I've been very lucky to have had a long-term girlfriend who was into wetlook. She and I are no longer together, but the experiences we shared make up the better moments we remember, which is what you tend to hold on to once the pain of the end of the relationship subsides. When I contacted her to ask if she was okay if I shared our stories, she mentioned that she's never had a partner since me that was as enthusiastic about getting wet as I was. In fact, she's lost more than one boyfriend because they couldn't handle other people gawking at her when she'd get wet. No, this isn't a story about us getting back together for one more wet fling, or anything like that. But in her response to me, she was not only happy to have our stories shared, but also reminisced about one of her personal favorite experiences. It's one I hinted at at the end of my retelling of our second time getting wet together. I asked her if she'd take a shot at writing it. She agreed! It took a few weeks for her to finish, but here it is, in Tiffany's own words.

Growing up near Philadelphia, I had always been well-acquainted with the city's biggest landmarks...Independence Hall, the PMA (Philadelphia Museum of Art), boathouse row, and of course, the iconic Logan Square fountain. I remember splashing around in it as a kid after a family trip to the Franklin Institute one summer. As an adult, I had always wanted to do it again, but never really had the opportunity. Of course, that changed when we started dating, since you lived in the city.

The weekend before this visit, we had just had our first wet experience together at my place. Given our mutual enjoyment, I was overflowing with excitement the following weekend to come to your place. I remember we were going to go out to dinner Friday night and go to the PMA on Saturday. It came out later that taking me to the PMA was your way of showing me that you could plan a date that was a little different that dinner and a movie. But I had immediately recalled that the Logan Square fountain was just down the Ben Franklin Parkway from the PMA, so I thought it was your not-so-slick way of signaling that we'd stop off at the fountain and jump in.

So, I packed a bag with every conceivable outfit I might want to wear in the water with you that weekend. It was predicted to be hot that weekend, and it sure was. If I hadn't been planning to get wet, I would have worn shorts, or a summer dress. But you know how people looked at me when I got my jeans wet. Of course, they could have been staring at my wet tits too, but I like to think it was the jeans. Anyone could get wet in shorts and a t-shirt. It's the jeans that make a wet outfit special. So, I decided I'd wear a new pair of tight dark blue jeans in the fountain (my favorite pair of jeans were still drying from the night before). They were a little stretchy, so they hugged my hips and thighs very nicely. It was still early in our relationship, and we'd be out in public, so I didn't want my top to be too obscene once it got wet, so I wore a thin white lace bra under that thin pale yellow stretchy t-shirt. Had I known you would have been okay with it, I wouldn't have worn any bra and would have had a blast watching people look at me! But, I figured I'd get enough looks anyway.

I remember you were determined to get to the museum not long after opening because you hated crowds, so we left your apartment around 9:30 for the walk over. It was only morning, but you could tell the heat would be oppressive that day, yet you wanted to stop for coffee and a bagel anyway. I remember feeling so much hotter watching you drink that stupid coffee as we walked, and thinking I'd soak my clothes from sweat before we ever reached the fountain. But as we walked down the parkway from City Hall, I just kept looking at the fountain down the road, thinking of how refreshing that water would feel. I was feeling more and more nervous excitement as we got closer and the height of the main plume of water in the center began to look more and more imposing.

When we got to the crosswalk that would take us across to the fountain, you kept walking another few steps when I stopped at the crosswalk. That's when I realized you were serious about going to the museum. When you realized I had stopped, you turned with a slightly confused look on your face, which I thought was adorable, so I just smiled at you, looked at the fountain, and then back at you. Your jaw didn't quite hit the floor, but I could see the realization of what I wanted on your face when you followed my eyes to the fountain and back again. Your eyes got big, as did your smile as you joined me at the crosswalk. There was very little traffic on a Saturday morning in the city during the summer, so we just darted across without waiting for the light. My anticipation was almost unbearable when you said you wanted to finish your coffee before getting in. I pouted, so we compromised by sitting on the edge of the fountain with our feet in the water. I wanted to get wet so bad, and we were so close now that I didn't even bother to roll up my jeans. I used to roll them up as a ploy because it gave the impression to strangers that I "tried" to stay dry. But at this moment I didn't care what people thought, and there weren't that many people around anyway. I can still remember watching the new denim try to resist the water as I sunk my feet right in and the water came right up to my knees. It let off tiny air bubbles as the wet fabric began to cling to my lower legs.

As we sat there, I got confirmation that you had no idea that we'd end up at the fountain because you said you'd have worn jeans too and that you initially thought I chose my day's clothing poorly, but now thought I'd chosen quite well. Knowing you were getting close to the end of that god-forsaken coffee, I stood up, giddy at what was to come. Wanting to urge you on, I gave you a little splash, but you just calmly said you wanted to watch me get wet first. I can still hear your voice saying, "Since I don't have my camera, I want to make sure I remember this." Hearing that, I knew this was the moment I'd been waiting for. When I turned, the first thing I laid eyes on was a spout that went straight up. I waded right over to it, water splashing up my legs as I went, and right under the deluge of water falling back down. The water felt so cold at first compared to the hot, humid air. I was completely enveloped in the water as I felt my clothes almost instantly get heavier. If I'm completely honest, the water hurt a little as it fell on me, so I stepped out for a moment. As I stepped, I could feel the wet denim on my legs and hips. I looked at you and saw a huge grin on your face as you took it in. I looked down and saw that yellow t-shirt was completely see-through, and kind of wished I hadn't worn a bra. I dropped down into the pool of water and started to slowly swim/crawl over to where you were. I got excited all over again when I saw you get up and finally throw away your coffee cup. I waited for you to come back and step in before I stood up because I wanted to be as soaked as I could be when I wrapped my arms around you. I used to LOVE the feeling that water from my wet clothes was getting you all wet too. And get you wet I did! The front of your clothes shined as though you had been in the water yourself before you stepped under the spray yourself.

We never did make it to the museum that day, but I like to think that I was your special exhibit that morning. By the time we finished playing and swimming, it was almost noon and the fountain was starting to get busy. We sat on a bench for a little while to drip dry while we played a game of trying to predict which visitors to the fountain would end up wet and which ones wouldn't.

45 minutes later, my jeans were still damp, but my t-shirt was almost dry and I was starting to roast again. You were ready for lunch, but I was ready for another dip. But I liked your suggestion to go eat at the bar we passed with outside seating because it was close by and we could come back to the fountain after lunch. All through lunch, I kept touching my damp thighs in anticipation of getting them completely soaked and shiny again. Being early afternoon by this point, it was even hotter than when we took our first dip. Our beers went warm before we could get halfway done with them. Thankfully service was fast and we were paying the check in no time. There was no doubt or hesitation from either of us that we'd get back in the fountain before a wet walk home. That second dip felt even better than the first! Especially since we didn't even hesitate, but just walked right up to the fountain, stepped in, and fell right over into the water, sneakers and all for both of us. As I floated around on my back, I noticed more than a few of the guys, and some of the girls, were eyeing up my wet tits as they protruded just above the water, with the transparent yellow shirt and somewhat transparent white lace bra giving them something to look at. And by now, there were a lot more people around! It was so much fun because I could get up, water pouring off me, walk over to the spray, and just let it hit the front of my shirt, or my ass, and I knew they were looking, but would never get to touch. But I was even more excited seeing how you were looking at me because I knew how your touch felt and looked forward to feeling it later. I caught you, more than once, looking me up and down as I played in the water and I loved that more than anything. You were the only one who didn't look away when I caught you staring, which made me want to stay wet even longer. I can't remember how long we spent there, but I do recall getting in and out several times that afternoon, as well as all the looks I got on the walk home. You probably don't remember (edit: I definitely remember!), but I took a final dip right before we started walking back to your apartment, one because it was so hot, and two because I knew people on the sidewalk would get a show. I think I dripped all the way to city hall.

Even though we were too tired to fool around from being out in the sun all day, it is worth finishing off this story with your good idea to shower off all the fountain water from our clothes once we got back. Although, once you got your camera, I think your suggestion had more to do with taking pictures of me in those wet clothes than actually rinsing anything! But we had been wet so long, it actually felt good to strip it all off, take a real shower and put on some dry clothes for a while. After all, I still had a ton of clothes left in that bag.