Message-ID: 202302Z20071994@anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.watersports X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.fetish.watersports Organization: Anonymous contact service Reply-To: an115986@anon.penet.fi Lines: 247
Personal history of the world
By Tinker, July 1994
My very first experience with wetting myself must have been that I did not have that much experience with it. According to my mother, I was exceptionally quick in toilet training, and out of diapers very early. Of course, I do not remember anything about this.
My second experience I don't remember either, but my mother still tells it sometimes to friends, so it must be true. I was in the hospital to get my tonsils out (at what age? Probably three or so). For some reason, I got brought in one day before the surgery and therefore had to spend the night in the hospital, in a rather big room with about six or eight beds with other boys (and girls? Don't know). When it was time to get to sleep, the nurse(s) came around with diapers, and everyone got one. Including me. According to my mother, I yelled and cried that I did not need one anymore (which was true), but got one nonetheless, and was not allowed to leave my bed to go to the toilet! This sounds like a fiction story, but it actually happened! The nurses probably had decided that this was the easier way to copy with a lot of whining kids. Anyway, I was explicitly instructed to wet my diaper (which was advertised as being easier than going to the toilet, so shut up) and then the lights went out. Of course I don't remember wetting myself, since it probably was a negative experience for me and I deleted it. But the next day, I complained so angrily to my mother that she still remembers it.
Of course, as a kid, I sometimes wetted myself by pure accident, and I remember at least one case in which I wore shorts and had to pee real bad. We lived practically in the woods, but still I ran from a ditch nearby to our house, and rang the doorbell. My mother took quite some time to arrive, and apparently I must have looked in big distress since I can remember her saying, wondering and irritated, "Don't be silly, just pee!". Probably she wondered why I didn't pick a tree, like everyone else did (I wonder so myself). Anyway, suddenly I felt something warm in my pants and I soaked them right off, looking down, while my mother still insisted to "just pee". I didn't want to wet myself, and so here the memory stops again.
Then the major breakthrough happened. While I was about four or five, maybe six, my mother casually remarked that she had seen something stupid that day. She looked out of our front window and saw a girl we knew, she must have been about three, riding on the sidewalk on a bike (with two small support wheels). She wore a short little-girl's dress. I try to quote my mother: "Suddenly she stopped the bike, stepped off it, squatted down, and peed on the sidewalk. And she did not even take her panties off! After she had finished, she just mounted her bike again and rode on, with her wet pants on the saddle like it was normal. I think that she must have started peeing while she still sat on the bike, and that she already had wet pants before she squatted down." I found this story mildly interesting, but it must have been the seed that started growing quickly afterwards.
Around this time, I must have discovered masturbation. Although it still was dry, I could easily induce an orgasm by grinding my crotch against my mattress while laying on my belly. Maybe I just thought about that naughty girl while this happened for the first time; anyway, I now had found a way to experience great pleasure and I always included wet panties in it.
My fantasies split up in two directions. First, I started imagining girls (of my age) wetting themselves under their dresses. Usually I had one or two favourite girls I knew from school (changing over time) that just would go outside to their secret sheltered spot, either squat down or spread their legs, and wet their panties. I even invented some mirror setups that allowed them to look up their own skirts to see their panties getting wet. One of my girlfriends often wore a short one-piece straight leather dress, more a tunic, and of course she very often peed herself under it in my imagination.
This was in the early seventies, and with mini skirts being the norm, there was always some girl or woman around that I could pick and let her wet herself. It even turned heavier when I started to add messing in their panties; eventually, I had built a whole world in which every girl carried her own toilet under her skirt.
Sometimes when I was with girlfriends, I made remarks when their panties showed, but nobody ever reacted as I hoped they would. Being about eight, the girls were not that shy about exposing their panties yet, but they certainly had outgrown the wetting age.
The second branch of fantasies split off shortly after I started thinking about girls with wet underwear. I started to imagine that I myself was that girl and was wetting myself. Of course, I wore a dress, since that girl wore a dress; and so some crossdressing and transgendered behaviour crept in. I did not really wanted to be a girl, but I certainly wanted to be a girl once in a while to get the opportunity to wet myself under a skirt. I invented a second world in which I regularly went to a sheltered terrain with a fence around it, changed into a dress, and together with fellow boys and girls was allowed to wet and mess myself as much as I liked. Note that I never thought about diapers; it always was plain underwear, and it stayed that way during my whole adolescence.
Since I now imagined wearing a skirt, I wanted to really wear one while masturbating, and e.g. took off my pajama pants so that the remaining shirt at least gave the impression of a very short dress (I always pulled it tightly down). Sleeping without pajama pants became exciting, although I think that nobody ever realised that before! Later I even pulled down my pants (never my underwear; I needed that to virtually wet in!) to my knees to feel the skirt dictate how far I could spread my legs. I actually spread my legs just before (in my head) I soaked my panties.
Still later I started wrapping a towel around my waist and securing it with wash pins or diaper pins, to imitate a skirt, which caused a lot of excitement by itself. Still, never anything serious happened except for a small amount of liquid in my pants since I grew up. I never had wet myself on purpose.
When I was seven or so, that changed. I started to wake up early in the morning, put on my swimming trunks, go to the toilet, and sit down. Then I imagined that I was a girl squatting down, and delightfully peed in my pants while sitting on the toilet. Afterwards I would go back to bed to masturbate with my wet trunks on, which added a lot to the realism of the experience. Then I would put my wet pants back in the closet and left all the things as they were. Of course, this led to my mother detecting stains on my sheets, and I remember her catching me while I walked in my wet swimming trunks once. Again, there the memory stops. I most probably didn't get punished, but I was of course not encouraged to go on.
For a time, I sometimes undressed, wrapped toilet paper around my waist and crotch as some kind of paper diaper, and wet it on the toilet (even while visiting my grandmother). But this was so clumsy that I stopped.
Years later, I still had the same fantasies, and on a day I suddenly relived the whole thing and started searching for my old red swimming trunks. I was about twelve I think, and had trouble keeping my now erect penis inside the trunks. Anyway, with a lot of excitement and pleasure, I peed them on the toilet again, and from then on I have been hooked.
Quickly after that "first" experience, I started to look for good dress imitations. Basically towels (I do not have sisters to sneak something from). I also started to wet the crotch of my underwear under the tap, add a towel as a skirt, and go to bed. And a few times, I wetted myself on the toilet wearing my swimming trunks and a towel, which was a disaster since the towel got wet. So I dropped the towel, and started to regularly wet underwear that I got out of the laundry basket. I put that back while still wet, and so naturally provoked my mother's anger (real anger this time; understandably). Fortunately I also discovered that in our cleaning cloth box I could find my old underwear, and of course that could be thrown away after use.
Finally, I found a skirt in a box with old clothes that fitted me nicely and that I could take and put back unnoticed. I created a waterproof underskirt with a plastic shopping bag, and when my whole family was out, I dressed myself in that skirt, the underskirt, some underpants, my sweater and my mother's high boots. I can assure you that I was trembling all over my body when I stepped out onto our sheltered balcony and felt the wind blowing around my skirt. It took a while before I actually parted my legs and waited for the wonder to happen. I still can remember the wonderful feeling of my pee coming up while I was fully clothed, and the explosive sensation of truly pissing in my pants with my legs spread as far as my skirt would allow. Everything worked out exactly as I had imagined it, and it was absolutely wonderful. Afterwards, I would walk around for a while with my wet pants under the skirt arousing me to a great extent, and finally lay down on my belly on my bed to finish it off. I had discovered heaven.
Later I found more skirts, all long, and even a cheerleader-like short dress that had once been of my mother (there are still pictures of her wearing it!). Especially that dress opened up new possibilities. I invented more things to protect my underwear from getting soaked at the front, such as sewed-in plastic sheets. Finally I settled for little plastic bags used for carrying sandwiches to work. You pull them over your erect penis as a wide condom and the result is an almost completely female wetting, with your skirt remaining completely unstained.
Dressed in that way, with my old underwear under the short dress, I had many great wetting sessions, in the garden at night, in the shower during the day. And a few times I even messed my panties under it, which was a delightful experience (you can literally do it everywhere you like, unlike peeing). Of course I could not resist sitting down on the hump in my pants, and it really was nice. But very messy as well, and I have not done it again for over ten years now. I even go to the toilet to relieve myself before dressing up, to prevent "accidents."
Once I had just wet myself under my dress when the whole family suddenly came back, having bounced on a visit to relatives. I couldn't possibly escape my mother, who saw me in my wet swimming trunks (fortunately I had time to hide the dress). She very discretely came to my room to inform what had happened, and I explained the whole thing, glad to get it off my back. She took it with remarkable understanding.
So a few weeks later, when everybody except my mother was out, I very shyly passed her a note to announce that I would like to put on my swimming trunks again. She yelled up the stairs that it was my life, and that if I liked it, I could go on. I jumped about three meters high and rushed to get the stuff I needed. She even started to look for old underwear herself, and told me that since there were no old underpants left, I should just go into the pants that I wore! It was fantastic. I even showed her myself in my dress, which led to ironic remarks about my male black- haired legs. Then I rushed up the stairs and had a great wetting and messing session, all-in, while my mother prepared the meal in the kitchen. I'll never forget that, and only regret a bit that I didn't ask her to give advice, witness me wetting myself, or look up my skirt when it all was done.
Since then, my habit of wetting myself under a dress once in a while slowly died out to the current level of about three times a year. It got partially replaced by more "normal" fantasies about the girls I have been in love with (never mutually, alas), and I really got stimulated by the access I suddenly got to the a.s.f.ws/d groups. It appeared that my fetish certainly was not that eccentric, and also that some women (not many, but still some) loved to wet themselves in exactly the way I fantasised. So, although my physical practices are dying out (waiting for a girlfriend to show up?), my mental exercises have tripled since last November.
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