Sans titre

We were bopping to the music and my friends were laughing and talking shit as we floated around with the pulse of everyone else, when I felt a hand on my back, clearly intentional contact. It only lasted a second though, and there were so many people around me I had no way of knowing whose it was, so I ignored it.

Next thing I know, my best friend Kyle is behind me, with his arms gently wrapped around my waist, and his hands travelling lower towards my shorts. As I got ready to turn around and question him, he whispered in my ear,

“Don’t turn around, just act natural and let it happen bro.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the rush of the moment, but I obeyed, and he slipped his hands down my shorts, grabbing a firm hold on my dick, which, to my surprise was almost immediately rock hard. The way we were all bobbing in the water meant his boner was now rubbing against my ass through our shorts and I could feel his muscly chest pressed up to my back. It was the most unsettlingly comforting feeling I’d ever experienced.

I continued to look straight ahead, trying to focus on what my other friends were talking about, but that was rather difficult when your best friend is stroking you with one hand and stripping you with the other. My shorts slowly drifted down my legs and off into the abyss of the pool. He must have done the same to his because suddenly I could feel his bare dick against my skin and it sent shivers down my spine.

This fucker had his dick against my ass, his hands around my cock, and he was still talking to our friends like nothing was happening! I couldn’t believe it, but I also didn’t want it to stop. I had never felt my body tingle so much as it was now.

Without warning, I felt him push his dick up to my asshole, and I could feel myself stretch to allow him inside. It hurt like HELL. I had to clench my fist to keep myself from screaming, but he kept pushing and then with a pop he was all the way inside me and I nearly blacked out from the intense pleasure I got from his fat cock pressing against my insides like this. Surrounded by other people completely unaware that I was getting cored out by my best friend.

He let out a muffled moan as he started to pump away, matching the beat of the song blasting from the speakers only feet away. I could hardly hear the music though over the throbbing in my ears from every time he hit my prostate. This was the first time I’d ever felt a man inside me and it was amazing! While he fucked me he was stroking me vigorously, and I could already feel myself getting close. Was he really going to go all the way like this right here?

“I’m gonna cum inside you right now bro, get ready.”

That put me over the edge. He was jerking me just perfectly in rhythm with his thrusts, and I came harder than I ever had before, but he didn’t stop stroking me, and I started to convulse in pleasure as my head was so sensitive post-nut, and he was wringing it out harder and faster, my cum giving him even more to play with on my skin. Then, I felt it: the final shove. He pushed himself even further inside me and unloaded. I felt every pump of his warm cum shoot its way out of his throbbing cock, and I felt him shake from the orgasm. I never wanted it to stop.

After a few moments of us floating there, still completely unnoticed, him still inside me, Kyle whispered,

“Let’s go inside and find a room, I want you to do that to me now.”

I felt myself go hard all over again. Without turning around, I nodded my head in the affirmative, and I felt him slip out of me. He ducked under the surface for a moment, then came back up with both our shorts. We slipped them on and excused ourselves from our friends, and made our way out of the pool, across the yard, and into the house.

I had never been to this house before, and it was completely dark inside. The music same was playing on the house’s surround sound system, and there seemed to be speakers on full volume in every room; however, the house itself was completely empty. Kyle led me through the vast kitchen, into the hallway, up some stairs, and into the first bedroom. This room was huge and had windows looking down onto the pool below. Off to the side there was a private bath as well.

He pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top of me, and kissed me for the first time. I don’t know why, but even after all that just happened in the pool, I wasn’t expecting this. It felt so good though, and I didn’t stop him. He ripped my shorts off again, and slipped his way out of his own, and pressed our hard dicks together, stroking them slowly and firmly. I let out a small whimper of excitement as his tongue explored the insides of my mouth. I could smell the sweat on his skin mixed with the salt water from the pool.

“You wanna fuck me now or what?”

I again nodded my head, and he scooted up further, straddling my torso as he lined my throbbing cock up with his hole, and sat down. Now I’ve fucked many girls in my day, but not any one of them compared to what I felt the moment I slipped inside my best friend’s ass. It was so warm and tight, and I could feel his muscles contract around me. I couldn’t help it, I moaned so loudly. He started to ride me, jerking himself off with one hand, and feeling my body with the other. He kept kissing me, too, which was absolutely euphoric.

“I want you to cum inside me this time.”

I grunted in approval as I could feel myself once again getting close, the sensation completely overwhelming and out of this world.

He kissed me so tenderly as I climaxed, this one feeling even better than the one in the pool. I shot my cum deep inside my friend, and I knew in that moment our relationship has completely transformed. There was absolutely no going back now.

When I had caught my breath, Kyle climbed off me and took my hand and pulled me off the bed and led me to the bathroom. The shower was massive and cavernous. He closed the door behind us and locked it, before pushing me backwards into the shower and pinning me up against the cold tile wall, my arms stretched out above me, and his tongue once again buried in my throat.

He ground up against me, our dicks still hard and rubbing together, and then he turned me around, used his foot to spread my legs apart, and without any sense of gentleness he shoved his dick back up inside me, which caused me to scream in surprise and pleasure. He was huge, I’m not joking. It was so fucking awesome. He fucked me again, and came inside me for the second time that night. Afterwards we showered together, making out and touching each other all over, before going back down and joining the party. Our friends never questioned it.

As he arrived at the lake, he saw his friend, Ronald, already there. Ronald was a bit of a daredevil and loved to swim with his clothes on. Today, he was wearing a baggy green Nike t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans.

Clay couldn't help but feel a thrill as he watched Ronald dive into the water, his clothes becoming instantly wet and clingy. He decided to join in, and slipped off his shoes and socks before running to the edge of the lake and jumping in.

The water was cool and refreshing, and Clay felt the wet fabric of his t-shirt and shorts stick to his skin. He loved the feeling of the water against his body, and he began to swim laps around the lake, enjoying the sensation of his clothes becoming more and more soaked.

As he swam, he couldn't help but think about how exciting it was to be swimming with his clothes on. He had often done it before, and the thrill of it made his heart race. He started to feel aroused, and he began to masturbate under the water, thinking about the experience of swimming with his clothes on and the feeling of the wet fabric against his skin.

Just as he was about to climax, he heard a splash and turned to see Ronald swimming towards him. Ronald's t-shirt and jeans were completely soaked, and Clay couldn't help but stare at the way the wet fabric accentuated Ronald's muscles and package.

Ronald swam up to Clay and gave him a sly grin. "What are you doing over here all by yourself?" he asked.

Clay's face turned red as he realized that Ronald had caught him masturbating. But instead of being embarrassed, Ronald started to laugh.

"I was just messing around," Clay said, trying to play it cool.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one," Ronald said, grinning. "I was doing the same thing over there."

Clay's eyes widened as he realized that Ronald had been masturbating too. He couldn't help but feel a little turned on by the thought.

"Want to race to the other side of the lake?" Ronald asked, breaking the silence.

Clay nodded, and the two of them took off, swimming as fast as they could with their clothes on. Clay felt the wet fabric of his t-shirt and shorts rubbing against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel aroused again.

As they reached the other side of the lake, Clay and Ronald climbed out of the water, their clothes dripping wet. Clay couldn't help but stare at Ronald's soaked t-shirt and jeans, and he could see the outline of Ronald's hard cock through the wet fabric.

Ronald noticed Clay looking and gave him a knowing smile. "Like what you see?" he asked.

Clay's face turned red, but he couldn't help but nod.

"I knew it," Ronald said, laughing. "You're just as turned on as I am."

Clay couldn't deny it. The combination of the wet clothes and the thrill of swimming with them on had made him incredibly horny.

"Want to finish what we started earlier?" Ronald asked, giving Clay a wink.

The pool, usually a beacon of refreshment, seemed almost mocking in its stillness.

“I feel like my brain is turning into pudding,” Andres groaned, flopping his head back against a cushion. His hair, a tousled mop of sun-lightened brown, stuck to his forehead with a light sheen of sweat. He was wearing a simple, comfortable outfit: a vintage-wash blue T-shirt from American Apparel, soft and thin from a hundred washes, and a pair of khaki shorts. Beside him, Clifton, whose dark, almost-black curls were coiled and precise, was dressed in a similar state of casual summery disarray—a grey, ribbed tank top from a generic brand, showing off his lean, defined arms, and black basketball shorts.

“I’d suggest video games, but my eyes are already crossed,” Clifton replied, tracing a pattern on the condensation of his mostly-melted iced tea glass. “We could… clean my car?”

Andres shot him a look of profound betrayal. “Are you insane? It’s ninety-five degrees out.”

They lapsed back into silence, their gazes inevitably drawn back to the pool. The water was so clear, so invitingly cool. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across Andres’s face. It was the kind of grin that usually preceded a terrible, brilliant idea.

“You know,” he said, his voice a low conspiratorial drawl, “we always do the same thing. Swim trunks, dry off, maybe burn in the sun. It’s… predictable.”

Clifton raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. “Your point?”

“My point is,” Andres said, sitting up straighter, his eyes glinting, “what if we didn’t? What if we just… went in? Right now. As we are.”

Clifton’s eyes flickered from Andres’s shirt to his own tank top, then to the pool. The idea was absurd. It was the kind of stupid, spontaneous thing they hadn’t done since they were kids. It was perfect. A slow smile mirrored Andres’s.

“You’re on,” Clifton said.

With a shared whoop, they scrambled to their feet. There was no running, no cannonball. This was a different kind of statement. They walked to the edge of the pool, a shared, deliberate quiet settling over them. Andres, in his soft blue tee and shorts, took the lead. He didn’t dive. He simply stepped off the edge and sank, a slow, deliberate descent into the cool, clear water.

Clifton followed a second later. The moment of impact was a shock, a delightful, gasp-inducing gasp.

The transformation was immediate and mesmerizing. As Andres submerged, his American Apparel T-shirt, once a comfortable, familiar blue, became a second skin. The fabric, thin and soft, clung instantly to the contours of his chest, his flat stomach, the sharp lines of his ribs. The color deepened to a saturated navy, the weight of the water pulling it taut. The white graphic on the front, a faded screen print of a cartoon cat, bled slightly, its edges softening into a blurry, abstract ghost. His shorts, a loose-weave cotton, darkened from khaki to a muddy, deep brown, clinging heavily to his slender hips and thighs, the pockets sagging with the absorbed water.

Clifton’s transformation was just as striking. His grey tank top, a simple ribbed cotton, turned almost translucent, clinging to the contours of his chest and the toned muscles of his shoulders and arms. The deep V-neck became a channel for the water to pool, the fabric stretching thin across his pectorals. His black shorts, a lightweight athletic material, slicked down, revealing the sharp angle of his hip bones and the lean line of his legs. His dark, curly hair, now soaked, plastered to his head, accentuating the fine, aristocratic shape of his skull.

They surfaced together, treading water, their hair dripping, water sluicing down their faces. They were both laughing, the kind of pure, uninhibited laughter that only comes from a successfully executed silly idea.

“Oh my god, it feels so weird,” Andres sputtered, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. He looked down at his chest, where the fabric of his shirt was plastered against his skin, every ridge of his abs visible. “My shirt is, like, a full-on second skin. I can feel every little ripple in the water.”

Clifton slicked his own hair back, sending a spray of water everywhere. “Tell me about it. This tank top is basically a tattoo now.” He ran a hand down his own torso, the wet fabric moving with his fingers. “It’s heavy. I didn’t think it would be this heavy.”

They floated on their backs for a while, just enjoying the bizarre sensation. The water’s buoyancy fought with the weight of their drenched clothes, creating a strange, gentle drag. The sun beat down, warming their faces while the water chilled their bodies beneath the fabric.

“This is way better than cleaning your car,” Andres said, rolling onto his stomach and paddling closer to Clifton.

“Marginally,” Clifton agreed, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s funny, though. The feeling of wet clothes. It’s not something you really think about. But it’s… specific.”

“It’s the clinging,” Andres mused. “It’s like the clothes are hugging you. But a wet hug. A very insistent hug.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, which was suctioned to his neck. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve worn clothes in the water.”

Clifton looked at him, intrigued. “Oh yeah? Like in the shower?”

Andres’s cheeks colored slightly, a faint pink visible even under the water’s reflection. “Uh, yeah. Sometimes. When I’m feeling… lazy? Or just… you know, when the mood strikes.”

Clifton chuckled. “The mood. I get that. For me, it’s the bathtub. I’ll just lie there in my underwear. It’s… comfortable. The feeling of being submerged with something on.”

“Exactly!” Andres’s face lit up with the relief of shared secret. “It’s the pressure, right? The water pressing down, the clothes clinging. It’s… a really specific kind of sensory overload.”

They both fell silent for a moment, the unspoken hanging in the air between them, as tangible as the water droplets on their skin. They were best friends, but this was new territory. A shared glance, a slight nod, and the decision was made to go deeper.

“I do it in the shower, too,” Clifton admitted, his voice a little quieter now. He looked down, watching his own wet shorts billow slightly around his legs. “With a t-shirt on sometimes. It’s weird, but the hot water and the steam… and the way the shirt gets all hot and heavy… it’s a good feeling.”

“Yeah, for me it’s the t-shirt,” Andres said, his voice animated. “The feeling of it when it’s soaked through with hot water, clinging to my back… and when I… you know… when I’m getting close, it’s like I can feel the fabric right against my skin, getting tighter.”

Clifton’s eyes met his, dark and serious. “For me, it’s the sensation of it drying a little bit while I’m still… you know… under the water. The contrast between the wet part and the part that’s starting to get warm. It’s like… a slow burn.”

They were both treading water, their bodies closer now, the conversation weaving a new, intimate connection between them. The pool, their bored afternoon, had become a confessional.

“I like jeans sometimes,” Andres confessed, the words tumbling out. “In the shower. Just for a few minutes. The feeling of denim getting heavy and cold… it’s intense. But I always have to take them off before… well, before the end.”

“I’ve done that with my old sweatshirts,” Clifton countered, his voice gaining confidence. “The thick, fleece-lined ones. In the bathtub. You know, when you have the water really hot, and you just sink in until it’s almost over your head? The sweatshirt gets so waterlogged, it’s like wearing a weighted blanket. It’s so… enveloping.”

“My favorite,” Andres said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “is my grey hoodie. The one from Lululemon I stole from my sister. It’s super soft. In the shower, it gets so heavy, the sleeves stick to my arms. I’ll just sit on the floor of the shower and let the water run over me, feeling the weight of it, and… and I’ll just start. It’s the best feeling.”

A shiver ran through Clifton that had nothing to do with the water. “I get that. For me, it’s my basketball shorts. The mesh kind. When they’re wet, they’re almost nothing, just a thin layer. But they still feel… there. It’s the best for the bathtub. I’ll fill it up, get in with my shorts on, and just… let myself float. The feeling of the water and the fabric… it’s perfect.”

They were both breathing a little harder now, the water lapping gently against their chins. The confession had stripped away the last of their afternoon boredom, replacing it with a thrilling, electric hum.

Suddenly, Andres grinned, breaking the intense mood with a playful glint in his eye. “Okay, so we’ve established our… shower preferences. But the real question is, right now, in this pool…”

He gestured down at himself, at his waterlogged blue shirt and dark shorts. “This whole ensemble… what do you think the… uh… potential is for this?”

Clifton laughed, a full, throaty sound that echoed across the water. He looked down at his own clinging grey tank top, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. “You mean, besides looking like two drowned rats?”

“Exactly,” Andres said, his grin widening. “Think of the textures. The suction of the shirt. The weight of the shorts. It’s a whole sensory experience.”

“Are you suggesting,” Clifton said, a playful smirk on his face, “that we turn our boring afternoon into a… competitive event?”

“I’m just saying,” Andres said, starting to paddle slowly in a circle around Clifton, “it would be a shame to waste such a perfectly good wet-look opportunity.”

Clifton’s eyes sparkled with challenge. “You’re on. But I have a condition.”

“Lay it on me.”

“We don’t rush it,” Clifton said, his voice soft but firm. “We just… enjoy the feeling. The water, the clothes. See where it goes. No pressure.”

Andres stopped paddling, floating in front of Clifton. The idea was incredibly appealing. The pressure of a typical teenage encounter was gone, replaced by a shared exploration. “Deal,” he said.

They drifted apart, giving each other space. The sun began its slow descent, casting long, golden shadows across the pool. The water, which had felt so refreshingly cool, now felt like a silk sheet against their skin and clothes. They closed their eyes, not out of shyness, but to fully immerse themselves in the sensations.

For Andres, it was the gentle, persistent tug of the water against his American Apparel shirt. He could feel every seam, every thread, as it clung to his torso. He let his hands drift, feeling the slick, heavy fabric of his shorts, the way the water turned the coarse cotton into something smooth and pliable. He focused on the feeling of the wet fabric tightening and loosening with his every breath, the coolness of the water a stark contrast to the growing warmth deep inside him. He let his mind drift back to his earlier words, the memory of his grey hoodie in the shower, and found a similar, but uniquely different, rhythm here in the pool. The drag of the water was a constant, gentle pressure, a world away from the hot cascade of a showerhead, and he let himself be carried by it.

For Clifton, the experience was all about the thinness of his attire. The grey tank top was practically a memory, a thin veil between him and the water. He could feel the current as he moved his arms, the water slipping over the contours of his chest. He focused on the feeling of his black shorts, how they had become a sleek, weightless layer, yet still held a presence. He thought of his bathtub sessions, the enveloping heat, and here, he found a different kind of envelopment—the cool, buoyant embrace of the pool. He let himself go still, floating on his back, arms spread wide, and just felt. The weight of the water in his clothes, the gentle rocking motion of the pool, the sound of his own breathing—it all coalesced into a single, perfect moment of sensory bliss.

One sunny afternoon, Tim decided to take a dip in the bathtub to cool off from the summer heat. He slipped into his favorite pair of blue and white striped trunks and a tight-fitting T-shirt, before submerging himself in the refreshing water. As he splashed around, he couldn't help but notice the way the water clung to his clothes, creating a sexy, see-through effect.

As he was playing in the water, he noticed a pile of clothes lying in the corner of the bathroom. They belonged to his older brother, who had gone out out a few hours ago. Tim's eyes were drawn to a pair of tight black leather jeans and a fitted red polo shirt. He felt a sudden urge to put them on and see how they looked on him.

Without hesitation, Tim climbed out of the tub and slipped into the leather jeans and polo shirt. The clothes clung to his body like a second skin, emphasizing his toned abs and slim waist. He couldn't help but feel a thrill run through him as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Feeling a little adventurous, Tim decided to take things one step further. He climbed back into the tub, still wearing the wet clothes, and began to masturbate. The sensation of the wet fabric against his skin was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but let out a moan of pleasure.

Just as he was about to reach climax, he heard the bathroom door open. He turned to see his older brother, Matt, standing in the doorway with a confused look on his face.

"Tim, what the hell are you doing?" Matt asked, taking in the sight of his younger brother sitting in the tub with his wet clothes.

Tim's face turned bright red with embarrassment. "I, uh, I was just trying on your clothes," he stammered.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "And the rest?"

Tim's face grew even redder. "I was just, uh, testing them out in the water," he said lamely.

Matt couldn't help but laugh. "Well, they look good on you, I guess," he said. "But maybe next time you could, I don't know, ask before you borrow my clothes and use my tub for your... experiments."

Tim nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement. He couldn't deny that the whole situation had turned him on, and he couldn't wait to try it again.

But as soon as he said his overly polite hello to your folks he would practically dance into your room.  He’d slowly take off his clothes until he was just in his briefs and then he’d just stare at you with this smug look on his face.  He handle his crotch and adjust his waistband and look at himself in the full length mirror.  Then he’d casually mention whatever brand of underwear he was wearing and then ask you.

“So…what kind of underwear are you wearing?”

You could lie.  You could try to get away or fight him.  You could even tell the truth.  But no matter what he would eventually pin you down and pull your pants off and he’d always say the same thing.

“Oh, that’s right.  I forgot.  You’re a big baby!  You wear diapers!  Isn’t that right?”

After that point he would tease you mercilessly.  He pull at your diapers, shove a pacifier in your mouth, try and bounce you on his knee, hold you up and burp you.  On the rare occasion your diaper was dry he would casually whip out his dick, pull your waistband back, and wet your diapers for you.  No matter what it would always end up with him, in his briefs, changing you into at least two super-thick diapers.

My damp clothes still covering my lithe, slender frame. My favorite galaxy-print board shorts, from Quiksilver, hung loosely around my hips, the thin fabric clinging to my butt and thighs, the colors streaming down my legs like cosmic riverbeds. The black long sleeve with the matching neon green surf tee, also Quiksilver, clung to my chest, its logo proudly displayed on the chest pocket. Underneath, my well-defined abs were visible, a testament to my active lifestyle. My t-shirt, a faded Ed Hardy graphic covered my chest, the sleeves just barely covering my toned arms.

As I stepped into the warm, fragrant bathwater, I let out a contented sigh. The water enveloped me, soothing my tired muscles and washing away the grime of the day. I sank deeper, my head lolling back against the tub, and closed my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my bones.

The silence was broken only by the occasional bubble popping and the sound of my own ragged breathing. My mind began to wander, reliving the fun moments from the day. The thrill of riding the waves, the taste of salt on my lips, and the sounds of my friends' laughter. As I drifted off into a peaceful state, I couldn't help but notice the way the water had molded my clothes to my body, making them even tighter and more tantalizing.

Suddenly, a clenching sensation in my groin jolted me back to reality. My eyes snapped open, and I realized, with a mix of panic and excitement, that I was getting hard. I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the calming effects of the bath. But the insistent ache only grew stronger.

Before I knew it, my free hand was sliding along my thigh, seeking out the source of the tension. I traced the outline of my erection through the damp fabric of my trunks, feeling it throb against my palm. As I stroked myself, the images from the day flashed through my mind - sun-drenched peeks at toned, hairy chests, the occasional glimpse of underwear-clad pert buns, and the feeling of the cool water against my heated skin as I dove into the lake for a refreshing swim.

My breath quickened, and my hips began to rotate, grinding against my hand. The sensation was exquisite, the friction of my fingers against my sensitive flesh sending shivers down my spine. I picked up the pace, my strokes growing more urgent as I chased the mounting pleasure.

Tears of bliss pricked at the corners of my eyes as I neared the edge. With a low moan, I let myself go, my body trembling as I came in the comforting, familiar confines of the bath. I slumped back against the tub, spent and sated, a satisfied smile playing on my lips.

As the warm water lapped at my skin, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me. The day had been exhausting, but the stress had melted away in the soothing embrace of the bath, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and, dare I say it, pleasure.

I let the water carry away the remnants of my orgasm, my chest still heaving with each breath. Gradually, my mind began to clear, and I realized that, although the day had been filled with fun and adventure, the real highlight had been the intimate moment of self-discovery in the bath.

As I finally climbed out of the tub, my wet, clinging clothes clung to my damp skin, a testament to the steamy encounter. I dried off, feeling strangely refreshed and invigorated, my earlier exhaustion replaced by a newfound energy.

I slipped into a soft, clean towel and wrapped it around my waist, the cool fabric a pleasant contrast to my still-warm skin. With a playful glint in my eye, I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored wall, noting the slight sheen on my lips and the rosy hue on my cheeks, a visible reminder of my solo escapade.

Jordan, a sixteen-year-old with tousled sandy-blond hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, stood at the edge of the pool. He wore a snug, faded blue T-shirt that hugged his athletic frame and emphasized his toned arms—a result of endless hours spent playing basketball and skateboarding. His chino shorts were a vibrant green, slightly baggy but fashionable, cinched at the waist with a black leather belt that had a trendy silver buckle. He tapped his feet impatiently, glancing around for his friend.

Just then, Tyler came into view, striding confidently toward the pool. Tyler was a slight boy, particularly slender and elegant, with smooth, golden-brown skin and dark, shoulder-length hair that cascaded in soft waves, giving him an air of carefree style. Today, he wore a pair of tight, black leggings that emphasized his toned legs and a loose-fitting white T-shirt adorned with a quirky cartoon character—an alien with oversized glasses that seemed to wink. A pair of vibrant red Converse shoes completed his look, worn-in but always stylish.

“Hey, you ready to jump in?” Tyler called out, flashing a dazzling smile.

Jordan chuckled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What are you waiting for? The water’s perfect!”

Tyler had a knack for dramatics. “One last minute! I need to ask—if you had to choose regular clothes to swim in, what would they be?” He posed the question with exaggerated seriousness, raising one eyebrow.

Jordan rolled his eyes but played along. “Alright, let me think... I’d definitely pick these shorts, right? They’re comfy and they dry quickly. And maybe that old baseball tee of mine—nice and loose, like a cloud.”

Tyler giggled. “I could see you in that! As for me, I’d go with a tank top and these leggings, of course. Super flexible, and they hug just right. Plus, they’re great for a speedy getaway!”

Jordan laughed. “A getaway? From what? The water?”

“From those unexpected splashes you’ll make!” Tyler challenged, mockingly pointing a finger.

Jordan grinned and took a step closer to the water’s edge, playfully splashing a bit with his foot. “Come on, don’t make me wait!”

Tyler feigned reluctance, theatrically crossing his arms. “What if I said I didn’t want to get wet, huh?”

“Then you better change!” Jordan replied, stepping back a little. “You’re way too dressed for that!”

“Oh, fine!” Tyler rolled his eyes, but the playful smirk on his face betrayed him. He leaned down, untied his shoes, and slipped off his socks. With an audacious leap, he ran and dove into the pool, sending a cascade of sparkling droplets into the air.

Jordan laughed out loud, marveling as Tyler’s dark hair shimmered and pooled around him in the clear water. As Tyler resurfaced, his hands playfully swiped the water away from his face. “Come on! The water’s amazing!”

With a quick intake of breath, Jordan kicked off his own shoes and lined himself up at the edge. “Here goes nothing!” he shouted and dove in after Tyler, feeling the cool embrace of the water envelop him.

Emerging from the water, the world felt different. The sun scintillated off the surface, and droplets clung to their skin like tiny diamonds. Jordan’s shirt clung to his chest, becoming a vibrant canvas of blue, while Tyler’s white shirt became semi-transparent, revealing the subtle definition of his slender torso.

“You look like a water fairy!” Jordan teased, flicking water at Tyler.

“More like a water alien!” Tyler shot back, flashing a cheeky grin, his confidence growing in the buoyant space of the pool.

They splashed and laughed, teasing each other as the warm sun began to set. After a while, they floated on their backs, resting, staring at the cloud-dotted sky.

“Okay, so what’s your ultimate dream swimwear?” Jordan asked lazily, enjoying the moment.

Tyler pondered for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. “Honestly? Probably a really stylish one-piece. Something that would make a statement! Like a brightly-colored neon purple with cut-outs. What about you?”

Jordan chuckled. “I don’t know, maybe bright orange swim trunks that say ‘Look at me!’” He laughed and added jokingly, “Maybe a matching top with palm trees.”

Tyler feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. “Palm trees? Classic choice! I can picture you strutting around the beach!”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow that made the colors of their clothes pop even more. Water dripped from their hair, and as they playfully pushed each other under, the sense of camaraderie weaved tighter—a bond strengthened by laughter, shared secrets, and a sprinkle of mischief.

“I could do this all day,” Tyler said, breaking the comfortable silence. The shadows grew long, soft curls of his hair framing his face.

“Me too,” Jordan replied, his heart warm, a sense of belonging washing over him like the water around them.

As they climbed out of the pool, chilly drops falling from their wet clothes to the cool concrete, they realized that together, they had created a splash of unforgettable summer memories—filled with vibrant colors, playful debates about swimwear, and an undeniable connection that shimmered brighter than the golden rays above.

Qui propose, présume. Qui demande, se révèle.

— Tu vas quand même pas partir sans rien ! Il te faut quelque chose pour corriger ton cousin pendant le week-end ! Si tu le bats pas quand il se comporte mal, tu l’encourages ! Prends sa cravache, elle vous encombrera pas !

— Non merci, tata ! Je t’assure, je préfère lui donner des fessées à la main ! C’est plus pratique et je te promets qu’il en recevra souvent ! Je laisserai rien passer ! Par contre t’es sûre que tu veux pas me laisser la clé de sa cage de chasteté ? On va beaucoup marcher, il va transpirer et ça va pas sécher dedans ! Il va être tout irrité ! Ce serait bien que je puisse le nettoyer pendant le week-end ! Et je lui remettrai tout de suite sa cage une fois terminé, t’inquiète pas !

Beaucoup de croupes le savent : une bonne chevauchée peut se faire sans cravache.

— Ils sont gros vos sacs ! Y a même plus de place pour mettre la cravache !

— La petite que t'as eu à ta promesse scoute, elle rentre sans problème ! Elle fait à peine la largeur du sac ! Comment tu vas te faire frapper si tu la prends pas ?

— On trouvera autre chose ! Et puis ça arrive qu'on passe des week-ends sans qu'on me donne de fessée, des fois !

— Ouais, on va pas s'encombrer ! Je te donnerai des fessées à la main ! C'est plus pratique et je préfère sentir tes fesses quand je frappe !

It was a hot summer day and I was hanging out at my friend Gregg's house. We had been swimming in his backyard pool, and I had decided to conduct a little experiment. I had on my striped t-shirt, a bright blue and white number from American Apparel, and my trusty pair of denim shorts from Levi's. I had purposely left my swim trunks at home, opting instead to try swimming in my regular clothes.

As I dove into the cool water, I felt the fabric of my shirt and shorts cling to my body, outlining every muscle and curve. It was a strange, yet exhilarating sensation. I started to swim laps, enjoying the feeling of the wet fabric against my skin.

After a while, I got out of the pool and headed inside to use the bathroom. I was feeling a bit daring, so I decided to take things to the next level. I grabbed one of Gregg's Adidas t-shirts from the laundry room and headed into the shower.

I stripped off my wet t-shirt and slipped into the shower, wearing the Adidas t-shirt. The fabric was slick and smooth against my skin, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill as I started to masturbate. I closed my eyes and let my hands wander over my body, feeling every inch of my wet, slick skin.

As I reached my climax, I let out a loud moan, not caring who might hear me. I finished up in the shower and cleaned myself off, making sure to wash the sperm from the Adidas t-shirt.

I headed back outside to rejoin Gregg by the pool. He gave me a smiling look when he saw me in his t-shirt, but I just shrugged it off and dove back into the water with my striped t-shirt on.

Swimming in my clothes had been a strange, yet exciting experience. I couldn't wait to do it again. From then on, I started to experiment more with wetlook, always pushing the boundaries and seeing how far I could take it.

But no matter what, I always made sure to clean up after myself and be respectful of other people's belongings. It was all just harmless fun, after all.

My baby brother does it too in his Pampers, I'm used too smelling a used diaper

If you want come back to mine and I'll change it. I've changed his diaper before