***********Challenge at Big Boggy Park************* Part One: The Arrival I was on vacation, and after a night of drinking at The Lookout Bar in Surfside I awoke to the sunny south Texas sun and went for a little walk on the beach. Finding nothing but a couple hermit crabs and a few oil blots, got in my Cherokee and headed south. As I made my way along the coastline, far from the hubbub of the more industrial areas and into more remote country, I passed a small sign pointing the way to "Big Boggy State Park." As a confirmed mudder and adventurer, I had to check out what appeal a park by this name might have. I wheeled the Jeep around onto the small dirt road that snaked back through the dense trees. The main road was only a few miles from shore and since the park was in-between, I wondered just how big or interesting it could possibly be. The road nevertheless wound back and forth for several miles, and at one point I saw a small office and parking lot with what looked like a girl in a black bikini suntanning out in front. The trees quickly became more dense, and I couldn't see the spot any longer, but after a couple of minutes of driving, I finally reached the entrance. As I pulled into the small parking lot, I saw a Jeep almost exactly like mine, same make, year, and color parked next to the office by the gate... but nobody was outside. As I walked up, my sandals crunched on the gravel and through an open window I saw the girl in the small office look up. She was very attractive, tall, blonde hair and fabulous tan skin. Under a somewhat loose and ill-fitting Park Ranger's uniform, I could see the promise of an incredible build. My eyes traveling down, I saw a pair of gorgeous legs connecting her shorts and hiking boots. As I stepped in, she put down a magazine and looked up. "Nice Jeep," I opened. I looked for a name tag and finding none, she somewhat nervously answered,"... Kim." She looked out to the matched pair of vehicles in the lot. "Yea," she joked, " I wish I had one like yours! So, How can I help you?" I asked if there was anything of interest in a park with such a lovely name. She chuckled at the attempt at sarcasm. While still looking at our matching vehicles, she explained how Big Boggy was mainly a reserve set up by a major oil company that had to buy the land for some reason, then donated it to the state as a tax right-off. A single trail wound through, but there was really nothing more than bogs, mire and lots of mud. I answered that I happened to love hiking through bogs and mud, bragging that I'd hiked through hundreds of bogs, swamps and mires, been in quicksand many times, and still had never been stuck. She picked up on the cockiness in my voice, and looking me over, top to bottom. Whit a little more interest in her voice she replied "Oh really? *Never* been stuck? I've heard that from lot's of guys..."then she added daringly, " ...and I've had to extract guys driving a lot bigger Jeeps than yours...but I guess that's part of my job..." "I meant on foot" I said. "So did I" she countered coyly. After sizing her up, I asked "So how do these big strong men get in such a predicament?" in a slightly mocking voice. "Most are either older, macho hikers with their big German boots, or else Nike-clad frat-rats who have had a little too much beer ..." she paused slightly, "...to be of much other amusement to me... and end up getting in a little too deep..." "Ooooo... their booties get stuck?" I taunted. "Among other things... " I picked up the gauntlet. "Well, I'm a sandal-wearing consultant... care to place your mud where your mouth is?" "Any time" she quickly and confidently replied. "An-ny time." "Do you have a map of the park?" I asked. She hesitantly glanced around, and stammered on about printing delays, revisions, etc. She asked "How about a personal tour instead?" It only took a slight raising of her eyebrows to get me get up. Smiling broadly I reply " I thought you'd never ask!" When I asked if she would get in trouble for leaving her office, she assured me that there was no way she'd get fired. And well, it was her job to show people around. As she locked the door behind her, and posted a yellow note reading "Back in 30 minutes. Kim." Walking toward the trail, she complained that most of the trips into the park were for suit-wearing oil company executives and lab technicians, and that they didn't like to get dirty. "So we might get muddy walking through here?" I asked. She answered: "Oh, yes" in a deep voice and smiled. "Come on, Hot shot." Part Two: The Adventure Two paths left the office. One was labled BOG TRAIL. The other had no sign, and Kim headed toward it. "Let's take the trail backwards... it's more interesting that way" she suggested. I followed obligingly. As we walked, I took the time to find out more about her. "How did a nice girl like you end up in a swamp like this?" seemed like an appropriate line. She explained that as a teen she also enjoyed squishing barefoot through mud and this had led her to major in Parks and Recreation in College. When this position came up the name caught her interest, so she toured the place and because of the oil company's endowment the pay was nearly double that of any other position. "... and the park has its charms..." she concluded. I noticed a sign back hiden in the brush as we passed it. It was strange hiking a trail backwards; the signs were placed so that they were visible primarily from the front. As I looked back, the cheery sign reminded us "Take only memories... leave only footprints! Thanks!" Kim looked back and chuckled. "I doubt you'll forget *these* memories!" I gulped with expectation. I asked what she did for this massive salery. Her job entailed regularly checking the trails, showing around... select... guests, and lots of leisure reading. The descending trail passed a crystal clear pool of spring water. Ahead the trail began to get a little muddy. Kim paused and took off her boots and socks, leaving them by the side of the pool. "The trail is pretty smooth, and the mud feels *so* good between my toes." she purred, and suggested I join her. Her perfectly painted toenails were fire-engine red, and every bit as tan as her legs. I noticed several large, discolored spots on her feet, common to beachwalkers in this area. These I knew from the one or two smaller ones on my own feet were picked up where blots of raw, crude oil spilled from off-shore rigs, tankers, etc. had washed up onto the beach. Even after using gas or turpentine, they were almost impossible to wash off. I complemented her on her even tan, and she explained "it takes constant work..." I mentioned that it must be rough getting an even tan with that ranger outfit, and she looked around at the sunny sky and stretched. "Actually," she confided," I'd REALLY like to work on the tan today. Mind if I ...?" I swallowed hard and shook my head. She unbuttoned her blouse and quickly stripped off the blouse, revealing the hoped for black bikini which barely contained the bounteous proportions of her breasts. After removing my sandals, I disrobed to my swim briefs (still on from my stroll on the beach earlier.) Following my lead, she removed her shorts, revealing a matching thong that could be the only suitable match to her perfect top. We continued a bit, sliding and squishing our way down the trail. I sniffed the air; it was getting damp and had a musty swamp smell. On the left was what looked like a small pond (about 30' wide) that had dried up, leaving behind a smooth, glossy brown flat surrounded by reeds. There was a spot that looked churned up about 7-8 feet in that had several footprints leading up to it. She stopped by the edge. "This is one of my favorite spots." She began. "The mud here is *so* smooth and soft, it's better than any lotion I've found!" "So that's the secret behind your gorgeous skin!" I exclaimed, rubbing my hand on her bare back. She shuttered ever so slightly, and smiled. "It's *really* good." And patting my rear added, "Your skin looks a little dry..." The smile broke out into a full teeth grin that screamed "I dare ya!" "You're the expert," I replied. "Give me the tour?" "It gets a little deep in the middle..." she warned, as I took my first step. My foot squelched into the mud, through the slick brown surface and into the dark black mire below. "Like I said before," I challenged, "I haven't gotten stuck yet!" The mud along the edges was between 1"-12" deep. Each step resulted in a quiet "blurp" as the cool, buttery mud enveloped my foot. As I pulled out each foot, the mud quietly slurped. The amazing part was that there wasn't a bump or grain in the entire texture... it was perfectly smooth. Kim had entered the mud, and walked in until she was almost up to her knees. "I come out here a lot," she mused, "the mud is cooler and more relaxing than anything I've found so far, and the air conditioning in the office doesn't always keep up with the Texas sun." At this point Kim began working her way into the yielding bog, until she was kneeling. "Why is this your favorite?" I asked, working my way over to where she was settling into. "Well, there are a couple special bogs here," she explained as she slowly wiggled her way into a seated position, the mud just below her breasts, "... but this one has the softest mud... and the coolest. The trees keep it in the shade most of the time and the sea breeze keeps the air moving, so there aren't many bugs." I had to agree. The mud here was the softest, coolest, most inviting I had ever encountered. Each step was like a French Kiss, and when I got to where Kim was gently undulating, I worked my way in beside her. The soft mud readily gave way, accepting my body in a wet, tight but relaxed embrace, Mother Earth's cool lips sucking every curve of my body. I started to feel my body instinctively relax, as the bog supported my weight. It seemed natural to reach over and start massaging Kim's shoulders. The mud was indeed as smooth and slick as any lotion, and she smiled as she settled back into the mud toward me. As I stopped and scooped up a handful of the oily goo, she looked back over her shoulder and her lips met mine. The warm, wet, kiss was welcomed and reciprocated. The soft glob of mud began oozing out of my hand between my fingers. As the kissing grew more passionate, I was about to put it down when her hand caught mine and pulled it to her chest, smearing the morass in the rich cleavage under the bikini top. The mud coated each breast like grease, and as my massaging (and her breathing) became more agitated the top slipped off. Soon our bodies were a slippery, writhing, wiggling tangle, the mud lubricating our skin so that there wasn't the slightest hint of friction anywhere. Her hands began sliding over my chest and waist, easily sliding under my swim trunks, and I found my hands matching hers move for move. The slime coating eliminated any resistance, and our actions brought each other closer and closer. We settled deeper and deeper into the mud pit, churned to a soupy black pool by our actions, and as our passions mounted, the ripples spread out across the pond like tiny waves climaxing to a torrid release. In the afterglow, we looked at each others mud spattered faces, the only portion of our bodies not *completely* coated in a thin, glossy, black glaze, and burst into laughter! "Whoa... I see the appeal of this spot for you." I gasped. Even now, the mud still erotically slurped and caressed us whenever we moved in the slightest. Kim smiled a contentedly and nodded in blissful agreement. "Yep." she confirmed, leaning back on my chest. "it really greases the ol' gears!" she said in her best pseudo-drawl. We laughed and rested, floating weightlessly and effortlessly for a long time, talking lazily about the joy's of nature. Part Three: The Challenge As the afternoon wore on, I got up and started to stretch my legs. I began walking around the mud pond, venturing in toward the center at various spots while Kim floated contentedly in our little pool. The pond appeared to get about thigh-deep near the center, which would have been above Kim's waist. Although the smooth mud sucked at my bare feet, it posed no problem to my freedom. "So this is the 'big challenge' of the great Big Boggy State Park?" I gloated. "Hey, when it's up to your waist, the going is pretty slow..." Kim teased. " but remember, I just said this is the spot I think has the *best* mud, and now I think you now know for what!" she added. "I had to let you try out the 'kiddy pool' first ...now there is another bog..." she began hesitantly. "No arguments from me on this bog!" I conceded willingly. "Let's wash off." she suggested. "I want to get a little sun this afternoon!" We continued talking as we walked back to the clear pool and washed off. "So where is the big challenge...? " I had been in waist deep and deeper mud of all thicknesses before. I knew that as long as you were barefoot, the suction of the mud couldn't get a strong enough grip on your feet and legs to hold you fast. "... waist deep didn't seem so bad..." Kim's voice grew more serious, but her eyes took on a challenging sparkle. "In the other bog...you wouldn't want to get in deeper than your thighs... " and shaking her head she added in just the right mocking tone, "...really sticky stuff...besides, you're cute and I don't feel like being bothered to have to pull you out." She paused, grinning smugly as she slowly washed the mud from her breasts, her carefully chosen words striking their intended target like cruse missiles. This was a perfect example of one of those points where male testosterone makes life difficult. On one hand, it signaled my groin: "Hey, this is good! She thinks you're cute! Who knows, you could end up getting it three or four more times today alone!!!" and on the other hand, it spurs on the male ego that is screaming "What are you talking about?!?! You KNOW you can get through! A little girl might get stuck, but a guy like you?! If you don't show her, she'll think YOU'RE a little girl! Come on, be a man!" My groin was bordering on winning, when she launched the final missile with a raised eyebrow. "I bet there would be something I might be able to do to make the challenge more worthwhile ... unless you're chicken." Direct hit! As every schoolboy on up knows, men have this genetic inability to turn down a dare from a beautiful woman. When coupled with the promise of erotic gratification, this becomes impossible to resist! She seemed to have a perfect sense of when and how to keep me going, and to be honest, the thought of being "stuck" with her in a bog was not such a bad idea, so I leapt up and like a dog on the hunt, barked "Let's go!" Kim smiled triumphantly and lead the way. Part Four: The Second Bog We walked quickly and quietly down the trail in silence. My hands were trembling in anticipation, and Kim kept glancing at me, winking, and otherwise enticing me, keeping the hormones flowing swiftly. It was only about a hundred yards until I could faintly see the Gulf through the trees. We approached a second bog that was similar to the first but with no reeds around the edge and about twice as large. Along the edge there was an empty Coke bottle and tiny footprints which ventured only about two feet into the morass. "Here we are!" Kim chirped. "You don't still have your keys and stuff in your pockets, do you? You don't want to loose them in there!" "No, I left them back in my shorts by the pool... " She stepped one foot gingerly into the edge, pulling it up and wiggling her bare but coated toes, dripping drops of slick, black mud. She picked up the bottle, and asked if I was a litter-bug. I replied no, and she posed the situation: "Then if it somehow got out into the flat, you would be a big, strong hero and bring it back for me, right?" I replied that, of course I would, and with a brief nod, she wound up and hurled the bottle about 35 feet, right smack-dab in the middle of the flat. I landed with a dull "splut." "Good aim..." I conceded. "Summer softball league...three years" she announced proudly, although I could have guessed. "Now if you get it, I'll have a big 'ranger reward' for you!" I drew a deep breath and stepped cautiously in. The edge of the mud flat was much like the other mud, super soft and slick, but just slightly oilier. However, it rapidly dropped off to almost knee deep. It offered little resistance, and really didn't even provide much suction, only slightly more that the other pool. "Well, this isn't so bad..." I quipped. "Just keep going..." Kim prodded encouragingly. "I'd like nothing better that to be proved wrong, but I *seriously* doubt it!" Each step carried me closer to the bottle, but the mud didn't get deeper. The bottom was fairly firm, supporting my weight for a second or two and then slowly starting to give way. As long as I kept walking, even that wouldn't pose a problem. If it weren't for the massive buildup I would have suspected that she was just joking. Or maybe she *wanted* to loose! That was it! I continued on, while Kim watched expectantly. The mud did get deeper toward the center, but barely to my knees. Here the bottom felt like it had a rubbery skin... it was like walking on a mattress. When I got to the bottle I stopped and picked it up. I could feel my feet sink slightly into the thick goo below, the mud rising slowly above my knees. "Hey!" she shouted. I paused. she seemed ready to say something, but hesitated. I felt my feet sinking a bit deeper, and shifted my weight. "I guess it's not so much of a problem!" she shouted. "How's the mud feel?" The cool mud was creeping to my thighs. " The top's about the same as the others just a little oilier. The bottom feels different though... it's kinda rubbery, and ...what the ?!" As I pulled up on my right foot, the goo at the bottom held it fast, forcing my other foot down. The additional weight on my left foot caused it to break through the thick, gooey top layer and my left leg was swallowed to my upper thigh. Shifting my weight to keep my balance, the other foot broke through, and oozed slowly but surely down. I tried wiggled my toes, but the bottom goo was as sticky and thick as cooked molasses. I concentrated on extracting one foot. "Hmmmmm... having a little trouble now?" Kim quipped, a smug grin on her face. "Just a minor delay..." I lied. I had been in sticky clay bogs before, and slow patient progress one leg at a time was all it took to get out. But this was very different. As I pulled on my one leg, the goo at the bottom clung like glue. It was so thick that I could barely get one leg out of the mess and back into the normal mud above it. This was NOT like any other mud I'd seen! I stepped forward, working the free leg back through the mud. I set it down on the more solid surface 2-3 feet closer to shore, but as soon as I pulled on my other foot, the added weight caused it to break through and slowly sink in the thick mire. I pulled and the other leg came out, but only at the expense of my other leg going in about an inch farther. I managed to do this 3 or 4 times, getting me a few feet closer to shore, but the process had worked me in deeper and churned up the surrounding mud. An oily smell arose, and I felt the mud around me getting gooier. "Looks like your having a *lot* of trouble... I guess you should have stayed in the 'kiddy-mud pool'!!!" she taunted. I was in up to my waist. The 'mud' was now getting an oil- slick shine on the surface, and the smell of petroleum became stronger. "What IS this stuff?" I asked incredulously. "Oh, you know... I think they had a sign up warning about this place..." she said, walking to the other side of the pool. There, along the front of the trail was a sign facing away from me. She turned it around and I read the big bold letters. Tar pit! Keep Back! Kim calmly explained: "Ranger Rick told me that the oil company had to buy this property after a big, nasty oil spill around 15 years ago. After a storm, this slit washed over it and they thought they could cover the whole thing up, but eventually the government found out. The clean-up was pretty complete, but a few of undiscovered tar pits boil to the surface every so often. They're pretty safe unless some fool breaks through the suffice, then even Hercules couldn't get out!" She smiled. As the cool upper mud crept past my mid-rift, I felt the sticky tar bonding to my skin. The raw crude tar held my legs tight: any struggles at this point only resulted in my sinking deeper. However, if I didn't try to get out, I'd still continue my slow decent. I felt the oily grip reach my thighs and the surrounding tar-mud clung to my arms as I tried to push myself out. "No fair! This isn't mud!" I protested. "Throw me a rope!" I called. "Aw, come on! You can get out! You won't sink deeper than your shoulders! Ranger Rick said so!" she shouted. "Who's 'Ranger Rick'?" I asked. She ignored the question. The thick crude almost was up to my armpits. As she said, I began to float, but as I tried to move my legs I could barely budge. My arms were in all the way, and as I tried to pull them out, the sticky trap held them in, forcing me down even deeper. "I have to go up to the office... I got a little of that tar on my feet, and it's *so* hard to get off!" she mused. The second wave of panic hit me. THIS STUFF WASN'T COMING OFF ME! "Hey, enough kidding around! Get me out of here!" I shouted. She started walking back up the path but stopped. She looked back at my spattered head, now the only part bobbing above the pit. She shook her head and walked over to a nearby tree. Picking up a coil of rope, she tied one end to the tree. "If you weren't so good back in the other mudhole..." she complained as she swung the rope back. She tossed it out toward me. The rope uncoiled across the surface, sticking to the mud as it touched down. The end of the rope splattered into the oily slop around my face. I blinked, and opened my spattered eyes to see Kim wave as she strode up the trail. "I'm heading up to the office... When you get up there I'll have a surprise for you!" She called over her shoulder. Then with a snicker, she disappeared around the bend. Part Five: The Escape I slowly started working my hands up to the surface. She really had me in a predicament, but I realized that I had gotten myself into it. It was like a very effective bondage trap: if I moved my hands up too fast, the weight and suction of the tar pushed me in deeper, and I was already up to my chin... not much room to work with. After about five minutes, my tar-caked hands finally reached the surface and grasped the rope. Pulling with all my might, the rope sunk into the mud from the base of the tree where she had tied it all the way to shore. I wouldn't be able to pull myself *up* and out of the goo, I'd have to pull myself THROUGH it. Another little twist... I started to gain a new appreciation for her deviousness. The thick, sticky tar proved to be the greatest workout ever devised. After a half hour of hard work I managed to get about half way out of my little tar-pit. My legs were still firmly engulfed and not able to move or help. The going was slow and every time I stopped, exhausted, gravity resumed the slow trip down into the tar-trap. It was getting late, probably now to 5:00 p.m., when I knew the park closed. After another 15 minutes I finally my legs slid out of the pit, and I slowly dragged my body, now three times my weight, through the mud. Swimming and pulling, I made my way to shore and collapsed exhausted on the firm ground. After laying there a few minutes, gasping, I tried to scrape off the goo. The thick tar lived up to it's tar and feather reputation, and I realized that I'd have to carry the 2"-3" thick coating up to the office, where the turpentine would hopefully get it off. Sex was not even in my mind anymore as I realized that it would take WEEKS for the black tattoo to come off. I stomped back up the trail to the pool where we began... I resigned my clothes to the trash can and picked them up with my black, molten hand... I wasn't going to be able to put them on until massive cleaning up had taken place. "Ha, ha, Kim." I thought. I contemplated what I'd do to her as I made my way up to the office. Surely she'd get in trouble for this... I could have drowned! And just leaving the rope... what kind of Ranger would do that?... Then a sickening feeling came over me as I felt the empty pockets of my shorts.. I ran the final few steps up the trail and my worst fears were confirmed: the parking lot was empty! Next to the office I saw an empty tin turpentine can, the ground faintly smelling of the remainents. As I slogged up to the door, I saw a crumpled note beside the tar-covered Coke bottle on the ground: 'Ranger Rick', Thanks for riding with the wrecker and taking my old junker to the shop. Just leave it. I've decided to hitch it from here. I really enjoied your 'tour' this a.m. especially our trist in the mud! (see, I even brought back the Coke bottle!) But I have to get going...you know the life of a drifter! Nobody came by the office while you were gone. Thanks for the uniform, and enjoy your weeks vacation! I don't know where I'm going now, but don't worry, I'll be safe getting around... although I still wish I had your Jeep! (You know I loved it!) I'll never forget Big Boggy, and I'll always remember your advise to never wade into tar-pits!!! I'm no fool! Love, 'Ranger for a day' Kim