Ivonne was still asleep, but I felt the urge to go for a swim. I tried waking her up, but she just said something in her sleep and then rolled over.
I opened the balcony door of our modest hotel room and stared out at the sea. It was a beautiful morning, and I could hear the already familiar noise of seagulls and the people playing at the beach. I decided to go.
The last time, Ivonne noticed I had a thing for inflated wet clothes, so she lent me one of her T-shirts with puff sleeves to swim in. It was a slim, purple tee, with long sleeves. It had a crew neck and a glittered, white text logo at the front. I also put on a pair of black jeans and running shoes, along with my underwear and an undershirt. After leaving a note for Ivonne, I set out for the beach.
I don’t really like attracting attention, so I set my stuff down farther from the rest of the people on the beach. Once I cooled down a bit, I headed into the sea.
The shirt I got from Ivonne felt awesome. It was slim, but not too slim — just enough that I felt it push against me with my every stroke. It drastically changed color once soaked, so that it barely even resembled purple, becoming almost black, shining in the morning sun.
It didn’t take me long to start masturbating.
Shoulder deep, I subtly played with my breasts through my layered clothes, carefully looking out towards the shore, checking if no one realized what I was doing. I was surrounded by swimmers, but they were far enough not to see what I was doing under the water. My hands lowered onto my dark jeans, which stuck to my legs like a glove. I felt my butt and squeezed, feeling the bubbles trying to escape my silky, soaked underwear. I was moaning.
I got carried away and noticed I had drifted into the deeper water, barely touching the bottom of the sea with the tips of my sneakers. I pushed away, towards the shore and went into a front stroke.
As I was swimming towards the shoreline, a woman, in her 40s, took notice of me and headed in my direction. She had a long, blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and was wearing a bikini. She was close enough that she could see I was swimming fully clothed. She approached me.
— Hey, sorry to bother you. Do you speak english? — she asked.
— Yeah. Hi. How can I help you? — I said awkwardly.
— I just wanted to ask you, how come you’re swimming fully dressed? — she said.
My heart skipped a beat.
— I… uh… get burned by the sun easily. — I tried to lie.
— Oh. But why the jeans and shoes, though? — she said, smiling.
There was something devilish about her smile, almost as if that was the answer she expected, but knew that it wasn’t the truth.
— I… The truth is, I do it because I enjoy it. It feels nice. — I admitted.
The woman’s eyes lit up.
— It’s wetlook, isn’t it? — she asked.
— Yeah. — I said.
We both laughed.
— How come you know about it? I thought it’s a pretty obscure fetish. — I asked.
— Oh, I indulge every now and then. — she said casually.
— Why aren’t you wearing anything now? — I asked.
— I wanna get tanned. Besides, seeing someone like you do it is more than enough. — she said playfully.
It almost sounded like she was trying to hit on me. I was slightly creeped out, but then felt weirdly aroused.
— Do you mind if I watch? — she asked, smiling.
The thought of this woman masturbating to me was unusually hot. Then, an lightbulb appeared over my head.
— Sure. But only if you go back to your things and put on some clothes yourself. — I demanded, smiling.
She smiled, and instantly headed for the shore. Once she reached her bag, she pulled out some clothes and put them over her wet, glistening body — a tight, colorful dress and a pair of blue leggings. Then, she waded into the water up to her waist like it was nothing.
— Satisfied? — she asked playfully, fighting her skirt, floating on the surface of the sea.
— What do you want me to do? — I nodded.
— Just… submerge yourself, and then play with your breasts a bit? — she said.
I obliged. I dunked myself into the sea and emerged. Streams of water were flowing down my sopping wet T-shirt. I pulled it and it produced a popping sound, inflating around my stomach. The woman giggled.
— Again! — she said.
I obliged again. As I lowered myself into the water, the air tried to escape my shirt, inflating my puff sleeves. I moaned. I emerged once again, and walked up to the woman.
— Now it’s your turn. I want to see that dress completely soaked. — I said, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth.
She dunked herself into the water. When she emerged, I could see the outlines of her bikini through her drenched, colorful dress. She screamed with pleasure.
— Now you play with your breasts. — I said.
— Why don’t you come and play with them for me? — she grabbed my hand and pulled me closer.
Without thinking, my hands flew towards her breasts and squeezed them, streams of water flowing down her sopping wet dress. Then she kissed me, moaning. She pushed us into breast deep water, and we’ve been kissing there for minutes, barely breaking up our embrace.
Judging by the sounds we were making, we were both coming hard.
Eventually, we got bored, and headed for the shore. She headed out first, and once she was about knee-deep again, I felt this intense, unexplainable urge.
And I slapped her soaking wet ass.
She made a shocked face, but then she just giggled. It was weirdly arousing.
— What is your name? — I said, with my hand still on her drenched butt.
— Does it matter? See you around. — she said.
She headed straight for her things, waved and left.
And I never saw her again.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/upo0ld/a_stranger_who_shared_my_fetish_ff_wetlook