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“Now that everybody seems to be getting all their secret fetishes out of their system… how about Curt’s turn?

“Hmm… girls in wet clothing… seems harmless enough, but I think we can spice it up a bit. Fortunately, I have just the place.

“They all laughed when I added that pool area to the castle grounds, but I knew I’d be putting it to good use someday. Not to mention the jacuzzi, the garden hose, the sprinkler system, the pool house with that charming porcelain bathtub resting inside it… I don’t think I’m going to be getting any complaints.

“True, Emily gave him a little taste of things back in the shower room, but that was when events were, shall we say, in the embryonic stage. Since Vanessa encouraged him to go all the way — still sorting out whether that had been her intention, but if not, well, she shouldn’t have danced in front of him like that, or at least danced in front of him like that in a leather miniskirt — we’ve entered a more consequential phase.

“And if anything, I suspect the girls are going to enjoy it more than Curt will! If there’s one trend I’ve noticed, it’s this: whatever turns the boys on… seems to turn them on too. The main thing is, they need his seed inside them, so… anything that gets the job done, right? Still, they mustn’t pressure him.

“Oh, and the Menudian water will certainly help. None of that irritating, eye-reddening water in this pool. I’m not even going to tell them about it — let it be another of my secret surprises. Nothing like initial contact with dry clothing to make it extra potent. Granted, it tends to have a more powerful effect on the females than the males, but then, Curt isn’t really going to need it, is he?

“Another experiment of sorts? Yes. Research? No — though that’s all well and good in its place. This time, I think I’ll just sit back and watch what happens when a cute Menudian boy slowly realizes that all the girls he fancies are taking advantage of his fantasies…”

*****

Curt opened his eyes.

He found himself sitting in a spacious, well-lit room with white walls, staring through what appeared to be spotless, floor-to-ceiling glass doors, on the other side of which an outdoor pool glistened in the sun.

Surrounding the pool was an expanse of freshly-mown grass. A few feet across the staircase and railing at the shallow end of the pool sat an empty, unfilled jacuzzi, built down into the earth in a similar fashion to the pool, though not nearly as deep. The entire area was enclosed by a fence-like row of oak, maple, and redwood trees.

What the deuce?

He figured this must have been a hidden, private spot in Menudia’s vast estate, to which he had been whisked away, but for what purpose, he could not immediately discern.

As his senses continued to return, he realized he was still dressed in his cream-colored satin robe, and reclining in a cozy wicker chair inside some sort of… guest house/pool house? There were several black buttons and switches resting inside a rectangular console on the wall, but he didn’t know what they were for.

There also seemed to be another room behind him that featured an empty porcelain bathtub in the middle of it, along with large windows, baskets stuffed with numerous articles of clothing, and a countertop decorated with various beverages and hors d’oeuvres.

Between the lawn and the large sliding glass doors in front of him stood a short, concrete patio featuring several poolside chairs and a table shaded by a large, beige umbrella. He had the sneaking suspicion that this pool house was connected to the larger castle somehow, but he couldn’t be certain.

And he was still processing his surroundings when he spotted Angela flying down from the sky, her straight blonde hair tickling her shoulders, her bare feet almost grazing the diving board that poked out over the deep end before they landed on the grass instead.

She had changed, at long last, out of her white “milk maid” crop top and floral-print skirt, into a white cotton long-sleeve “Menudian Girl” t-shirt and pale blue jean shorts. The fabric of the t-shirt was so thin, it was practically sheer, her nipples easily visible through the “castle with wings” graphic.

Not an outfit outside the scope of her hippie fashion aesthetic, perhaps, but still a bit unusual for her. Hippie chick spends a day at the beach. Well, whatever she was going for, she was certainly pulling it off. Angela made her way to the steps at the shallow end, and gingerly dipped her left foot into the pool.

Curt observed through the glass as she eased her calves, then her thighs, into the water, but he saw her curiously stop just before the water line touched the bottom of her skintight denim shorts (which sported proper hems rather than, say, being cut-offs), as if she were preparing herself for that next little step.

After a pause, she lowered herself into the pool, the water climbing inch by inch up her denim shorts, turning the pale blue a darker blue. When it seeped into siirt escort her waist and her fly, he saw her mouth open a crack and her head tilt back.

He assumed she didn’t have any prior affinity for wet clothing — certainly not like he did — but… damn. She looked like she was about five seconds away from having a little “moment.”

Maybe there was something in the water?

But before letting the bottom of her long-sleeve t-shirt get the slightest bit wet, Angela walked up a couple of steps and rose back out of the water, the now dark denim dripping, glistening, and adhering to her crotch, hips, and ass as she exposed it to the air again, the blonde tossing her hair back in response to the unique “suction” sensation.

Oh yeah. She seemed to be really getting into this.

Then, over the course of a couple of minutes, she waded further away from the shallow end, dampening her shorts again, before letting the bottom of her long-sleeve t-shirt touch the water, soaking it almost a centimeter at a time, frequently pausing and rising out of the pool as it stuck to her belly, before resuming her descent and letting it grow wetter and wetter.

When the water line finally climbed over her breasts, turning the already sheer cotton more or less see-through, she closed her eyes, rolled her head to the side, and gasped.

Curt seemed unaware that his hand was quietly caressing an erection through his satin robe.

After the water climbed up to her neck, Angela swam in place for a minute, still making sure not to dip her hair fully under. Then, perhaps remembering that, as a Menudian, she could move around in all sorts of ways, she hovered out of the pool and into the air, the ribbons of water cascading down her white long-sleeve tee, her denim shorts, and her thighs as she levitated.

For a split second, Curt saw Angela’s eyes flash a bright yellow, and he heard a faint voice in the breeze whisper “Succumb!” It sounded a bit like the “WHOOSH” sound that he’d heard all the way back when Greg had first taken Angela on the day of the picnic.

Hold on partner. Had getting her clothes wet in the pool… just given her a tiny “O”?

Another possibly relevant, possibly not relevant question: did she know he was there behind the glass?

Did she know he was watching her?

Like a pony on a merry-go-round, she calmly bobbed up and down against the surface of the water in her fully soaked outfit, savoring the sensation of her shirt pressing against her breasts when it made contact with the air, then the sensation of it loosening once she dipped back underwater.

After the third or fourth bob, she began dragging her hands down the cloth of her t-shirt, across her chest, and over her dripping shorts and thighs, her eyes momentarily flashing yellow a couple more times, that eerie whisper appearing and disappearing on the wind. The girl with a gift for massage was, in a way, getting a special kind of massage of her own.

There were two details of the spectacle Curt admired in particular: 1) The fit of the long-sleeve t-shirt was such that, whenever she moved her arms upward, a small stretch of the bottom of her shirt front — the stretch residing directly above her fly — rose upward as well, exposing a hint of her belly while leaving the rest of her abdomen covered; 2) The more common outfit would have been a short-sleeve t-shirt with long-legged jeans, but Curt liked this playful reversal, with Angela’s long sleeves hugging her arms up to her wrist, and her Daisy Dukes showing off her silky legs.

For a moment, he wondered if he was going to stain his robe just watching her, but somehow, he held himself in check.

With one final rise out of the water, her hair still mostly dry, Angela flew over to the diving board, struck a pose with her wet arms, and dove headfirst into the deep end.

Why would she dive when she could fly? Because, he presumed, diving would have been fun too! And Angela certainly looked like she was having a swell time out there. If Curt were an Olympic judge, he would have given it a 9.8.

Now fully submerged, Angela seemed to bask in the unfamiliar sensation of swimming fully clothed, dipping and weaving through the water, occasionally rubbing herself through her shorts, before she swam to the shallow end, walked up the steps (her shirt clinging to her skin like they were inseparable buddies), walked over to a spot on the lawn, and lay back in the sun.

Curt couldn’t quite tell what she was up to now. Maybe a little nap? She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to do anything in particular.

But soon her hands started roving across her breasts, the liquid oozing out of the “Menudian Girl” logo. If she (or Curt) felt any concern about her clothes drying too soon to ruin the effect, a sprinkler system conveniently switched on and off in short bursts, giving her t-shirt and shorts a fresh dousing in the sunlight.

She must have known he was watching, no?

The boy with the secret wet clothing silifke escort fetish sat in the pool house and continued to enjoy the show. It couldn’t get any better than this, right?

Well, it kind of got better.

After about five minutes, Angela’s right hand popped the metal fastener of her fly out of its slit, and found its way into her soaked shorts.

Curt stared as Angela’s beautiful mounds pressed upward against the cute logo on her long-sleeve tee, the grass tickling her back through her shirt as she played with herself.

“Ah… ah…”

A couple of minutes in, her right knee popped up above the grass, her head swerved from side to side, her eyes lit up, and she came on the lawn, her nipples hardening under her wet t-shirt in the breeze, almost as if they were being licked by the faintly whispered “Succumb!” she now heard in the air.

“Ah!… Ah!…”

For Curt, this entire course of events had been like one giant billboard stating, in big neon letters, “Your seed in here, please.”

Just as Angela’s climax began to ebb, and just as she was about to drift into a pleasant nap with her hand still in her shorts, she heard the glass door of the guest room slide open.

Curt walked over, untied his robe, wiggled Angela’s shorts down to around her thighs, and took her right there on the grass, the satin of his own garment growing wet as it rubbed against her long-sleeve t-shirt and her skin.

Angela stretched her arms out as her translucent white shirt made a smacking sound against her chest.

They gave each other one highly erotic kiss before Curt tilted his head upward and let nature have its way with the female colleague of his who was always so in love with nature.

He thought back to the mixture of fear, shock, and envy he’d felt as he’d watched Greg take Angela on the day of the picnic. Now they’d taken him too, and like the others, he had no choice but to use his blonde classmate’s alluring, presumably ovulating body as a breeding tool.

His eyes became something other than his own.

“Succumb!… she’s been waiting for your seed…”

He heard Menudia both taunt and encourage him as he came hard.

“… so many times, you’ve thought about making love to a girl in soaking wet clothes, just like this… and now…”

After giving Angela enough slippery wetness on the inside to match the slippery wetness on the outside, he slumped over to her left and took a rest next to his female receptacle in the sunlight.

Angela had read Curt to a T (or rather, to a wet T?), and now it was time for her to recuperate, relax on the lawn, and let the process of insemination take its course as her clothes dried against her skin.

*****

Liza didn’t know where Curt was lurking, but she didn’t exactly need to have that information just yet.

Swooping down from the sky, past the row of trees, and scraping the surface the pool with her bare toes, all she knew was that Menudia had told her to put on something that she felt cute and sexy in, fly over to this section of the castle, plop herself down into the empty hot tub, keep her clothes on, and let Curt reveal himself at a moment of his choosing.

Having no power to object, she did as she was told. Well, whatever she’d be up to, it would probably be fun. The girls had all heard about Curt’s wetlook fetish by this time, so… let’s just say she could connect the dots?

The convivial brunette had changed into a cropped, light green “Menudian Girl” t-shirt and a black denim miniskirt. The t-shirt wasn’t so much a cropped tee as a baby tee, the sleeves stopping halfway between her shoulder and her elbow, and the bottom dangling an inch or two above her bellybutton. The graphic was similar to the one that had been on Angela’s t-shirt, except that the castle image was a bit smaller and the text a bit larger (but like Angela’s t-shirt, it pressed nicely against Liza’s nipples).

Yup. As her feet touched down on the lawn under a clear blue sky, she looked good and felt good.

Liza made her way over to the empty concrete hot tub, sat down on the inner step, her shoulders resting only a few inches above the tub’s outer lip, and closed her eyes. She didn’t have much of an expectation as to what was going to happen next.

A loud mechanized sound popped her eyes open, and the bottom of the hot tub began filling up with… well, she would have called it water, except it almost felt too nice to be just water. She couldn’t resist wiggling her feet as the bubbling H2O lapped at her toes.

Little did she know, but Curt, standing inside the pool house again, had witnessed Liza’s arrival, had wandered over to the set of controls embedded in the wall, had figured out what they were for, and had gotten a few ideas.

A part of her felt dimly apprehensive about sitting in a hot tub that was filling up with water while she was still fully dressed in her t-shirt and skirt, but as the water slowly climbed up silivre escort her ankles and thighs, she decided to just stay in place and go with it.

When the rising water began to creep its way toward the front of her black skirt and between her legs… well, it was the silliest thing, but she found herself feeling good. A little too good.

It’s like there was… something in the water?

She rolled her head around and let out a harmless “Mmmm.” But if it rose any further under her skirt… it seemed ridiculous, but she was maybe going to… you know. Did she want to? Was anyone watching? And where the hell was Curt?

Maybe she was imagining things, but she could’ve sworn that the water line was continually rising and falling against her jean skirt, refusing to climb any higher, acting like some sort of liquid, polymorphous hand sliding in and out of her sex.

If she’d known that Curt was at the controls, manipulating the level of water in the hot tub (he was really getting the hang of things), would it have made much difference?

She realized that she was on the doorstep, and that she would either have to hold herself back or give in, and she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. When the water trickled its way just a little further under her skirt, and when a jet turned on behind her tailbone, quickly soaking the bottom of her green baby tee and the back of her denim waist, the time for decision-making was gone.

A quiet little gasp escaped her mouth.

Liza’s puppy dog eyes glowed contentedly as she enjoyed a silent, hands-free orgasm in the jacuzzi, a faint “Succumb…” wafting in one ear and out the other in conjunction with the sound of the churning liquid.

It was like she was being massaged on all sides, from the accumulating water which was at last making its way over the top of her skirt and sneakily up her abs, to the rippling jet relaxing her spine, to the bubbles stroking her feet. Once the water finally crept its way up to her neck, her cropped t-shirt began floating against her chest, becoming another pleasant source of stimulation.

With the tub just about full and her brief orgasm over, she heard another mechanized sound, and the water stopped flowing.

Liza rested there in the jacuzzi, surrounded by the warmth, feeling a contradictory mixture of relaxed and energized. Since nobody else was around to object, and since she’d already abandoned any attempt to hold herself back from whatever urges came her way, she let out a gentle stream of pee, then began dozing off a little.

Curt could see she was having a nice time in there — but he wasn’t going to let her rest long. A couple of minutes, tops.

The tub made another clang, and the water level began sinking, the combined noise and movement jolting Liza out of her potential nap as the liquid traveled its way back down her t-shirt, making it stick to her chest once it resumed contact with the open the air. Funny, but the sensation of the draining water felt almost as nice as that of the rising water.

When the surface fell right around to her waist and began teasing the top of her skirt again, she found herself wishing that something would just come along and start stimulating her there really hard. She didn’t even feel like moving her hands to do it herself.

Well, it was Liza’s lucky day.

Out of nowhere, a streamlined jet turned on, apparently originating from the floor of the hot tub, and… it happened to be aimed smack in between Liza’s legs.

“Yeah… Yeah… mmm yeah…”

Liza swished her head from side to side in reaction to the delight that the stream was causing her.

“Mmm-yeah… mmm-yeah… I’m gonna… I’m gonna… mmm-yeah…”

She thought she’d already had her “moment” for the day, but at this point, a second orgasm seemed almost inevitable. She stretched her arms out over the concrete lip of the half-filled tub, her chest pushing her soaked, cropped t-shirt into the gentle breeze, and let the water alter her wide, trusting eyes into that mind-erasing yellow and get her off one more time.

“Succumb!… yesssss, Liza… Succumb!…”

Her feet kicked haphazardly among the bubbles as she jerked and thrashed, unable to keep her reaction discreet (as she had earlier), the pressurized jet massaging her clit with an intensity she’d not experienced before. Still, no matter how much she squirmed, the water managed to remain directly aimed at her pussy lips. Her captive Menudian body thrust itself into the stream as it milked this second hands-free wank as best as it could.

That said, although the sequel was more dramatic, she would have hardly wished to denigrate her first jacuzzi climax, which had had a lithe, subtle charm of its own.

Then the water level sank below her knees, the jet sputtered to a harmless trickle, and she reclined there tranquilly in the empty tub, her cotton ensemble drying in the sun. Having returned to their normal color, her eyes closed shut.

The sound of the glass doors of the pool house sliding open a few minutes later snapped her back to the present. She opened those big round eyes, turned around, and noticed Curt standing on the grass between the house and the hot tub, looking like a prince out of a fairy tale in his white satin robe, seemingly unsure of whether he should approach her or not.

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