Usually, Kinder Beck was only three feet wide. The little stream gurgled and meandered slowly, crystal-clear along the edge of Joe McManus’s field, and so shallow that the ducks had the choice of swimming or walking. But after three days of almost constant torrential rain it was now brown and surging. The rain had reduced the meadow to a swamp of thick brown mud, slick with water on top. The only relief was the occasional bush along the bank.
Today was the first time for a week that the sun had come out, and the sky was clear blue. Blackbirds and Chaffinches sang in the trees. It was a beautiful day.
The calm of this pastoral scene was broken by excited voices as two boys appeared at the gate on BMX bikes. Jason was in his black Lycra top and shorts, Steve in a white teeshirt and tight skinny jeans. They skidded to a stop by the gate and looked into the field.
“Wow. Whattya think?” Jason pinched the Lycra at his crotch and moved it, adjusting himself.
“Why not? We’ve been across the stream dozens of times.”
“Yeah, but not when it’s like this.”
“Wimp. Come on!” He pushed himself off and rode into the field. Steve followed.
Standing on the pedals to balance, and pushing hard, they made it – a foot at a time – to the top of the bank that fell away down to the beck. Then there was a loud slurp and Jason’s front wheel suddenly sank up to the axle. He fell off sideways. His bike remained upright, stuck, but the foot he’d put down slipped. He landed face down in the sticky brown mud. “Ah fuck.” He started to stand, but halfway up the other foot went and he half-rolled, half-slid down towards the stream. “Shit and fuck.”
Steve was stood, ankle-deep in mud, pissing himself at the sight of Jason desperately trying to get back up the steep slope.
Jason gave up – it was too slippery. “Well don’t just stand there – give me a fucking hand.”
Steve dropped his bike and squelched over to the bank. He crouched down and extended his hand, sighing theatrically.
Jason gripped it and pulled. With a yell, Steve went over the top, slid feet-first down the slope and ended up at Jason’s side. “You bastard. You did that on purpose.”
“Yep.”
Steve grinned, and launched himself at Jason. A wrestling match ensued, arms and legs going everywhere, sucking and squelching through the ooze. When they eventually stopped to get their breath back they were both completely caked in mud. Jason’s black Lycra was a uniform brown with lumps here and there, as was Steve’s previously white teeshirt. Every square inch of his faded blue jeans was plastered with the stuff, making them brown, wet, and shiny.
Jason had ended up kneeling astride his friend. He spat a bit of mud out of the corner of his mouth. “You look terrible,” he laughed, looking down.
“So do you.”
Jason frowned – he’d felt something. “What’s this?” He inched himself backwards over Steve’s hips, then pushed a finger into what was clearly a hard cock in the boy’s tight jeans. “You’ve got a fucking boner.”
“Nah. It’s just a morning woodie.” Steve looked embarrassed and tried to turn over to hide it.
Jason was having none of it. “Bullshit. It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon.” Laughing, he gripped the boy and stopped him turning any further. He prodded the erection again.
“Stop that!”
“You like mud then, do you?” Jason ran his hand all over the boy’s crotch; it slid smoothly on the lubricating mud. He felt the cock jerk. “Fucking hell, you do too!”
“Don’t be fucking daft. And get off me.”
“I don’t think so. You’re fucking loving this!” On impulse Jason scooped a large handful of mud from the bank, forced the stretchy denim away from the boy’s waist with one hand and shoved his hand down inside his jeans. He plastered the mud around the hard cock.
Steve yelled. “Aargh! You cunt!”
“Ha!” Despite Steve’s protests, he got a second handful of mud in to join the first. Then he grabbed the cock and moved it around through the goo inside.
“Fuck off!” kicking and laughing, Steve was struggling under the boy now. His feet couldn’t get any purchase on the muddy bank, though, and only succeeded in digging themselves further into the squelchy stickiness. And Jason was impossible to grip – Steve’s hands kept slipping off him. His cock, sliding through the soft, silky mud inside his jeans, felt amazing. Damn that was horny. Then he saw the bulge in Jason’s Lycra. “Wait a fucking minute – you’ve got a stonking hard-on as well!”
Jason suddenly realised that Steve was right: he was as hard as a rock himself.
Steve grinned up at him. “Feels good, dunnit?”
After a moment Jason nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“More mud.”
Jason grinned back and stuffed another couple of handfuls of it into Steve’s jeans. Steve had pulled his stomach in to make it easier.
“Oh yeeaahh…”
“Slut,” chuckled Jason. He moved the cock around again, then gripped it as well as he could through the saturated denim and started to wank it.
“No. Stop. Let me get my jeans down.”
There were loud sucking noises as Jason got off the boy. He knelt and watched as Steve undid his jeans and fought through the ooze to pull them down. The hard cock moved up slowly, weighed down by the mud all over it.
“Ok.” Steve closed his eyes. “Go for it.”
Jason gripped it again and started to wank it fast. It was the first time he’d ever touched another guy’s cock.
“Slowly. Do it slowly.”
The hand slowed down. Steve’s cock felt firm and warm between his fingers.
Ten seconds later Steve screwed his face up, groaned, and came. His spunk landed on his thighs and jeans, sticky wet whiteness on sticky wet brownness. “Oh fuck. Fuck . Yessss.” Slowly his breathing returned to normal.
He opened his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Thanks. Now, how about you?”
Jason didn’t know if Steve had played with guys before, but he certainly hadn’t himself. “I dunno…”
Steve reached out and gave Jason’s cock bulge a gentle squeeze. His fingers stayed there, and started to tease it.
Oh fuck that felt good, thought Jason. It made the decision for him. “What the heck, why not? Go on then.”
“You want mud inside those shorts?”
“No! I –” He stopped, and thought about it. “Go on then.”
“Lie down.”
Steve took as much mud as he could hold in one hand and, while Jason held the waist of the shorts away from his body, Steve pushed it in. And then a second lot. He left his hand pushed deep inside the shorts and, with an evil grin, he gripped the boy’s cock and began wanking it, a finger sliding over the head, while holding him down with his other hand.
“Oh fuck!” Jason squirmed for a few seconds, his body and arms slithering through the wet, slippery mud – and then he shot his load into his soaked shorts. His hips thrust and his body jerked as he came.
He lay panting on the bank. “Oh shit. Oh shit that was good.”
Steve smiled. “I know.”
They struggled to their feet, Jason almost ending up in the water. Steve cleared as much of the mud out of his jeans as he could, and zipped them up. His cock was still half-hard inside them.
“How we gonna get up this bank?”
“No idea.”
After a lot of sliding and swearing they eventually made it back to their bikes. Jason’s was still standing there upright where it had got stuck. They walked the machines back to the gate and onto more solid ground, and looked at each other. They both burst out laughing.
“What’s your fucking mother gonna say?”
Steve shook his head. “Dunno. Don’t care. That was fun.”
“You ever played with boys before?” Asked Jason.
“Erm… Maybe.”
“Thought you might have.”
“You?”
Jason shook his head. “Nope. First time.”
“Can be a lot of fun.”
“So it would seem. I don’t think I’ll make a habit of it though.”
Steve thought about this. “Hmm. Well, if you ever fancy using my hand for a wank, that’s fine with me.”
Jason didn’t say anything.
“There’s all sorts of interesting things to try. Bondage, leather, rubber, more mud…”
A smile appeared slowly on Jason’s face. “Sounds like a slippery slope to me.”
“Well, you seem to like slippery slopes.”
“There is that.”
They got onto their bikes and headed back along the quiet country lane.
Jason had been thinking. At length he said, “You seem to know a lot more about this sort of thing than me. Might be fun to teach me a few things after all…”
Steve smiled. “You got it.”
They pedalled homewards, leaving two brown muddy lines on the tarmac.
One of the bushes at the edge of the field moved. It was only a few yards from where Jason and Steve had slid down the bank. Joe McManus stood up from behind it, put his cock away, cleaned what spunk he could from his trousers and headed back to his farmhouse. He was smiling.