Muddy Stories

Under the gnarled branches of the old oak by the dairy barn, Alan and Liam leaned in close over a battered picnic table. Alan, forty and chair of the local Farmers’ Association, was every inch the robust countryman—slightly muscular, hands calloused from milking and machinery, and eyes that brightened at the very thought of fresh cow pie. His easy laugh and genuine warmth had made him a favourite in the village.

Not sure if this is the right forum section for this, but:

Imagine medieval streets.

Everyone in boots, wading through a mixture of mud and horse crap, possibly even getting splashed with it by carriages or hooves.

So for those who don’t know I’m a delivery driver and this weekend I was sent to do a drop off at an oil refinery. Not somewhere the job would usually take me but I couldn’t complain and in all fairness really hope it happens again.
So to cut a long story short there was a bit of a complication with the delivery and I was asked to go inside to sort it.

This story started a few years ago, when I found an interesting looking brown rectangle on Google aerial maps. I had been looking for a farm muck pit, that had been mentioned to me, in area that was a little way from my usual haunts. I didn't find the muck pit in question, but a distinctive brown rectangle had appeared on the aerial maps since I'd last properly looked. With a closer view, the aerial photo revealed it was a large dirty water pond. And above, what could well be a slurry lagoon, right next to what was probably a large cow shed.

Low Lane Farm

Chapter 10.

Before he could really engage his brain, Lee grabbed Jack's neck and pulled his face towards him. Their lips locked and in no time Jack's tongue had invaded Lee's hot mouth. It flicked around wildly, making Lee moan with sheer pleasure . This again was totally unchartered waters for him, but he knew he wanted this lad.

Low Lane Farm. Chapter 9.
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With the post van gone, the farm was totally silent again. Except for Lee’s rapidly beating heart. In his mind, it sounded as if it might burst through his rib cage.

He held the Dickies overalls against his naked body – they were too long but would certainly fit : the waders, on the other hand, were causing serious activity in his cock !

“ Bullseye High & Dry” the label read. Thick, heavy black rubber, substantial cream coloured steel toes, thick shoulder braces and an intoxicating smell…

Glorious Mud

He was alone again. A last wave, a last honk as the car vanished around the corner and he was alone again. It had been a great visit. They were old friends who knew him as well as anyone. But they did not know about his mud and boot fetish. Yes, the house needed to be straightened out after four nights with guests, but that was not the first priority. The visitors had interrupted his normal routines. Getting off was the urgent requirement.

This story is related to the three photos I recently posted in the "muddy places/farm" area.

http://www.mudboyuk.com/category/image-galleries/muddy-places/farm

It was Saturday night in mid October and I'd got a few nights free to go out and get very muddy/mucky. A couple of nights before, I'd gone out on a wonderfully wet and mucky visit to the local pigs farms, getting home in a very messy state around 3:30am. So after a day to recover and to sort out my gear, I thought I'd go out a bit earlier, on a more low-key trip out.

It was late June and I found myself having an evening free to do as I pleased. But as it was just getting properly dark at 10:30pm, I reckoned I only had about two hours from leaving, to being back home and all cleaned up. Otherwise, it was a perfect night for wallowing, being a balmy 19 degrees C at 10pm. I decided on trying a couple of the nearby field muck heaps, which had appeared in the last few weeks. The heaps would only take about 10 mins to get to by bike.

The New Hand
A fictional fetish story
by deepmud


Niko entered the small construction site, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension about starting his new role as a landscaper. Tall conifers lined the perimeter, creating an air of seclusion from the outside world. Tools, some of the broken, discarded bricks, and splintered wood lay strewn across the grounds, remnants of the ongoing landscaping project among abandoned equipment.