Mud 1

I was driving in the mountains, heading to a little town buried in them somewhere. I was also if a foul mood. No, it wasn't that time of the month. I was just in a bad mood. I'm allowed to be. Not helping my mood was the fact that the GPS I was counting on to get me to my destination suddenly went on the fritz, suggesting I do a right hand turn where there was nothing but mountain on one side of me and a very steep descent on the other. Maybe the GPS was in a bad mood as well, although assassinating the driver wouldn't extend its life.

I was now in the situation where I didn't know the area, I didn't know where I was going, and I still had to get there. So maybe I was driving a little slowly while I considered the situation. So sue me, I don't care.

This great big SUV came barrelling up from behind me. OK, so I could have pulled over and let him pass, but why should I? I was driving at a safe speed so he could, too, like it or not.

He stayed close behind me for about a minute and then gave a short toot on his horn. I just waved and kept on my way. Knowing that a man in a big car wanted to pass and couldn't cheered me up somewhat. It felt as though I was passing my bad mood over to him. He would just have to be patient. He'd reach his destination sooner or later, and today it seemed that it would be later.

I managed to stay in his way for several miles before we reached a wider stretch of road and he took off past me. I thoughtfully gave him the finger as he passed, even though he wasn't deigning to look my way. Fuck him, I thought. Men and their big toys. If he was honest with himself he'd admit that all he really needed was a small, trustworthy, car like mine.

A Diner appeared on the side of the road and I pulled in, intending to take a break and ask for direction. There was a car pulling out right in front of the entrance and I nipped into it as soon as the way was clear. There was a toot and glancing around I saw that another car had been waiting to pull into this space. Hard luck. First come, first served. Or perhaps in this case it should be the quick and the dead. I was quick and he was dead out of luck. It's not as though there wasn't more parking spots, just further away across the muddy ground that I wouldn't have to walk on.

As I approached the doors a man who was already there opened them and held them for me. I didn't hurry up at all, just sauntering along.

"No need to hold the door open just because I'm a lady," I scoffed at him.

"You're not and I didn't," he replied. "I saw your one finger salute when I passed you. I held the door because I'm a gentleman."

What a macho jerk. I just gave a superior sniff and stalked past him and into the Diner.

I had some coffee and then asked the waitress if she could give me directions to my destination. No problems, she said, and proceeded to give me some fairly explicit directions. Not having a macho image to worry about I recorded what she was saying on my phone, so I could play it back as required.

That's when the Jerk butted in.

"Pardon me," he said, "but if you're going to Deerford you would be wiser not to take the Samson road. It's rather muddy and a little car like yours might drive into a mud patch and sink out of sight. You should stick to the highways. Longer, but more your style I think."

"Unlike some people, who feel the need to speed everywhere, I'm quite a competent driver, and I'm not worried about a little mud. I can always wash my car."

I put a bit of emphasis on the words 'I' and 'my', as the SUV he'd been driving was absolutely filthy.

It appeared the insinuation flew straight past the Jerk without him even noticing. Typical male; wouldn't catch a hint if it was wrapped in pretty paper and tossed to him.

"Fair enough, but I'll give you a friendly tip. When you see a stretch of mud keep to the centre of the road and drive through fast. The mud will be thinnest there and it will help you get through."

Oh, sure. Drive through the mud real fast. That would cover my car with mud and he probably knew it. I just nodded to him, not telling him what he could do with his advice.

I left and finally reached Samson road. I briefly considered what the Jerk had said and then shrugged and ignored it. Like I'd told him, I was a competent driver. I turned into Samson road.

Samson road wasn't too bad. Parts of it were bitumen but other parts were unmade road, damp, but not excessively muddy. I was feeling better about my decision up until I came to a section of road that glistened. I pulled up and considered the road. For about thirty feet the road seemed to be covered in some sort of clayey mud. Still, it was only thirty feet. I shouldn't have any problems.

No matter what the Jerk had advised I wasn't driving through that mud fast. If I skidded it could cause me to slip off the road and bang into the trees on one side or the other. Slow but sure was the trick.

I eased forward, finding it easier going than I thought, although the wheels did spin a little at times. I was about halfway across when the spin a little turned into spin a lot. The car slowed and stopped, the wheels turning but not taking me anywhere. I went into reverse, meaning to back up and come in a little faster.

I didn't move, did I? Backward or forward it made no difference. The wheels spun merrily in place. I cautiously opened the door and looked out, trying to assess the situation. It was a case of, oh, lord, help me. The mud was inches thick. If I had to get out my shoes and pantihose would be ruined. I dithered for a moment and decided to take them off. Muddy feet I could wash clean. Muddy shoes, not so easily.

I didn't have time to get out of the car. A big SUV was approaching from behind and you can guess which one. The Jerk just pulled over to the side of the road and zoomed through the mud there with no problems, pulling up once he reached the far side.

He hopped out of the SUV and strolled up to the edge of the mud.

"Looks like you're stuck," he said, a very oracle of the obvious.

"I am," I agreed. "Can you help me?"

"I guess. I suppose you tried to drive through slowly."

He shook his head as he delivered this thinly disguised 'I told you so'.

"Which way do you want me to get you out? Forward, or back so you can go and take the main road? There are two more muddy patches like this and they can be tricky."

"Forward," I said through gritted teeth. Condescending bastard. "I'll manage. I'll just make sure I drive through faster in future."

"OK. You're the boss," he said affably. "Just wait there and I'll be right over."

Wait here, he says. Where did he think I was going to go?

He pulled an absolutely enormous pair of boots out of the back of the SUV and pulled them on. They reached right up past his knees. Wearing those he just sploshed through the mud to where I was.

"It's not far to the road and the mud isn't that deep. There'll be no need to use a tow to pull you loose. Just put her in a low gear and some gentle acceleration and I'll push you out. Just make sure you aim at the road next to my truck and not at my truck."

I slipped my shoes back on and did as instructed. He got behind and pushed and the car eased slowly forward. Like he said, it wasn't far. I could feel the difference in the response as soon as the car's wheels had a decent grip. The front wheels were now on the road past the mud and the rear wheels were only on a thin layer of mud.

With, I freely admit, malice aforethought, I trod on the accelerator. The back wheels spun madly for a second and then the car surged forward and out of the mud. The spinning wheels had done just what I hoped for, showering the jerk with mud.

"Oh, dear, how careless of me," I wailed. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you so much for your help."

With that I took off, laughing my head off.

I decided that it wouldn't hurt to drive a little faster. He'd looked a little irate about the mud bath and I didn't want him doing any road-rage in that SUV. Just thinking of him, you understand.

After a short while I came to another section of mud, much like the first. This time I took a line dead down the centre and sped up. I skidded a little going through but I made it, zipping out of the mud and away I went. No problems. I knew I could handle it.

It was the third and last section of mud that did me in. It looked the same as the other two and I used the same tactics that I'd used on the second patch. Speed up, centre of the road, go through fast.

As with the first patch I made it half way, but with the car slowing drastically as I went. When I cautiously opened the door and looked out I found the mud was halfway up the wheels. I was a lot deeper here. No wonder I'd got bogged.

Of course, that's when the Jerk rolled up in his big macho SUV. He went sailing past me with no problems, pulling to a stop on the far side and hopping out. He strolled over to the edge of the mud and looked at me. I looked back, noting that he seemed a little mud-splattered still.

"You now, the main road didn't have any mud patches. If you'd taken it, you'd probably be in Deerhorn by now."

He waited a moment but I didn't say a word.

"Would I be right in assuming that you would like some assistance?"

I wanted to rant at him and tell him I'd drag the car out of the mud stark naked rather than accept his help but I didn't really have much choice.

"Yes, please."

It was back on with the oversize boots and he waded over, taking note of how deep the mud was and how thoroughly bogged I was.

"I won't be able to push you out this time. I'll rig up a tow rope. Can you drive an SUV?"

"I can, but why do I need to?"

"Once I have the tow rope set up I'll have you drive the SUV nice and slow while I steer your little toy. When it pulls free it's likely to come out with a jerk and if you don't know what you're doing you could slide off the road. So you drive the SUV and I control the toy."

Unfortunately, what he said made sense. I had no idea how a car bursting free from a muddy grave would behave and it seemed that he did. I looked at the expanse of mud between me and the SUV and groaned. (Silently. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset.)

"That mud is too deep for you to wade through," he told me. "You'd trip and get swallowed up and I'd have to go fishing for you. I'll carry you through it. Don't open the door. Wind down the window and come out that way and I'll do a fireman's carry. Safer and easier."

I was reluctant, very reluctant, but what else could I do? Wade through the mud? I'd have filthy feet and there was always the possibility that I'd slip and fall. It didn't bear thinking about. I sighed and wound down the window.

I was only part way out of the window when he reach down, his hands closed around my waist and he popped me out of the car and over his shoulder, neat as you please. That's when I found the disadvantages of this position.

I had on a shortish, rather loose, dress and when I went over his shoulder the dress settled down, exposing my panties. That in itself would have been humiliating but what followed was even more so.

His arm had come up and wrapped around my waist, holding me firmly in position. That was a plus. I wouldn't fall. His other arm was free, and that was a minus. He was free to do what he wanted with it. What he wanted to do was reach up and pull my panties down, exposing my bottom to the world. Well, exposing it to him, as he was the only person around.

"What the hell?" I shrieked, only to shriek again as he very firmly spanked by bottom.

He ambled back to the SUV, spanking me as he went, and they were hard spanks. I could feel my bottom turning red and catching fire as he went.

"I didn't appreciate you blocking my way on the road earlier. You were rude when you cut off another driver to get a preferred parking spot. You were rude when I graciously held the door open. You were rude when you turned down my advice. You didn't need to accept it, but there was no need to be rude when rejecting it. To top it off you deliberately splattered me with mud when I was helping you out."

One by one he went through what he considered my sins, spanking me hard for each one. I was kicking and screaming but I didn't dare struggle too hard. What if he dropped me? We finally reached the SUV and he swung me down onto my feet.

I stood there, almost dancing on the spot, then remembered my panties and hastily pulled them up, giving him the evil eye the entire time. I wanted to rant and rave but I couldn't. My car was still in the mud. All I could do was stand there, holding my smarting bottom, and glaring at him, vowing vengeance.

He strolled over to his car and dug out two lengths of rope and an old tyre tube. He could see I was puzzled and winked at me.

"Watch and learn," he said.

He fastened one rope to the rear of his car and the other end of it to the inner tube. Then he tied the other rope to the inner tube.

"I'll tie this rope to your car," he told me. "When you start the tow the inner tube will stretch, taking some of the tension. It means that the tow will go a lot more smoothly as the tube will absorb any sudden jerks.

Once I'm ready I'll give you a wave and you slip the SUV into low gear and move slowly forward. Don't go faster than walking pace because if you overstrain something it will be your car that breaks, not mine. Keep an eye on the rear vision and if you see I'm in trouble or if the car is free, stop."

With that he splashed away to attach the tow to my car. Satisfied he slipped into my car and gave me a wave. Still furious with him, I hopped into the SUV and did as told; first gear, slow speed, watch the rear vision. It worked a treat. I could see the inner tube stretching and then my car came loose and the inner tube relaxed a little. I didn't feel even the slightest jolt as I started pulling my car out the mud. Then it was on the road and I was braking and putting the SUV into park.

I raced back to my car, immensely relieved. I was about to blast him for the spanking when a thought occurred.

"Ah, are there any more mud stretches between here and Deerford?"

"No. You'll have a clear run from here on."

"Fine. Thank you for your assistance. However, not wanting you to think I'm being rude, I should inform you that I'll be reporting you to the police for sexual assault."

"Sexual assault," he said, as if savouring the words. "Ah, what sexual assault?"

"You spanked me," I yelled, letting my anger show.

"That I did," he agreed. "I did, indeed. And on your bare bottom, too. Still, I wouldn't really class that as a sexual assault."

"Well, I would."

"You're mistaken. Let me show you the difference."

By the time I'd processed what he'd said it was too late to react. He'd just bent down, put his shoulder against my tummy, and taken a step forward while lifting. I was back across his shoulder as he walked to the front of my car.

He comfortably perched himself on the hood of my car and dropped me across his knee, a hand on my back to make me stay there. Then it was dress lifted, panties down, and hand coming down firmly upon my bottom. Again.

"This," he said, "is a plain or vanilla type spanking, with my hand bouncing off your bottom. Now if I wanted to make it a sexy type of spanking I'd take advantage of the fact that your legs are waving around and deliver a few spanks here."

I'd been yelling while he spanked my bottom but I just totally lost my voice in shock when his hand slapped down against my pudenda. I was almost gibbering, telling myself he did not do that, knowing even before his hand landed there again that I was lying to myself. He was indeed doing that.

He put in several smarting slaps to my pussy before it occurred to me to stop kicking my legs about and get them firmly closed. Didn't that work a treat! I managed to close my legs at precisely the wrong moment, pinning his hand firmly against my pussy. So that rotten swine started rubbing it.

I was swearing and waving my arms about uselessly when he took his hand away from where he was torturing me.

"Of course, you wouldn't expect a sexual assault to limit itself, would you?" he said softly and I started cursing loose dresses that could be pushed right up.

He unhooked my bra and his hands were around me, playing with my breasts. Despite my apologising and asking him to stop he kept right on going, hands at my breasts, hands back at my pussy, breast-pussy, pussy-breast, doing as he wanted when he wanted.

He finally settled down to just having one hand idly rubbing against my pudenda. "Do you understand the difference between a spanking and a sexual spanking now?" he casually asked.

I hissed out some sort of reply indicating that I did.

"The trouble is," he continued, "that a sexual spanking gets me all worked up and I have to take steps to relieve my tensions. Fortunately, I can tell that you also seem to have a few sexual tensions worked up as well and I am willing to help you relieve those at the same time as I relieve my own. No need to thank me. It will be my pleasure."

It didn't take any time at all to guess what he was insinuating. I started protesting even before he swung me back onto my feet. I continued protesting when he turned me and bent me over the front of the car. My protests reached new heights as I felt his hand spreading my lips and heard his zip going down. I abruptly fell silent when I felt the size of what he was pressing against me.

There was nothing I could do to stop him. He'd got me all worked up and his cock was finding it relatively easy to slide into me. I say relatively because he was a tight fit. Something smaller would have had no trouble. Tight fit or not, he came sliding down my passage, crushing any resistance I might have made, not that I noticed myself making any. My passage just seemed to groan slightly and give way, letting his weapon surge past and go deeper.

Even while his cock was sliding into me his hands were rising up inside my dress, targeting on my breasts. He squeezed them and banged home his cock at the same time, holding me tightly against him.

"Now don't be difficult," he said softly, barely breathing into my ear. "I would be most disappointed if I had to stop so that I could spank you into a more reasonable frame of mind. Let's see you going with the hip action as I take you."

I'd have been quite happy to disappoint him but my bottom twinged at the thought. If it was a case of spank or hump I'd take the spank but he was saying it would be a case of spank and hump. If I was stuck with the humping I could at least avoid a spanking. Another spanking, that is.

He pulled back and then slid firmly back into place with me humping my hips, as ordered, and pushing to meet him. I almost shuddered in delight at the feelings he aroused. He was absolutely filling my passage and his rasping pass was triggering fires deep inside me. At the same time he was rubbing my breasts, little flickers of excitement and pleasure emanating from this secondary contact.

He settled down into a nice steady pace, thrusting forcefully into me. There was nothing tentative about his love-making. He knew what he wanted and was taking it with great gusto. I wondered if the delight I was feeling was deliberate on his part or just a by-product of his enthusiasm. I wanted it to be a by-product, mainly because I didn't want to credit him with anything at all, but I had an irritated feeling that it was deliberate. He knew just what he was doing to me and he was working on enhancing that effect.

He kept on working on me, thrusting in hard, but he was doing something other than just banging his cock into me. He seemed to be rolling his hips slightly, his cock moving around as it slid in, with me never quite knowing what to expect, but being left wanting more of the same.