice like me. I’m falling. Falling forward. My hands are out to break the fall.
Schhluuup!
In I go. Up to my elbows, hair flopping forward over my face. Shaking with laughter doesn’t do me any good – I’m just sinking deeper.
‘Katty, Katty…I’m stuck!’
‘I know, I know’ she squeals.
My brain goes into overdrive. Am I really stuck? Probably not: I could probably wriggle free if I tried. Do I want to be stuck? Now this is the question. God of course I want to be stuck. I want Katharine to come over and do dirty things to me and free me. The drama queen in me strikes again.
‘Help meeeee...I’ll go under in a minute if you don’t!’
Katharine pushes and slides and paddles over until she’s right in front of me. A muddy finger so carefully brushes the hair from my face and then she’s kissing me. A passionate, tongues and teeth kiss that sends a little electric charge right through me. Next minute my singlet and sports bra are up round my ears. How did that happen? I really don’t care right now. She’s so close I can smell her through her muddy running pants. And then she has my pendent breasts in her hands, cupping and taking the weight of each one like pieces of soft, ripe fruit. My juices are starting to flow as she circles her palms around each nipple. Round and round, muddy palms grazing swelling nipples. Oh, this is nice, this is nice, this is reeeally nice.
Now she’s drawing muddy lines down my back. Left and right, left and right, round my shoulders. Smearing that wet, brown paste between my shoulder blades, round my ribcage and…and there she goes again, slippery hands round my boobs; squeezing them, fondling them, tweaking my nipples.
And then she slithers behind me and without warning, yanks down my lycra tights and knickers. Not down-down. Not down and off. Just down far enough to sit on the surface of the mud below my thighs, leaving my bottom in the breeze and a soaking wet slit aching for attention. Imagine what I must look like? Whatever is about to happen is going to be vulgar and shameful. Pleeeease get on with it!
Ever so carefully she’s pressing my inner thighs apart. She’s holding me open, and all I can think about is how fucking rude I must look from behind. The first draw of her tongue feels like a mini firecracker going off. She starts behind my clit, splits my cunt and finishes with a wet full stop just above my bottom. Then she does it again. Now, the big fireworks are exploding. She’s licking me out like the cat that got the cream and I’m pushing my bottom out, arching my back and pushing my thighs apart simultaneously in a filthy display of wanton lust. I don’t care if my cunt juices are glazing her chin or dribbling into my knickers right now
‘Katty…I can’t…I can’t take it…I’m come…I’m commmiiing!’
BANG! BOOM, BOOM BANG!
And then she’s slapping mud over me. Onto my arse, up my thighs, down my back, smearing it over my tits. I’m still viewing everything in a post-orgasmic technicolour haze, but she’s pushed me onto my side. The mud takes my weight and immediately my stuck-fast limbs start to budge. She’s pushing a fistful of mud between my legs making me squeal as its cool wetness smears against my steaming twat. She’s pulling my leggings and pants right off and tossing them up into the reeds. I’m almost naked in a mud pool in the countryside and I couldn’t give a fuck. Then she sits me up – from the waist down I’m all under the mud. Arms in the air and off come the singlet and bra to meet a similar fate in the undergrowth. For the first time in minutes we draw breath and look each other properly in the eye.
‘Oh dear…we seem to have found a muddy bit’ she says.
‘I’m sure if I tread carefully I can miss the worst of it’ I reply.
Now I can barely see her through laughter-tears. She slithers astride me in the bog and our tits mash together before we lock tongues in another lip-smacking snog. Now it’s my turn to pull some of HER clothing off. First to go is the crop top, then her sports bra. I chuck them in opposite directions just for badness. Her tits are fucking gorgeous. All clean and damp and pink. I can’t resist pushing her shoulders back and flicking my tongue across each grape-red nipple. Those tits need big brown handprints across them quickly. She obligingly lets me, then we meet again, muddy flesh on muddy flesh.
She takes me by surprise again, flattening my hair with a heavy fistful of sludge.
‘My hair!’
‘It was your hair’ she corrects me.
‘Awwwwwww…’
It’s mock blubbering but it makes her look up.
‘Go on then’ she offers, ‘do the same to me!’
What a strange sensation - flattening her gorgeous red bob under a thick brown mud-helmet. She looks totally different. I’ve changed her appearance and…and she’s almost more beautiful under this layer of nature’s makeup. And she let me do this to her without question. I want to kiss her diddy little sticking-out ears but my benevolence is short lived as she smears my face in sludge. I’m half spitting, half dribbling muddy saliva onto our breasts.
‘Yeeeuch! You filthy…filthy fucker!’
But she’s not listening. She’s smashing mud pies into my tits, into my ears, over my head. We roll together, turning the mud into a clotted-cream-textured morass before lying motionless in each other’s arms. I can hear my heart beating yet I’m oblivious to everything else in the world. A troupe of beery Young Farmers could be leaning over the fence watching our every move and I would be none the wiser. Her thigh slides between my legs and then her kneecap presses against my clit. I want to feel that again and she obliges. Can she tell I’m still on tenterhooks? Again, her knee pushes against my cunt and I’m spreading my legs as wide as the bus-garage doors to let her in with her fingers. Beautiful, beautiful Katty, takes the hint. I can’t see her; my eyes are glued shut, but her hands are over me. And yes, oh yes, down there please, in the mud, play with me down there please. You kinky, kinky thing, fucking me like this in the outdoors! Surely this is a dream? Nice girls don’t come twice in ten minutes. Tell me it’s a dream Katty. Tell me I’m not about to come again. Oh Katty, Katty, Katty……it’s all true and I…I….aaaammmmmmm!
Where am I? What time is it?
Katharine is standing above me in a sorry-looking pair of running tights and a bra-less running top.
‘Let’s get you washed’ she whispers.
The cattle trough is ridiculously refreshing. Big enough to climb right in and sit down in fact.
‘Where are my clothes…and your bra?’
She hands me a washed-out bundle of wet lycra and points to her bra hanging from the highest points of a nasty looking thorn bush. Exactly where I had inadvertently tossed it.
‘Oh! A little present for the farmer?’
How I love those little creases in her face when she smiles at me. And look; even her teeth are muddy. Mine must be too.
Now we’re running home together, side by side. A little more disheveled this time though - squelching shoes, bouncing knockers and mud-chafing pussies. The bored teenagers give us a wolf whistle this time! How fucking wonderful. If only they knew. Back up South Lane, over the road, across the Park, past the newsagents down the terraced street, in through the front door and straight into the shower.