My name is Susan. I'm in my mid-30's, medium-height, slim, with a well-balanced figure, pretty face, and silky brown hair that I sometimes cut short and other times let grow long. (My friends joke that I look so much like Susan Lucci that my nickname is Susan Lucky.)
One day a few years ago when my boyfriend Roger was over at my place, he was idly thumbing through my fashion magazines while I was on the phone. Most of them he just flipped through quickly, but I noticed that one in particular really caught his eye. Not realizing that I was watching him, he spent quite a few minutes gazing at it, and I managed to sneak a quick look to see what section he was so interested in.
After he left I checked it out and found that it was a series of "wet-look" photos showing fully-dressed models soaking wet. I'd never really thought about it before, but even to me the clinging, dripping clothes in those pictures looked at least as sexy as a bikini, so it didn't surprise me that Roger would find them attractive.
I know that when I keep my boyfriend happy he keeps me happy, so I decided right then to do some wet-look myself as a special treat for him. However, I wanted to try it alone first to see how it felt. Never being one to procrastinate, I went right to my closet and picked out an outfit for the experiment: a dark purple bra, underpants, and cotton socks, a medium purple polo shirt, and a matching pair of shorts.
Since my home's one luxury is an outdoor patio with a hot tub and a high privacy fence that completely shields the whole patio from view, I simply undressed and carried a towel and my chosen clothes out to the patio. Still nude, I pulled the cover off the hot tub, but decided to leave the water jets turned off so I could see everything underwater clearly. I put on the dark purple panties and bra, but then suddenly the whole idea of bathing with my clothes on seemed so bizarre that I began to chicken out, and I approached the edge of the tub wearing only the underwear.
The tub itself is large enough to hold 8 or 10 people when I give parties, and it looks like a very small built-in swimming pool. The top is even with the patio, so you can step right down into it without having to climb over anything, and a sturdy handrail runs parallel to a series of small, shallow steps leading into the middle. The deepest spot in the middle is a bit over waist-deep, and all around the edge there is a ledge where you can sit.
I put my bare feet into the soothing, warm water, then walked down a couple of the steps to knee-deep water. At first I was going to soak wearing just the bra and panties, but then I realized how ridiculous that would be. The whole point of this was to get comfortable with the idea so I could be relaxed and nonchalant when I did this for Roger, so I stepped back out of the tub, dried off my legs, and pulled on the shorts and polo shirt over my still-dry underwear.
Returning to the hot tub, I stepped in and out a couple of times, going only one or two steps deep, thinking how silly I was being and trying hard to overcome my inhibitions. After all, my clothes get wet every time they're washed, I told myself, but it still felt like I was breaking some unquestionable rule. On the next try I made it to the third step, which was just deep enough to wet the bottom edge of my shorts. I felt very naughty, but then remembered that I had still forgotten something and decided to do this right, so I climbed out, dried my legs again, and put on the dark purple socks.
They say the third time's a charm, so once more I entered the tub. Closing my eyes and holding the handrail, I dipped each foot into the tub to wet the socks, starting with the toes. That wasn't too bad, in fact it felt kind of sensual, so I walked carefully back down to the third step. The bottom edge of the my shorts were already brushing the water again, but I gathered up the shorts-legs anyway and held them high while stepping down to the fourth step. After a minute or two of hesitation I took a deep breath and forced myself let go of the fabric I was holding, allowing the bottom few inches to fall into the water, but then I couldn't help reflexively jumping out of the tub. Now my socks were saturated and the bottom few inches of my shorts had turned a much darker purple and were dripping. Still feeling silly, I entered the tub again and walked slowly back to the fourth step, this time without holding anything up.
One more step and the hot water would finally reach my undies, but even though my pants were already partly wet, I still couldn't quite make that last step. The inhibition against deliberately stepping all the way in was so strong that it was a good thing I was trying this out ahead of time.
Attempting something different, I tossed handfuls of water in the air, hoping to get wet that way. My coordination wasn't very good, and the first two or three handfuls fell onto the patio, missing me completely. Gradually I learned to toss straight up, but the water was going so high that it spread into tiny drops before coming back onto me, so even after a couple of minutes of this the only result was a few small dark purple spots on my shirt and pants. When I tried to throw in such a way as to keep the water all together, it missed me completely.
A new strategy was clearly needed, so I tried leaning backwards onto the handrail, thus presenting a much larger target. Taking a deep breath, I let fly another handful, and a big blob of hot water hit me squarely - right in the face. Not exactly what I was aiming for, but definitely an improvement. The next one hit the side of my stomach, and a big patch of the purple polo shirt got nice and dark. After a couple more misses, another load of water landed directly on my breast, and I could feel a strangely satisfying warmth soaking through my bra. Getting a bit more courageous, I scooped up another handful of water and poured it directly on my other breast.
This was starting to feel pretty good, so quickly - before I could change my mind - I sat down on the edge of the tub, took a double-handful of hot water, and dropped it right into my lap. A dark purple patch of fabric grew there, as did the warmth being soaked up inside by my underpants. Holding tightly to the handrail, I next dipped my butt in and out of the water until the whole back of my shorts and underpants were soaked and dripping. The last of my inhibitions slipped away with the water running out of my pants and falling back into the tub, so I stood up again and walked down into the waist-deep water at the center of the tub, getting my panties completely underwater. Rocking gently back and forth for a moment, I concentrated on the feeling of hot water swishing around me, then began to gradually bend my legs to lower myself in deeper. I watched my shirt turning darker as the water crept up it, paused for a moment just before it reached my bra, then held my nose and slowly dunked myself completely under water. When I came back up, I raised just my head above the surface and left everything else submerged.
The sense of silliness was gone now, replaced by a growing feeling of sensuality. Now that everything I was wearing had changed color, I'd seen about all there was to see underwater, so I climbed out of the tub to turn on the water jets. I was surprised that my clothes, now totally soaked and much heavier, held me snugly as I rose from the water and felt like they were trying to pull me back in. I lay down on a lounge chair for a moment, relishing the clinging, hot feeling, and started sliding my hands inside my clothing and stroking myself.
As my excitement built, I got up and turned the water jets on, then climbed impatiently back into the tub. All the hot water felt wonderful swirling around me, but the outlets of the whirlpool jets had special potential. Using the safety rail as a brace, I sat facing right in front of one, and after a pleasant few minutes I climaxed as the water shot forcefully up inside the legs of my shorts.
After luxuriating and resting for quite a while, I finally dragged myself back onto the patio and staggered exhausted into the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, at first the image looked like a drowned rat, but then when I thought about how good it felt, it started looking really sexy. My shirt was hugging me so tightly that the outline of my bra stood out clearly, and even the edges of my panties were visible through the wrinkled shorts now pasted tightly against my buns. A peek inside my pants and shirt revealed that the purple underwear was now so dark that it looked almost black. Roger would like this. The experience was brought to a close by stepping into a hot shower, washing my hair, and undressing - in that order.
Since my solo wetlook experiment was so successful, I decided that on our next date Roger would get a nice surprise. When the evening arrived I planned ahead by wearing black underwear, including a black full slip, a short black knit short-sleeved dress, and black sandals. After a movie we came back to my house, and as it was a very hot night I suggested we sit in the lawn chairs on the patio to catch any breeze.
On a table between us I had placed two glasses of ice water and a big pitcher with which to refill them. After a few minutes of chatting I "accidentally" tipped my glass over so it would spill directly into my lap. I squealed and jumped up, brushing the water off, but not so fast as to prevent it from making a big, shiny, dark spot just below my navel. Roger, always such a gentleman, seemed so worried that I had to reassure him that it wouldn't hurt the dress, and that the cold water actually felt good.
We sat back down and talked some more, but when the subject turned to the weather I said "It's so hot I wish some more of that cold water would spill on me." After pausing for a moment, I smiled and added "Hmmmm .. my dress is already wet anyway, why not?" Giving him a devilish look right in the eye, I refilled my glass, then deliberately tipped it over toward myself. This time I stayed in my chair as the water streamed over the edge of the table into my lap, and I gasped as the icy wetness soaked through the dress, through the slip, and into my nylon underpants.
Roger didn't say anything, but he started breathing heavily and was staring right at me, so I told him "Oh, that really does feel good. In fact, it's turning me on." Getting up from the chair, I beckoned "Come over here and kiss me," then stretched out on the lounge chair. I sure didn't have to ask for that twice; he came right over, held my face in his hands, and planted a long, deep kiss on me.
"Be a dear and get me another glass of water," I asked coyly, and he did.
"Same place," I sighed, and after a moment of hesitation he slowly poured the whole glass right into my crotch. The ice water was stimulating, and in stark contrast to the heat Roger & I were starting to generate.
"Another," I murmured, and soon Roger was standing over me, full glass in hand, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Right here and here," I directed, pointing to my breasts. Half a glass on each one drenched the top of my dress, soaked the underwear underneath, and made my nipples so hard they became visible right through the dress. As I rolled over onto my stomach, I was glad the pitcher on the table was a large one. "More," I demanded, "right on my buns." Roger complied with another glassful, then pointed our that the water supply was running low. "There's just enough left for my whole back," was my reply, and that's exactly where he distributed it.
Rolling onto my side, I reached up, pulled his face to mine, kissed him long and hard, then stood up and looked at myself. Roger was looking at me too, also long and hard (in more ways than one). Except for a couple of small dry spots that he had missed, my dress was a lovely, glistening, deep black, and water was dripping from my chair, the lounge, and especially from me. "Oooh, I've been a bad girl," I giggled, "and it felt wonderful, but I'm getting cold now, so I'd better warm up." Roger said maybe I should go in the house and change, but instead I pulled the cover off the hot tub and walked gradually and teasingly right into the deepest part. Turning to look Roger right in the eye, I slowly ducked completely under and rose back out of the water with equal deliberateness. Sashaying out of the hot water and walking across the patio toward Roger, my sandals were squishing noisily and the dress was clinging just the way I'd hoped it would, clearly revealing the contours of everything I was wearing underneath.
"How does this look?" I asked, streams of water still sliding off me and onto the patio. Roger's only response was to grab me, squeeze me close, give me a deep, passionate kiss, and begin rubbing his hands all over my back and my buns. I returned the favor, then took his hand, stepped back into the hot tub, and pulled him in with me. Already quite wet just from holding me close, he didn't resist at all. Soon his hands were under my dress and exploring my slip, and when he found my zipper we helped each other out of all our wet clothing, one article at a time.