A Day Out With Wetnylons

Pictures Used with Permission


Now, let's be clear, this account is purely fictional.

I intend no offence neither to Wetnylons nor to any other user here.

So if indeed this story is posted, then it is only done so with the agreement of Wetnylons herself.

Respect is important.

Like many members, I hugely enjoy Wetnylons' content. She is simply a dream. A lovely woman who seems to take a true delight in all the things which us poor lads crave. Wet dresses. Wet blouses. Oil covered dresses. And blouses. Stockings and suspenders.

So the idea of arranging a day out, meeting her and watching a photo-shoot, took a lot of thinking about. Never spoil your dreams, some say. But the thought became irresistible.

But remember that we are here, in the safe place only of my imagination. In this happy place, we made an arrangement. Everyone was content.

I've been to a few places over the years where wetlook was memorable. Sometimes you just stumble across it. Several years ago I took the family to Alton Towers. There's a ride there called Battle Galleons. I just had to go back. So when I described this ride in detail to Wetnylons, she thought that it would be a fantastic place for us to meet.

We were to synchronise our arrival at Alton Towers, which we did. It's just amazing how quickly the different sections of the car park fill up on a warm summer's day. So it was only after three mobile phone calls and a bit of searching that we did finally see each other across the roofs of rows of cars.

First meeting was a huge reassurance. Wetnylons is a friendly and warm person. She appears to be confident in herself and open to others. We had arranged to meet together with her partner, who was going to take the pictures. I shall call her partner Mr Nylons. No offence intended. He too is a friendly companion.

Mr Nylons is clearly fascinated by photography, and he chatted so enthusiastically about the pictures he takes. Well, I could understand his joy because he has such a sublime model to work with. He explained about basic technique; positioning the shot, checking the light, framing the background and then about how to edit the pictures afterwards. He was keen to see where we would take pictures today.

"The only thing to watch," he explained to me carefully, "Is that if you're going to post anything online then you must omit or edit out anyone recognisable in the background. Especially any minors. So I'll position myself very carefully when we shoot"

Mr Nylons had three different cameras with him.

"Always have a spare!" he grinned. "Imagine coming all this way and then if your camera went dead!"

"You're not going on the ride yourself then?" I wondered, thinking that maybe he enjoyed getting wet with Wetnylons.

"Oh no!" he replied in mock horror. "Not today! I'm staying in the dry with my cameras! You and the lady are the only ones going on the ride!"

My stomach prickled with anticipation. This was going to be fun and I vowed to behave myself like a perfect gentleman. The words of a Springsteen song from "The River" run through my head at times like this, "You can look but you'd better not touch boy, You can look but you'd better not touch!"

Wetnylons too had come prepared. She'd asked me previously if I had anything in mind for her to wear for the pictures, and I confided in her that one of my favourite albums on UMD is her "wet" one. So she responded by wearing a loose, really light and floaty white blouse. And she had a neat navy blue skirt; it looked pencil line to me and reached just above the knee. Her matching open shoes were spotless, they looked brand new. I hope that they would survive what lay in-store today! Then there were Wetnylons' nylons! Her legs looked faultless; they were covered in a vaguely blue translucent stocking. I tried hard not to stare.

"They're called "What Katie did!" " Wetnylons whispered.

"What Katie did?" I sounded confused.
"My stockings!" she explained. "That's the name of the brand!"

I tried hard not to wonder if they came with a matching suspender. I went back to the lines of that song again, in my head.

Wetnylons had a long cardigan on too, unbuttoned, flapping around her top and reaching nearly down to her knees.

We caught the "Skyrider" right up to the far end of the park. This passes over the "Battle Galleons" and I could see the sunlight sparkling off sprays of water below. Wetnylons and Mr Nylons were sitting on the other side of the cab, and strangely I did not point the ride out to them! We'll save the fun for later!

The late morning and early afternoon passed in pleasantness. We strolled around and the pair of them tried most of the high exciting rides. I was happy only to watch. I've no head for heights. They both cuddled and screamed like the best of them. I was just delighted that our day out together should be a happy day for them both.

We stopped for lunch and wandered back towards the entrance.

"So where's this wet ride, then?" Wetnylons asked me, as it became clear that little of the park was now left unexplored.

Her question was answered quickly. We heard loud screams ahead, but not quite the same mass screaming as you hear from the whole crowd on a rollercoaster. These were individual screams. Sprays of water appeared in the air and Wetnylons looked very interested indeed. The screams increased in intensity.


We got closer and peered over a low wall at the small lake beyond. We could see the ride, and that it consisted of sitting in a boat, which went slowly (at a very slow walking pace), around a sunken track built into the lake. It took about three minutes to complete the circuit. There were about a dozen boats on the track, each a set distance apart from one another. The boats all had six seats back to back, three facing outwards and three facing inwards towards the middle of the lake. The ride was overlooked by a broad path which ran around part of the perimeter. There were several viewing areas, all crowded with people, some waiting, in turn, to stand at the front against the wooden rails.

The boats were about five feet below and a few feet out in front of the barrier. Then we saw where all the water was coming from! On each viewing platform was a set of water cannon! There were also water guns on each side of the boats, and the riders on the inside were using these to fire at the other boats. Those facing outwards could fire at the spectators! Needless to say, the people on the platforms were also making full use of their water to squirt directly down into the boats, and it looked almost impossible to miss.

The first thing that Wetnylons noticed was that these were not just little splashes of water. The cannon worked by vigorously turning a handle, and they could produce a steady stream as if it was from a tap. When it was being used really energetically the water simply poured out. The people on the ride were not just getting a bit splashed. They were getting seriously wet. And amazingly, no -one in sight seemed to be the least bit prepared for it. So many of them had nice summer dresses on, light tops, blouses, skirts, leggings and quite a few t-shirts! Arriving at the end most riders were completely soaked and dripping!

Now we knew where all the screaming was coming from!

"That looks so much fun!" Wetnylons sounded genuinely excited. We walked over to the entrance and stood amongst the spectators. Everyone seemed to have a strong opinion about the ride. About half of the audible comments were something like, "I'm never going on that!" or, "They're getting absolutely soaked!" and the other half of the people seemed to think that it was great!

"I'm definitely going on!" Wetylons exclaimed loudly. A couple beside us looked closely at her and smiled.

"You're going to get really wet!" I suggested, teasing myself with my comment.

Wetnylons gave me a coy look, "You can't come here and not go on that! It's only a bit of water! I'm going to take my cardi off and I'll have it to wrap over me afterwards!"

Her arms dropped out of the sleeves of her cardigan and she handed it to Mr Nylons. Her lovely blouse almost shone, the sheer soft material stroking against her skin. There was a neat line across her back where her bra strap moulded itself to the fabric and there was a solid whiteness at the front over her chest. The tingling in my tummy became a thumping in my chest.

The man next to me too seemed to look twice at Wetnylons! Perhaps, like me, he was guessing what she would look like under all those sprays of water! It was such a pretty blouse, so thin, so delicate and so sensual. To think that she really was going to get wet!

We watched for a few minutes. One young lady on the ride was standing up, wearing a long white summer frock, and as her boat passed three jets of water showered over her. She screamed and squealed as her dress was splashed but she made no effort to avoid the water. Her dress clung as more water hit her, running down her body and making her underskirt wet.

"That's going to be you!" I giggled. Wetnylons giggled too and brushed against my arm. Her sleeve felt so nice against my bare arm.

We watched as some riders turned aside from those squirting them, they tried to jump to the other side of the boat, they crouched down, they put their hands over their faces, but this did not prevent them from becoming wetter and wetter each time their boat passed a firing position. Some riders kept on firing back, so they tended to first get very wet down their fronts, as they were facing and looking up at the platforms. So anyone using the water cannon from the firing gantries found him or herself looking down on a succession of wet shirts and wet cleavages. And all the nice clothes to soak! After all, the whole purpose for everyone there was just to get each other wet. So it was a real public water fight and, for many of us, the nearest thing you would ever get to enjoying a wet t-shirt contest.

Mr Nylons had identified two or three good positions to take photos from, where there would be no people in the background. "Go and get on then!" he suggested, "While the sun is still out!"

Wetnylons looked at me and we both nodded. She passed Mr Nylons her handbag too. We entered the ride area. Waiting in the queue gave us the clearest idea of what lay in store because as each boat arrived from the circuit it stopped to let the riders off. Two young ladies had knee-length skirts on and water poured off their laps when they stood up to go. One or two people queuing changed their minds when they saw this and took their last opportunity to get away! Once everyone was off the boats, the new riders were ushered on board and the doors closed.

Now there was no way out!

We watched a young mum board a boat. Her two little children seemed to think that this was just a roundabout ride, and I wanted to warn her about what lay ahead. But there was no time for such empathy. The spectators on the water cannon had neither sympathy nor mercy, and the job of being a mum quickly included her taking a fully clothed shower. She didn't seem to mind too much, although her kids did look a bit sheepish afterwards.

Now it was our turn! We were first onto the next boat, and so stepped into two outward-facing seats. I quickly ran my clean handkerchief over the damp paintwork, before Wetnylons sat down. There was a bigger party immediately behind us in the queue and they decided to wait for the next boat, so they could all stay together. That meant that we were left on this boat just by ourselves! Now, you know, the fewer people there are on a boat, the more water there is going over each of them!

We juddered and trundled off from the landing stage, quickly turning towards the first firing gantry. We both gasped involuntarily. There was a huge crowd around the water cannon, mostly young men, and several were stripped to the waist. All I remember is seeing mattes of damp hair and mean-looking faces! Three water jets were already cascading down into the lake. The boat moved us towards them with slow, relentless certainty; we were helpless, next in line and with no hope of reprieve!

There was a mutter of appreciation amongst these lads watching when they saw us coming. What an attractive target! A good looking woman, and so nicely turned out!

We heard snatches of raucous shouting "Nice outfit, Miss!", "What a shame!" and "You're going to get it!"

A second later splashes bounced over the bow and I felt cold wetness on my face. My t-shirt seemed to soak through instantly and huge drops splattered onto my jeans. Then the first jet hit Wetnylons. She squealed and turned around, putting her hand on my far shoulder and leaning over me. Three strong flows of water almost joined together, pouring off the back of her blouse. The material stuck to her skin as if was glued on. Then the water reached higher and her hair was getting plastered. As Wetnylons slid back across from me her skirt dragged against the seat, riding up her thigh. A myriad of drops splattered her stockings and yes, my question was answered. They do come with matching suspenders. We passed out of range and beyond the last of the sprays. For now.

Her shoulders were soaking and water dribbled down her face. Her skirt was settling against her legs as the wetness seeped through. Darker streaks ran down her stockings from her knees. "It's really wet, isn't it?" was just about all we said. The next firing position was not so bad; lesser sprays of water came down. We both just sat still, Wetnylons put her hand on my knee and squealed again as the water went in her face. Her blouse was quite wet down the front now, shining even more intensely in the sunshine than before. Her wet sleeves clung to her skin, her shoulders were showing completely white through the wet fabric and her bra straps were clear to see. The dark streaks on her stockings were joining together.

We were approaching the end now. Three more water cannon guarded the final straight; the boat slowed right down as it turned around beside the first. "Wow!" I gasped, as an absolute deluge hit me, before moving onto Wetnylons a split second later. She started laughing, sat right back in the seat and put her arms out behind her. The water made a loud splatter as it rushed off her blouse in all directions. Mostly over me. She was totally wet now. The blouse was completely see-through and just lovely. Her solid white bra protected her decency. Well, only just. Her skirt looked saturated and her stockings had now turned completely a darker shade.

She stayed sitting like that while the two final sprays finished her off. Wetnylons could not have been any wetter. She brushed her skirt and a little wave of water ran off in reply.

We exited the ride, a stream of dribbles following us behind our footprints. Mr Nylons was grinning hugely. "Did you enjoy that?"

We were both speechless.

"I got some great pictures! Really good ones!" We laughed together.

"Good!" was all I could say. Wetnylons ran her fingers through her hair. It was hard to think about where to start getting dry.

"Mind you, I missed you both right at the end," he added, sadly. "The sun was reflecting off something! Shame really, since we came all this way! Unless you want to go round again!"

Wetnylons and I looked at each other, we looked at our soaked clothes and we looked up at the ride. Well, why not? We couldn't get any wetter!

"Dare you!" I said.

Wetnylons squealed again, "Come on then! Round again!"




Mr WetShirt.

Thanks to Wetnylons for fuelling my imagination.