My History

[Rikki Bare 120]

The beginning.

For as many years as I can remember I have enjoyed all things watery. My early water fantasies mainly turned around going bathing fully dressed and I remember a dream, or daydream I’m unsure which, where it was normal to plunge in a pool after getting dressed to go out so that my clothes were properly wet. I’m not sure how old I was at the time, not more than ten I think as the outfit involved was a ‘short pants’ suit.

Other real world memories centre around embarrassing incidents, accidentally wetting my short trousers when I was about seven and being gently told the I was too old for that sort of thing. Shitting in my shorts a year or two later when I was caught a long way from a toilet.

My first desperation memory was a school trip to London Airport, trying and failing to pee in a large gents with the other boys before getting onto the coach to go back to school, I wanting to go very badly all the way back, I just about made it that time; things like that have combined to imprint a strong association with water and pissing. A little later I would adeliberately piss in my pyjamas before a morning bath and then get in the bath still wearing them.

Any event in a film which involved the characters getting soaked was, and still is, very enjoyable. The smarter the dress the better I like it. My favourite, for a long time was a short TV film from the early days of BBC2 called ‘The Fly’ in which a young 1890’s French girl, who wore many layers of frills, enjoyed the attentions of a group of young men and frequently swam in the Seine in all her finery. (Does anybody know where I can get a copy of this as it was in the days before I even had a video much less dvd or on line everything.

There was a fashion in the early 70’s for swimming in your jeans and this I preceded by several years going paddling up to my neck in the river fully dressed this was the early sixties. I took to clothed bathing with gusto and still enjoy it, and the sight of a woman in the sea wearing a dress gives me an instant hard on. I live by the sea and often go swimming. I have to chose, with difficulty, whether to swim nude, when I can get away with it, or to keep on whatever jeans or shorts, and often shirt as well, I happen to be wearing, the one thing I don’t do is wear a swimsuit.

Closely associated with this pleasure in all things watery is pissing in my pants. I still remember most vividly the first time I did this deliberately, not counting the pyjamas that is. It was a hot spring day and I stood on a breakwater for half an hour willing myself to wet my soft, warm, clean, dry cords jeans and the new underpants I was wearing underneath them. That first drop was very hard to squeeze out, but eventually I was able to release a little and I felt the hot piss enter my underpants. It was easier once I had started and I was able to relax and let it flow. My thick cotton briefs held quite a lot before it finally burst through and coursed burning down my legs. I looked down to see a dark stain spreading over my crotch. Pressing my hand between my legs I felt its warm wetness and brought my hand up to sniff the mild ammonia smell. I then dived into the cold sea before anybody could see what I had done.

Since then I have been an enthusiastic piss artist, becoming steadily bolder and taking more risks of being caught. Usually I choose the beach or out in wild countryside and sometimes when alone in the house or on a long car journey with the driver’s seat protected with polythene and a towel. This sitting down taboo was far harder to break than doing it standing up. Now I am good at it ‘though and will wet before I finish this and get up from my computer.

I have pissed most kinds of pants and would find it difficult to say which type are most satisfactory. I love the quick hot flood down my left thigh, transferred to my right leg by pressing my legs together, which results from spontaneously letting go in loose trousers and boxer shorts, but my prick, balls and anus tend to remain dry. The slow even spread of dampness from pissing in tight jeans and thick briefs solves this but the briefs have to be worn especially as they are too restricting for everyday wear, normally I wear nothing under tight jeans and this gives yet another delightful flow pattern. For a long time my favourite for solo wetting was; first to release a good flood down my legs and then to squat down and empty my bladder into the seat of my trousers; thus getting the best of both worlds. I have also recently taken to wearing snug cotton/Lycra boxers which are very enveloping and supportive. Some don’t have a fly opening, they are presumably designed for wearing with track pants and are very difficult to get into when wearing tight jeans.

On a warm day off I will get dressed in shorts, smart black tailored ones; dark jeans or black track pants with a shirt and or T shirt whatever is appropriate for the weather. Nice thick underwear gives me a sense of warm security to start with as I drive to a parking place on the cliff top and go for a long ramble. I will have drunk several pints of liquid beforehand and carry with me a couple of litres of lemonade or coke. As I drive there I will already be releasing small dribbles of pee and by the time I park up I will be really bursting and a trifle damp.

As soon as I am sure I am alone on the downs I will sit down and let go. Filling my clean underpants and soaking my outer garments. After a few miles of this, carefully avoiding other walkers, there is a way down the cliffs and I will descend to the beach where I will rinse off myself and my clothes in the sea. If it is hot I will sunbathe and swim nude while my clothes dry, if not they will have to remain wet and I will just ring them out the best I can. Usually after about an hour I will look dry enough to buy tea and a sandwich at a beach bar. And then I will head for home. Either along the beach, if the tide makes this possible, i.e. if I can get past without actually drowning, or back along the cliffs. I will usually wet myself again on the way back, despite my previous strenuous effort to sun my clothes dry.

Later I acquired a garment which has added a new dimension to my adventures. They were a pair of black “shell” track pants by Olympus Sports they had two layers an outer one of very tight weave polyester cotton and a thicker inner knitted layer. The shell is almost totally impervious and the inner very absorbent. The first time I put them on I tested them by pouring water on them. It ran straight off and even when I forced a little through it came out in blobs and the fabric showed dry. So I went out in them with black socks, black plastic sandals and a black sweat shirt.

As usual I got tanked up two large beers and lots of water and soft drinks. Walking up the road I soon needed to piss and released a trial amount. It deliciously soaked into my underpants and trickled down my legs inside the shell; wetting the lining way down my leg. Not a drop showed and I walked on feeling gloriously damp and naughty and yet looking totally dry.

I pissed more and more as I walked through the fairly crowded streets and the piss reached my right sock. I then surreptitiously worked my prick around so that it was hanging down my left leg and doused that in the same way. I found a park bench and sat down. Thus I filled my underpants, thick close fitting cotton trunks. Still none emerged except from around my feet and a little onto the slats of the seat. Finally I pressed my legs together with my prick above them and created a pond in my lap. Only when I leaned forward was some actually forced through to the outside.

Getting up I brushed the drips off and my pants looked dry again as the piss poured out of the bottoms. I went on my way totally saturated and nobody noticed at all. I completely emptied my bladder and wandered around a fountain for a while until I could discreetly rinse off my feet. After a short time I had stopped leaving wet footprints and I went into a pub and bought another pint; sitting in the beer garden to drink it, and another. I spent the whole afternoon pissing these pants in this way without anyone being any the wiser; until I finally got bored with the lack of risk and went home for a wank.

After they were washed many times the pants were not quite so water repellent; which made them more exciting, as they show wet for a few minutes after each dousing before reverting to a dry appearance. This adds just enough risk to lend a little spice to the proceedings.

One day it was too hot for the track pants and I was feeling bold having just finished another “Julie” story so I decided to wear a pair of well washed denim cut down shorts. To preserve privacy I put on top a very long black T-shirt which hung down nearly to the bottom of the shorts.

Getting tanked up as usual I set off along the cliffs. When the time came for my first piss I sat down on the grass, carefully lifting my T-shirt, and slowly dribbled the hot fluid into my pants. I could feel little trickles running here and there tickling my scrotum and around my asshole. Then the seat of my pants began to feel wet. Looking down I had a patch about six inches across centred just to the right of my fly. The back felt to be about the same size and they met underneath. I sat still for several minutes to let the surplus drain away before getting up. The shirt hung down completely concealing the wet areas. This was very fortunate as, almost at once, I rounded a corner and a woman with her dog nearly bumped into me.

For the next hour I kept sitting to piss and managed to keep my shirt mostly dry. I took it off when I was really out in the open but tried to make sure the bottom three inches of my shorts kept dry.

The next scary incident came when I was surprised by two men approaching on the path and nowhere to hide. I held my water bag in front of me and hoped for the best. I don’t think they noticed anything although if they had turned round they surely would have seen my wet bum. I put my shirt back on after this and felt more secure although by the next time I met someone there were definite wet patches on the visible parts of my shorts and I think my shirt must have been showing wet at the back.

When I got to the beach I flooded my shorts letting the piss flow down my legs and into my shoes. I then took my shirt off and swam in my shorts; now they were legitimately wet I felt much more secure. Shirt back on, with sea water stains around the bottom, I looked exactly like any other who swims in the sea in cut downs and slips a shirt on to walk home. I wandered around a populous part of the beach like this and refilled my water bottle before heading back.

By the time I was alone I was bursting again and secure in the knowledge I was already “wet look” just let go. In the resulting series of floods, I had been drinking Sprite or water all afternoon and had got through nearly 3 litres in all, my shirt was flooded like a mini dress with piss running off the back and front hems and had anybody come along then there would have been no doubt at all what I had done.

When I neared civilisation I tucked the shirt into my shorts and hoped for the best; but I didn’t meet anyone else. I got changed in the car and went home to supper and then sat down to finish this true story.

The danger of being found out was increasing as I took more and more risks. I had great fantasies about being spotted in ever more embarrassing situations. The “Julie” stories are the fictitious results of these fantasies and others about bringing other people into my pissing life.

RikkiBare (aka Dickie). Written summer 1997 revised Sepember 2024

This is a true, updated and more accurate version of the story which I posted in the Watersports Forum in 1997.

R