Midnight Mud

I was cycling through the big park in the city this afternoon on my way home from the gym and noticed a lady taking a photo of the grass. It made me look over and I saw what had caught her eye.

You see at the weekend there had been an Oktoberfest taking part in the park. The event takes place in a giant tent that was erected in the park, and since it finished the construction team had been in to dismantle and remove the structure.

This weekend had been quite wet with some heavy rain, and the large trucks taking away the tent had churned up the wet grass of the field in the park into a giant quagmire of mud.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight and I had to stop my bike for a better look.

The park was a mess. What was once a large green tree-lined field was a mess of deep tire ruts of churned-up mud.

It was the middle of the day, and the park was busy with people walking through, and I needed to get back home for work, so hopped back on my bike and carried on home.

Whilst sat at my desk back at home the thought of that mud was a constant distraction all afternoon.

It got to the evening, and I had kind of forgotten about it until the memory resurfaced in my head about 11pm just as I was considering going to bed.

The park isn't that far from where I live, and despite it being late October, it was a fairly mild evening out. It was dark, and a thick fog had accumulated the air.

Visibility was low, and the park would be empty at this time of night, so I decided to go investigate.

I threw on some old jeans and set out, walking the 1km journey over to the park.

As suspected, the park was empty, with only the odd person walking down the street-lamp-lit footpaths that surround the fields.

I followed the footpath round to the quieter back end of the field, an area you wouldn't usually walk down as it led nowhere particular.

The fog was still thick, and from my location I couldn't see the other side of the field where the main footpath was. I felt hidden and unlikely to be seen.

Ahead of me, across the field I could just about see where the mud started due to the moonlight reflecting on some puddles.

The anticipation of that mud excited me, and with that, I rolled up the bottoms of the jeans, and kicked off my shoes. I wasn't wearing socks, and the ground felt cool under my bare feet, but just warm enough not to be unpleasantly cold.

I took one last glance around and the coast was still clear, so I left the safety of the footpath and started walking out across the field.

The grass under my feet was damp from the fog, but only after a few meters the grass started to thin out and soon transitioned into bare earth that had been compacted down by the heavy construction vehicles that had taken the festival marquee away.

The ground was still fairly dry here, but as I continued walking I could felt the earth beneath my feet slowly getting softer.

Then in front of me I could see the deep tire tracks that had churned up the ground in the worst area.

I approached and suddenly the foot sank into a thick puddle of mud. The feeling of the mud oozing up between my toes made me audibly sigh in a moment of bliss. I stepped forward with my other foot and slowly sank down into the mud again.

I stood there for a few seconds scrunching my toes together feeling the thick cool mud squish between them. I carried on walking, and the mud continued to slurp under my feet with each step. The feeling was arousing and thrilling, and I could feel my dick getting hard in my jeans.

I checked the horizon and there was still nobody to be seen.

I carried on walking until the tire tracks thinned and the mud started to dry out. At this point I turned around and walked back the way I had come.

The mud felt great to walk in. I've always enjoyed walking barefoot in mud, and this mud was perfection. It hasn't rained in 3 days, so it there wasn't much surface water apart from a few puddles in the deep ruts, and instead was a nice thick consistency that felt bliss as it squeezed up between toes as my foot sank down with each step.

I spent about 20 minutes walking back and forth around the area enjoying the feeling. At this point I could hear some people in the distance, and whilst I could see them, I decided I had had enough fun for the evening, so made my way back to the footpath from where I started.

I reached the edge of the field and found a park bench to sit on. There I used a bottle of water I had with me to try and wash the worst of the mud off my feet. They were pretty muddy, but I had just enough water to remove the majority of it. I slipped back on my shoes, and walked back home.

I got back home and cleaned off properly. Despite rolling up my jeans they were still splattered in mud around the bottoms, but it was worth it.