But could she really shake it? In fact, she even shook her bottoms off! Aside from bouncing her butt in the clay, Summer did enjoy getting messy in the creamy shower of goodness coming from the bursting bubbles. In fact, she once again loses herself in the sensation of wallowing in the smooth, deep mud. Mud Puddle Visuals and send it to; Mud Puddle Visuals P.O. Box 155 Centerville, TN 37033. Please include a statement that you are at least 18 years of age, and a summary of what you want. Be sure to include the appropriate shipping fees in the payment. It's all innocent at first, but when the mud goes you-know-where, the pretense of manners dissolves quickly and the mood becomes one of sexual delight. Is a masturbation session in the mud a party of one, or two? Sarah fills the screen and mind with all sorts of goodness-with some tasty full-coverage action to boot.
I just came across a fascinating VICE documentary about quicksand fetishists. As when I drive past a traffic accident, I just had to look. And it was quite the education.
Mud Puddle Book
Until now, I had no idea that this community existed. If I gave quicksand any thought at all, it was as an old-fashioned plot device from another era. But looking around on the web, I’ve come to find out that a lot of people are into quicksand, if you’ll pardon the pun.
They seem to divide themselves into two groups: “Sinkers” and “Watchers”. Naturally it’s usually the women who get to sink. In the sinkerhood community, one of the all-time stars appears to be a woman who calls herself Loch Ness Nessie. She has been in many a video. But she’s not so young anymore, and worries that very few millennials are coming along to take up the figurative baton.
There is a company called Mud Puddle Visuals that makes a lot of videos for your viewing pleasure. Personally, I don’t see the appeal. I guess it has something to do with the helplessness aspect, or the rescue fantasy. To me it seems like mud wrestling without the opponent.
True confessions: I did once fall into quicksand up to my waist. It was during a junior high school field trip to a swamp with my science class to study that ecosystem. When I was pulled out, one of my shoes did not come with me. (One wonders just how many shoes are left at the bottom of quagmires. An untapped archeological resource?) I came home that afternoon half barefoot and muddy. It’s not an experience I’d care to repeat.
Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. (Or sinks it, in this case.) Maybe I’m just not dirty enough to hang with these folks. I do try to avoid activities that require me to be hosed down after the fact. It’s one of my many quirks.
Mud Puddle Clipart
