The Holiday – Part 5

by Aristocatch

The last morning of my holiday I woke up feeling refreshed and randy. As Krystina was also awake I had to content myself with some rather discreet rubbing under the sheets.

The last morning meant the last sporting competition. There was no chance of our getting a partial refund on our holiday by being the winners, but that was hardly the spirit of the week. The last competition was a table tennis competition, in which we did hopelessly, losing to all our opponents. We had functioned well together at other sports, but here we spent our time going after the same ball, or even worse, ignoring it all together!

The afternoon was free time and we went our own way. I took the shuttle into town for a spot of shopping and then spent a last few minutes on the beach. I don't know what Krystina did.

There was a nice 'last supper' in the evening with a very jovial atmosphere. Prizes were given to those who merited them (not us), and all seemed to be heading to a satisfactory conclusion.

Quite late in the evening some of the staff who had organised our events went round the tables inviting each of the guests to join them by the beach at 11.

When we got there we were told that the staff had really enjoyed our week and that, as a result, they had organised a special surprise. They probably say that every week, but what the hell. We all went along with it.

They led us to the enclosed area where we had wrestled in paddling pools. This time the sand was covered by a tarpaulin which in turn was largely covered by another tarpaulin which had been turned into a giant rink, with sides about a foot high. When we got there the lights were down and so we couldn't see any more.

One of the organisers explained that we were all invited to join them inside and that when the buzzer sounded, it would be every woman for herself to try to tip the others out of the rink. As she started to take off her clothes we all followed suit.

As we approached the rink the lights were turned up enough for us to see what we were doing, even though they were far too dim to have allowed us to read anything. You may already have guessed that the rink was filled with sticky oozing mud. I had been expecting oil, but I suppose I wasn't far off.

In addition to all the hotel guests for our sports week there were at least twenty of the ladies who had organised our various events, or worked in the hotel. The rink was large, but there wasn't that much space left over. Now that we saw where we were the instructions became clearer, a first part to coat everyone in mud and a second part to try to tip everyone out of the rink.

Someone shouted for us to get on our knees, which showed just how little spare room there was and then pandemonium broke out.

I found myself next to a blond lady who had organised the tennis tournament and we set about dolloping handfuls of mud on each others breasts, rubbing it in and squeezing a bit for good measure. The mud was quite warm and the sensations really rather pleasant. I wouldn't have minded this continuing for a while longer, but our mutual mud massages were interrupted by a handful of mud being applied to the blond's head. She turned to challenge the perpetrator and I suddenly found my legs pulled out from under me. To my surprise there was just enough room for me to finish flat on my back, before I was covered by the body of the black girl with the gorgeous boobs – which were now firmly implanted on mine. She gave me a little muddy kiss on the lips before I heard, even above the general noise, the sound of slaps. As she immediately liberated my body I realised that the slaps had been administered to her posterior and that she was even know dealing with the slapper.

Freed from her body I pulled myself back up on my knees, only to find an unseen hand snaking between my legs to splash mud on my pussy. I've no idea who it was as, by the time I'd turned round, everyone seemed otherwise occupied.

I was already pretty much covered in mud. Seeing the blond instructor with her back to me, I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her back. My hands initially found her breasts again, but she immediately targeted between my legs, so that I leaned my body forward to be able to do the same. There we were in a kind of 69 situation rubbing handfuls of goo between our legs.

Here there were no rules and so when she started pulling my sex apart with her fingers I did the same, the better to squeeze the mud ever further. In such circumstances time doesn't exist, so how many seconds this continued I couldn't say. I wasn't holding her down and she then slid out from under me and we both were on our knees facing each other. Our right hands disappeared between our legs and our left onto the nearest breast.

I have to admit that I really enjoyed that and the look in her eyes as we upped the tempo. What might have happened is pure speculation, as we were both attacked by other parties and obliged to cease our game.

Someone literally spun me round and our bodies smacked together in muddy squelchy delight. She begun upward and downward movements, rubbing our fronts together. As our nipples briefly crossed interesting sensations were created, but these were very fleeting.

Seeing the dark-skinned beauty near by I pushed my opponent away and grabbed handfuls of those much-vaunted breasts. This was obviously a good move as she seized mine back and we had a brief squeezing bout, but largely for fun, and not for pain.

There were so many people in a confined space that nothing could last and my legs were pulled out from under me, pitching me into the mud into a space that hadn't existed seconds before. The leg puller allowed me to roll over before plunging in on top of me.

All contact by now made a squelching sound and, coated fully in mud, it was hard to recognise people. We rolled a bit from side to side, but there wasn't even enough space to roll right over.

There was some movement around us, clearly some girls were trying to move elsewhere in the rink to find new targets and this gave us the chance to pull apart. Someone organised half a dozen of us into a ring, our our knees, shoulders virtually touching. “Breasts” she shouted and hands shot out in all directions to slap mud onto breasts with the emphasis on the word slap. Twelve hands slapped twelve breasts, although so many hands in such a confined space meant that hands collided, access paths were blocked and their was little venom in the slaps. Clearly everyone was intent on slapping as many of the others as possible, which complicated matters even further. Most slapped from side to side, others from whatever angle they could manage, and one from under the breast.

It took me little time to understand the rules and join in with as much commitment as the others. Most of the slaps to my breasts were feeble efforts, but a couple were harder, leaving a tingling sensation and the one from below was more painful. It was far too confusing to know whether I managed to slap everyone, but before I had time to work it out a voice called “cunts” and the breast slapping stopped, to be replaced by hand slapping mud between legs.

Now there were only five targets for each to aim at, which changed the complexities, especially as some tried to slap two targets at once. Most first slaps struck home but after there was a totally unsatisfactory mess where the only real slaps were to hands as they blocked an intended attack.

The voice soon stopped the mayhem calling 'squeeze'. Clearly not all the girls had good enough English to quickly understand and the three who did had a short initial advantage in finding unguarded breasts to squeeze. It didn't take long for the others to cotton on and soon all breasts were being manhandled, with more or less force.

In a short while I found that the girl to my left and I were squeezing at each other and we broke away from the group to continue a loan battle, one hand seeking out the others sex for a little more squeezing.

As with everything this fun was short lived, as other bodies collided with us and we broke free from squeezing each other to deal with them.

For a couple of minutes I was in a mass of bodies, mostly on my knees, being muddily molested, or molesting at will. It was mad, it was frantic, it was muddy and it was great fun. Never had I done anything like it in my life – and I probably wont ever do anything like it again.

Eventually it occurred to me that there was supposed to be a second part to the fun – ejecting each other from the rink. The problem was that I was right next to the edge and thus highly vulnerable. I therefore set out to try to fight my way nearer the centre. It wasn't easy, and it brought me into contact with other bodies, though who they belonged to under all that mud was rarely easy to determine. The only rule seemed to be grab and be grabbed, which is how I managed to progress, using a body to pull me forward and slowly reversing our positions until I was nearest to the centre.

Our waitress at dinner each night was a Latino with long curly hair and a permanently cheeky smile. By her hair length I recognised her and pulled her towards me making a remark that told her who I was. I didn't think that we had yet tangled, and now in the safest part of the rink seemed to be a good moment.

I wanted to avoid being pushed outwards to the edge of the rink, and so I wrapped one arm around her, cupping one of her breasts in my other. She wasted no time sliding a hand between us to seize a similar hold. I had noted the length of her fingers at table and she now used my nipple to show what she could do with them. My fingers are stubbier, but I am always ready to accept a challenge and so I began squeezing her nipple as well.

Deciding that she was unlikely now to seek to break away, I removed my arm from behind her back, enabling us to target both breasts. Instead of simply pulling my nipple as she had been she now set about rubbing, fondling, squeezing and generally playing with my breasts, adding handfuls of mud from time to time. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I flattered her. Every now and then she added a quick nipple squeeze or pull, just to keep me attentive, but generally her ministrations were essentially painless.

This seemed to go on for a while – I don't suppose it was very long really, before we were knocked off balance by other struggling bodies. As we fell one on top of the other, with her on top, we both had one arm between us, with which we were able to find each others sex. My free hand pulled her face tight into my breasts and her reaction was to pull at my matted hairs and sex lips – so I pulled back. As I increased the pressure on her head, more or less forcing a muddy breast into her mouth, her finger begin poking around where it shouldn't.

As the poking began to make headway where I didn't want it to, I released her head to say to stop and she said fine if I stopped suffocating her. Sitting up on my stomach our hands left their current targets and began grasping our breasts again.

A very loud buzzer sounded.

“Time for the fun” she said, climbing off me.

It took literally seconds for the first girls to be 'helped' out of the ring, and soon there was much more space available. Someone tried throwing me towards the side after I made the mistake of starting to stand up to see better what was going on, but I held on to them and we both slithered that way together. Someone pulled my arm, and I held tight to a leg with the other, except that holding tight on mud is impossible and my grip was soon broken.

Two girls literally picked me up and dropped me over the side – I've no idea who, or why they were working together, but that ended my participation.

In literally a couple of minutes there were only a handful of girls left, which soon developed into individual fights that spread out across the rink. The last six took much longer to settle than the first thirty but, there was an eventual winner.

The final complication was how to get back to hotel bedrooms with leaving an enormous cleaning job for the hotel staff.

The showers on the beach were pressed into use, it being dark enough not to provide too much entertainment for those hotel guests not involved. We were all so soiled that it took the combined efforts of several to wash anyone free of mud. Many hands were run over my body, but by now I thought nothing of it.

Slipping our bikinis back on our wet, but mud free bodies, we headed back to our rooms for proper showers with soap.