****** The Clay Pit ***** Copyright 1994 by ADVNTR123@aol.com Cathy started up the rocky path to find Tom as her dog Spot bounded ahead. The rough rocky terrain beneath her sandaled feet was difficult and she was glad when she reached the summit where the ground leveled off a bit. Here the trees offered some shade and Cathy noticed how the ground was no longer dry, rocks and sand but now was rich, brown soil. Her battered soles of her feet were glad for the change and she was able to move ahead faster. The trees thickened as she descended into a slight valley. She could see Tom's footprints in the damp soil as she carefully picked her way through the brush. Stepping over a tree limb into a clearing, her sandal squished into soft, wet clay. Not wanting to ruin her sandals, she removed her clean one and stepped out of the now mired sandal. Her bare foot sank into the smooth clay, and she smiled as the slick mud squished between her toes. She bent down to extract the semi-submerged shoe, pulling it free with a slurp. She carefully made her way into the clearing. Tom's footprints continued on to a churned up area and judging from the large footprints around it. "Tom!" she called. There was no answer. No matter. He would be back soon. It was hot, and Cathys legs were dry and itchy. "I could really use a good lotion." she thought. She looked at the bog's cool, inviting and soothing surface. Setting her sandals by the drier edge, she walked slowly into the soft, smooth clay pit. She immediately sank to her calves and the cool clay felt wonderful on her dry skin. With each step the cold-cream like mud slurped deliciously at her feet, massaging and caressing them in a wet embrace. She walked slowly, feeling the cool mud ooze deliciously between her slender toes. She walked out of the churned up pit towards a small pool of standing water near the center of the clearing. Here the mud engulfed her legs to the knee and she noticed that it was thicker and sucked harder at her ankles, but was much cooler. The added difficulty gave her a brief rush of fear and this in turn provided a surprizing wave of arousal. She thought of turning back, but the soft, smooth mud sent ripples of pleasure through her with each step, calling her in deeper. She spread her toes and squished in the inviting bog, the clay suckling and french kissing her feet. On the other side of the claypit she heard the brush rustle. "Tom?" she called, pausing a moment. She was both startled and relieved to suddenly see Spot's head poke through the leaves. With a yip he jumped into the clearing but pulled back when his paws landed in the wet clay. Cathy laughed. "Hold on, boy!" she called. "I'll get you!" She walked a few steps forward as the mud got a little deeper. When it passed her thighs she stopped and decided to go around . Pulling up on her right leg, she found that the bottom was no longer solid, and her left leg sank deeper. "Oh, great..." she mussed as she tugged at the mired leg. Her shorts were getting dirty and she'd have to clean them up when she got back. The cool, sticky mud was up to her upper thighs now, and she started to become impatient. "...ugh... Come on, Cathy!" she snorted, "you made it through worse than this in Basic Training!" As she jerked at her muscular legs in frustration, the soft curves of her bare feet slipping readily into the soft clay at the bottom more easily than the suction tugging at her other foot. Soon she found herself stuck up to her hips. "Oh, this is a great way to show Tom that I can take care of myself!" she muttered. Remembering her girl scout training, she sat back and tried to pull up her legs and float out. She found that her feet were now a foot or so nearer the surface, but she was also firmly mired up to her chest in the goo. After a few moments of kicking, she was no nearer freedom than before. The surface wasn't thick enough to support her hands to pull or push herself out, and now she could hardly even wiggle her toes in the sucking, thicker clay below. "At least I'm not sinking..." she thought, resting for a moment. Actually, if it weren't for the hard time she was sure Tom would give her, it was quite cool and comfortable. The mud supported her evenly and it was wonderfully cool and soothing on her hot dry skin. Spot wandered around to a point nearer her and barked inquisitively. "Oh, don't you give me flack!" she shouted. "I'll be out in a second..." she added, resuming her struggles. "Then we'll just watch!" Tom's voice called from behind her. Cathy spun her head around and saw him laughing along the edge of the bog by the path. "I noticed that the mud got quite a bit deeper and stickier in the middle - I just about lost my probing stick!" he called, then in a mocking tone, "... you DID prod along the bottom before you wandered into it, didn't you?" Her flushed cheeks indicated that she hadn't thought of this. "Just sit still and I'll pull you out." he chided, picking up his muddy staff. "I ... ugh ... don't need ... ugh ... to be rescued!" Cathy said in between struggles, now determined to free herself. It seemed like every time they went out hiking she needed to be "resuced" from something or another, and she was tired of his constant, chiding remarks. As Spot made his way to Tom's side, the two of them sat down to watch the show. Cathy was in excellent shape, but her sleek, mud coated body was no match for the relentlessly sucking bog. "Are you sure that you don't want any help?" he called as he watched the shiny, muddy curves of her sholders, brests and arms slowly emerge and sink in the rippling chocolate-like liquid. Actually, he was quite content to watch, but he thought he should at least offer to help... she always needed it. She was tiring a bit, but felt like she was making progress. One leg was halfway to the surface and she was trying to spread her weight evenly across the surface. However, she found that her other leg was firmly in the grip of the wet vacuum of the bog. The prospect of so nearly getting free on her own caused her to forget the slow movements that had gotten her as far as she was, and she began frantically struggling again, trying to jerk the mired leg free of the bog's gentle but firm grip. After a few moments of trying to free it, she found herself back in as deep as before. She slapped her hands into the mud angrily, sending speckles flying everywhere. "How could this soft, wonderful goo put up such a fight?!" she muttered. "There, there, sweetheart," Tom said consolingly, almost concealing the amusement in his voice. "... hold still and I'll help you out." This time, Cathy didn't protest as he carefully made his way closer to her suspended body. Still on firm bottom, he extended the stick to her. Exhausted and beaten, she slowly and laboriously extracted her arms from the muck and firmly grabbed the sturdy branch. She watched as Tom's muscular arms rippled as he pulled her slowly from the reluctant clay. This combined with the mud's soft caresses all over her body and the fullfilment of her "rescued damsel in distress" fantasy, sent waves of electricity through her thighs. When she was close enough, he grabbed her by the wrists and slid her free of her sticky trap. Kneeling beside her he looked at her. She was covered in mud up to her neck and her face was spattered brown. "I can see you would be a perfect person to mix mud-bricks, since you obviously LOVE to get dirty!" he teased. Cathy took a handful of mud and pushed it right into his face and began to giggle uncontrollably. "I don't know, the look suits you pretty well yourself!" she teased. With a laugh, she pushed him back and the two tussled in the mud until both were caked, laughing and exhausted. Grasping her warm body in a slippery embrace, Tom slid on top of her and drew her close. Her hands slid effortlessly across his slick chest and shoulders. Soon his hands slid beneath her now hardly noticeable blouse. Her eyes widened as his strong hands, now made smooth as butter, massaged her breasts and she felt his hard body against her. "Maybe we should clean off now?" Tom suggested with a gleam in his eye. Cathy smiled and nodded. The two slowly rose from the mire, the added weight of the mud reducing them to what seemed like slow motion. Stepping behind her, Tom helped her to her feet. "And, Sweetheart, there's no shame in needing help from time to time. We're a team, and there are times when we'll both need to help each other out of 'sticky' situations." He said in a somewhat condicending tone. As she turned to face him, he added somewhat mockingly, "...although, it does appear that you're the more likely candidate!" Tired of his air of superiority, Cathy was about to become upset, but then quietly smiled. Moving through the knee-deep slop, slyly and seductively caressing his chest, she purred, "Better be nice, 'cause you never know when that will be." With a firm shove, she sent a surprised Tom flailing backwards into the deep, sticky mire. Sinking immediately to his waist, Cathy smiled and tossed a clump of mud at him as she began to wade out of the mud pit. Looking back over her shoulder at his stuck, struggling body in the tar-like goo, she smiled and said, "Think about that while I wash off and find a nice, long branch!"