Wetlook World Forum

Did you ever watch little children play at the beach? They play this a game with the surf, trying to stay dry, until they are completely soaked. Losing is an essential part of this game. It may be a childrens game, but I still love to play it, never mind that I'm 42 years old.

I was on vacation on Corsica, a rough and rocky island in the Mediterranian. It was a really hot, cloudless day. Like all days before I had a choice between going up into the mountains to find some coolness, hiking between rocks and snow, or staying in the sweltering heat at sealevel, finding some water to keep me cool. I could have chosen some stream or canyon to explore, but today I felt like enjoying the smell and feel of salt water, so I headed for the sea.

The westcoast of Corsica features rocks, cliffs and small secluded beaches, usually deserted. I am not much of a sunbather, so I enjoy exploring these shores, walking, climbing, wading or swimming.

I parked my car and changed my clothes, making sure to dress too warm for the occasion. The hotter you are, the more tempting the water, so I put on a longsleeved shirt, white halflong shorts over my black cotton underpants, black socks and sneakers. I filled my waterproof backpack with some lunch, water, coffee, sigarettes and a towel, and started hiking the 500 meters to shore. I was sweating when I reached the sea.

My favorite game is to follow the waterline as close as possible. The walk started easy, along a small beach. The first rocks were easy to climb, but at the end of the second beach I met the first challenge. I had to go around a rocky outcrop that was hit by small waves every few seconds. It was possible to walk around it with dry feet, but the timing was crucial, not to be hit by a wave. I missed my timing, and ended up with one damp foot. No sense in getting damp, so I located a waterfilled hole in the rocks to soak that one foot some more. Continuing my walk, I could feel and hear the water squashing around in that one shoe. I closed my eyes for a few seconds to enjoy that feeling.

A while later, now with two wet feet, I decided it was time for some coffee and a cigarette. I chose some kind of rocky ramp into the sea, washed by the waves occasionally. I sat on it, with my feet in the water and my bum on the damp, warm surface of the rock. Waves kept surging around my feet and lower legs while I made my cup of coffee and lighted a cigarette. For a moment I layed back and closed my eyes, soaking in the sun, the sound of the waves, the smell of salt and the feel of the water. I was laying there, completely relaxed, when a larger wave surprised me by hitting me right between my legs, soaking my crotch. Briefly I opened one eye to look at the soaked cotton of my white pants, with the faint outline of my black underpants. I briefly checked if my gear was on dry ground, then closed my eyes again in anticipation of the next wave. Five or six times I was hit, but the intervals were large enough to completely forget about them and get hit again by complete surprise. Then I turned over on my belly, to feel the waves foam over my butt.

When I got up my pants were completely soaked and the rim of my shirt was dripping. The rest of me was still dry. I continued my walk, enjoying the feeling of the wet fabric clinging to my legs and private parts. I really like to walk or climb when wet, feeling the fabric move around my body. I kept walking, sometimes up to my waist in the waves, sometimes climbing some rocks high above the water, until I reached a crack in the rocks that I could climb nor wade. Fate had left me no choice but to swim, so I checked if my backpack was sealed and then slowly lowered myself into the water. I swam to the other side, feeling the water stream through my clothes with every move, and feeling it stream out when I pulled myself up on the other side of the crack. Once more it was time for a cigarette, so I found myself a warm place on the rocks to sit down, smoke, and drip. A small puddle formed around my butt. Every once in a while I pushed myself up on my hands, then lowered myself back in the puddle, again concentrating on the feeling of the water in my pants. When I reached for my backpack, just two feet away, I felt my wet shirt sliding over my arm and chest. It felt so soft and sensual that I knew this shirt would be my wet favorite for a while.

I spent hours like this: Soaking, dripping, drying out a bit, then soaking myself again. I felt like eating my lunch dry, so I stripped naked and hung out my clothes on the rocks. They were almost dry when I put them back on an hour later. I started my game from scratch.

Hours later I got back to the car. I checked the road for traffic, so I would not show off my soaked clothes. I quickly put a waterproof cover over my seat, so I didn't have to change. One minute later I was on the road. Ten minutes later I was soaking myself once more, still wearing the same clothes, but this time in the fresh water of a small stream. After that it was about time to dry off, put on some dry clothes and start thinking about cooking some dinner, after a day well spent.