***********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
.