The Autobiography of a Fetish.

[squirtuk]

The Autobiography of a Fetish.

This is a cathartic exercise, written to enable me to investigate my own fetishes and kinks. I have tried to tell my girlfriend about myself, and this is an attempt to put everything I have said, and more, down on paper. It may help me to understand myself, it may not.

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 under those circumstances I would rather not know!

I intend to study 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 it always was a sexual thrill, 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 minds eye) I seemed to be drawn 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 draws 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, and 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 (Wetlook)

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 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!

On one or two of the visits we made to our local swimming pool a group of teenagers came in to the pool 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 uniforms!) 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. Neither incident befell me, and 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 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 would ever have 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 too much into a fun parent / child event?

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 margin 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 have never 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!

It was somewhere about this time that I witnessed a magical (and maybe life changing) event on one of our regular camping weekends. One of the destinations was a camping site near to a river, where there was a lock. We spent some time watching the boats go through the lock, and the water go over the accompanying raceway. This was quite a popular swimming spot, and on one occasion an older teenager girl quite deliberately entered the water fully clothed. I have no idea who this girl was with, as she seemd to be acting entirely alone, but she seemed to take delight in entering the water, fully clothed and enjoy the feeling of her wet clothes in a deliberate and pre-planned way. She also went away and changed into a dry set of clothes before entering the water again. No one spoke to her, or asked her what she was doing. I seem to recall that no one seemed to take much notice at all. Except for me. I wanted to watch every moment of this act. I hung around and watched as much as I could, trying NOT to make it too obvious that I was watching this “forbidden “act . At least one of my parents was about, and I had no wish to make my secret desires public knowledge to them. I probably didn’t want to be embarrassed by being challenged by the wet girl either, “Hey what are you looking at!” What a dilemma, here was a girl doing EXACLTY what I wanted (her) to do, and I had to feign indifference, and watch from a distance!!!

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 had no idea of sex, or anything sexual. 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.

Masturbation drove a lot of things for many years, and I fantasised along with my wanking. 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, 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!

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 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.

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 peed 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, 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 unexploited 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, paled after the initial rush. 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 aficionados 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! 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, but anti 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, I 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.

Buying 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 the premises. My fist 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 often be scarred 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 waistband 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!.

I also felt drawn to wear a swimsuit under “normal” conditions. I have often worn one “out and about” and just like men who wear women’s underwear under their clothes, who would know!

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” That is urination for sexual purposes. 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, and 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 is only one other person (my partner) (more later) who has 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.
I have to comment that the internet has not changed my life, other that 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 particular 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 paysite, 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 photo-set via the post.


Sleeping and Dreams

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.

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 he street stark naked, and that has me in some "social" situation, where I 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 get far too embarrassed and have to get out!

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!



My 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 died 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 "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 of 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 to much of or 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 enjoyed the experience more than I would have done under "normal" circumstances!

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 or horror. 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 girl 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, asking if my ultimate dream would be to have her pee in a swimsuit.

She had hit the nail on the head. In fact 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.

At the time of writing this we are still very much together. Initially we enjoyed a full varied and quite often very wet sex life. As time went on for one reason or another the sex life waned. My partner however has always supported my fetishes and has never done anything to belittle me, or my desires.

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. If we are shopping together and find a suitable swimsuit we can buy it for her!! (nudge nudge wink wink!!!) I also don’t have to hide my guilty secret away. No one will bat an eyelid if they see the odd swimsuit hanging up to dry! (Imagine the excuses I would have had to come up with in my old single days!)

I have also become more emboldened about wearing swimsuits. The only place I have ever worn a swimsuit openly in anything like public had been a deserted beach on holiday 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!!! Hell, it’s not like I’m going to live and work with these people in the near future!

The last time we were abroad I wore a swimsuit on the beach there were some boats in the bay, within "visual" contact. It took some guts to change into a swimsuit, and I did settle for a black “boy-leg” swimsuit that could have been mistaken for a 60-year-old male style swimsuit. But I knew it wasn’t! No galloping horses screamed to a halt, No one visibly pointed, stared or called everyone together to look at the pervert!

(Later note insertion:) On the last holiday we went on, I was far more open about both wearing a ladies swimsuit on a public beach, and in fact wearing clothes (usually over a ladies one piece) into the water. No one has ever batted an eyelid. So much for all my paranoia!

Pre Conclusion Thoughts

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.

Conclusion

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!

Ok I might like to be somewhere where I could suspend "normality" for a while, and enjoy my fetishes, in relative openness, however it would have to be a short-term arrangement. I need to live in the real world, if for no other reason that it is the stepping away from the norm, which adds the extra edge.

(Later note insertion:) I managed to find a private house for rent, which had it’s own indoor swimming pool, and approached my partner, to see if she would countenance a week of holiday where I could indulge in my most basic desires. She agreed, and for a week I was able to live my fetish. The plan for the week went something like, I would not take any normal underwear, or swimwear instead I took my collection of ladies one pieces, and got to wear quite a number of them. 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 have 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 it must be said that for a number of reasons 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 we were both fully 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.

So, no I don’t actually want to live in a world where I can indulge my fantasies all the time. They are that, fantasies, and not the norm. It’s a bit like swearing and flags, if you bring them out all the time, they become faded and lose their impact.

Having said that, I’m eying up the house and swimming pool again. This time for a short break, if I can book one in!!

[captain sensible]

Well, that seems to have covered everything pretty comprehensively. No further questions, m'Lud...