Lately I've been thinking about the specific parts of wetlook that excite me. There are the obvious visual manifestations, such as clothing changing color, getting shiny, clinging, and going see through.

There are also the tactile sensations like feeling the clothes cling to you when you get out, feeling the weight of the soaked clothes, feeling the water run down your skin inside your clothes, or feeling the clothes float against your skin when you're in the water. Some also enjoy the feel of wet clothes on their partners.

Then there's the mental aspect of a lack of inhibition, doing something that could be considered a little naughty because it goes against our social mores to wear a bathing suit in the water. But lately, I've come to the realization that there's a more subtle mental piece that really gets me going. Sometimes, it's so subtle, it goes unnoticed. It's the moment a fully clothed woman gives in to getting completely wet. If you pay close attention, you can see it. It ties in closely with the lack of inhibitions, but is much more pin-pointed. It's that specific moment she sheds, or appears to shed, her inhibitions that I really enjoy.

What exactly do I mean? We've all seen (if not in person, maybe on YouTube) a woman at a beach in jeans, who gets a little too close to the waves and the bottom of her jeans get a little wet. She usually has one of three reactions. One is to flee the waves and lament that she got the last couple inches of her jeans wet, never to return to the water's edge lest she repeat her folly. The second reaction is just one of indifference. She doesn't really care that the bottom of her jeans are wet, but she's not going to go in any further either. To her it's the utilitarian result of walking along the water's edge, no more, no less. The third reaction is the one that gets me every time. It's the woman who gets the bottom of her jeans wet and it gives her that gleam in her eyes, or smirk on her face that says that she's not stopping there, and she's going to have some fun getting wet. She's going to give in and get all wet. That's the moment of giving in I referenced above. And that's the moment I love to see!

I've been lucky enough to see and/or capture that moment many times over. But one experience I had with a (now ex-) girlfriend is quite possibly my favorite, and is most seared into my memory. It's a memory I've shared privately a few times here and there. I'll share it publicly here.

Before I get into the details, I'll describe her. She was 31, about 5'8"-5'9", blond hair just past her shoulders, slender build, but amazonian shape, D-cup (though I swore the D-cups she wore were too small and that she was really DD). I know, I know, she sounds too good to be true, and that's how I felt when we started dating. She's easily the most physically attractive woman I've ever been with.

Some time around 2008 or 2009, we were on vacation in the Outer Banks in NC and walking along the beach on the wet hard sand. It was very late afternoon/early evening. I was wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt. If I had plans on getting wet, I would have been in jeans. She was in tight blue jeans and a super tight dark green tank top (I think it was one of those that's a cotton/lycra blend, so it clings to every curve when dry and holds shape and glistens fantastically when wet). It was the kind of tank top with the built in support, so she wasn't wearing a bra that day. She had rolled up the cuff of her jeans to just above her calf as we walked along the edge of the surf getting our feet wet. She had always been afraid of going in the ocean (she thought she'd get bitten by a shark), so I made no suggestion of going in, and if I'm completely honest, I was surprised she even let the water hit her feet. We had been to the beach closer to home many times, but she had never even so much as put a toe in the water. But she was doing it here and the surf was starting to lap just below the rolled up cuffs of her jeans. Then one of the waves came in a little harder and faster than the others and she laughed after the wave completely soaked the rolled up material. I mentioned, only half jokingly, that she might as well unroll them since all that material was now wet anyway. She knew I had a thing for wet clothes, so she unrolled them with a sly grin and we continued to walk in the surf with the waves lapping at her jeans from about her knees down. I didn't realize it at the time, but that grin was the moment she had given in and decided she'd get soaked. While she was only wet from just below the knee down, her reaction to being a little wet anyway, but knowing she was going to get all wet, is, in retrospect, one of the most erotic memories I have from that evening.

After walking in and along the surf for another few minutes, we were both wet up to just above the knee. We had stopped walking and were just standing in water up to our shins with waves regularly splashing just above our knees as we talked. The bottom of my shorts were just starting to get a little wet. Given her fear of the ocean, I couldn't believe that she was even this far in so I was just trying to enjoy that moment, expecting we wouldn't get any wetter. Much to my surprise, as we spoke, she started nonchalantly inching further in with each passing wave, letting out a surprised squeal each time a wave would land or splash a little higher up her thighs. We were now standing in water up to the bottom of our knees with waves reaching the tops of our thighs and her fear of the ocean started to kick in. I told her we could get out, or she could stay here and face her fear head on. I was almost certain she'd get out at this point. I certainly never really thought she'd go all the way in, so I didn't even try suggesting going in further. But she surprised me and decided to stay put and get used to being in water up to her knees. The waves kept splashing up and soaking our thighs, but the tide must have been coming in because without moving further out, the waves started to seem higher, to the point where she was jumping each one to not get any more wet and instead of the water being at our knees, it was soon at our thighs. As was bound to happen eventually, we both noticed one big wave coming. She didn't run, but turned her back to it and jumped as high as she could, but it got us good and completely soaked her jeans and the back of her shirt. I still remember the full-open mouth look of shock on her face as she somehow landed back on her feet and stared down at her now completely soaked jeans and that face transitioning into a full ear-to-ear smile and laughter. But that wave must have given her courage because she started inching in deeper again. I could barely control my excitement because, even though it wasn't unusual for us to get wet together, a soaking in the ocean was completely unexpected. Even as she got her jeans progressively wetter, I still never thought she'd go in far enough to get her jeans completely soaked, yet here she was, in the ocean with completely soaked jeans. As she was still jumping the waves, she was now soaked from right below her breasts down in front and completely wet on her back. We were deep enough that when the waves weren't upon us, she was standing in water almost up to her belt. That's when her fear started to kick in again. I again offered to get out, or even go to where it was a little more shallow. She said she wasn't ready to call it quits yet, but not ready to go further either. But, as I mentioned, the tide was coming in. It wasn't long before the waves were breaking over her shoulders when she jumped and her entire shirt was wet, with her beautiful breasts glistening, nipples making themselves apparent. She was barely able to keep her head above the tops of the waves. Now she was starting to be afraid of her feet not touching the bottom. With each jump, she'd be in the water to her neck and it would take a second for the wave to lower her feet back to the bottom. So she put her arms around my shoulders and hopped up to wrap her legs around me and relaxed into my now throbbing self. She felt SOOOO good as she gently grinded against me underwater in our soaked clothes. We drifted just beyond the wave breaks where the water's a little calmer and kissed for a bit. Her hair was now as wet as the rest of her as the waves completely engulfed us as we made our way past the break and I made no attempt to jump them. If we weren't in public, we'd have had sex right then and there. Instead, we just enjoyed feeling our bodies against one another. When her fear kicked in again, we finally moved to shallower water, but didn't get all the way out. We just played, splashed and hung out in the shallower surf, getting soaked over and over and over again. Every so often, we'd sit in the really shallow surf when we got tired, but one of us would end up dragging the other back into the waves and starting playing again. She looked stunning in her now plastered-on and shiny wet tank top and glistening jeans, and she knew it. In the shallow water where you could see how wet she was, she was putting on a show for me and didn't give a shit who else saw the show. She did have her fair share of gawkers that evening, and for good reason. We must have played in the water for a good two hours before a setting sun finally ended our swim. But as soon as we got back to the rental house, we got right in the shower, resoaking our damp clothes, and did all the things we wanted to do to each other in the ocean. What a night! I SOOOO wish I had pictures of her from that night. Even though we had a messy break up and I want nothing to do with her, there's no denying how unbelievable she looked that night and how good she made me feel at the time and it would be great to have that visual representation of it. But I will always have the memory of her smile when she rolled down her cuff and decided, in that moment, that she'd get soaked.