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The Autobiography of a Fetish. This is an extremely lengthy and updated personal history of my own sexuality and fetishes and has been written simply to help me to understand myself a little better. Through the act of putting things down on paper (metaphorically speaking!) and the thought that is required to do that I hope to shed some light on my own inner workings. Let me state right from the beginning that I enjoy my fetishes, and have no desire to spoil the enjoyment I derive from thinking, fantasising, and actually practising. There are times when I would like to know where some of the strange and wonderful kinks derive from. However, if knowing spoilt the fun, I would have lost something, and that would be a real shame. I intend to study and record my sexual history as far as I can, and see if any if I have any new insights from what I find in myself, and my history. Some of what I write predates my actual sexual awakening, at or around the time of puberty. I guess that my fetishes always gave me a sexual thrill, even prior to puberty, although I was innocent of any knowledge of sex, and so did not understand it for what it truly was. I will try and put my things in the best chronological order I can remember, I will add notes about how I felt, and the reactions I perceived I generated in others as we go. Deliberate wetting. I suspect that the first appearance of anything that could be considered a fetish was watersports. I have no idea what triggered it, but having been successfully potty trained ( and I can remember a specific event in my potty training history, when I was sat on my potty, whilst Mum sat on the toilet! No specific details, I can just picture the scene in my mind’s eye) I seemed to be dawn to the act of deliberately wetting myself. I don’t think I can remember the first time I did this, but there were periods in my very young childhood, when I would do this quite frequently. I can only have been three or four at the time, and I took a pair of my swimming trunks from the drawers in my room, where they were stored, and took them to the downstairs toilet. I put on the trunks and sat on the toilet and quite deliberately wet myself. I seem to remember the act caused me to have an erection even as I was pulling up the trunks. I knew I enjoyed the act, and I had no idea why my penis grew stiff and big as it did. This deliberate act was quite often carried out on a weekend, when the parents quite often had a bit of a lie in. I would not do it very often, sometimes weeks and months would go by before I would repeat the act. In between times I might forget about it all together. But here’s the thing. having wet my swimming trunks, I simply used to hide them. And they stank. I am ashamed to say that I never thought of just rinsing them out, letting them dry, and returning them to their rightful place. I would hide them guiltily, and find them out for my next wetting adventure, re-wetting in smelly stained trunks. And of course, every once in a while my parents would have a tidy out, driven my either simple tidiness or a need to trace a bit of a whiff! And yes, my guilty swimming trunks would be unearthed, and I was in for hell. It would always start off with the evidence and the accusation. I could not speak. I knew I was in the deepest trouble I had ever been in, and that I was in for a hiding. There was no way I could justify my actions, I was so deeply embarrassed and ashamed of my actions, and simply wanted the ground to swallow me up. I died a thousand deaths. Eventually the questioning came to an end. I could not even admit my guilt, I just wanted the whole thing to end, even the smacking I ( rightly) received was welcome as an end to the torture of the inquisition. The problem was that I just did not learn. I carried on my old ways, and the ritual of the discovery, the inquisition and severe punishment continued in a cycle, about every two to three years till after puberty. I guess it stopped when I thought of rinsing out the offending swimming trunks, and restoring them to their correct storage place. But why oh why did I not come up with that obvious solution many many years previously. In much later life, I wonder if things could have been different. Yes, I could have covered my tracks a whole lot better, and I really should have learned to do that way sooner than I did. But what I was doing was the beginnings of a sexual fetish that I feel has always been “hard-wired” within me. I could not have explained this to my parents if my life had depended on it. (at over 40 I would struggle today!!) but I often wonder if I had been able to put this idea across whether things would have made any sense to them, and things would have been different. Wet clothing On hot summer days my sister and I would be allowed to dress in our respective swimming costumes and play in the garden. Sometimes water would be involved, sometimes not. We would often end up in the bath after tea, and I would always want to be able to wear my swimming trunks into the bath. However I was always inhibited from asking this out loud, especially if we had “dried off” in the intervening time. I was always under the impression that my parents would not want to go through the hassle of having to get the swimming stuff dry again. So I would get my sister to ask if we could wear our costumes into the bath. A few times we did! From an early age I spent a lot of time at the swimming baths. My Dad took me regularly, and I enjoyed splashing about. My dad was always a good and confident swimmer, having spent his life till then regularly swimming. Mum had a phobia of water, having nearly drowned as a young girl. She knew her fear was out of control, and had taken a conscious decision to have my sister and I taught how to swim from an early age. Her thinking was that we would avoid her early fear of water, and if we ever came close to an incident the like of which she had suffered years earlier, we would be safe from drowning because of the skills we would have, and she had lacked. On one or two of the visits we made to our local swimming pool a group of teenagers came in to the pool area fully clothed. I was suddenly interested! My young mind had no knowledge of why they were there, or why they were wearing their clothes. (in later life I did some survival swimming at school, and thus found out what they were actually doing!) I imagined that they were on some sort of school trip (at least I knew about these things) and that they had changed into old clothes in case they accidentally fell into the pool, thus avoiding damage to their own clothes!) I tried to hang around to see them enter the pool, but never actually witnessed it happen, and this only served to confuse me more. Maybe they did not actually intend to swim. All of this had triggered an erection. I was ashamed of my growing penis, and had no idea what it was all about, why it got hard like that or why I seemed to like the feeling! All I knew was that I wanted to get my clothes wet! From previous incidents, I had a feeling I knew what my mother would say if I suddenly presented her with a suit of wet clothes. I knew I would be for the high jump, and would probably suffer the consequences. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think for a minute that my parents were in any way brutal, but my recollections are that they were very strict and this sort of behaviour would not be tolerated. I therefore spent hours trying to plan a way that I could get wet whilst still fully clothed, and avoid any trouble. My thinking went along the lines of, it would have to be an unavoidable accident, or an act of heroism. Unfortunately, I was never lucky enough to encounter either sort of opportunity and so for many years I planned and hoped and dreamed in vain. There was one memorable occasion, when I could have carried out my fantasy, and with full parental permission. And to this day, I have to say, I did not see the potential, and did not take advantage of it. It was bath night, after breaking for a holiday up from infant school. Dad gave me a piggyback lift into the bathroom, and turned his back to deposit me, still in my school uniform, into the bath. He was joking about and did not really force me into the water, however I struggled against him, and he only relented when I had to put a be-socked foot into the water to prevent falling in completely. Why did I fight him off? Why did I not just flop into the warm welcoming water, and enjoy the feeling of my wet clothes? I will never have a satisfactory answer to that. Another question you could ask is, was I being tested? From subtle reactions over the years, I have often wondered if my Dad was a bit of a wet clothes fetishist. I guess I will never know. I guess talking of sex, fantasies, and fetishes is not a conversation that I could ever imagine having with my father!!! Was he trying me out, had he seen some reactions in me, and was testing the waters ( ha ha!) Or am I reading far more into a piece of fun, than was actually there? In junior school at the age of maybe 10 or so, as one of the competent swimmers I was trained for, and tested on “survival swimming”. This entailed wearing some light clothes, initially just a pair of pyjamas, over a standard swimming costume, and swimming a reasonable distance. At long last I was able to (legally) get some clothes wet in a swimming pool! I was so excited about this, and I can remember talking to my school chums about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them why. When I got to the kernel of the whole thing, I would become embarrassed, and fight shy of telling the actual truth. I enjoyed the swimming lessons, and did very well it, progressing to the gold standard, which I passed ( just) I wore the badges with pride on a pair of trunks. However, I always wanted to go one step further and pee myself, prior to getting in the pool. However, we wore our swimsuits to the poolside, and then dressed in our clothes to train for the survival test, so I was never able to manufacture a scenario when I could pee in dry clothes and the get into the pool undetected. So I never managed it. Just a foot note here to tie things together. We went camping one weekend, and were going to go off swimming. Mum presented me with one of my pairs of swimming trunks, to go swimming with, but I was intent on using the trunks with my badges on. I had taken them camping with us, quite independently of the main packing that Mum had done. I went to get them out, and was challenged by Dad, asking my if I had “messed in them!” meaning wet them ( I had not ever dabbled in anything more than that!) The trunks were clean, and I took delight in showing him that his suspicions were unfounded. My poor parents must have wondered what the hell was going on with me, wanting to urinate in my swimming trunks, when they had spent so much effort teaching potty training! As I progressed to senior school, I have to comment that was still very innocent of anything sexual. I had not discovered masturbation, and I still had no idea of sex in any way shape or form. I was probably 12 heading towards 13 when I was told about masturbation, by a friend, who was a year younger than me. Suddenly my swimming trunk wetting sessions took on a whole new meaning! Although if memory serves I had yet to discover the safety that rinsing the evidence away would have afforded, I think at this stage there was one final parental conformation left before I discovered the bleeding obvious solution. On this occasion, I was able to mumble that I was guilty of the charges that were being laid against me, but I could say no more, even when questioned (at some length) as to the reasons behind my indefensible actions. On this final occasion, I avoided a damn good hiding, I was of an age where this was no longer the final course of punishment. At this stage I had also progressed very well in survival swimming and was practising for the "honours" award, which involved swimming in what was effectively a full suit of clothes. I practised and practised, but was never quite good enough. One of the teachers suggested that there was a little wrinkle I could use to improve my time. The rules stated that either trousers or a skirt should be worn, but did not state that a skirt could only be worn by female entrants. I never did have the bottle to attempt the swim in a skirt. I was more concerned about the ribbing I would take amongst my school chums about wearing the skirt, than actually achieving the award. All the time I was plotting how I could wet myself prior to entering the pool, but as before the presence of school chums, and teachers precluded a pre swimming wetting session. The best I could manage one day was to leave the pool, in my wet clothes, visit the toilet, and sit and pee in my already wet trousers. I then went to the shower to rinse my clothes of my pee, before changing to go home. Masturbation and fantasising drove a lot of things for many years. The basic premise has never changed, though the details differ from day to day to keep the fantasy fresh. The basic premise has always been that of a partially or completely clothed woman deliberately wetting herself, before getting completely drenched, and having delightful sex, with me. There is never any coercion in my fantasies. The woman of my dreams enjoys the kinks for her own sexual needs, and is only too happy to partake in the act for her own excitement, as well as mine! I suppose the whole fantasy stemmed from one of two precepts, A) The woman had not tried clothed wetness before, and found she really liked it when she tried it, or B) the woman had a secret fetish that she was deeply ashamed of, and it all came out with me that she enjoyed such things, and we enjoyed or mutual fetish to the full. Some when around this time, I started to imagine that my female co-conspirator would be attired in a one piece swimsuit, and the third and final part of my fetish trilogy became set in concrete. Pornography During an after school activity a school friend introduced me to pornography. He had a magazine, and for some reason, was keen to show it to me. This was probably the first time I had seen the naked female form in all its graphic fullness. Yes, of course I had witnessed my mother and my sister with no clothes on, but they were not actively displaying their genitals, and giving me the “come on” eyes! Initially I found the images exciting, however, this quickly paled. I have seldom found any “traditional” porn that excites or satisfies. As time went on, I stumbled across the odd “wetlook” article, or letter in a magazine. The location of this rare commodity made all the searching worthwhile, but I had to do a lot of searching for the odd nugget! It was many years before I found a knicker wetting article, and when I did I practically came in my pants! One of the biggest relief’s was thinking that I am not alone! The dreadfully embarrassing stand-offs with my parents had taught me that pant wetting was generally not socially acceptable. In fact I felt very guilty about my awful dreadful disgusting indefensible desires. I felt so alone in the world, and would never have dared whisper my deepest secrets to anybody. How could I have discussed this sexual deviation with someone I loved. I longed to find a partner to share my fantasies, a water nymph, if you will. But I lacked the confidence to actually approach a girl, and make the initial contact. I was always frightened off by the idea of frightening her off! My “lack of success with the ladies" dogged me well into adult life. That and an inferiority complex approximately the size of Wales that was probably partly due to my fetishes and my expectations to the reactions they would invoke. I did have a brief sexual relationship at the age of about 24. Yes, I popped my cherry, but it was never a really satisfying relationship, and never once did we even mention likes, dislikes or fetishes in any way. The lady wet her pants hundreds of times, wore swimsuits times without number, bathed swam and showered fully clothed countless times for me. But only ever in my mind and never in reality. In truth we never even bathed together naked. Our relationship and the circumstances never allowed for it. WAM Sometime around this time my searching through “normal” pornographic magazines disclosed an industry that specialised in special interest material some of which interested me. The WAM (Wet and Messy) genre had people out there supplying material for the likes of me. At around the same time Splosh magazine started up with the intention of making money in this previously un-exploited area. I lapped up the material like a drowning man grabbing at a life-belt! However, as time went on, the content, like normal pornography, after the initial rush, paled. I was often left thinking, “yes, very nice, but if only…… she had done this, worn that…. I soon discovered quite a compartmentalisation of kinks, and quite a sniffy attitude by officianardos of each one. There was the WAM brigade, who would not countenance either swimsuits or anything associated with peeing and quite often will not brook anything like nudity! The knicker wetting brigade also hate swimsuits, and seldom carry on a wetting session into full immersion. Both genres seem to give their work the air of childish innocent fun by completely failing to give any hint of sexual overtone to the whole proceedings. The WAM brigade seem to think that you have to be properly and fully clothed in street clothes, to be proper WAM, the people who like to swim in their clothes seem to have a fanatic hatred of swimsuits, and seem to want to have them banned from the face of the earth, as they are not proper clothes, and only proper clothes will do to swim in! They also seem to be quite disgusted by urine. Quite an odd position to take when you think of some of the substances and chemicals they subject their clothes and genitalia to. (Fresh urine (at source) is usually sterile and has been used for generations by some peoples as a sterilisation agent, when necessary) Maybe I can see a little bit of a point though. There is a contingent of the knicker wetting faction who are in to “panty pooping” as well. This does not do it for me. In fact I would say that generally find the idea of defecating in my clothes quite disgusting. I guess we all draw the line somewhere! The funny thing is that it seems it’s the producers of the material that make these strong distinctions. I read a number of forums on the internet and have noticed that although the official line of the particular forum may be wetlook only with no wetting, a sizeable number of the posters either allude to the “banned” activities on the Forum, or post on other forums where they can openly discuss their “illicit” activities. Once in a while you find a producer who will do some “crossover material” A knicker wetting scene becomes a wetlook (WAM) scene, or a messy (mud or food) scene goes on to become a wetlook scene as the model is shown, still dressed in their clothes, showering to clean up from the session. Very few producers actually give a sexual element to the wet ( or messy) work they are portraying. Maybe they are trying to get their work out “under the censors” However, think this is a waste of time and opportunity. The work is always sold and classed as pornography. Why not be adult and up front about the whole thing. Buyng my own Flat I was still living at home, which greatly hampered any wet activity of almost any sort. The relationship (I have mentioned above) sort of spurred me on to buying my first flat. My parents were quite strict about such things, and would not have sanctioned any sexual activity of any sort, on their premises. My first flat was to be a love nest of sorts. Unfortunately the relationship broke down, and we broke up before the purchase of the flat was completed. What little sex we had enjoyed had been limited by our lack of our own space and time, and, to be blunt, the single fact that my “girlfriend” had used the relationship simply for her own needs. She had wanted some warm company, rather than a loving relationship. Yep, I had been used! Many years later as the saying goes, I’m not bitter! I was very bitter about the relationship, but she really did me a favour as far as the property market goes! She also did me a great favour as far as having my own flat was concerned. I had dreamed of this time for years. The opportunity to bath fully clothed whenever I wanted, to pee in my pants at will, and generally to enjoy the lack of limitations that had been imposed on me by having to hide my desires away from the parental family. If memory serves, the expected and anticipated explosion of wet activity simply did not occur to the extent you might have thought it would. Yes I did bath and shower fully clothed, and I did use the toilet without the traditional removal of all my clothing, but maybe not as much as I could potentially have done. One of the reasons was that I seemed to be hamstrung by my own paranoia. My wet sessions were always carried out within the privacy and security of my own flat ( later my own house) but quite often the thought would occur to me, whilst I was in the shower that the outer wall would collapse, leaving me in full view to the waiting masses outside, and the embarrassing secret of my fetish would become common knowledge to the world at large. Swimsuits It was probably also about this time that I bought my first ladies one piece swimsuit. I had fantasised for years about all aspects of wet sex with a woman who was wearing a swimsuit, and was eager to try it out for real. I also thought it would be very exciting thing to try on for myself. I’m not sure I can remember the circumstances of buying my first swimsuit. I had to deal with the embarrassment and paranoia of the “man buying in the lingerie department” feelings, and would always choose strange towns where there would be no chances of being recognised. After all the whole world, and their dog, knew that I was a solitary wanker unable to get a girlfriend!!! so I had to be a pervert, why else would I want a ladies swimsuit. I hunted through charity shops and the like, but would be scared off by the battle-axe behind the counter! I think my first swimsuit might have been bought on a booze cruise to France. The lack of language, and the false bravado of being well away from my own country allowed me to finally make the purchase I wanted to. The first few wet sessions were wonderful. I enjoyed every aspect of wetting showering and masturbating in the swimsuit, but with the added bonus of the thrill of wearing something that society would not generally expect me to wear. I feel I need to add another margin note here. Up to this time I had often masturbated in the clothes I was wearing at the time, and that was not without its problems. Generally speaking the waist band of my pants or swimming trunks would be just in the wrong place to be able to manipulate me penis in the way that I would generally masturbate. The ladies swimsuit was almost always a sensually fitting garment, with a continuous front panel. I am able to grasp the head of my penis through the lycra based material and enjoy a pleasurable wank without the limitations imposed by the waist band of my pants!. The internet Next came the internet. At this time I was subscribing to a couple of British based magazines. Splosh and another magazine called Cascade. (Cascade was a cottage industry fetish magazine produced by a couple from their own home, with the aid of a photocopier. It dealt with all aspects of “watersports”. During the time I subscribed to them they were raided by the police, and prosecuted under our prurient and ancient obscene publications act. What a complete waste of public money and effort! What harm were they causing?) The magazines made mention of some sites on a new technology platform called the internet. Well I had a computer, without a modem at the time, and thought I might like to have a look at some of this. The reason I did not was simple. I had some friends, who were quite clever with computers, and I feared that they would be able to go on line at the same time as me, and “hack” into my computer, to see what I was looking at. To this day there are only a couple of friends who have any idea about my fetishes, and there are only two other people (my partners) (more later) who have any idea of the whole picture. Eventually I was persuaded that there was no way that another person could hack into my computer, via the internet, and my life on the internet began. (Possibly no longer quite accurate, but I no longer care!) I have to comment that the internet has not changed my life, other than giving me access to a greater range of material and allowing me to see that I am not alone in my fetishes. There are people out there who are as weird as me, if not a damn site weirder! Maybe I am being a bit untruthful here. I do spend a lot of time on the internet, and visit my favourite fetish sites on a (at least) daily basis. I probably spend an average of up to an hour a day surfing these sites. I make it a rule not to spend money subscribing to any pay sites, though if I find a specific item on a pay-site, I have been known to take a short term subscription to be able to download a particular photo-set. (Usually swimsuit wetting), I see that as being no different to buying a photoset via the post. Sleeping and Dreams I need to say, right from the start, that I do not seem to have positive sexual dreams. That is to say, I have never had a "wet dream" about getting wet. I have had many dreams about my sexual fetishes, but they tend to be of the "paranoid" variety. There are a couple of themes that come up quite often. The first is a variation of the walking down the street stark naked which has me in some "social" situation where I suddenly find myself wearing nothing but a woman’s one piece swim suit. I start by doing the "act normally" thing and if I pretend I am not wearing what I am wearing everyone will ignore me, but I soon become embarrassed and have to run away. The second theme goes like this. I find a shower or something similar, and decide that it would be a good place to enjoy a swimsuit shower. I put on a ladies swimsuit, and start to shower. Part way through my shower I realise that the shower has a window, or is somehow overlooked, and I end up trying to hide my "lack of" nakedness, thinking I would prefer to be naked rather than being seen in a swimsuit! I usually sleep quite well, it is a rare night if I disturb. I have tried on several occasions to sleep for the night in a swimsuit, however I rarely succeed. I don't sleep as deeply and disturb a lot easier. It does seem to trigger a dream about a swimsuit, but it is always one of the "negative" paranoid dreams. The Partner. You might notice the non name specific terms used throughout this essay. This is done on purpose to allow myself full and frank expression, and will probably become apparent within this section. After many single years as a dyed in the wool "Billy no girlfriends wanker" I hooked up with a wonderful woman. We delayed diving into a physical relationship for, for what seemed like a long time at the time, but in reality was not actually that long. We went away for a weekend, and enjoyed quite a lot of wonderful "vanilla" sex. This was only the second woman I had ever slept with and from the word go the whole experience was by far and away orders of magnitude better than anything I had experienced before. Towards the end of the weekend my lady asked me if there was anything specific that she could do for me. I felt emboldened by the complete openness we had shared over the weekend. I thought at that stage I ought to come out with everything. I had to tell her all about me, because our new relationship required the complete truth. If this was going to be a relationship breaker, probably better to get it over with before we had invested too much of our emotions. I decided "in for a penny..." So I stared at the least contentions point. I had a swimsuit thing going. I like women in swimsuits, and hoped to have sex with her wearing a swimsuit. I also let on about my collection of ladies swimming costumes, and how I used them for my own pleasure. This could actually have been a problem as we had already been swimming together, and I had probably enjoyed the experience more than I would have done under "normal" circumstances! I also went on to say that I thought a one piece swimsuit was the sexiest garment a woman could wear and that if she wanted to wear anything to excite me then, rather than sexy underwear, a swimsuit would do it for me every time. No screams of horror or disgust yet! Next one then. I then went on to say that I liked the thought of a woman getting wet whilst still fully clothed, specifically for the sexual thrill of doing so. Again, no cries of shock as yet. I was thinking of holding out on the final show stopper, but thought it was better to get it over with, so hesitantly I went on, realising that this was where the disgust would be expressed, if it was going to be forthcoming. And before actually getting wet, I would like a woman to deliberately wee in her clothes. Silence. I went on to try and describe the difference between accidentally wetting your pants, and the deliberate wilful act of gratuitous sexual wetting. More silence. My heart was in my mouth. Had I just gone a bridge to far, and ruined the whole deal. I was about to add that if she was completely disgusted I would drop the subject and never mention it again when my partner spoke up. Her first comment was to say that some of my “kinks” has surprised her a bit as she had not ever considered such things as being sexual, she did however go on to ask me if my ultimate dream would be to have her pee in a bathing suit. She had hit the nail on the head and I had to admit that it was the zenith of my hopes and dreams. My partner apologised for not having bought a swimsuit away with us, and suggested that we could buy one in the town where we were staying. However we had to check out of the hotel, and make our way home, so we decided to wait until we were on home territory before we embarked on our new wet adventures. We returned to my home, and more or less went straight to bed. After a while my girlfriend asked me if I had a swimsuit she could borrow as she had been saving up her pee and was ready to try and make a dream come true. I produced a swimsuit for her, as well as one for myself and we went into the bathroom. Toilet training is a hard thing to break after over forty years and it took quite a while before my girlfriend managed to dampen her gusset a little. Following this I was keen to get her into the shower before she got cold and disgusted and we showered in our swimsuits and made love. For about two years we had a very full and very wet sex life, although it was to be a little longer before we set up home together. During that time we explored our new found sexual freedom to the full. Although we did enjoy an awful lot of wet sex we also partook of a lot of standard “vanilla” sex as well. Many’s the time she would arrive at my house after work, dressed and ready for an evening’s wet entertainment! She would be wearing clothes that would not be harmed by a good dousing, as well as a swimsuit instead of the more usual bra and panties. More often than not she would also have a very full bladder, which needed urgent relief. Sometimes so urgent that we only had time to get her into the shower, but not enough time to divest herself of her clothing in the more traditional way, before she let go and soaked herself. This was of course followed by a shower, and lovemaking with both of us still fully clothed as far as we were able to be! On more than one occasion I had to dry and redress before I could go out to her car to bring in her weekend bag so that she could redress in dry clothing. I also bought a hot tub and set it up so that we could enjoy frequent clothed wet sessions! Having a female presence in the house did mean that I could be more open about my collection of swimsuits. I was also able to purchase them more openly. In addition to this we would go shopping together and if we found a suitable swimsuit we would buy it for her!! (nudge nudge wink wink!!!) I had also become more emboldened about wearing swimsuits and began wearing them on holiday but only on deserted beaches with my partner. I enjoyed swimming in the sea in a swimsuit, but was always watching for people approaching the beach so I could remove the suit prior to them arriving. As time as gone by I have become less paranoid, thinking that I doubted if anybody noticed me wearing a ladies swimsuit, they would give a damn!!! A couple of times I wore a ladies swimsuit on a beach where there were other people, although always as far away from other people as possible. On each of these occasions someone would make a point of walking along the beach, right past us, to see if the pervert in the swimsuit. Nothing was ever said and I always simply ignored them! What I thought as our absolutely brilliant sex life continued for a little while before my girlfriend approached me and said that she “did not want to do the peeing thing anymore” If I thought about it I was probably not going to be too surprised at this turn of events. In my heart of hearts I knew that the whole knicker-wetting thing was probably going to be the most controversial part of my desires. In fact I think that the fear of losing many a disgusted girlfriend at the mere mention of a wetting session had probably dogged me for life and contributed to my very late start in the world of relationships and sex. And I get that. Toilet training is drummed into us as such a young age, and probably gives rise to the concept that bodily waste is all dirty and disgusting, and to be disposed of, without delay, in shameful privacy. We are also taught that clothing is to be kept clean and dry and pristine at all times. Society teaches us that only the weak infirm and the very young suffer from incontinence, and that this is embarrassing beyond all measure when it occurs. Couple this with the, quite common, issue of female incontinence and you can start to see why the concept of gloriously, deliberately and electively pissing in her clothes does not fill the average woman with sexual delight and frenzy that would lead here to want to continue to the ultimate romance of uninhibited lovemaking. At that time I was keen to reassure my girlfriend that I had never wanted to ask her to do anything that she did not want to do, and that any desire I felt to see a female pee herself was based entirely on the person doing so for reasons of sexual pleasure, and not, in any way, because she had been forced or coerced into the act. Obviously I was keen to continue our wonderful wet sex life, so I asked her if she was still OK with everything else, including swimming costumes and wet clothing, and she assured me that she was. I went on to ask her if she minded if I continued with wetting myself, and again she said she was happy for me to do so. So for a while our wet life continued, though, if I was being honest, I really missed her wetting sessions prior to getting soaked. However these became few and far between, and as, with many relationships, did any form of sex. I continued to practice my lonely wet sessions, but these had really become little more than regularly wearing a one piece swimsuit into the shower when I bathed, as well as wearing one to the beach whilst we were on holiday abroad. A little while later my partner suggested moving in together and I thought this was a wonderful idea. Our new domestic arrangements did not however bring with it a resurgence of our early sex lives. I need to put on record the fact that whilst we were not actively involved in a sex life my partner still encouraged me to enjoy my kinks to the full. At no time did she belittle me. It was a little while later that I discovered a letter in a “gentelmans” magazine written by bloke telling about a house that was for rent with a private indoor swimming pool, his story sold of a week spent soaking his clothes on whim. I thought I liked the sound of that and enquired where I could find the house. I also approached my partner, to see if she would countenance a week of holiday where I could indulge in my most basic desires. To my surprise and amazement she agreed, and for a week I was going to be able to live my fetish. The plan for the week went something like, I would not take any normal underwear, or male swimwear instead I took my collection of ladies one pieces. We would wear nothing that could not be washed, which meant that we could swim in whatever clothes we were wearing. Maybe it’s the fact that I have not ever had the opportunity to “play” in a swimming pool that has given the whole thing an extra zing, although I’d had fully clothed wet sex with my partner in the shower, and the hot tub, actually getting to do it in a swimming pool had a whole new appeal, just the thought of it was enough to give me a raging erection in anticipation. Now, as I have stated above, my partner and I were not enjoying a “full and regular” sex life at the time, and I was quite certain that sex in the pool was going to be a “singular” activity. However I was pleasantly surprised when we had our first swim in the pool. I had worn clothes down to the house that I intended to swim in (including the obligatory swimsuit!) However my partner was less keen and had decided to change in to a one piece before swimming, As we entered the pool enclosure, she was keen to enter the pool, whilst I hung back to enjoy the pre soaking delights of peeing my pants. I did not want to spoil the moment, and so had been a little discreet about urinating in my clothes, and I’m not sure she was completely aware that I had done so. I then stood on the pool side and prepared to dive in. At this stage she was in the pool, and looked up at me. I’m not sure if I expected a look of disgust, or grudging acceptance, but I was surprised at what I did see. My partner smiled at me in a knowing and accepting way. I was a happy bunny, I was with someone I could be open with and share my deepest fantasies with, who accepted them, and allowed me to fulfil every dream. I wearing the clothes I wanted to wear, had been able to pee in them fully, and was about to soak them further by diving in to the pool, I was in heaven, and had the erection to prove it. I dived in, and enjoyed the completely different feeling that clothes take on when you are immersed in water. We swam a couple of lengths, and I then went over to my partner and embraced her, and we kissed. She was welcoming!! This was a welcome development. We snuggled, and kissed, we enjoyed foreplay! This was getting better all the time, It got a whole lot better when I pulled the gusset of her swimsuit to one side, whilst she undressed me and we had full sex, in the pool, still in most of my clothes! I got to swim in the pool three or four times a day, whilst my partner managed only once a day or so, each time I swam I went in wearing a full suit of clothes, usually wet with pee, and always masturbated in the pool, but usually on my own. My partner gave me the privacy to play with myself! On two occasions she dressed up to swim with me, and we has sex in the pool whilst still clothed. Towards the end of the week the novelty has worn a little thin, and I was not enjoying the thrill as much as the initial rush when we first arrived. I guess I had sort of hoped that this might have re-ignited our sex lives somewhat, however at the end of the week we returned to our home and to our celibate life together. A year or so later I had a hankering to return to the holiday home for another wet week. Again my partner agreed, but it was clear here heart was not really in it. Blinkered and blind to her reservations I went ahead and booked the house again, and commenced planning another hedonistic and damp holiday away from normality. I should have realised things were not going well from the start. My partner came and swam with me in the pool, but despite suggestions and requests, wore a bikini rather than a one piece swimsuit. Now bikinis are OK, to a small extent, but they are not one piece swimsuits! And I really like one piece swimsuits. We did, however, make love a couple of times away from the pool, which was a very welcome change to our usual sexless routine. Then one evening, whilst we were still on the holiday, my partner sat on one of the sofas and began to tell me that she had had her first sexual experience, in a public swimming pool, whilst dressed in a one piece swimsuit at a time when she had been sexually quite young. The incident had been entirely consensual, it had, however left her physically hurt and bleeding. In tears she told me that she had gone home, but her parents refused to call a doctor. She was instead put to bed in shame for two weeks whilst her injuries healed. This, she said, was the reason she did not want to wear a swimsuit. Anyone who does not have a heart of pure stone would have expected me to go and comfort here at this point. Reassure her that everything was fine, and that if she did not want to wear a swimsuit she really did not have to wear one. Looking back it is with huge shame that that is exactly what I did not do! Our relationship, in general, had become quite difficult by this time. And my thinking was that, given her initial wholesale acceptance of my kinks and fetishes, her story could not be true. I honestly thought that she had fabricated it as a pretence to avoid sex. Later that same year, amongst accusations of me having a sick mind and needing to seek help, we parted. Looking back I can’t say I blame her. In my heart of hearts I’d also like to be able to apologise to her. Much though there were other reasons for the break up, and I was not a saint on many counts, she did have a point. To this day I am deeply ashamed for my shortcomings towards her. Not really wanting to return to a single life I sought new love, making use of a couple of dating sites on the internet. Within a very short period of time I hooked up with another woman. From the start the relationship was different. We did not however delay the leap into a physical relationship as I had done seven years, or so, before with my now Ex. By now I had become very accustomed to showering in a swimsuit and had no desire to discontinue this practice. This did however mean that on many occasions there was a damp swimming costume drying in the bathroom. I had to explain to my new girlfriend that she need not be concerned. This was not evidence of other female company, but simply a sign of my obsession with ladies one piece swimming costumes. Once again I had decided that if this was going to be a deal breaker in the relationship it was better to get it over with at an early stage. Again I was surprised at the response. She assured me that she was not concerned about such things. She went on to say that she had several friends who were gay, and had suffered for many years coming to terms with their feelings. She was happy that I was able to be open and honest about my sexual desires. Emboldened by our discussions I went on to tell her about my wetlook and knicker wetting kinks as well. I felt I needed to be completely open and honest if we were going to make any sort of life together though I did emphasise that what I was saying was a statement of my likes and not a list of demands that she was going to have to fulfil! Again there were no screams of disgust, just a quiet acceptance and reflection. She did speak up to say that she disliked one piece swimming costumes, and the idea of making love whilst fully clothed, wet or otherwise, was a bit of an anathema to her as she hated anything other than “skin to skin” contact under these circumstances. She did not however, belittle my desires or do anything to shoot down my dreams. As I mentioned above this was a different time altogether. Our sex life continued and initially she was very patient with my particular personal likes and kinks, though she did not play the games in full. There were several times that she wore a swimsuit in the shower as well as the hot tub, and these were usually preceded with a wetting. Unfortunately my new soggy partner drew the line at wearing any other clothes in the water. But hey, half a loaf is better than no bread! Initially she was also happy to “play along” if we were out and I saw a swimsuit I might like to buy. Initially I was very happy. As time went by however our sex life dwindled to nothing, as did her acceptance of my “strange” habits. I suspect that the approach and onset of the menopause has turned her desires away from lovemaking and all of the manifestations of a varied sex life. We have even got to point where if I put on a swimsuit under my clothes to wear during a normal day I get quite a glare and a very short tempered enquiry. “--Why did you put THAT on,-- You’re NOT going out dressed like that are you,-- and the like. We are in the privileged position to live in a place where we can contemplate putting in a pool, which will not come as a surprise is one of the things I have always wanted to do! In the early stages of the planning she made some comment along the lines of....... and whatever it you’ll want to do in the pool! As if she had absolutely no idea... I guess it just signifies that she does not want to countenance my, albeit slightly off the beaten track, fantasies! She has not yet said anything to curtail my shower sessions, but I can see this looming on the horizon. I really don’t think I’m doing anyone any harm, other than enjoying a sexual fantasy at a time when she would rather prefer that the whole concept of sex did not exist. I find myself trying to tread the path between “not rubbing her nose in it” and “going completely behind her back”. My guess is that sometime in the near future we will have to have a discussion, I just hope that it will not be at the top of our voices. I think that an outright ban on my wet swimsuit wearing activities would simply drive me “underground”. Final Thoughts, or at least the beginning of the end! I think that I am quite well balanced in my attitude towards my fetishes. (Ask my partner and get a completely different answer!) I recognise that most of it would be thought of as a bit odd, if not plain weird by society in general. I am actually quite happy about that. It does give an extra angle to think that I am enjoying something that would be generally frowned upon! I also see it for what it is, a fetish or two or three). I don’t want to change the world, I don’t want any of this to “become the norm” it is different, it is special, and I want to keep it that way, less it become common place, and boring! I think there is something buried quite deeply into the British psyche, which both hides our real sexual drives away, and at the same time feeds on the naughtiness of the taboo. (I’m guessing that in other cultures people can be more open about their sexual habits and desires) However, here we tend to hide our inner selves away. I think this becomes quite an important part of our nature, and gives our kinks an extra buzz. I’m fast approaching the age of sixty, and expect that some people, probably including my partner, would expect sex to be a thing of the past. However, I do not feel ready to leave that world behind. I still have an eye for a pretty woman, though I would agree that the upper end of the age bracket does keep widening! I think I am sometimes in grave danger of getting labelled as a dirty old man! If I have one big regret in my life it is this. My inferiority complex and the fear of provoking disgust and rejection inhibited me from forming relationships during the early and middle part of my adult life. Inhibitions that, in later life, have proved to be not entirely founded in reality. Neither of my long term partners expressed disgust at my fantasies and both of them played along, to a greater or lesser extent. All too late I have learned the lesson – It was never the issue I assumed it would be. In short I feel that I missed out on an awful lot of sex!!! I’m of an age, and in a stable relationship, that probably means that a regular sex life within a loving relationship is very much a thing of the past. So basically I’ve shot my bolt! I also kind of understand that unless you are lucky enough to find a partner with a common fantasy to share then one of you is going to be “going through the motions” to please the other one. This is only going to be a temporary phase which will quickly pale and will, most likely, have a detrimental effect on your lovemaking in general. Ah well. At least I have some happy memories to fall back on. Who was it who said that “Sic glorius transit mudie” The glories of life are fleeting?

So, this thought just randomly struck me. I can remember events pretty well from when I was five onwards. However, my memory of my days of potty training are very vague, brief flashes at best. Does anyone here actually recall in a fair amount of detail any memories from those days?

After several Hours of long and peaceful sleep, Blu finally woke up. The macaw stretched his wings and headed towards his bedroom window. Blu then looked outside to see that it was still daytime and that it was only the middle of the afternoon. "huh" the macaw had said with a smile, " looks like I still have some time to goof off a little before the kids come back", The macaw made his way towards the door. energized and now fully ready to begin his day, he began to take off into the sky. Blu felt a little bad that he wasn't heading his way towards Jewel to help her with the kids and the visit, especially since Blu knew how crazy the kids can act sometimes. However, Jewel had said that she would take care of the kids today and had told Blu to relax for the day. " If she said that, she must have been prepared for whatever happens today." After a few more minutes of thinking over the situation, Blu decided that he would simply relax for the rest of the day and somehow return the favor to Jewel later. While flying through the air, Blu had trouble deciding how to spend the rest of his day. "I could start a small soccer match." That thought however was immediately shut down when Blu remembered his last blunder at the last soccer game he played, in which Blu had inadvertently caused everyone to temporarily lose control over their food source to the scarlet macaw tribe. "They might still be a little mad about that... maybe i could go find something eat real quick." That idea was also shot down when Blu realized Jewel might get sore if he ruined his appetite before supper. Blu was puzzled. He hadn't been alone ever since he was with his owner/mother Linda. When she would work in her book shop, Blu would play with his toys, practice making funny noises, and either watch t.v or read books all day. There wasn't any responsibility or a family to look after. There wasn't any stress. But his thoughts on his past was interrupted by a familiar and friendly sound, "hey blue bird!" It was Nico and Pedro. Nico was his same old smooth self. he was a yellow bird with a white circle in the middle of his chest and black tips at the end of his wing and tail feathers. His best friend Pedro was a rather husky bird, with a mixture of black on his wings, back, and tail feathers and white on the rest of his body with the exception of his head, which was a bright red. Blu was well acquainted with the two of them and both were definitely considered to be close friends towards his family and him. They were, of course, one of the main reasons Blu and Jewel got together. "yo blu how's it hanging?'' Pedro had said with smile. "it's going good! how are you guys doing?" "we're just letting everyone know that we got ourselves a new club just on the other edge of the forest and everyone invited to it tomorrow night." "neat! count me and the rest of the family in!" "speaking of which, where is everyone else?" Nico said with a puzzled look. "oh! Jewel and the kids are visiting their aunt's." "why aren't you there?" "she gave me the day off!'' Blu had said with a smile. "hah! nice!" Said Pedro with a smirk. "Well, we better get going if we're gonna spread the word about the new club." said Nico hastily passing Blu. " We'll see you tomorrow Blu!" Pedro soon followed Nico and the two soon vanished behind the tree's and headed off to tell everyone of their new club. " I'll see you guys later!" After waving off a final goodbye, Blu continued to think of how to spend the rest of his day. "I know! I'll go visit Linda. It's been a while since i actually saw her." With his mind made up, Blu began to make his way towards the bird care facility. ------------------------------------------------------------------- I know this one is a bit boring, but don't worry, a major payoff is coming soon :). I also want to apologize again for taking so long to post another chapter, especially since this one isn't that magnificent. I will definitely put myself into high gear mode and publish new chapters a lot quicker from now on.

Now our experiences, and the memories we make of them, are some things that shape us, and who we eventually become, other factors. A vast majority of the site members are into omo. Now, I believe omo or messing experiences, even before one realizes that are into it, helps shape who they become, especially early memories which ¨stick¨ easier to understanding and connecting the dots. For me, my earliest memory was when I was about five or so. Due to being premature, while potty trained, I was still padded, as I apparently, according to some old documents I found, suffered from encopresis and enupresis in places wherein I was unfamiliar with the bathroom, and I kind of liked them. I did occasionally use the bathroom, though it often took awhile for me to get used to a place to be comfortable using the bathroom alone in them, as Iḿ sure most young kids are with new places. Now this was my first week at the YMCA, where I went to preschool. At least, I think it was preschool. We did learn a bit there. So, in this particular instance, I wasn´t exactly used to the bathrooms there yet, especially if someone else was in there. I would often do my business in my door, or find something else to use until about a week later, when I was a tad bit more used to the bathrooms. I had also run out of diapers shortly after arriving, as my mom changed me out of my last one shortly before I went into my, I guess classroom you could call it. I wore a plain green T-Shirt, dark blue sweatpants, and a pair of sneakers. While I was walking about looking for something to play with, I felt this sudden urge to pee. I had drunken two bottles of milk before I had come there that day, so that probably had something to do with it. Like most kids, I wasn´t yet comfortable telling an adult outside my family when I had to use the bathroom, That and I didn´t yet know I could just go to the bathroom if I needed to without informing an adult. I was used to going in my pants if such a need arose. What I did was go to where there was a bookcase, and picked out a book to read. I plopped down, and in the middle of reading, flooded my pants. The carpeted floor was dark and all, so I let my pants dry out. How bout you guys, what are some early omo/messing memories of yours?

View File How it Started In this video Sosha takes us back to how she first got started in her wetting fetish. She tells us about how she first started experimenting with wetting, how she did it, and how she hid the evidence from her family. More than just an interview, Sosha reenacts one of her early experiences for the camera. Combined with the interview where she tells us about the experience, we are treated to a very intimate look into Sosha’s earliest explorations into her kink. Along the way, we are treated to an awesome jeans wetting video where Sosha completely soaks her pants as she walks through the woods. After peeing her pants, she walks around for a bit, enjoying the sensation of the soaked denim. Finally, we get to watch her change into dry pants before heading home. WARNING: There is some nudity towards the end of the video. Submitter TVGuy Submitted 08/17/2016 Category Pants Wetting

We all have them. Those "firsts" that turn you into what you are now. I am here to ask where it all started? Mine was Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. I never thought it would be a turn on. I was only 12 at the time, since then, I kept it to myself until this year. I have always had fantasies. So knowing I am an author, I wanted to share and write some of those fantasies, not keep it to myself. Regardless to how my mind is screaming "don't". I believe it's the right thing to do. To share my experience and in turn, hear others. So feel free to express what has brought you here!

I just wanted to share some of my earliest wetting memories. The very earliest thing I can remember with wetting are vague bits of memories I have of wearing pull ups as a toddler, and how I'd sometimes get too scared by something, or couldn't make it to the bathroom in time, and ended up wetting them. I remember how it felt to wet them the clearest, and that even though I failed in what I was trying to do, that I still enjoyed the warm feeling as I soaked my pull up. Sometimes I'd just wet them for fun, even though I'd get in trouble for it later. The next thing I can remember is from a few years later. Around kindergarten age. At the time, we had a house on the edge of some woods in our backyard, and I'd go out and play around in them alone for hours sometimes. When I was alone, I wouldn't want to stop playing to go to the bathroom, so pretty often, I'd just sit there and pee in my pants. I didn't see anything wrong with it at all. I was alone, wanted to keep playing, and it felt good too. I'd keep playing for hours after wetting myself, and it would dry out really well so no one would notice what I did. Or if they did notice, I never knew about it, which is probably what happened now that I think of it. When my parents did my laundry, and saw my underwear, there's no way else to explain the reason my briefs were always sort of yellow.. I even had a friend who would do the same thing sometimes, not because he wanted to though, but because he had a weak bladder, and sometimes had some pretty big leaks. He knew he'd never make it to a bathroom, like he was, from where we usually played, so when he could, he'd go off and pee in the bushes every once in a while. Not enough to stop wetting his pants though. It happened so much that one of the ways I identified him was the smell of dried out pee that was usually around him. I didn't mind much though... A little later I did start going to kindergarten, and while I was there started getting weird ideas. I thought of maybe for fun like letting little leaks of pee out into my underwear. Not enough to make a wet spot on my pants, but just enough to make my briefs wet. I nervously tried my idea out in class one day. As I sat there I relaxed my bladder a little, and let a few drops out. Just like I thought, just my underwear got wet, and it didn't make it to my pants. I felt like I was getting away with something, or that I was hiding my own secret right there in front of everyone. I did it every day after that, all through the day I'd dribble a little pee into my underwear, and would just go on with my day in damp underwear. There were some bad days while doing that though. Sometimes I'd try and just leak a little when I had a full bladder, and end up wetting a big spot on my pants, and be made fun of as a pants wetter by the other kids, but I still kept on doing it. A few big leaks weren't going to stop me enjoying the little ones. I do remember one really bad leak. It was during nap-time. I was bored, and not tired at all, so I got the brilliant idea to try to leak again for fun. I layed there, and relaxed as usual, but instead of the normal couple of drops, I had what felt like a faucet of warm water turn on in my pants. I was horrified. I thought I knew what happened, and reached under the covers to be sure though, and felt the front of my pants. My hand came back drenched. I was terrified. If I got up to try and fix it I'd be caught, so I just layed there wet, and scared. The whole time hoping that it would last long enough to dry out on it's own. No luck though. Nap-time was over 15 minutes later, and My pants were still soaked. I tried to stay where I was the longest. Luckily one of the adults there came over alone, saw what I did, and thinking I just wet my bed, quickly got me somewhere away from the others for a change of dry clothes. I was labeled a bedwetter by the administration after that, and made to use the bathroom from then on before nap-time. I didn't care though. I more or less dodged a bullet when it came to the other kids making fun of me. I still didn't stop leaking all the rest of the time there though, and I even kept doing it most of the way through first grade. Until it was replaced by my full on, secret pants wettings that I started that is...

Okay as the title goes, share your best memories here! I would love to know about your best experiences in life and how you felt about them! Okay I'll go first. Well it was back in the day when I went on a school trip to Sikkim –Gangtok- Darjeeling with my classmates. I had the best time of my life. These places are so beautiful and the culture is totally different from the state I live in. Even though all these places are in the same country it was like I had travelled somewhere abroad.I made a bunch of new friends who I am never gonna forget.The long train journeys were amazing. We danced and sang and shared food while we were travelling. We would stay up all night sharing stories about ghosts and what not. It was awesome! Even the teachers were so cool and went along with every prank we played on our friends. We also went to Nepal and had the best noodles ever! Nepal has a somewhat similar culture to our country so it was kind of relatable and we didn’t feel like we were in a foreign land. Gosh it was like heaven on Earth! I really wish I could get those days back. Well I know it is not very detailed but I hope it is good enough to get you post your own experience(s). Looking forward to read a lot of awesome anecdotes!