## Archive-name: growing-up

From: an174684@anon.penet.fi

Subject: Growing Up by Zeta Part 1

Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.watersports

This is an account of highlights from my life from earliest recollections of 'wet' experiences to the present time. I offer it to the group in the hope that people with similar interests will find it interesting, and to encourage others to share their own experiences. This is part 1 of (currently) 3 parts. I may add to it if there is interest in reading more. Your comments and email are welcome. - Zeta January 1995

Growing Up by Zeta Part 1

I can remember wetting my diapers as a very young child, but only vaguely and I don't associate any of those fleeting memories with any particular sensations, except to note that they were a part of growing up.

The earliest memory I have of an erotic link to this 'interest' must have been around the age of five or six. I was home from school on account of some mild childhood illness. The girl next door (who was my inseparable playmate) was also at home for the same reason. To amuse ourselves and pass the time, we spent a happy morning playing with various toys, then tiring of those decided to dress up in each other's clothes. I forget who suggested this, but I can remember feeling a slight thrill of elation at the thought of wearing Jeanette's clothes - all a bit forbidden.

We slipped out of our own clothes and fumbled our way into unfamiliar garments. I can remember growing quite stiff when I pulled on Jeanette's cotton panties then covered my erection with her cotton dress although I had no idea why doing this should affect me in such a way, apart from knowing that it was vaguely wrong or forbidden (from an early age anxiety often tended to give me an erection). Then it was done, we looked at each other, laughed and tried not to feel too embarrassed. Then the door opened and my mother caught us each 'dressed up'. I immediately felt guilty. She didn't actually say we had committed a grave sin, but I got the impression she wasn't all that amused.

By unspoken agreement we got back into our own clothes and decided to play outside. There was a vacant section next door with grass long enough to make a hay paddock. It was good fun tunneling through it knowing that we were concealed from above and before long we had reached our secret 'cave.' Jeanette complained that she needed to do wees but was reluctant to go all the way back inside so I suggested why not do it here, there was no one about so it would be completely private. She hummed and hahed for a bit, tempted but probably bashful. I was eagerly waiting to see her slip her panties down and squat so that I could watch her doing it. In fact what I really wanted was examine more closely that mysterious and infinitely beguiling feminine slit between her legs so unlike my own sex.

But Jeanette was bashful and didn't want to take her panties down in front of me. In the event, she waited a little too long and the white cotton darkened. She bit her lip and whimpered as the spurt came in her panties and trickled down her leg. Urgency overcame discretion. She hastily slipped the wet knickers down and squatted before me and as I watched in a breath-stopping rapture I saw the sparkling golden stream well up and spurt through the pouting lips of her vagina and splatter wetly on to the grass. I was overcome by a desire to become more intimately involved in this fascinating thing but didn't know what I really wanted or what to do about it. In the end, acting impulsively I reached forward and thrust my outstretched hands into the stream, revelling in the feeling of intimacy and forbidden naughtiness as the hot spurting of her thighs wetly stroked and caressed my hands and fingers. Imprinted indelibly on my memory at that moment was the magical sound of her peeing, loud in the noonday stillness, the sibilant hssss that girls often make when they pee, so unlike a male.

Jeanette was a bit taken aback but once I took the initiative I think she became caught up in the excitement and enjoyed the thing too although whether in the same way or to the same extent I have no way of knowing. I am sure though that it gave her a certain amount of erotic pleasure doing her wees so publicly, even on my hands!

When she had finished, Jeanette looked in dismay at her panties with their soaked crotch. I had an inspiration. 'Here,' I said slipping my underpants down. 'You wear these. They're dry. I don't mind wearing your ones.' Jeanette readily agreed and thanked me for the idea.

Pulling on her wet panties gave me such strangely sweet spasms in the pit of my stomach that for a moment my pelvis felt quite numb - a sensation I would associate in later years with that magic ecstasy that wells up just before orgasm. Watching Jeanette pee stimulated a similar urge, which quickly became insistent. I didn't wait to see whether she objected or not, but turned aside, squatted down the way she had and wet myself into her panties in a glorious warm spasm of forbidden rapture. While I was doing it I managed to gasp out to Jeanette, did she want to feel it running over her hands too, but alas, she didn't so I contented myself with pissing her panties in solitary bliss until I suddenly became so stiff I couldn't do any more.

Gallantly, I insisted on wearing her wet panties for the rest of the afternoon, revelling in the clinging sensations that the tight feminine crotch gave me and revelling in the helpless delight of being stimulated again and again by the forbidden wetness between my legs, the remnants of our secret sharing.

Well of course that's a long time ago. But strangely, recollection of the sensations are still quite vivid. I don't think anything can quite recapture the vibrant intensity of "first times", and anything that is associated with sexual pleasure and arousal in those early years I found incredibly intense.

One other experience that happened shortly after this also made a profound and lasting impression. I lived in those early years, adjacent to a farm. Strangely enough this farm was within the city limits. It was actually land owned in trust to a large organisation, and while they decided what they were going to do with it, they hired a farmer to get some return on it. They ran cattle and sheep. There were some hundreds of acres, some of it in dense bush and as kids we had a marvellous time exploring fields, trees, caves and secret hideaways. A group of four or five of us, inseparable at the time, were walking though some dense bush not far from home. Although we explored a lot, there was so much of it that probably most was unexplored.

I was bringing up in the rear on this occasion, last except for one of the farm dogs who occasionally followed us about. This was generally frowned on because they were working dogs and not supposed to be playing with children. I guess the dogs didn't mind breaking the rules occasionally. Eventually I discovered I needed to pee and turned aside off the track to point myself behind a tree. The others quickly disappeared out of sight. My absence must have been noticed because someone called out, 'Where are you?'

'I'm just here having a leak,' stalling for time.

'Well hurry up then we haven't got all day.'

We knew enough not to get separated. It was easy to get lost. I fumbled in my shorts and shortly a spray splattered against the wide trunk of the tree. The farm dog came up behind me, curious to see what I was doing. To my surprise he came right up and sniffed at the source of the spraying.

'Get away, stupid dog. You'll get wet,' I admonished.

He didn't move away. In an act that astonished me, the dog moved closer then began to lick my penis. I was outraged and to shoo him away I turned, faced him and still peeing aimed the jet in his direction. That'll teach him a lesson I thought.

It made no difference. The dog continued to lick my cock and when the spurting went in his mouth he either ignored it or swallowed it. I was spellbound with astonishment. But within moments I had another problem to worry about. The ministrations of his tongue were producing a sensation of divine sweetness, the like of which I had never experienced before.

Another yell sounded, close this time, 'Are you coming or aren't you?'

I panicked. I didn't want to be caught with the dog licking my peeing cock but as the flow began to dwindle I grew stiff and realised I didn't want it to stop either. I was caught. 'Okay, I'm coming.'

Just a moment longer. I begged the dog silently to keep doing it. A crash sounded a few feet away. I could see a couple of boys coming towards me. I felt a strange weak sensation in my pelvis, a sort of melting ecstasy that I wanted to go on forever. At the same time it was so powerful that the intensity of it frightened me. I hurriedly pulled away from the dog's licking and concealed my excited flesh in my shorts. A few more seconds I know now, looking back on it, then I would have orgasmed. I felt cheated and sorrowful that I had lost out on exploring where those sensations would have led me. I fell in behind the others, but I resolved as soon as the coast was clear, I would find the dog and carry on where we left off.

Unfortunately the opportunity was already gone, and I didn't get another chance. But it made its own impressions in a youthful mind and became part of the overall pattern to which I would respond later.

As I grew older, there were a few other incidents, not many but each one left another imprint, reinforcing wetting with pleasure in its own secret and somewhat shameful way. I had a few wet beds in later years. It would probably be a rare childhood that passed without a few 'genuine' accidents and I had my share of them. Usually it happened after a particularly vivid dream, I would wake in a state of sexual arousal, experiencing blissful sensations and discover the reality to be that I was wetting the bed. Whenever this happened I was terribly upset at the 'mess' but at the same time there would be a sort of heady exhilaration. I would return in my fantasies again and again to the sensation of helpless pleasure as I lay there involuntarily wetting myself.

I also discovered another situation which could provoke an 'accident' and that was at a time of extreme anxiety and helpless frustration. I remember leaving my schoolbag on the bus when I was quite young and walking home without it. When I got home the reception was thunderous and I was promptly despatched to flag down each of the returning buses for a quick survey to see whether that was the one which contained my missing bag. Needless to say my efforts were fruitless, which compounded my anxiety and as I stood at the side of the road, overcome by feelings of desperation approaching panic I felt myself lose control and began to wet my pants. Feeling the hot spurts coming in my pants and running down my legs invoked exquisite sensations of frustration, despair and (you guessed it) erotic stimulation.

I have since discovered that this reaction was a familiar one to many girls. Maybe boys reacted exactly the same way. I don't know because it's not the sort of thing that boys were keen to confess, so I never learned their reactions. Girls had no such inhibitions with me if the topic was discussed in a neutral way.

As you can see, the pattern was building up. Not a lot, but bit by bit. Later at puberty I re-experienced some incidents of bed wetting, but this time accompanied by intense sexual pleasure. I also had the usual wet dreams that young boys experience when they are starting to get to grips with unruly hormones, but for some reason most of my wet dreams were accompanied by or a follow on from the blissful feelings arising from wetting the bed. I found this interesting and discussed it cautiously with a few of my friends. (No one likes to be "different" at that age, hence the caution).

I asked them, 'What happens when you have a wet dream?'

There was the usual evasiveness, guffaws of laughter and comments like, 'Well you know,' or 'what'd yah think?'

When they saw I wasn't trying to make fun of them, they became a little more explicit. Overall the consensus seemed to be: "Well I was having this dream, y'know and I was watching this chick and I was getting a good feeling watching her and it suddenly got very strong and I woke up. That's when I found my stomach was wet and sticky where I'd shot."

They asked, what about you? I acknowledged something similar because I thought if they knew the truth they'd make fun of me. What happened for me was similar up to the point of the good feelings then I too would wake up realising I was having a wet dream - except that the wet part was I was actually wetting the bed. It happened over and over. The scenes would be different but the end result always the same, the feelings of erotic pleasure would come to a peak of ecstasy - that's when I'd wake up with the warm spurting of my pee jetting over my tummy and into the bed. The sensations would be so exquisite and powerful that I would often orgasm after emptying my bladder. If not, then the urgency was so strong that I'd stroke myself for a few moments to produce the climax I needed so badly, spurting into the wet sheets.

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Last modified (12/24/96 14:23:53) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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