Posted by wet jenny on October 23, 2001 at 23:37
I had been looking forward to this afternoon for a while. Taking a day off
from my work was not that easy, especially not with all the cheerleader
exercises starting around four o'clock. It usually meant starting early at
work, and no break. But today I could get away and I found myself walking
through the city's shopping centre, gazing at the many boutiques and
looking for clothes. My boyfriend had stated that some peculiar outfit
should fit me, and I had agreed to try it out. Being a hard-core
loose-jumper-and-full-skirt type, I was a bit dubious about the probable
outcome, but trying new things was not wrong. And his mother had also
pointed me in the same direction anyway.
I took the first nice little shop where they did not play loud music kind
of stuff and did not display a gazillion different types of the same jeans.
It was a cute place with an assortment that should get me somewhere. A rack
with jumpers invited me to browse through them, and after a minute I heard
the shop assistant sneaking up on me from behind. "Good afternoon m'me. Can
I help you?" I was puzzled for a moment. I knew that voice. Where had I
heard it before? Curiously I turned around and stood eye in eye with Cindy,
one of the members of my cheerleading team. She grinned. "Yes, it's me. I
work here two afternoons in the week. Looking for something special?"
Just like me, Cindy had a favourite outfit, but her style was quite
different. She almost always wore a white blouse, a short, tight black
leather skirt, and high heels. Today was no exception. She was one of those
girls who really like to show off, and to be honest, Cindy had a lot to
show off. With her long blond hair and cute, friendly face, she could
probably get a job as a photo model right away. But apparently being a shop
assistant was more fun to her. I did not mind. It even eased the
conversation.
"Something special? Yes and no. People have been pushing me to look for
something different these days. They tell me that I should not always wear
long and loose garments. Even my friend's mother tries to convince me to
wear something else. So to prove to them that it won't work because it
won't fit me, I decided to buy one new outfit. Maybe you have some ideas?"
Cindy did as if she was surprised. "Won't fit you? Come on Diana, you've
the most ideal body for about anything in fashion these days. You can wear
it all. Don't be silly. You'll look great. Can it be a bit challenging or
should we stay on the safe side?" I shook my head: "Safe side. I should be
able to wear it when visiting his parents. And I don't like gear that I
should wear only to a dancing anyway." Cindy about gasped and almost
yelled: "Diana, stop it! You wear the absolutely most challenging flashy
red cheerleader outfit at least three times a week in full public, and
probably more together with your boyfriend in your apartment. Everybody is
staring at you in admiration and your boyfriend risks attacks on his life
by only walking next to you. And now you tell me it shouldn't be
challenging? I refuse. I cannot possibly sell you something that is NOT
challenging, because YOU are challenging, just you on your own. Forget
about not attracting attention. Even if you cut off your hair, wear a green
mask and walk in old charcoal bags, you will still be challenging. Forget
it."
I was silent for a moment. I knew I was good-looking, but this outburst
from somebody I always thought to be quite a dandy herself surprised me.
Should I? Should I indeed get myself something to show off, like she wore
all the time? Something cute but still serious and professional? Cindy left
me alone with myself and quickly browsed through several racks, picking up
suspicious clothes in the process. Ahem. No, not that rack, please...to
late. I swallowed when she came back with her arms full of garments. "So,
here is something to begin with. There is the fitting room. First these
jumpers."
To make a long story short, they all ruthlessly exposed the contours of my
breasts and followed every curve of my chest and belly. Awful. I felt
almost naked. Wearing the last jumper, a tight black one that was also a
bit on the short side, I shyly left the little room and faced Cindy.
"Cindy, please. This is something for thirteen year old girls who are just
developing their chest. I'm twenty-nine. I can't wear these." She said
nothing and circled me like a hawk. "Sold," she just announced, and took
all the other jumpers from the fitting room. Including my own sweater.
"Hey, silly! Leave my jumper here! I'll need it!" She smiled and told me
that I would get it back tomorrow afternoon, after the cheerleader
practice. Hell. If she had made up her mind like this, nothing short of a
true fight between ladies would get my jumper back. I turned back to the
fitting room and looked at myself in the mirror, especially in profile.
Well. Yes. Fortunately I had small breasts. And Cindy was right in the fact
that my cheerleader uniform emphasized my chest at least as clearly.
Alright then. The jumper was black, so it did not show obvious shadows
where I did not want them, and in any case it was made of material I liked.
Under a blazer it would do quite nice.
Cindy appeared again, smiling when she saw me looking at myself. "You see?
It works, no problem. Not that many people can wear these jumpers, but for
you they're perfect. Now for the skirt. No matter how elegant your long
skirt is, your legs deserve better." In horror I saw what she carried:
three skirts about the length of my hand. "No way, Cindy. I'm NOT going to
wear one of those. A cheerleader uniform must have a skimpy skirt, alright,
but today I wear my normal panties and they are not meant to be exposed to
the world with every movement. I want to stay respectable, not look like
some cheap street slut." Cindy sulked: "Well, thanks," and looked down to
her own little skirt. I blushed. "I did not mean that, Cindy. Honest. No
offence. You're looking great. But I'm quite a bit older than you are, and
then wearing such a skirt..." Cindy said nothing and just pointed at a
poster on the wall. I looked. It showed a typical business woman in career
wear with brief case and portable phone, certainly older than me, in a
blazer and a tight skirt revealing her knees and half her thighs. I
swallowed. "It's about the most common career look, Diana, and your age is
not an issue here. You've got the legs and everything. Just try. These
skirts are not loose and wide. They are tighter and have no pleats, so they
don't flip up when you twirl or when the wind blows. But they neither are
elastic and do not cling to you hips and ass. As long as you keep your
knees together, they are quite respectable. Respectable enough for you."
Of course I gave in, took of my boots and long skirt, and a moment later I
looked at myself in the mirror, wearing both the tight jumper and one of
the new skirts. Cindy was right, it was tight enough to prevent me feeling
completely exposed, and it was quite a bit longer than I assumed at first.
It came down almost halfway my thighs. I tried to stoop over, and it did
not hamper the movement, yet it did not ride up either. And when I just
stood upright, it did not cling to my thighs but left a few centimetres
free all around. Skirt design had come a long way. "Are they all the same?"
I asked Cindy. She nodded. "All the same except for the colour. I wouldn't
advise this black one, it makes you too dark in general. White is too
strong against the jumper. Try this one." She handed me a dark-green skirt,
about the colour of playing tables at a casino. I pulled down the black
skirt and Cindy disappeared in the store to put all clothes back in place.
With the dark- green skirt around my hips I looked in the mirror again.
Alright, the colour combination was okay. A golden necklace would do no
harm though. I could wear both the black boots that I happened to have on
my feet when entering the store, and the low brown shoes I had at home.
Curiously I put on my boots. I had to sit down on the tiny bench for that,
and as expected, my red panties flashed between my thighs. I mostly wore
red these days, because this colour has some nice features when it gets
wet. Even my boyfriend had started to purchase red briefs. It was a bit
against my habits to keep my knees closed all the time, no matter what I
wore, but with this outfit I should be more careful. I already looked
forward teasing my boyfriend.
After putting on my boots, I rose to my feet and inspected myself in the
full-length mirror outside the fitting room. Not bad. A bit leggy, if
anything. People would look twice. The boots were not exactly the right
thing to wear, because they emphasized my legs too much, but it was fairly
acceptable when going out. A pair of sneakers would do nicely otherwise. I
looked around the shop, but Cindy was nowhere to be seen. When buying
clothes I always took into account the possibilities they offered for
sneaky fun, and although I doubted the usefulness of the skirt, I wanted to
experiment a bit. Quickly I parted my legs about half a meter and checked
with my hand if the front of the skirt stayed clear of my panties.
Surprisingly, it did! Suddenly the skirt became much more attractive to me.
With my legs still apart, I checked the skirt at my bum.
"That's okay, it won't stain," Cindy's voice announced. I mumbled "Shit"
and recomposed my posture. "Respectable, eh?" Cindy sniggered. "But you're
right, I never skip that test myself. Luckily I can wear leather as well as
fabric. It solves a lot of problems, you know. You learn what freedom is by
wearing leather skirts." Teasingly, her hands slid down over her hips and
thighs. "When you want to go in your panties up this skirt, do you open
your legs?" I asked her bluntly. She did not even blink: "Sometimes. But
usually I am not alone, and then I have to stand with my legs together.
Like now. Not that it matters that much. My panties are still there." Her
hands stopped moving and I saw her tense her muscles. Would she...? Cindy
looked in a mirror and smiled at herself, grasping the hem of her tiny
skirt. Then she bent her knees a little, sighed as from relief and from
somewhere down below, I heard a short, sharp hiss. I immediately recognized
the sound. Hidden from all view by her skirt, Cindy had done a good spurt
in her panties, in her WET panties to be exact. I could clearly tell the
difference between a muffled, dry spurt and a wet one. "Cindy! Have you
been wet all the time?"
She smiled and nodded. "Yup. It's usually the first thing I do after
classes have ended. I like to trickle all day, but during classes I have to
sit down and that prevents the fun. I can only trickle once or twice before
it soaks through, even when wearing two pairs of panties. So I usually save
up everything for after classes. When we have cheerleading practice, I do
it all nicely in my uniform of course, but otherwise my double panties can
take three or four spurts before they start to leak. I walk from college to
home or to the shop and do a spurt once in a while, to stay warm and wet.
When it starts trickling down my legs I either just walk on or hide behind
a trash can in the park for a while, with my legs opened a bit, and just go
to the toilet in my skirt. But I usually don't want to gush it all out,
it's more fun keeping my panties wet over a few hours. Oh, I'm getting
excited only by talking about it. I'll grant myself another one." She
looked down to her leather mini and I heard another firm spurt, this time
followed by a drop running down her inner left thigh. "Oops. One too many."
Cindy routinely rubbed her thighs together, causing some more drops to come
out, and wiped them all away with one movement of her right calf. "Mmm, wet
again. Such a lovely feeling. But you know that yourself! Why don't you try
it now? These skirts really are good."
I looked back into the mirror. Wearing this outfit and then wetting my
panties? Here? Talk about respectable indeed. I parted my legs again and
inspected my pose. Perfect for a cheerleader, useless elsewhere, especially
with a short skirt. I would have to adjust my technique. Wearing long,
loose skirts definitely had its advantages. Cindy helped me: "Forget about
opening your legs. That's only for the gushing part, which you want to
avoid. You need to wee tiny bits and let your panties soak it up, not just
pass it through. Only when you cannot spurt for an hour or so, you need to
find a sheltered spot and spread to go to the toilet. Obviously you cannot
squat down in these skirts." She smiled: "I once contacted a clothing
manufacturer to inquire if there would be interest in producing skirts with
plastic lining on the inside, but they claimed there was no market for such
garments. Fools. The cycling pants industry is a lot smarter. More women in
marketing, I bet."
I pulled my legs together and tried to stand normally. "That's better. Now
just imagine you're in uniform and you'll be wet in no time flat. Those
panties you wear can take two spurts." The shop bell rang and Cindy turned
towards the new customer, leaving me in front of the mirror, with all my
naughty thoughts. Of course it was completely silly to wet myself here, in
clothes that were not even mine. Yet. I was convinced that I should buy
them, by now. My boyfriend would go wild and there were occasions that I
could wear them in public as well. But initiating them right here? I looked
to Cindy, who was busy showing pantyhose to an older woman. It would be
quite simple, if I followed Cindy's advice. Don't do a wee, just spurt. No
problem.
I went into the fitting room again to adjust my red panties for action and
to do a last inspection of my clothes. The jumper fell about one centimetre
over the belt of the skirt, so it was completely safe, and the skirt itself
seemed both safe and quite insensitive to stains. Some lining would be
reassuring though, there was not much room for error. I knew the material
of my panties. It would quickly absorb and spread the wee, so that both the
front and the back of my crotch would get wet, probably creeping up quite
high. Spurting would lead to even more spreading because the material would
get more chance to soak up the wee. It would be a matter of self- control.
Cindy indeed had the advantage of a leather skirt, she could just drop her
savings and enjoy. But I would have to do with fabric. I pulled my skirt
down as far as I could, which was not that far anyway, did a last check,
and looked at my long skirt on the bench. Emergency kit. A shiver ran over
my spine as I realized how much I wanted to get wet in these clothes. Just
a bit. Just a stain between my legs and a drop or two. Wearing flashy red
panties up a short green skirt was already exciting, but wetting them fully
on purpose and then keeping them on while walking home would be a
tremendous turn- on.
I went deeper into the store, away from the pantyhose circus, and gazed
into every mirror I passed. Okay, I looked great. They won. I could wear
such clothes. And nobody would expect me to purposely wet myself, let alone
under such a tiny skirt. With a smile I imagined how I would surprise my
boyfriend tonight. First with the jumper and the skirt, then with my wet
panties. Wet panties. Just a spurt. Only one. I stopped in front of the
next mirror, looked back to Cindy and co, and then fixed my eyes on my
green skirt in the mirror, down one- third of my thighs. Even after
hundreds of intentional wettings in my panties, this time it took courage
and concentration. I kept my legs closely together, a bit against my
habits, and tried to wee in my underwear. Nope. I stayed far too
respectable.
To distract myself a bit, I made a round through the shop and picked up a
green blazer that went well with my skirt and eyes. It fell nicely over my
breasts and both buttoned and unbuttoned it was not too revealing. Now my
tight boots certainly became an issue, but the shop did not store shoes. I
turned around in front of a mirror and actually liked what I saw.
Independent woman, self-assured. Professional business partner. Sort of
sexually correct, not daring, yet promising. Very promising.
I returned to the previous mirror, watching Cindy as she stood behind the
counter. The customer was on the other side, facing me. Cindy looked over
her shoulder for a moment, saw me fooling around, and smiled. Invisible for
the pantyhose woman, she spread her legs a bit, bent over the counter so
that her skirt rode up to reveal her navy blue panties, and reached up her
skirt from behind to pluck at her obviously stained underwear. Almost as if
she was seducing me.
I blushed and looked away, but the sight of her publicly wet panties
definitely got me excited. Yes, I wanted to get wet as well, as soon as
possible. The rising excitement, that wonderful moment of giving in, the
spreading warmth. Only for myself. And then I felt I needed to pee.
Everything was ready, I could go any moment I wanted. No more preparations
needed. I stopped at the mirror, turned towards it, and opened and bent my
knees a bit with my feet still together. It felt more like I was going to
wee in my skirt than in my panties. But it could not go wrong. As a tickle
in my groin asked for relief, I self-assuredly put my arms before my chest
and felt the shiver go up my spine again. At the top, it paused and then
went down. I held my breath and posed for the picture of Business Woman of
the Year. Nice outfit. Respectable girl.
When the shiver reached my bum, I mumbled "Click!" and did a firm, warm
spurt in my red panties. Or better, in my whole outfit. Everything got
initiated in one shot. A gasp escaped my lips as I felt my underwear
getting wet up my brand-new skirt, and I had to struggle to stop. It was
completely against all my instincts to stop, but I had to. I couldn't let
loose here. Fortunately I managed to stop indeed, and felt the warm area
still expanding further down my bum for a few seconds more. But apparently
my panties had absorbed it all. Nothing ran down any leg, yet I could feel
it very well. My breathing now was quite brisk and I felt a little
perspiration on my fore head. God this was exciting. Imagine me doing this
at work! I looked down at my skirt, but it did not show any sign of what
had happened under it at all, yet there could not be more than a centimeter
of margin. A wet bum could easily be hidden. Carefully I moved on to the
next mirror, buttoning up my blazer, and then put my hands on my hips,
still with my legs closed though. Another picture? No, Diana. Don't. Don't!
I did it, looking at myself in profile. Again, a warm wave flooded my
outfit, and again, it got absorbed by my wonderful panties. Towelling
material had its advantages. There was the fitting room again. I entered
and excitedly hiked up my skirt to inspect the damage. Just the usual stain
in the crotch, with a nice dispersion at the back side. I slid my finger
between my legs and played with myself, carefully stroking my wet, soppy
panties. It made me wild, but I couldn't go all the way here, because I
feared losing control and wetting all over the place and myself. After a
minute of cooling down, I pulled down my skirt, brushed my hair over my
shoulders and confidently strolled to the counter, trying not to display a
wet walk. I put the blazer away. Maybe next month.
The pantyhose woman just left, and Cindy turned to me, scanning me from top
to toe. "Looks great, Diana. Those boots really are flattering. You
definitely do not need any pantyhose." I smiled. "And, do you need to wear
a skirt for the next hour?" she asked, trying to X-ray my mini. I nodded:
"You bet. It indeed was wonderful. I'll have to learn some more tricks, but
that will be fun in itself. Do you never have a smell problem? Staying wet
for hours must be noticeable." Cindy smiled, and took her purse. "I usually
change panties every few hours, and use moist perfumed tissues to clean up.
And for emergencies I have this." She produced a deodorant spray, spread
her legs a bit, and shot a cloud of deodorant straight up her mini. "Ooh,
it's cold!" she shrieked. I had to laugh so hard that I had to grab the
counter to keep my balance. It also caused some more going on up my skirt,
but that was between me and my panties. They lost.
After I had paid for the clothes, I asked Cindy if she had had some more
experiences of customers who got wet in the store. "Once in a while, yes.
Some ladies apparently do not feel it coming up, or are too shy to ask for
the bath room. A few times I found some stains in the carpet of a fitting
room, and once a completely peed pair of trousers. The woman had already
left, but at least she had hung back the trousers apart from the rest.
Imagine what would have happened if another customer had tried them on!"
During her story, Cindy had rounded the counter and inspected my clothes.
Or better, inspected me. I could almost feel her eyes roving my face, hair,
chest, hips, legs. She carefully arranged my hair, partly over my shoulders
and partly over my chest, and in the process lightly stroke my breasts. I
instinctively withdrew and stiffened. Cindy hesitated, then turned away and
began to sob. "I'm so sorry Diana. But you are so beautiful and sexy, I
just could not control myself. It won't happen again. Promised. Oh, I am
such a fool. Now I've blown everything." And then she put her hands against
her face and started to cry.
Everything now came together. Why she was always dressed a bit over the
top, yet did not have a slew of boyfriends. Her enthusiasm in the
cheerleader squad. Her interest in most things related to girls and far
less in boys. Even her job in the woman's boutique. Poor girl. This asked
for immediate and radical measures. Quickly I took her in my arms, while
she continued to weep on my shoulder. "Come on Cindy. Nothing happened. I
just did not know. I am as sorry as you are. There's nothing to worry
about. You're different, yes, but that won't change anything." She still
sobbed, but it now dwindled. "Honest? You are not going to expel me from
the squad? Because with the other girls around, they might think that..."
"Forget it. Besides, they would understand. We're not dogmatic about things
like this. Being member of the squad is probably the best thing that could
happen to you, anyway. Dressing up nicely and having others around dressed
up the same way, wonderful! I sometimes secretly wanted to include sharp
boys in the team, to peek at. Well, you sort of have them! I envy you!"
Cindy's face now was shining like the sun in July after a heavy shower, and
she gave me a kiss on my cheek. "Oh, thank you Diana! You're so kind! You
know how incredibly important the squad is to me. I'll do everything to
stay with it." "No problem, Cindy. Even better, now I know you run a shop,
I want you to help me with the uniforms for the next season. They should be
more innocent and yet more daring than this year's. You are the best person
for the job, all-in. Your experience and your, well, special attitude
towards female clothes should prove very effective." She was so delighted
with my proposal that she sped back into the shop and got the blazer out.
"Here. A gift. I'll pay. You just need it." Surprised, I let her put the
blazer around my shoulders and put it on. "Gee, thanks Cindy. Really. It is
not necessary, you know." "Forget it. I'm much too happy. Can't wait for
the catalogues to come in. I might even get some details customised for a
discount. Like lining."
I greeted Cindy, and with my clearly wet panties up my short skirt and my
little breasts poking through the fabric of my jumper, pushing the blazer a
bit aside, I went out of the shop, into the sun. Nice day for business as
usual, I smiled to myself. My boots clicked on the pavement. On my way
home, I indeed got three whistles, most from boys in their mid-teens.
Apparently I did not *look* twenty-nine. I could convince myself not to try
any more spurts, and carefully avoided any lawn I knew to prevent some more
extensive experiments. But the feeling of being wet in full public and
almost showing it was unforgettable. My excitement rose with every minute
as I started to wonder what my boyfriend would think. Actually, I knew
pretty well what he would think
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