Below is my ex-girlfriend's perspective on getting wet fully clothed in the ocean. I told the story from my perspective a few weeks ago. It's titled "A thoroughly unexpected soaking," in case you want to read each of our versions and what each of us was thinking and paying attention to. Since there was a positive reaction to her version of us getting wet in the Logan Square fountain, I thought it would be fun if she wrote about an experience I had already posted. Once again, she agreed! So, here it is.

I remember renting a house in the Outer Banks with you and being sooo excited because it had an in-ground pool and large showers. I thought we'd have a blast getting wet all week, but my sister came down with her husband and kids for the first few days, so we had to behave for a bit. But after they left, I feel like we were wet or fucking more often than we were dry and clothed, though I'm sure that's not true. It just seemed that way.

A day or two after my sister left, we went for a walk on the beach right after an early dinner. We had worked up an appetite in the pool and bedroom, hence the early dinner, so it was still a bit early when we were done, which I think is why we ended up walking on the beach. I was in my favorite jeans and a tank top and you wore cargo shorts and that yellow and white stripped golf shirt. You knew how terrified I was about going in the ocean, and that evening was no different. I really didn't plan on getting wet, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder what it would feel like to be soaked by the waves. I remember thinking it must be a completely different sensation than getting wet in a shower or pool. But, we walked right along the edge and I decided to roll up my jeans because I was scared that if I got my jeans even a little wet, I'd want to get them wetter and wetter, so I was legitimately trying to stay dry and only get my feet wet. I kind of got used to the water lapping at our feet to the point that I stopped examining every single wave as it approached, which turned out to be a mistake because one wave hit and came right up my legs and soaked the rolled up part of my jeans. You made that face at methe one with the pervy raised eyebrow and half smile that told me what you had in mind before the words came out of your mouth. Even though, up to that point, I had no intention of getting wet, my heart started pounding since I knew that as soon as I rolled my jeans back down, I'd somehow end up all wet. But I rolled them down anyway. I was already a little wet and didn't care if I got wetter. I was just scared to do it here. My entire life, I could never get the idea that there might be something that would bite me lurking in the ocean water and I'd never see it. I guess that's what happens when you watch Jaws at a young age. I was still terrified of going in the water, but I was getting so fucking excited. I couldn't decide what to do, so I was a little relieved that we just kept walking. The waves hitting the bottom of my jeans felt nice and it allowed to get used to having my feet in the waves. You were so patient with me and so accommodating, it made me want to run into the water, get completely wet, and run back out just because I knew you'd love to see me wet it would make you happy. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. So, when we stopped, I thought I'd try to go a little deeper and see what happened. Being around you made me feel safe, so as I shifted my weight back and forth as we talked, I also tried to move a half a step further in each time. I knew if I was going to get wet here, it was going to have to be a gradual thing. And before I knew it, a wave had gotten me wet above my knees, which to me is sort of the point of no return. If your jeans get wet above your knees, you might as well get all the way in.

So, here I am, past the point of no return, but still too scared to go all the way in. I was so on edge that each time a wave hit my thighs, I yelped as though I was getting wet for the first time. In a way, I was because even though I'd gotten all wet tons of times before, I'd never gotten my clothes wet in the ocean. I'd never before felt ocean waves get me wet and it felt so fucking good! It was so different from a pool or shower because a wave hits you and then the water line immediately retreats, revealing the material it just soaked. Gradually watching the blue of my jeans turn darker and shinier with each wave breaking on my thighs was making me wet from the inside out. As my thighs were getting wet, people were just starting to look and I know that they were looking to see if I'd get the rest of me all wet. I was equal parts turned on and terrified to go further. But I thought if I verbalized my fear, it might make me feel better, and it did. But then I realized that by telling you I was scared, you were contemplating getting out to make me feel better. So staying put seemed like a good middle ground. I didn't want to disappoint either of us by getting out at this point, but I also needed to relax a bit. And it was working. The exhilaration was again starting to overtake the fear. Not long after that, the ocean rewarded both of us with a nice big wave. I didn't want to run, I didn't want to see it, but I didn't want it to barrel into me either, so I turned away and jumped! That wave slapped me on my ass and ran up the back of my shirt. When it passed, I immediately saw that it had completed soaked my jeans and it really did feel like I was in wet jeans for the very first time in my life. My senses were so heightened, it felt as though I could feel every drop of water as it ran down my legs. I couldn't wait to feel more waves soak me over and over again, so I ventured in a little deeper. This was the first time I'd ever been in the ocean up to my hips wearing anything, let alone my favorite tight jeans! Feeling their weight as I moved around and jumped the waves was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. That's when I realized that we were in deep enough that if there was a shark in the water near us, I wouldn't be able to to see it and I was scared of going further. So I didn't go with you as you dove into a few of the waves. You were completely soaked from head to toe, but I couldn't bring myself to go further just yet. But you came back to stay with me and that gave me some courage back. Between that courage and that last wave soaking the rest of my shirt and hair, I finally decided I couldn't wait any more and hopped up on you. I had never been past the break of the waves and was surprised by how calm it was. I was also quite pleased by how hard you were. My mind was racing back and forth between what was in the water and how good I felt. I was so turned on at that point that I was trying to get myself to cum by grinding myself against your cock, but quickly realized it was futile with a layer of denim and your cargo shorts between us. But it did keep my mind off of my fear. While we kissed, I so wished that you'd open up my jeans and finger me to an orgasm, but I was content just to feel and be felt. But it got to a point where we either needed to fuck or stop. I knew you'd never go for fucking out there in public, so we had to stop.

I walked out of the water and sat down in the shallow surf where about every other wave would re-soak my jeans. You waited in the deeper water for your erection to go down. I started getting horny again when you shouted that looking at me wasn't helping. But eventually your crotch was no longer pornographic and you came to join me. It was so nice letting the water lap up on our clothes and watch all the people try to catch a glimpse without breaking into a full blown stare. And even I have to admit that it was fun when you scooped me up and dropped me back in the deeper water. I have to admit that when you were carrying me out, at the point when a wave caught my ass, I thought, maybe, just maybe, you were taking back to the deep water to fuck me. But instead, you just dropped me in the water. When I came up for air and flipped my hair out of my face, I saw you smiling backing out of the water. You said you wanted to watch me walk out of the ocean, so I gave you my best sashay as I strutted out, knowing you loved what you saw. My fear of the ocean was completely gone at this point and I could have stayed at least another hour, but you pointed out that the sun was going down and we should be off the beach.

The walk back to the house was so short, I was still able to make my jeans shine a bit when I squatted down and squeezed a bit of water out of them. But we put it right back in when we got in the shower to rinse the sand and salt water out of our clothes. But the rinsing didn't last long before I felt your hands on my hips from behind, one sliding up towards my wet tits, and the other towards my crotch. I tipped my head back and offered you my lips, while reaching back to have your growing cock in my hand. I found that it wasn't growing, but grown. At that moment, I needed your cock in me, but I wasn't ready to be out of my wet clothes just yet, so I knelt in front of you and helped you out of your shorts and boxers. You helped yourself out of your shirt. I took as much of your cock down my throat as I could while feeling the water run down me from the back of my head down through my jeans. I could tell you were reaching your breaking point too when you started thrusting into my mouth, so I rose and starting unbuckling my belt. You were so ready for this, that you practically ripped my jeans button open, dropped the zipper, and yanked my jeans and panties down together. I thought you were going to stand back up and take me from behind, but you stayed on your knees and pulled my jeans all the way off just my right leg, but freeing both of them to move. I was a bit surprised when you spread my legs apart and buried your face in my pussy. I came almost instantly. I had already been aroused for so long and the unexpected sensation of your tongue on me was almost too much. It think it took only two or three licks of my clit before the tingling sensation coursed through me. And you wouldn't let it stop, first with your tongue, then with your cock after you finally spun me around and filled me up from behind. I don't quite recall when you reached your hand around and started to softly, but quickly, finger my clit while you continued to stroke me from behind, but I do recall screaming so loud that I thought anyone nearby the house could surely hear. But I didn't care. I also remember slapping my hand against the shower wall so hard, I bruised my hand. I have no idea how long we went at it because I had completely lost track of time, but I do remember enjoying the sensation of your ejaculation as your cock let loose inside me. You continued to thrust out each and every drop of your cum inside me, which gave me my final rush of the evening.

I had to stop writing this at several points so I could touch myself. These memories still turn me on all these years later, and I still contend that we should have remained fuck buddies after we broke up. That offer is ALWAYS on the table.

Editor's note: There are very good reasons why we didn't stay fuck buddies after our relationship ended, and it's highly unlikely I'd ever take her up on that offer. I just don't want you, the reader, to be led to believe that there's a chance we'll be picking this up and writing about new experiences together. It wouldn't be fair to lead you on that way, but I also didn't want to delete her offer because, even I have to admit, it is kinda hot.