It was raining heavily in the park that day. I couldn’t help but dance. Soon, I encountered a bog of mud. I was wearing a green Carhartt jacket, a flannel shirt, skinny jeans, and yellow Timberland boots. As I observed this bog, I thought about jumping in. Without further shenanigans, I did.

My clothes were submerged into this dirt and water concoction. All the while, the rain came down harder and my body was soaked from head to toe. As I laid on my back, I groped the dirt and massaged the mud deeply upon sensitive parts of my neck. My left hand slowly slid down my chest as my nipples absorbed the mud. It covered the peaks and valleys of my ribs as I bucked with delight. The curves of my belly were lightly touched by the trickling of the rain. Lo and behold, my hand reached my shaft and I stroked like there was no tomorrow.

Still secure under the zipper of my jeans, my groin was a denim mountain. My strokes turned to jerks. I unzipped and let my dick out as the rain moistened my hand. I moaned in ecstasy every time raindrops tickled my balls. The sensations of rain and mud submerged me further into the clutches of arousal.

I rolled around in the bog as the fire in my belly was in desperate need of kindling. But I smothered it as I crawled through the mud on my belly. With my dick still exposed, hard, and throbbing, it was as if I was programming the earth with my DNA. I was grinding myself against the dirt. My eyes squinted with every gyration.

As I wriggled, I got into cobra formation. I pushed my torso up as my groin pressed harder into the wet ground. My knees and the toes of my boots bore holes as I pushed up. My soiled and soaked clothes were now a second skin. I continued crawling as my dick dragged against tall grass around the perimeter of the bog. I was sent into spasms as the light touch tickled the edge of my head

My scrotum was shrieking and my libido was peaking when I grabbed my cock with force and went full-throttle. Soon, a river of semen streamed from my dick. It even formed tributaries and fjords from the winds of my arousal. I laid on my back as the rain became a drizzle. The drizzle became mist. The sun was gleaming through the mist and a rainbow illuminated my body. I was weakened by my autoerotic teasing. As I crawled toward solid ground, I baked in the sun. becoming a human mud pie. The sun baked me just right.

A groundskeeper saw me lying down. I imagine he doesn’t always see mud-soaked men lying on the ground. He walked around me, observing every inch of me lying horizontally and my cock standing vertically. He got down to my level, cupped my ass, and licked the cum off my head. I moaned at octaves I never thought I could reach. After completely emptying my load, the groundskeeper crawled on top of me. He pressed his chest into mine, held my hands behind my back, and kissed me. He held me tight in his muscular arms and said, “I wanna get dirty with you, big guy.” The smile on my face expanded, and my vocabulary only consisted of one word: YES!

-Published by 1870 under Jack M. Freedman