MOVING ON... (PART 5b) CONTINUED

At this time I have to insert something that had actually
happened to me the previous school year. I mentioned at the
beginning of Part 4 that my mother had been sick enough to
keep me from starting school on time. She never really got
her health back and around Christmas that year the Doctor
strongly suggested that she get to a warmer climate to
fully recover. A business friend of my father had a home in
southern Florida on the Gulf coast and offered it to him for
a month. I had mixed emotions when told. I was excited about
not having to go to school but sad to be leaving my friends.
I'm not going to say I was miserable while there because I
did have some fun. But there were no kids to play with other
than my brother. It was a nice house but was fairly out of the
way and my mother wasn't all that happy either. Her health
did improve and the doctor suggested that she spend part of
the next winter in Florida again.

My father, with more time for research, found a resort that
seemed to solve all "complaints" from the previous winter
that my mother, brother and I had. It was located just
south of Jacksonville in a place called Ponte Vedra Beach.
Even though I still had lessons and assignments to do while
in Florida, it was certainly better than going to classes in
the cold Northeast part of the country. This year I was
looking forward to our trip. I'd survived without my friends
and was excited about the new place and all the things to do
while there. The plan was to go right after Christmas and to
stay about six weeks. I think we were all overwhelmed by the
size of the hotel. I won't go into details but it wasn't long
before my father began looking for an alternative. He found
it right down the road. It was a motel like facility that was
affiliated with, but not owned by, the resort. There were only
36 units but it had it's own dining room, bar and lounge and
was certainly more "laid back" than the hotel itself. For me
the most important thing was that we still had access to the
pool and cabanas like we had while at the hotel. So, the move
meant everybody was happy.

Even though it was the middle of winter there were always kids
staying there. Most weren't there but for a week or so but it
was certainly better than the previous winter where there was
no one at all. The first few were boys somewhere between my
brother's age and mine (4 year spread). But the best memory is
of Anne C. She was from Rochester NY and was there much for the
same reason we were there. Her mother was "recouperating" from
something or other and they felt it best that Anne be with her.
She was a year younger than me. It became obvious that the
family was rich. My family was far from being poor but certainly
didn't come close to Anne's family. She was a bit spolied and
definitely a "mommy's girl". She was also very shy. We ended up
getting together after my parents met hers. The four of them hit
it off right away and Anne's mother encouraged her to try and
join in with my brother and I.

She had shoulder length blond hair that was always blowing in her
face. She was short for her age and thin as well. Her mother felt
it was "ladylike" to wear a dress for meals in the dining room.
The only dress code was for dinner and men (boys) had to wear
long pants and a jacket and the women (girls) a skirt.
Our parents arranged for the three of us to eat together at our
own table starting with the next day's breakfast. My brother
and I were early risers and were up and dressed long before the
dining room opened. We would go out and play on the beach along
the sea wall in front of our rooms while waiting for 7:30am to
arrive. One of the things we did was to play a game of our own
making called "Daredevil Dugan". The idea was to run along the
seawall and then try to jump as far out onto the sand as we could.
We'd mark the place and then do it again, trying to beat the last
jump. When Anne found us we were deeply involved in our game. She
was wearing a dress and, with the wind blowing off the ocean, was
blowing the hem of her dress up high enough for me to see the
white of her panties. It only took a few minutes for me to start
working on having her join us. It took a few days but I enticed
her by promising to get my mother to persuade her mother to let
her go to the amusement center at Jacksonville Beach with us the
next time we went.

I thought for sure she'd show up wearing shorts but she didn't.
The first try was spent trying to keep her dress from flying up
so she didn't go very far. It took a few times before she really
gave it a try but when she did it was well worth the wait. When
she landed her body pitched forward and the hem of her dress flew
up over her back. I saw her whole backside, totally encased in
white cotton panties. I was very familiar with the Carter's
"Spanky Pants" and their band leg style. I was somewhat familiar
with the Lollypop panties that had a similar band leg but the
one's Anne was wearing were different. They didn't have the same
leg or waist band that the other two had. I was puzzled, for sure,
and couldn't wait to get another view. But I did have to wait as
she decided she'd had enough for the day.

After Anne had been there for about two weeks her father left to
go back to work. Anne had become very comfortable around me by
then and was actually helping me with my studies. One thing that
was strange was that even though it was OK for her to come into
my room I wasn't allowed in hers. Our parents had decided that
"study time" would be in the morning after breakfast. We'd eat
and then go back to my room. There was only one desk and I'd
usually be the one to use it. Anne would sit on the bed to work
on her lessons. At the beginning she'd been very careful not to
let me see anything. After she'd participated in "Daredevil
Dugan" a few times she became much more complacent. I have to
say it didn't help with my study concetration. As I said she was
helping me with understanding my lessons and on this one morning
I was stuck on a problem. Without looking beforehand I just
turned and stood up. She was lying on her side looking away from
me while reading. It was just like on that first day she jumped
off the seawall. I saw the back of her panties from the waist on
down. I thought for sure she'd turn and cover herself up but she
didn't. For the few seconds I had I was studying the leg openings.
I knew that they were cotton but they didn't look like the same
cotton that I'd seen with either the Carter's or Lollypops. Now I
really wanted to know more about them. As soon as I opened my
mouth Anne turned and covered up. If she was embarassed it didn't
last long.

I'm not sure but I'm going to say that it was two nights after her
father had gone back to Rochester that Anne didn't come to dinner.
I wasn't well versed in the phone system used by the hotel so I
didn't call. Because I'd been rebuffed by her mother the one time
I'd gone to her room I was reluctant to go down to find out if she
was OK. The next morning, though, she was back for "Daredevil"
again. I tried asking what had happened to her but she didn't want
to talk about it. With her father gone my father had offered to
drive us to the pool in his absence. By the time we left the pool
Anne had become very quiet. When we got back to the hotel/motel I
told her I'd see her at dinner. She told me "maybe" but wouldn't
say why when I asked. I watched her walk across the courtyard to
her room and was very puzzled.

She didn't join my brother and I for dinner and I mentioned it to
my mother. She seemed to know and just told me to "be patient". It
was hard as I'd come to enjoy Anne's company. The next time I saw her
was for our study time two days later. I pleaded with her to tell
what was going on and she finally broke down and said her mother
had a "relapse" and that she was looking after her. I asked what
she was doing as far as eating was concerned. She laughed and told
me they had room service. I had no idea what that was so she
patiently explained it. I told her that I missed her and asked if
there wasn't some way she could spend some more time with me. She
said she'd "work on it" when she left. At lunch my mother took me
aside and explained that Anne's mother was an alcoholic. She
explained that she'd stopped drinking for a while but had started
in again after Anne's father had left. She went on that the probable
reason Anne was so upset was that she was embarassed by it and by
keeping her mother in her room she could aviod public embarassment.
I didn't fully understand but at least it was a reason.

To be continued...

THE NEXT PHASE... (Part 5a)

The Fall found me in High School, at last!
MJ and I picked up where we'd left off in the
Spring. To school together in the morning but only
home together about twice a week. One of the things I
told her about was my crush on my wife-to-be. In the
process I also told MJ about her wetting problem.
Somehow, she picked up on this as being something that
excited me. I've thought long and hard about this and
I can truthfully say I don't know how she did. In any
case, it led to some pretty exciting things (for me)
during that school year. It started right away as MJ
asked for details, which surprised me. Other than the
one incident in the park when we were real young I was
unaware of MJ having wet her pants. On top of that,
never had we ever talked about anybody else doing it
either. In spite of my surprise, I eagerly discussed
it with her, trying desperately to hide my hard-on.
One main memeory about that initial discussion was
that I somehow summoned the courage to ask MJ if she
had ever wet her pants. Of course she reprised our day
in the park. But, when she admitted she had a few "misses"
I almost came in mine. Even though I've stated that I'd
felt no physical attraction to her, the fact that I was
discussing something so personal and that it happened to
be one of my main sexual interests was almost too much.
She admitted that she'd peed herself one day a few
summers previous while in a rowboat at the park (the
same one we'd both wet ourselves in earlier). She was
with her Aunt and some friends from her school. They'd
pleaded with her Aunt to take them out and while on
the lake her need to pee overcame her. She was sitting
up in the front and slowly peed through her panties with
her pee just running into some water that was already
in the bottom of the boat. When they got back to
shore she said she faked tripping as she exited the
boat and fell into the water. That way her total
wetness hid the fact that she'd wet herself. Another
incident was in a local movie theatre. We had two in
our neighborhood. One was quite nice and showed the
better grade of movies. The other was quite run down
and showed older out of date movies. She'd been told
(like me) never to go to that theatre. One Saturday,
MJ and some of her school friends, decided to chance it
and go anyway. I don't remember the delicious details
but the end of the story was that for some reason she
wet herself while she was there. The important part was
that she had no way to hide what she'd done and had to
walk home with the evidence in full view of everyone
that saw her. For whatever reason, hearing her
describe that to me was probably one of the most
erotic things I'd experienced. I can't tell you how
many times my future fantasies were about walking down
the street with a girl who had wet herself. In any
case, this new dialog opened up a whole new vista of
possibilities of things to discuss with MJ as the
school year progressed.

The biggest surprise upon retuning to my homeroom was
that there were now only 6 girls in the class. Only one
had been there when I first started at that school. Two
of the new girls were interesting to me but for two
diverse reasons. One, Crystal C., was a tiny almost
childlike, girl with a moon face and glasses. In spite
of the fact that we were all into puberty and the boys
were girl crazy and the girls boy crazy, Crystal
wasn't. She ignored the boys, not that they were paying
that much attention to her anyway. For some perverse
reason that intrigued me so I paid a bit of "distant"
attention to her. Now I have to give some background
to this next part. Our school library was actually
housed in two separate buildings that were joined to
each other. Holes had been knocked into the walls of
each to give access. But what it meant was that
the library was actually on two different levels so
the floor of each bulding was different. Most of the
books were stored in the actual school building. The
study tables were located about 4 steps up from that.
What I'd discovered was that if I were in a storage
cubicle and down on my haunches retrieving a book from
a lower shelf, I had a clear shot at looking up the
skirt of any girl seated at a study table. One day I
came into the library and saw Crystal sitting at one of
the tables. I immediately went to the adjacent cubicle
and took up my "position". I was less than 10 feet
from her and was treated to an unbelievable view. For
whatever reason, she had her legs wide apart. I was
close enough to see the crotch line of her panties.
Needless to say I had an instant bulge...and a big
problem. I must have let out an inordinant amount of
pre-cum because when I went to get up I had a spot on
my chinos about the size of a half dollar. Some of my
friends saw me a little later and razzed the hell
out of me about it. In any case, it seemed like Crystal
would often take a similar position (legs apart) every
time she sat at a study table. If it were possble, I'd
try to get a peek. Even though she wasn't cute or close
to it, she was a female and I was getting a look at her
panties.

The other new girl was Jane H. Her father was
an Admiral in the US Navy and stationed at the Navy
Yard. She had an immediate nickname....the battleship.
She had the biggest breasts I or anyone of my friends
had ever seen in person. There was a current movie star,
Jane Russell, who was probably as big or bigger, but we
couldn't talk with her. "Our" Jane was a big, but not
fat, girl with long straight dirty blonde hair. She wasn't
particularly pretty either but, because she'd been well
traveled, was a lot more mature than the rest of the
class and very interesting to talk to. She also ignored
the boys in our class but for a very different reason
than Crystal. She just found us immature (which we
were). I sat right in front of her in homeroom. I'd
drop pencils, papers or my books on the floor, trying
to get a peek up her skirt. It never worked. I was bound
and determined to get a look. One day when MJ and I were
on our way home together, we got on a discussion about
Jane. By that time it was fairly common for us to be
talking about other girls and the panties they wore. MJ had
been giving me descriptions of the panties different ones
had been wearing without even being asked. I started keeping
a note pad where I wrote the girls name and the description
of her panties. For example, her best friend, Jane
K. wore primarily pink nylon panties with lace inserts but
every so often would wear a blue or white pair. MJ would
see me in the hall or somewhere and just casually remark
that Jane was wearing white today or whatever it was she
had on. Well, on this day I asked her if she would try
to see what kind Jane H. was wearing, if she could. It
was a lot easier for her to see the girls in her own
class because they all took Gym together. It was only
on the days we were bussed out to the field that the
whole Junior and Senior High were together like that day.
She said she'd do her best. Now I'd mentioned that we were
allowed to leave from the field and not be bussed back
to school if we had our parent's permission. Both MJ
and I had that permission and we'd wait for each other
at the end of those days. It wasn't long after I'd asked
about Jane that I found myself on the field waiting
for MJ to go home. I'd showered and dressed and was waiting
for her when she came running up to me telling me to
quickly go into the First Aid room. I don't think I'd
ever been in there before. Once there she pointed to
this other door. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say
"why". She whispered to me to peek through the keyhole.
I went up to it and peered through. I almost fell over
when I realized that I was looking into the girls locker
room. But, more important was the fact that just in view
was Jane H. She was just putting her blouse on and was
standing almost facing me. I had a full frontal view of
those humongeous breasts and, more importantly (to me),
her panties. It took my breath away. I watched her finish
dressing before she moved out of view. It had been like
she was performing just for me. I remember her panties
being white nylon and very tight on her body. As usual,
my pants sported a large bulge. However, by this time MJ
MJ was used to it and I was no longer embarassed in
front of her. The gist of our conversation on our way
home was about how she'd discovered the First Aid room
and the keyhole. It seems she had to go back to get
something during the afternoon. When she walked into the
locker room she was alone but she heard voices. She
followed the sound to the door and, seeing the keyhole,
peered in. She, like me, never even knew it existed. In
any case, at the end of practice she went looking to find
Jane in the locker room. When she discovered she was down
by the door she went looking for me and told me about it,
thinking I might enjoy the "view". Needless to say, I did.
I'd accomplished my "goal" (thanks to MJ) and because of
her discovery enjoyed many a "view" of many girls after that.

Before the end of the school year, MJ and I had taken
many trips through the lingerie department of all
three department stores. Between the two of us we'd
probably purchased a dozen pair of panties for her.
Each morning she'd tell me excatly which pair she was
wearing. For example, she might say she was wearing a
pair of white Mojud panties with a floral lace
applique on the left side. It was a tremendous turn on
whenever I'd see her during school and knowing exactly
which panties she was wearing. Just as I'd done with the
descriptions about various girls and the panties they
wore, I also kept a pad listing that information on MJ.

MOVING ON... (Part 4b) Continued

With school over it was time to head back "home".
Pretty much the same group of kids were back for the
summer. The big change was that the strange family
(the psychologist parents) didn't return. There were
no new kids added to our group. We sill continued to
play "Hide & Seek" on occasion after supper but we now
occupied ourselves more with softball and games we
made up that took us into the nearby woods. My future
brother-in-law had a vivid imagination. He created
this fantasy like world in the woods and it seemed
like the majority of the kids went along with the
idea. It was over a mile to where we entered the woods
and we'd ride our bikes to that place. We'd managed to
make a trail through the brush into a fairly open
area. Just off of that were some trees that had been
blown over in a hurricane and they were covered with
wild vines. This became our secret world. Now, as part
of this secret world, there were some "rules". I won't
pretend that I remember them because I don't. What I
do remember was that somehow my future brother-in-law
had instilled in all of us a bit of "fear" about being
in this part of the woods but not enough to keep us from
it. I could go ask my wife but if I did she'd want to
know why I wanted to know. In any case, take that as a
"given". The girls were especially susceptable to this
"fear". We would usually arrive and leave all as a
group. However, there were times when someone would
have to go to the bathroom or need to leave to go
home for some reason. When this would happen, whoever
it was would usually ask if someone would go with them
at least back to their bike. The girls, however,
wouldn't go with each other. They would want a boy to
accompany them. At first it wasn't a problem. But,
with time, it got to the point that no boy was willing
to do it. The first time I really took notice was when
my wife-to-be pleaded for any boy to go with her.
(Remember, she'd been sick the previous summer with
the kidney/bladder problem and had a bit of a "dribble")
problem.) I had a crush on her but, at that time, it just
wasn't "cool" to be going out with girls, at least in our
group. But, with the knowledge from the previous
summer (the dribble problem) it suddenly dawned on me
that it might be a good idea to go with her. When I
said I was leaving with her, my future brother-in-law
decided to play a trick on us. The path we'd cut to the
clearing was a bit circuitous. He, on his own, had found
a more direct way only we didn't know. When we left the
group he took off on his new route, easily beating us back
back to where we'd all left our bikes. We were almost
there when we heard this noise from the underbrush. My
future wife went into a panic attack, scared to death.
I was scared too, but not like she was. Because the
noise was ahead of us, closer to the road, she insisted
we go back. Our path carried us over a few samller fallen
trees. She was ahead of me and, as she climbed over them,
I could see that she'd wet her pants... and it wasn't just
a "dribble". OH MY HEART! When we were almost back to the
group she stopped and turned to me. She then told me
she couldn't go all the way back. I played "dumb" and
asked why and all she'd say was she just couldn't. She
pleaded with me to get all the kids together and for all of
us to leave. I kept asking her why but she wouldn't tell me.
I knew, of course, but I wanted her to tell me. Finally
I relented and told the group about the noise and that
it was probably a good idea to leave as a group. While
they were gathering I went back to where my future
wife was hiding and told her they'd all be leaving. She
waited until all the others had passed by and then went on
just ahead of me. This was great for it allowed me
another "up close & personal" look at her wet jeans.
On our way home I concentrated on storing this memory
away for future reference. What I didn't expect was
when she came up to me later that night and thanked me
for getting everybody to leave at once. I again asked
her why, ever playing the role of the naive fool. I
guess she believed that I didn't know she was wet
because she finally came out and told me. It was an
instant hard-on, talking about wet pants with a girl
who had just wet hers. I remember kind of leaning
forward trying to hide the bulge in my pants. What
solidifies this memory for me though, is that she went
into detail about her problem and even gave some examples
of embarassing experiences. When she was done she made me
promise not to tell. Believe me, I kept that as my
personal secret and never told any of those kids about
what I knew. That "disclosure" became the foundation of our
relationship, although I didn't realize it at the time.

I "concentrated" on my future wife for the rest of the
summer. (BTW: Her name is Elle) It wasn't in the form
of dating, but in the area of observation. I don't remember
how many times I saw little spots of wetness, real or
imagined, over the course of that summer. Whatever the
number, you can be sure it led to some serious masturbation
once in bed though. Unfortunately, I didn't get but a few
peeks of her panties. Other than that it was a quiet summer.
Beth, (the girl next door) her sister and cousins were back
as usual. She was older, fatter and as homely as ever. She
didn't venture out of their yard as much as in past years so
there weren't any specific rememberances there. Their wash line
line was still an "attraction" but only from a distance. I did
notice, however, that there were more than the "Spanky Pants"
on the line. I assumed that the white and pastel panties were
those of her sister.

To be continued...

MOVING ON... (Part 4a)

At the end of that summer my mother got quite sick
preventing us from returning to the city in time for
the start of school. I missed the first week and, on
my first day back, had to report to the office. As I
was walking down the hall I almost fell over. Walking
towards me was MJ. We both stopped and she had this
big grin on her face. What had happened, unknown to
me, was that she had transferred from the school her
Aunt worked at. That school only went up through the
8th grade. This renewal of our old friendship proved to
be very beneficial to me. MJ and I, because we'd played
together from our early childhood, seemed to have
a special relationship. It was truly more
of a brother/sister thing than anything else. Even
though I had enjoyed seeing her panties in the early
years of our friendship, I had never looked at her with
any desire. She was my "friend". As we moved ahead from
this point in time, that friendship became stronger. I
had other friends, male, but none as tight as I
became with MJ.

We, because we saw each other probably 6 days a week,
started sharing our innermost thoughts. Mundane and
trivial at first, they gradually grew into deeper more
important ones. Among them were those of a sexual
nature. (You do have to remember that this was in the
early 50's, where sex and sexual things were not
discussed openly) We had gotten away from the playing
of board games on the floor by then so my panty
peeking had been severely curtailed. However, it was
replaced by the "familiarity factor". By that I mean,
with me around so much (I'd end up at her apartment
most days I came home from school with her) she wouldn't
get upset if I happened to see her darting between her
room and the bathroom in her bra and panties. It was
probably around Christmas, though, before I got up
enough nerve to say anything about it. I have NO idea
what that first conversation was about. However, one I
do remember was asking about the numbers on the label
in a bra. That had intrigued me since I'd looked at
the one on the washline of my future wife. MJ actually
went and got one of hers and let me hold it. She
patiently explained the whole measuring process. (I
remember her's was a 34A) The next one I remember
actually had to do with panties. Having your own
washer and dryer was still very rare in the early
50's, especially in an apartment. All the laundry was
sent out. Sometimes, upon getting home, we'd find the
package(s) of fresh laundry, wrapped in brown
paper, stacked in front of the door. On this
particular day, the paper on one of the packages was
ripped. I grabbed it and as I did it ripped further,
spilling the contents onto the hallway floor.
Embarassed that I'd done that, I hustled to pick up
the items that had fallen on the floor. As luck would
have it some of them were MJ's panties. My guess is
that there were probably 8 or more, all of them the
Carter's "Spanky Pants" that I'd seen her wear for
as long as I'd known her. As I lay them down on
the kitchen counter I asked her why there were so
many. That's when I learned the "ins & outs" of
menstruation. She explained why she often ended up
wearing a number of different panties on the days
when she had her period. BUT, it also gave me the
opportunity to ask her about nylon panties. I'd been
seeing more and more of them on the washlines as I
delivered my papers in the summer. I asked if she had
any and she said she didn't. Her Aunt bought her
panties and she wore what her Aunt brought home. When
April came, I wanted to get her something really
special for her birthday. My mother had bought a
sweater for me to give her but I wanted something that
I picked out all on my own. On a day in which I was
coming home from school alone I decided to go to one
of the 3 large department stores located in downtown
Brooklyn. I had no idea what I was looking for.
Somehow, I ended up in the lingerie department. I was
so nervous that I wanted to run. When I got to the
escalator, I suddenly realized that I could buy her a
pair of nylon panties. That would be special. I turned
around and tried to be as inconspicuous as a
13 year old could be in a lingerie department. The
panties were laid out on tables, by size. I would
guess that each table represented a different label
but I don't remember. In any case I found some with
lace on them. Remembering my trouble wih sizes when I
bought that pair in the variety store, I had a pretty
good idea how big they had to be. I pulled 3 pair of
what I thought would be the right size for MJ, off the
table and headed for the cashier. I remember that the
lady embarassed me almost enough for me to run away,
but I didn't. I remember my face was still burning
when I was on the subway platform some 5 minutes later.
In any case, I managed to sneak them into the apartment
and finding a small box to put them in.

When it came time to give them to her I just couldn't
get up the courage to go through with it. MJ knew
something was up. Finally she cajolled me into giving
the package to her but only on the promise she wouldn't
open it untilI left. I was so embarassed that I couldn't
bear to face her the next morning. It was one of the few
times we didn't ride to school together all year. The
High School lunch period was a staggered one. The
Junior High came in and got their food first with the
High school following about 15 minutes later. I
thought I'd be able to eat and get out before MJ
showed up. Wrong! She cut out of her last class early
to be sure and find me. Well, I was embarassed again,
but for a totally different reason. She came up behind
me and then planted this big kiss on my cheek. The
problem was two fold. First, it was in front of all my
friends and second, she wore bright red lipstick.
After she did it, she skipped away. That afternoon,
even though she normally had some sort of activity going
on, she surprised me by going home with me. That day
happened to be my birthday as well. (We were born one
day apart) She never said a word about the panties but
she was all bubbly and silly. I was sure she was going
to make something of my gift so I was all nervous. When
we got off at our subway stop she told me I just HAD to
come up to her apartment so she could give me my birthday
present. Talk about a birthday present! I was never so
shocked in my life over a present. Oh yes, I got the
obligatory shirt that her Aunt had bought for her to give me.
me. But it was after that when it got good. We were just
talking, with me hoping she wouldn't bring up the
panties, when she got up and went to her room. About a
minute or so later she came back...and lifted the hem
of her skirt. It was as if she'd done this a hundred
times before, which she hadn't. My glimpses had mostly
been quick fleeting ones, just the split second it
took to run from her room to the bathroom and then
back. What I saw was a pair of the panties I'd given
her. The only thing was that they were on over her
regular Carter's "Spanky Pants". It was obvious they
were too big because they looked like bloomers. I'm
exagerating but they didn't come close to clinging to
her body. I was elated, to say the least, and for the
first time in our relationship, I felt something in a
sexual way. She only stood there for a few seconds
before dropping her skirt. Then she kissed me on the
cheek, much like she'd done in the cafeteria. I don't
remember the sequence of things after that but I know
we talked about the panties and how they didn't fit
and a whole bunch of other things. When I left to go
home I left feeling disappointed that the panties were
too large. Instead of being happy that I'd seen her
wearing them and in a full profile to boot, I was semi
depressed that I'd screwed up the size. She had told
me that she'd save them and that maybe some day she'd
grow into them. I didn't want to wait.

It was probably a month or more when an unexpcted
opportunty arose. We were on our way home and a rain
shower caught us by surprise. We knew if we entered
one of the three department stores main entrances we
could get to the subway platform and avoid being
outside. We'd done it on many cold days in the winter.
This particular store, Loesher's, had it's lingerie
department on the main floor. As we walked through, I
grabbed MJ by the arm and steered her to this one
table. It had panties similar to the one's I'd bought
for her. I told her to pick out her size and I'd buy
them for her right then and there. She didn't want to,
thinking I'd be too embarassed. It took a few minutes
to persuade her but finally she relented. I also
convinced her to buy 6 because they were on sale at 6
for something like $5. I gave her the money to make
the purchase and I stood aside. As we waited on the
platform for the subway she kept repeating that I
shouldn't have done it and that she'd pay me back. I
kept telling her I wanted to do it and I wouldn't take
her money. We left it at that. Once back to her
apartment I wanted to ask her to model them for me.
I'd had enough nerve to go into the lingerie
department but not enough to ask her to do that. When
I left her I did elicit her promise to wear a pair the
next day. I was so very excited the next morning that
I could't wait to get out of the apartment and over to
hers. When I saw her it was like she had nothing on
but those panties. I swear it was like I could see
them through her clothes. Well, that excitment was
showing through my clothes. I had a BIG bulge in my
pants and it was the last thing I wanted her to see. I
hid it with my books and we headed of for school.

It became a ritual, every morning, to ask if she was
wearing a pair of those panties. Except for when she
had her period, she wore them. It was on one of the
last days of school that I finally got to see her
wearing them. The Brooklyn Public Library was very
close to where we lived and the park I'd mentioned
earlier was right behind it. MJ had a paper to write
that was in lieu of a final exam. She needed to do
some research at the library. I don't know why but
somehow we ended up in the park. We sat on the grass
and talked about something or other, probably about
what we'd be doing during the summer. She was sitting
with her legs to one side of her. All of a sudden she
got a cramp in one and pulled it up to her chest. From
where I was sitting I got a good crotch view. I know I
was staring. I had to have been. :-) She said
something like "Do you like what you see?". Even
though I was embarassed to have been caught like that,
I answered "yes" and somehow managed to blurt out how
I'd like to really see what the panties looked like on
her. She didn't respond and I didn't persue it. I'm going
to say that what transpired next was on the following
weekend, even though her Aunt was usually home on the
weekends. In any case, I ended up at her apartment
only to find her Aunt wasn't home. MJ was still in her
pajamas. I have no idea what we'd planned but right
after I got there she said she'd get dressed. I sat in
the living room, waiting. After a few minutes MJ
appeared wearing only her bra and panties (the one's
I'd bought). She had the rest of her clothes in her
hands. She didn't say anything at all but just
proceeded to dress herself as if I wasn't there. There
was no way to hide the hard-on I had at that time and
she saw it. She didn't say anything about it right
then and there but she did bring it up in the future.

To be continued...

THE NEXT PHASE (Part 3a) Continued...

As much as I hated leaving my school and church
friends, I did look forward to returning "home" for
the summer. Again, it was a whole different set of
friends in an entirely different setting. Now I haven't
mentioned much about my future wife up to now. It's not
that she wasn't part of all that I did because she was.
She was very much a part of our "group" and I played
with her and her brother every day, all summer
long. It was just that she never seemed to wear clothes
that allowed for "panty peeks" or had any "accidents".
When we arrived for the summer I was shocked to find that
she was to be restricted in her activities for the
summer. She'd been sick on and off for the last month.
The doctors had finally diagnosed her with some kidney
problems that led to bladder problems. Her restrictions
included not being allowed to go swimmng. Even then I
thought how very cruel that was what with the access
to the water so close. I can tell you that she's told
me that it was the toughest summer of all for her. To
have to sit back and watch everybody else having fun
and not to be able to participate made for a LONG
summer.

The community was made up primarily of summer
bunglows. Most were owner occupied. A few were rental
units and that meant we would always have some new
kids to assimilate into the group. This summer was a
disappointment. There were no new ones our age. Barbara
J. was back but had a job so we didn't see much of her.
The one new family that had chidren was strange. VERY
STRANGE! I'm not sure I can do justice to actual fact
in this situation. Most of what I'm going to be
writing is my memory of what I heard from various
sources and its validity may be questionable. In any
case you're going to be reading this part thinking I'm
making it up.

Supposedly, both the father and mother were
psychologists. There was a growing theory of child
rearing called "Progressive Learning" in which the
child was allowed to learn and grow on his or her own.
The story we heard was that these people were raising
their kids in that manner. For example; instead of
having breakfast at a certain time with a limited
number of choices (if any), the kids would eat when
they were hungry and whatever they felt like. Another
exapmle was bed time. They went to sleep when they got
tired and they slept wherever it was that they fell
asleep. To say they were curiosities is to put it
mildly. I believe the oldest was 10 or 11, Caitlin,
and she had a younger sister and an infant brother.
There were 3 or 4 other kids around her age for her to
play with so our group never interacted with them.
However, my future wife, with all the free time on her
hands, got asked to "oversee" (the mother didn't like
the term "babysitting") the three of them whenever the
parents were off shopping or the like. It was from
"overseeing" them that most of the tales of strangeness
were spread. The one thing that caught my ear, and full
attention, was the fact that, for all intents and
purposes, none of the kids was fully toilet trained.
(I'm not kidding!) My future wife said that on her
first visit to the house, it reeked of urine. She said
it only took a minute to find out why. Caitlin was
walking around in just her underpants as was her sister
(I'd guess she was about 7 or 8) and they were wet. When
asked why she was wet she answered because she had to go.
When asked why she didn't use the toilet she said she
didn't feel like it. When asked where she'd wet she said
she did it in the yard. My future wife insisted that they
both at least change into dry panties and went to
get some from their bedroom. She was appalled to
see the sheets were stained with urine and
to see wet or soiled panties lying on the floor.
As I listened to this, it was hard for me to believe.
I didn't really know what these kids looked
like but just the idea of girls of any age walking
about in wet panties was enough to interest me. I
couldn't wait to take a good look at them.
Unfortunately, the family was not one of my newspaper
route customers. Therefore my abilty to interact with
them was severely limited. I don't know long it took
for me to get up close to Caitlin but I remember the
night. My future wife was "overseeing" only Caitlin
and we were playing in the tree house platforms. It
was almost dark and I had a flashlight for some
reason. Caitlin insisted that she be allowed up onto
one of the platforms and as she climbed up the ladder
I shined the light on her butt. It was a sight that
still is with me and was the basis for yet another one
of my fetishes. As I stared at her butt, I saw and
counted 3 seperate stain lines on a pair of "bulky"
cotton panties. That meant she'd wet and let them dry
three times. The middle of her crotch was a bright
goldenrod. I exagerate not! I hate to admit it but I
ended up with a hard on. The only thing that saved me
was that it was almost dark. Now, as "stimulating"
as that was, it wasn't the best part of my
night. This was also about the time that my future
wife started experiencing her "dribble incontinence".
Caitlin, once up on the tree house platform, became
frightened and wouldn't come down. Finally, my future
wife convinced her to try if she climbed up the ladder
and held onto her legs as she came down. By now it was
almost totally dark and my flashlight was needed. But,
when my future wife was almost to the top rung I
pointed the light on her butt. I could not believe it!
There, right between her legs, was a wet spot in her
shorts. Not very big, but noticable just the same. The
shorts she was wearing were light green and there was
definately two shades of green in my light. I also
got a good peek at her panties. This was a rare treat.
I'd observed her washline many times and had only seen
what could best be described as "common" cotton panties.
But these were the new nylon/rayon elastic leg style.
That intrigued me. I know I had a hard on then but I
didn't care. I'd seen her panties while they were on her
and they were at least a little wet. I'd also seen
Cailin's multiple stains. I was a happy camper!

Over the course of the rest of the summer I got
"peeks" of more wet spots on my future wife's shorts
and jeans. Unfortunately I didn't see much of her
panties except on her washline. I watched as more and
more became the nylon/rayon type. I also remember seeing
her first bra hanging on the line one day. No one was
home and with an empty lot next door, took the time to
check it out. The numbers inside made no sense to me
and I remember being puzzled by them. As far as
Caitlin was concerned, even though I was intrigued by
her wetting, I was too busy that summer to focus on
her. However, I do remember one evening on the beach
when my future wife was "overseeing" all three
kids and I was there talking to her for some reason.
It, again, was almost dark and we were sitting
on a large log that had washed ashore in a storm.
It was a windless evening and very quiet. Caitlin
was wading at the water's edge and all of a sudden
I heard the sound of something like running water
gently splashing into the water. Looking at Caitlin,
I could see the small ripples moving from around her
ankles. She was peeing into the bay.

The only other thing that was of note that summer was
that I added another pair of panties to my budding
collection. Remember Beth H., the next door neighbor's
grandaughter? Her summer was spent much like the
previous one, mostly in a bathing suit. I do remember
listening to her mother tell my mother that because of
her wetting she had taken Beth out of school and was
having her home tutored. They'd taken her to all kinds
of doctors and had ruled out any real physical
problem. That left it as a psychological one. By now
Beth was 12. Her grandparents just couldn't
fathom a 12 year old wetting herself and
continued to belittle her when her parents weren't
around. I'm sure Beth knew right from wrong because,
on one of the few occasions I saw her in clothes,
I also observed her attempting to hide something in the
the crawlspace opening under her house. At that time I
I thought it strange and made a mental note to check it
at a later time. After Beth had left from her 2
week visit, I remembered that incident. One night,
while playing "hide & seek" (yes, we were still
playing it!), I chose to hide in that area even
though it was a risky place to hide. I slid my hand
through the opening and found a nice "reward".
It was a now dry, but very stained, pair of Carter's
"Spanky Pants", size 14. (I still have these panties
as well) Even if Beth was ugly as sin, hey, they
were panties that had been worn and wet
by a female. Who was I to be choosy. :-)

THE NEXT PHASE (Part 3)

I was excited about retuning to school even though
it meant leaving "home". Going into
Junior High was a BIG deal. Although all 12 grades
were technically located in the same building, there
were two distinct parts to it, the Elementary and the
High School. The HS students weren't allowed in the
Elementary and vice-versa. It was to be whole new
world. Basic differences were that we would now move
from classroom to classrom for each different subject;
would take Physical Education in segregated areas
(boys/girls separated); had lockers located in
segregated areas (boys/girls locker rooms); and,
would eat lunch in a cafeteria. Plus, it now put us in
with the "big kids". Where, as sixth graders, we had
been the "lords & lassies" of the Elementary school,
we were now only "jesters" in the High School.
We were picked on, bullied, and often ignored
by the other grades. In spite of that, it was exciting.

There were four new classmates, two of which were
girls. Both ended up being a part of my panty memory
bank. There was Fredierica L., a stuck-up, yet pretty
girl, and Elsa C., also pretty. Elsa was from Sweeden.
Her family was involved with the United Nations and,
with its move to New York City in 1948, they came with
it. Freddie and I got off on the wrong foot and it
deteriorated from there. We were always fighting (with
words) and had been warned about it and even sent to
the Principal's office a number of times.
I hated her superior attitude, especially as
it came to ignoring some basic rules. One day, at
lunch, she pushed my "button" one time too many. Just
as she was about to sit down with her tray, I kicked
her chair out from under her. As she fell to the floor
her skirt flipped up fully exposing her panties. It
was a very good view of a pair of white nylon (or
rayon... they were shiney) panties But, in spite of
her history of modesty she made no effort to cover
herself up and just lay there. After a few seconds I
could hear her crying. Some of the other kids went down
to see if she was OK. I think one of the girls pulled
her skirt down. Long story short, she'd landed on her
tail bone and, although not seriously injured, and was
in pain. Of course I was in big trouble for that. It was
at about Christmas that we finally reached a "truce". I
don't remember the details but I remember us moving
forward more as friends than as adversaries. I was
surprised to be invited to her birthday party. More out
of curiosity than anything else, I went. I'm glad I did.
She lived in an apartment somewhat similar to the one
I lived in. She was an only child (& spoiled rotten)
and her bedroom was her pride and joy. She even had
her own bathroom and she proudly showed it to each of
her guests. Later, as the party wore on, people
started to use the bathrooms more and more. When one
girl found the main one occupied, Freddie's mother
directed her to the other, Freddie's. I observed a few
other's doing the same and consciously chose to use it
as well. Once inside, with the door closed, I headed
for this little white wicker container along side the
toilet. It was a clothes hamper but it contained only
Freddie's panties and bras. I'd hit paydirt!. This was
the very first time I'd touched "dirty" panties. I got
an instantaneous hard-on. There were probably 5 or 6
pair of cotton band leg panties in there but they
weren't Carters "Spanky Pants" and all had dribble
stains. I looked at the labels and they read "Lollipop".
I smiled at that. One thing I noticed though, and that
was that on some there was this hard crusty stuff.
I couldn't imagine what it was. I was in heaven....until
someone knocked on the door. I hadn't even had a chance
to look closely at her bras. I scooped them all up and
tossed them back into the hamper. Then I flushed the
toilet and waited for my "bulge" to go down.

Another major change that being in the High School
brought had to do with Athletics. The school was
located in a downtown area of the city.
The atheletic field was located in a more urban
setting, a 40 minute bus ride away. Twice a week
(Spring & Fall) grades 7 through 12 were excused from
classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2pm and bussed to
the field. For the organized teams (Soccer & Baseball
for the boys and Field Hockey & Softball for the
girls) it was for practice. For all the rest it was
intermurals, where we were taught how to play those
sports and to play those sports among ourselves. The
High School kids went in 3 busses with no grade
segregation. The Junior High went in 2 seperate
busses. The idea behind it was to keep us from
the High Schoolers and their tendancy to bully us. At
dismissal, the High Schoolers were allowed to leave
and find their own way home as long as parental
permission had been granted. For the rest of us it
was a long bus ride back downtown.

On this particular day, the bus broke down in the
middle of Eastern Parkway, a very busy main
thoroughfare through the middle of of the city. We were
in the middle of 3 lanes with cars streaming past on
both sides of us. Now each bus had a teacher/chaperone
to maintain order. On this day it was Mrs. D., the art
teacher. She was very prim and proper and put up with
no horseplay at all. My best friend and I had managed
to get the second seat in, where we could see where we
were going. The first seat was occupied by Mrs. D. The
bus driver left the bus to summon help while we were
told to remain in our seats and to be quiet. It seemed
like it was all boys in the front and all girls in the
back. After a while this girl, Liz D. came forward to
speak to Mrs. D. There was no way I couldn't hear the
conversation. She told her that Elsa C., the Sweedish
girl, had to go to the bathroom very badly and was
there any chance for her to leave the bus. I swear I
had an instant hard on. I swiveled in my seat to see
where she was located. Unfortunately she was all the
way in the back and on my side. There were no seats
available anywhere around her. My mind was racing,
contemplating what might happen. Now, I have to tell
you, no one knew of my fetish(s), not even my best
friend. Right up until the replacement bus arrived I
kept looking back at Elsa. Never, during this whole
time, had I ever looked at the floor. A policeman
had come along to help us exit the bus and
had stopped traffic. We were told to leave the
disabled bus, row by row. When I stood up, for some
reason, I looked at the floor by my feet. There were 2
separate streams of liquid which ran right into the
step well. OH MY HEART! It could have only been one
thing. Elsa had peed herself. After leaving the bus, I
pretended to turn my ankle, hoping to delay my entrance
to the new bus long enough to see Elsa exit the old
one. It worked and even better than I'd hoped.
Although I could't see any evidence of her being wet,
she was walking funny AND, more importantly, I got to
follow her onto the new bus. Now, for whatever reason,
most of the kids had picked new seat partners. Someone
else was sitting with my friend which allowed me to
follow Elsa to the back of the bus. The full back seat
was occupied by the time we got there, forcing us to
take other seats. I got lucky by finding one a row
behind her and on the aisle as well. The fact that no
wetness showed on her dress indicated to me that she'd
pulled it out from under herself when she peed. But,
now being out in the open, she couldn't. I spent the
rest of the trip staring at her butt. When we arrived
back at school, she tried to be the last off. Her seat
mate was a large girl who required Elsa to stand so
she could exit. JACKPOT! A large wet stain all across
the seat part of her dress. Now, in most cases we
would exit the bus and take off for our homes. Because
it was so late we were encouraged to go inside and to
phone home. I followed behind Elsa like gum to a shoe
sole. The only thing was, she went into the girls
locker room. I waited outside for about 5 minutes but
realized if I stayed there it would be pretty obvious
why I was there. (I'd not said a word to her this
whole time) I went upstairs to the pay phone and by
then the line was down to just a few. I got talking with
some friends and then saw Elsa get on line. The stain
was still there but a lot less noticable. I decided to
get in behind her but I found myself with the start of
another hard on. The phone was in a booth in which you
could close the door. When Elsa exited and I went in,
there was no mistaking the scent of pee. I was
dying.....and I almost did! On the little shelf under
the phone was a balled up pair of wet white cotton
panties. I couldn't breath I was so excited. I don't
know how long I sat there contemplating what I held in
my hand. I was brought back to reality by a knock on the
door. I still hadn't called home. As soon as I did I
headed for the locker room and a toilet stall so I could
take a look at the panties. They were almost completely
wet from having been balled up but there was no mistaking
the golden hue right in the crotch area. I know that
this was the first time I'd ever had my hands on a
pair of peed in panties and so it had to be the first
time I'd ever sniffed them. That first sniff is what
hooked me on it for life (or as far as my "old" life
went. :-)
I still have those panties.

I had been active at our church since I was about 10
years old. I sang in the youth choir and served as a
junior accolyte. There were a lot of kids involved and
I wanted to be a part of their youth group. The
minister had organized it for teenagers
and I wasn't allowed to join until I turned 13. The
first Wednesday after my birthday I was there and
joined up. There was a girl, Gwen G., that I had a
secret crush on. She was a liitle older, maybe a year.
I'd tried to talk to her at choir practice and after
church on Sundays but she aways put me off. It was
amazing how my turning 13 changed all that. She was
actually the one who welcomed me into the group. I
went home that night with all kinds of fantasies about
her (you can imagine in what context). By now my
hormones were really in an uproar. I think I was
having a wet dream almost every night. I'd not
discovered the pleasures of masturbation yet. More
than anything else, I wanted to see Gwen's panties.
She went to a different school and I only got to see
her at church. I would lie in bed and picture what she
looked lke in a pair of panties. It was almost time to
move back "home" for the summer and I had pretty much
given up hope of my dream coming true. At the last
meeting before we broke up for the summer the speaker
the minister had arranged for didn't show up. While he
was off making phone calls the group got a little
rowdy. I'd written a poem for Gwen but was too shy to
give it to her. A friend who knew about it told her. I
had slipped it in my notebook which was under my
chair. We were just standing around when I saw Gwen
get the notebook. I dashed over to her but she ran
away. I chased her a bit, finally catching her by the
stage. She had her butt up against the edge of it
holding my notebook over her head. I was right up
against her trying to reach it. Seeing her arms over
her head I decided to tickle her. I had no idea she
was VERY ticklish. She started laughing but wouldn't
let go of the book. I continued to tickle and she
continued to laugh. This went on for at least a
minute. I had only one goal and that was to get
my notebook and my poem. I finally made a lunge for it
when she raised it over her head again. As I did I
forced her to fall backwards onto the stage. She still
held onto the book. As she lay there I could see some
white of her panties. In spite of all my dreams of
seeing her panties, at this moment, getting that poem
back was more important. As I pushed forward between
her legs she drew them up to her chest, fully exposing
her panties to me. (Oh the picture of it!) What she
was doing was getting them up so she could put her
feet on my chest and to push me away. But in that
split second I got more than I had hoped for.
Evidently, all the tickling and laughing had caused
her to wet a bit. I looked down and saw this beautiful
yellowed crotch not more than a foot in front of my
face. As I said, it was only a split second. But it's
forever etched into my brain. She was successful in
pushing me away. I did get a rear view of her panties
as she rolled over to get up. BTW: I didn't get the
book back before she got to the poem.

==============================

To be continued...

CONTINUING... (Part 2)

The next year was probably the roughest of my life.
Right after the time playing on the beach, my other
grandmother, who had been sick, died. Instead of going
back to live with my parents in the city, my brother
and I continued to live at the homestead. My parents had
had located a larger apartment in the same building as
their old one but wanted us to wait until everything
was settled after the move. Because the war was over
and my grandfather was in the process of selling his
business, my grandmother could see no good reason to
return to the city. We remained at the homestead until
after Thanksgiving. Upon returning to the city and my
old school, I got a cultural shock. Because of the war
and the influx of people into the city, the school had
become very overcrowded. A decision was made to
accelerate one grade and it was my 4th grade that had
been selected. The plan was to spend half the year
doing 4th grade work and the second half doing 5th
grade work. As a result of that, I was WAY, WAY behind.
In spite of that, I was "promoted" to the 6th grade. I
was just not ready for it and my parents recognized that.
With some personal sacrifice, they enrolled me
in a private Quaker school and had me repeat the 5th
grade. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I, more than anything, wanted to return to the country
and my own home. That Spring, when I had been struggling
with the 5th grade, my father was released from his
wartime job. I had fully expected that we'd be going
home. But, my father had other plans. He took a job
with the company that had bought my grandfather's
business. At the age of 10 I just couldn't (or wouldn't)
understand why. I'm now sure that that disappointment
aided in my poor performance in school. The only good
thing was that the house would be opened up and that
we'd spend the summer there.

Because of that turmoil in my life, any additional
panty/pee memories are buried deep in the recesses of
my mind. The next clear one came right after I started
at my new school. You have to realize how hard all
these changes were. Three different schools in just
one year and three different set of kids to get to
know and to be accepted by. The latter didn't come easy
at my new school. But, what I do remember was Doris W.
Doris was a tiny, homely girl who wet her pants at
least once a month. In a way she reminded me of Debbie
from Kindergarten. I clearly remember her sitting at a
table in the library and watching a puddle form under
her chair. She never raised her hand to request to
leave. She just sat there and peed. I was dumbfounded.
Now, what set Doris out from the crowd was that she
had a long sleeved sweater hanging over the back of
her seat and whenever she'd wet herself, she'd tie the
sweater around her waist. It was like a signal...hey
everybody! I just wet my pants! Well, it didn't take
long for the boys to start to taunt her. I didn't
because I wanted to know when she'd done her little
deed and possibly get a peek. For the rest of the
school year I went out of my way to watch her. I can't
tell you exactly how many I witnessed but it was at
least three in which I saw the puddle under her or her
chair.

It was during Easter break from school that we (my
whole family) went back home to make arrangements to
open it up again. From that time forth we commuted the
90+ miles each weekend until school was out. Then, my
brother, mother and I moved back for the summer.
Finally I was happy! The people who lived next door
were also only there for the summer. It was an elderly
couple with three grown daughters who all had children
of their own. As luck would have it, most were my age
and were girls. The arrangements were that each set of
grandchildren would spend two weeks with the
grandparents. The first set were two girls, Beth and
Diana H. Beth was a year younger than me and Diana a
year younger than her sister. Beth was a mess! Homely
as sin and a little overweight. Diana, on the other
hand, was truly beautiful. Beautiful enough that in her
later teen years became a model. To say Beth had low
self esteem was like saying that you get wet when
you're swimming. DUH! Now, at the age of 11 I didn't
know or understand this, but I did know that Beth had
a problem. It was that she wet her pants...A LOT!!
What made her so very, very different was that after
she did, she just stayed right in them. She became a
target for jokes. Her grandfather, who played a guitar
and would often play for us neighborhood kids, even
made up a song that had a line in it that went "Bethy
Binks, oh how she stinks". Looking over at the washline
every morning you'd see a set of sheets and 3 or 4 pair
of cotton panties. It got to the point that all us
other kids would try to get her to wet herself and
then we'd make fun of her. (Aren't kids cruel?)

My future father-in-law had built two tree-house
platforms in trees on the property adjacent to his.
They were like magnets for all the neighborhood kids,
boys and girls alike. Dresses for girls were still in
vogue and I got some of the best views of my young
life that summer. Most of the neighborhood kids were
there for the summer only. There were only my future
wife's family and one other that had kids who lived
there year round. Janie M. was the other. By this time
I was able to recognize the Carter's "Spanky Pants" when I
saw them but Jane wore some other kind. I was intrigued
because one time when she climbed the ladder to the
platform I was right behind her looking up at them. They
seemed bulky in comparison to the Carter's and I
couldn't figure out why. I didn't learn the answer for
another year.

My 6th grade year at my new school went much better.
Doris didn't return, much to my disappointment. A new
boy, Dickie, joined the class and I became friendly
with him from the outset. He had an older sister who
was in Junior High. The very first time I visited his
house he asked me if I wanted to "spy" on his sister.
I was VERY naive at that point in my life and, other
than my panty/pee fetish, was totally "out of it" when
it came to girls. Dickie's room had a door that went
into his sister's room. It wasn't usable because there
was a desk against it in the other room. However, it
still had the keyhole and by getting down and peering
through it, you could see most of the room. I've told
about "good" clothes, "school" clothes and "play"
clothes earlier. Since we were still in elementary
school, we took a different bus than his sister did.
What I quickly learned was that Dickie would wait until
Marna got home and then watch her undress and re-dress.
I got the "honor" that day. Now, it'd been a few months
since I'd woken up one night finding myself wet in bed.
I thought I'd peed but it was my first wet dream.
It had been happening more and more and I found myself
getting an erection whenever I got more than just
a glimpse of a pair of panties. When Marna stripped
to just her panties (girls in those days didn't have
"training" bras) I got so big I thought I was going
to hurt myself. I was still very unsure of what was
going on with all of these things happening to my
penis and I didn't want Dickie to see me in this
state. I backed away from the door and told him to
take a look. I then concentrated on trying to "deflate"
myself. That "keyhole" view of Marna became my goal
for other girls. I wanted more!

Remember MJ? She lived with her Aunt Mary, one of
my mother's good friends. Well, she was still a part
of my circle of friends. It was certainly not as it
had been before but I did see her at least once a
month. When we got together we still played board
games on the floor and I still got my good peeks at
her Carter's "Spanky Pants". One day, when I got a
peek, I was shocked to see this huge red spot. I think
I might have even let out a gasp. In any case, MJ took
a look, got all embarrassed, and promptly went home. I
didn't know what it was and she didn't tell me. I didn't
know it, but puberty was blossoming all around me!

That next summer was the beginning of my life as an
entrepreneur. I had done some chores for the neighbors
on both sides of us the previous summer. I did them
in a neighborly way, not asking or expecting payment
for them. At the end of the summer I was pleasantly
surprised to receive a "Thank You" in the form of money
from both. Not understanding, I asked my parents about
it and they explained the so called "Tipping" concept
of giving an unexpeceted reward for extra or special
service. I'm not sure I fully understood it but it was
there in my memory bank. That summer, with my
grandfather fully retired, my grandparents came to
spend a month with us. In case I hadn't fully
described our house, it was right on the water of a
good sized bay. We had a nice sandy beach and a cool
southwesterly breeze in the afternoons. They wanted to
enjoy that for the summer instead of sweltering at the
homestead. My grandfather had always insisted on
having a morning newspaper. At the homestead I was
usually dispatched, before breakfast, to run to the
store that carried all 5 of the NY city morning
papers. It only took about 15 minutes for the round
trip. But at my house it was a mile and a half to town.
I had to ride my bike to get there. On one of the first
mornings I made the trip, the next door neighbor
happened to be out in his yard. My grandfather asked
if he'd like a morning paper and he said yes. When I
returned and delivered it, he asked what I was
charging for the delivery service. I hadn't even
thought of it and said "nothing". He smiled and gave
me a dime, telling me to keep the change. The cost of
the paper was only 4 cents. I was surprised, but happy.
Later that day another neighbor was visiting and spied
the newspaper. He commented on it and my grandfather
asked him if he'd like one each morning. He also said
yes. That was the beginning of my paper route. I went
to call on every house in the neighborhood, getting
almost everybody to sign up. Since I had to buy the
papers at their newsstand price, I had to figure out
what I wanted to charge for the service. I remembered
the "tip" that the neighbor had given that first day
as well as my experience from the summer before
and decided to do it for free, hoping that I'd be
"rewarded" with a tip at the end of the week. It
worked. I got as much as double what the papers cost
me PLUS, I often got fresh homebaked cookies, brownies
and cake.

But the biggest reward was that in the course of
delivering the papers I had a reason to be in the back
yards of all these peoples houses. Remember that
dryers were not in vogue in the 40's. When people
would do their wash, it got hung out on a line and
usually the first thing in the morning. I was in panty
heaven! I got up close and personal to a whole lot of
panties. If the people weren't home and I felt
reasonably sure that I couldn't be seen, I'd go and
touch them, The real benefit was that I could now
put a panty with each and every face in our
neighborhood. I even kept a little book on it.

As was with most summers, there were some new faces to
the neighborhood. One of those faces was Barbara J.
Her father was the Polish representative assigned to
the United Nations and they were actually Polish
citizens. Barbara, her brother and mother had spent
the entire war years in the US and therefore she spoke
perfect English. However, she was different in a
number of ways. Even though she was my age, she had
"developed" far beyond any of the other girls in the
neighborhood. As my hormonal level was rising, those
protrusions were of great interest. Barbara chose not
to participate in our neighborhood games. She chose to
sit and watch, oftentimes staying in her yard sunning
herself and reading. On this one rainy day she had
decided to join the group on my back porch. As the
storm passed and the skies cleared, we ended up on the
beach. My future brother-in-law and another boy got
into a shoving match that ended with my future
brother-in-law falling into the water. We were all
fully dressed at the time. My future wife was so
incensed at the boy for doing that to her brother that
she took a run at him, crashing into him with both
falling in the water as well. That started it. The
next thing I knew everybody was being thrown into the
water, Barbara included. I'm shaking my head as I
write this just from the memory of seeing those two
beautiful mounds protruding in front of her, her
soaked blouse plastered tightly against them. I had to
stay in the water because my bulge was so noticeable.
It wasn't until she walked out of the water that I saw
what was to become another great fetish of
mine...Visable Panty Lines. Until then I'd focused
entirely on getting a glimpse of actual panty, often
not seeing anything of note. Seeing Barbara's butt
with her shorts clinging tightly to it and her panties
clearly outlined, including the crotch line, was
further stimulus to my already enlarged penis. I was
hurting from the cramped position it had gotten into
and I had to put my hand down my pants to try and ease
the pain. As soon as my hand touched it, it exploded.
This was the first time I had ever done that. All
others had been in the form of wet dreams. Well, it
didn't take long for my "problem" to dissipate and I
followed the others out of the water. By then we'd all
calmed down somewhat and were now contemplating what
kind of trouble we'd be in when our parents saw us. I,
however, was trying to get a look at the wet butts of
the other girls who were there, hoping to see a carbon
copy of what I'd seen with Barbara. I don't remember
the results of my observations but I do remember
putting the idea of getting girls wet while in their
clothes into the forefront of future plans.

One added benefit of that little incident was that I
ended up seeing Barbara's panties on her washline. Her
parents were not one of my newspaper customers so I
seldom had any reason to be in her yard when their
wash was on the line. That evening, my mother
discovered a book that Barbara had brought with her
earlier that day. I was dispatched to return it. Their
washline was on a pulley system that allowed her mother
to pin the clothes on the line from her back porch.
That meant that if there were only a few items, they
would actually be hanging over the porch itself. That
was the case that night. As I knocked on the door I
was staring right at them. They were a light pink
nylon (or maybe acetate) and had lace trim around the
legs. I'd not seen anything like them before, even
with all the other washlines I'd visited. From that
time forward, every time I'd think of Barbara I
visualized her leaving the water in just those panties
and her bra. I was mentally able to strip away the
shorts and blouse she'd been wearing. It was a very
pleasant vision!

Remember Jane M. from earlier? I'd mentioned being
puzzled by the sight of what I called "bulky" panties
as I'd followed her up the ladder to the tree house
platform. Well, my newspaper delivery routine allowed
me to check them out on her washline that summer. Jane
was a quiet and relatively small girl, almost
waif-like. She was always around but also always in
the background, literally and figuratively. Almost
like woodwork. She'd go along with whatever the group
decided to do. I'd never really paid much attention to
her. Probably that day I'd followed her up the ladder
the summer before was the highlight. On the day I
finally got to look at her panties, I'd checked and
double checked to make sure nobody was home. They were
hanging out behind her garage and there was no
rational reason for me to go there. I remember that
when I felt them that they were thicker than any
others I'd handled. I also remember looking at the
label and not recognizing it. As I write this I don't
remember the name but I do remember seeing a little
red airplane as part of it. I was to see the same kind
of panties again in the future. The best way to describe
them is that they were very much like the training panties
my wife had each our kids in when she was potty training
them. The only thing was that Jane, although small, was
certainly bigger than my kids were when I saw them in
them. One other observation was that even though Jane
was an only child, there were always a LOT of panties
on the line. I surely was puzzled.

Beth H. and her sister didn't arrive for her visit
with her grandparents until the last week of the
summer. I'd been keeping "tabs" on them all summer and
had been assured that they would indeed be there. I
remember her arrival, oh so well. This big brand new
Oldsmobile pulled into the driveway. New cars were
still a rarety even though this was now 1948. We were
still riding around in a pre-war Dodge and my future
in-laws stll had their 1938 Plymouth. All the
neighborhood kids gathered around, especially the
boys, to look at this beautiful car. Beth's parents
and sister got right out but she didn't. I wasn't
really paying attention to her anyway as the car had
my interest. After answering some questions about the
car her father went on into the house. That's when we
noticed Beth was still in the car. The windows were
down so we went up and asked her why she didn't get
out. I think her answer was something like
"because...". I don't remember her getting out and I
don't remember waiting for her either. I DO remember
seeing a pair of panties and shorts hanging from the
washline right after supper. Now this may sound
rediculous, but we (the neighborhood kids) had an
evening routine. After supper we'd all gather at my
house and play Hide & Go Seek. Yes, a bunch of 8 to 14
year olds playing Hide & Go Seek! We made up our own
specific rules and I guess you could almost say we
played it with gusto. Because there were so many kids
we all had to have a partner. We drew numbers to see
who our partner was going to be. On that night I
drew Beth's sister, Diana. (She, the beautiful one, a
year younger than Beth...That made her about 9 or 10.
As I said, we played this very seriously and getting
caught and being "it" was a "no-no". (We had some kind
of penalty for whoever got caught the most.) Since
this was Diana's first time, I really was on her
"case" and made sure she stayed right with me. I had a
favorite hiding place in the bushes right next to my
house. The only way you could see me was to climb in.
I'd stay there until I'd heard that a lot of others
had gotten caught. Well, we hadn't been there very
long when Diana told me she had to go to the bathroom.
My first reaction (really) was geared to the game. I
didn't want her to get seen and caught because that
would mean I was caught as well. I told her to be quiet
and wait. It took a minute or two before it hit me as
to what she'd said. Realizing the situation, I turned
to her and said she'd have to go in her panties; it
was that important that we not get caught. Without
blinking an eye she lifted her dress out from under
her and started to pee. The noise of her pee splashing
on the ground sounded like a waterfall. It was getting
dark out and it was fairly dark under the bushes so I
didn't get to see that much. I do remember her panties
were pink though. Neither of us got in trouble for it
so she must not have told. In spite of her sister
being a chronic wetter, that was the only time I was
ever aware of her being wet. After she became a model
and we saw her pictures in magazines, I couldn't help
but remember that night.

Beth and Diana were only there for a week. Beth had
been "grounded" because of her wetting. I'd heard her
grandmother yelling at her so, other than seeing her
in her bathing suit on the beach, she wasn't around
much. Naturally I was disappointed. The best I could
get was to see her cotton panties hanging from the
washline.

That brings me to the most outrageous endeavor I'd
ever tried. Seeing all those panties on washlines all
summer was driving me crazy. I THOUGHT about taking a
pair or two but could never muster enough courage.
(That good honest upbringing, I guess) A new family
had moved to town and opened a small 5 & dime. In
checking it out I discovered that in the back of the
store they had a bin of panties for sale. It took me
a week and probably 4 or 5 tries before I finally did
it. I concocted a story that my sister (hmmmmmm) had
wet her panties and my father had sent me in to buy
her a clean pair. My thinking was that being new, he
wouldn't know or recognize me. The man asked me what
size and I almost fainted. In my exploration of the
panties on the washlines I'd not paid any attention to
sizes. I had no idea at all. I almost choked when he
asked me that. I finally stammered out I'd have to
look at them first. I'm sure that by then he knew
something was up. He pointed to the panties and said
to pick out the one's I thought would fit. I think I
grabbed the first pair I got my hands on. I don't
remember how much they were but they didn't cost very
much. I almost ran out of the store. I still have them
somewhere. They were a yellow acetate. I took them home
and hid them with a bunch of my other "treasures,
pulling them out often to... (you fill in the blank)

=======================================
To Be Continued....

THE VERY BEGINNING (Part 1)

A bit of family history:

I'm 12th generation and the first to be born in a
hospital. The family homestead was built around 1820
in a rural farming area about 85 miles from New York
City. There was a small room (that eventually became
my bedroom) that was called the "birthing room". A
midwife would come in and assist in the delivery. My
father, his mother (my grandmother) and her father
were all born in that room. My grandmother married a
local man right after the turn of the Century. He had
read about the new "horseless carriage" and set off
for the city to investigate it. He so impressed the
people with his vision of what the new fangled vehicle
would mean that they hired him as a salesman. That
meant moving there and leaving the homestead. My
grandfather had managed to save enough money to put a
down payment on a Brownstone row house in Brooklyn. The
only thing was, my grandmother hated the city. When
her mother died and left her the homestead, she moved
back, forcing my grandfather to become a "commuter"
before the word was even coined. This was around 1905.
My father was born in 1906. The fact that my
grandmother chose to live primarily in the homestead
did not mean she didn't visit the city from time to
time. After a while my grandfather started his own business
and she did spend more and more time there. Then, when my
father went away to school, she more or less split her
time between the two places. After my father and
mother married, they built a house about10 miles away
from the homestead. My father had an engineering
degree and went to work for a local architect. This
was about 1934. An interesting sidelight is that my
future father in law helped my father build the house.
He so liked the area that he ended up buying a house just
down the street. I was born in 1937. My mother had
moved to the city to have me. She was adamant that she
didn't want to have a midwife. She wanted to have me in a
hospital, and because she was from the city, knew
which one she wanted to go to. My wife was also born
in 1937. I met her for the first time when she was 2
weeks old and I was 7 months. We lived there until the
outbreak of WW2. My father couldn't pass the physical
for the service (bad eye) but, with his engineering
degree, became a civilian working for the Navy in the
Brooklyn Navy Yard. They closed up the house, moved to
Brooklyn, ending up in a one bedroom apartment about a
mile from my grandparents. My brother was born just
about the same time. Because of gas rationing, my
grandfather was no longer able to commute and my
grandmother moved to the city to join him, temporarily
closing the homestead.
=======================================
The main reason I put that in was so you'd understand
the "moves" and locations of what I'm about to tell
you. In summary; the brownstone and apartment in
Brooklyn, NY.; the homestead; our own home near the
homestead: my wife's home, just down the street from
ours.
======================================
This all starts after the 2nd World War had begun and
we were all living in the city. I was 4, almost 5 years old.

I guess I'll start with Joanie T. (I honestly remember
the last names of ALL the girls I'll be writing about.)
Her grandparents lived next door to my grandparents
brownstone. Her father and my father became good
friends as boys so that whenever my parents would
visit my grandparents, we'd usually stop in next door
to say hello. Joanie was a month older than I and I'd
known her a bit from these occasional visits. When the
War started, her father and mother enlisted and Joanie
was sent to live with her grandparents. Once we moved
to the city we'd often go over to my grandparents on
Sundays after church. Now that Joanie was living there
I rather enjoyed going, just to have someone I knew to
play with. Now, At that time period there were "good"
clothes verses school clothes verses play clothes. Being
Sunday, we were most always dressed in our "good"
clothes. My grandparents back yard had a small grassy
area to play in, surrounded by flower beds. Joanie's
grandparents yard had been made into a "Victory
Garden". The idea was to grow your own vegetables to
help alleviate the shortage in the marketplace. In any case,
Joanie couldn't play there so it was always fun for her to
play in our yard. I can't give you specifics (it's
only been 60+ years... :-) ) but what I remember was the
two of us playing with pail and shovels and wearing
nothing but our underpants. I remember once walking up to
Joanie, who was squatting, and seeing a growing puddle
appear from underneath her. I squatted down and can
honestly still visualize the pee coming out of her
underpants. That's all I remember about it. I don't remember
if she went home or if she was punished or not. But it
is one of the most vivid images in my memory for not only
the wetting but also for seeing the difference in our underwear.

The next phase moves on to that fall when I started
school. I loved going to school. I loved having all
these kids to play with. I was exposed to so many
things I'd never seen before that every day was an
adventure. Well, Debbie P. certainly was one of them.
It seemed like she wet her pants almost every single
day. There are two special memories I have of that
year. The first is when Debbie's mother came storming
into the room and accused Mrs. Hubble, the
kindergarten teacher, of not allowing Debbie to go to
the bathroom when she had to go. Not that I'd been
studying the situation, but for every time I'd seen
Debbie wet herself, she'd never said a word. I watched
her pee sitting, standing, squatting and never once
said a word before or after. Right after that, Mrs
Carroll, the Principal, came in and took Mrs Hubble
with her. We were left with a proctor (they had these
women patrolling the halls when school was in
session). A day or so later we were finger painting when
Debbie let go again. Mrs. Hubble didn't notice it
until it was time to put the easels away. Just as she
noticed she also noticed Mrs Carroll walking in the
door. I can still see Mrs. Hubble grabbing one of
those tiny little chairs we used to sit on, and trying to
cover the puddle. I also remember Mrs. Hubble trying to
explain it away. But I don't know the outcome of
it. The saddest part is that Debbie didn't finish the
year with us and I have no idea why.

Before moving ahead I want to add another bit of
history. When I was born, ironically, the woman who
shared the room with my mother was the sister of one
of my mother's best girlhood friends. Naturally, Mary
H., my mother's friend, came to visit her sister and
found my mother there as well. That was the begining
of another friendship for me, Mary Jane N. (or, MJ, as
I'll call her) The only thing is, I didn't really get
to meet her until we moved to the city. In the
meantime, MJ's father had been killed in an accident
and her mother had a nervous breakdown. MJ was being
raised by her Aunt Mary, my mother's friend. When we
moved to the apartment, it turned out to be only about
3 or so city blocks from where they lived. Even though
MJ should have been in my class at school, her Aunt
worked at a private all girls school located only a
few buildings away from where they lived. So, she went
there. But, it didn't take long for my mother and Mary
to re-connect. Mary was also involved with the Red
Cross as a volunteer and got my mother involved as
well. That's how I met MJ. The volunteers would meet
in the basement of this church and roll bandages for
the war effort. There were lots of kids there but MJ
and I hit it off from the beginning, even though she
was a girl. I'd say it was soon after I'd started
kindergarten, which would have made us 5 years old.
She was very much a "tom-boy". At that point in time,
girls mostly wore dresses for all occasions. MJ had
absolutely no modesty. I got an eyeful from the first
day on. but, I'm now getting ahead of myself.

Because it was pretty much expected that we'd visit my
grandparents on Sundays, it didn't take long for
Saturdays to be taken up with MJ and her Aunt. Not
that there weren't other kids to play with, but I'd
end up in her apartment or she at mine on most
Saturdays. We played dolls at her house and trucks and
cars at mine. All the while she never felt uncomfortable
showing her panties. (BTW: they were the
Carter's cotton "Spanky Pants" which became my favorite.)
Even at that age I was interested in looking at them. I
believe it was that Spring when my Mother offered to
take MJ, my brother and me to a nearby Park for a
picnic lunch. The park was in walking distance and, as
my brother was still in a carriage, that afforded her
a vehicle to carry all the necessary things. I don't
remember anything until it was time to go home. There
were no public toilets anywhere near where we were. I
had to go very badly and I remember my mother telling
me to "be a big boy and hold it until we get home".
I used to challenge MJ to race me all the time. On our
way back I challenged her to race me to this tunnel
that went under the roadway that wove through the
park. I remember beating her to it but, more
importantly, I remember stopping at the wall and
feeling pee running down my legs and I couldn't stop it.
MJ was only a few steps behind and I had no chance to
hide it from her. I knew my mother would be mad and I
immediately started crying. My mother and brother were
still quite a distance away at that point. Then, (and
this is something you will probably think I made up)
without saying a word, MJ spread her legs and wet her
pants as well. Seeing the puddle forming on the path
beneath her was enough to make me stop crying. When my
mother got closer, we moved on ahead, through the
tunnel. We managed to stay far enough ahead of her
that she didn't notice my pants were wet. MJ didn't
show because she had on a dress. Somehow we managed to
get home without her knowing. I'm sure she figured it
out when she did the laundry but nothing was ever
said. However, it was the begining of a bond between
MJ and I that I was too young then to have understood.
But more about that later.

I ended up being an unsuspecting participant in the
next memorable wetting. It was on the first day of
school for 1st grade. The school was very old. The
desks were made so that 3 students would share it.
There was one fold-down bench seat for three of us
to sit on. It was curved so that your butt was in a
hollow and then curved upwards towards your knees. The
teacher that had been assigned to us hadn't shown up
and Mrs. Carroll, the Principal was acting as our
teacher. Most of us had been there for kindergarten
and were familiar (read that "scared of") with her.
She was going over all the things we weren't to do in
school. I was sitting next to a new girl named Martha
B. She was the biggest kid in our class. She raised
her hand while Mrs. Carroll was speaking. I can still
hear her barking back at Martha "Wait until I
finish!". A few minutes later I felt something
tickling my butt. I put my hand down to scratch it
only to find I'd put my hand in a small puddle. She had
to go to the bathroom and when denied permission, she
just went in her pants. I jumped up to get away from
the ever growing puddle. As soon as I did, of course I
was in trouble... big time. Mrs. Carroll was yelling at
me to get back in my seat as she headed my way. Just
about that time the pee had made it's way to the edge
of the bench and was now dripping onto the floor.
Seeing that, she immediately thought I was the guilty
party and ordered me to the office. My pants were wet...
but not with my pee. I tried to protest but only got
more abuse. The person in the office didn't want to hear
my story either and just called my mother to bring dry
clothes. When she did she believed me when she saw
that my underpants were dry in front where my penis
was. I have no idea what played out after that. I have
no memory of discussing it with Martha or anyone else.
But it's an experience burned into my memory (or
should I say butt).

The next one also took place while I was in 1st grade.
It was at Johanna M's 6th birthday party. I was one of
just two boys invited. We played all the traditional
games like pin the tail on the donkey and the like. I
don't remember the name of this one game but I sure
remember the game itself. All the kids were lined up
on both sides of the room with some sitting on chairs
and some standing. Each "player" was blindfolded and
then spun around a few times. Then, they were pointed
in the direction of some prizes at the other end of
the room. Of course being blindfolded and made a
little dizzy by the spinning created some funny
experiences. Also, the fact that we were all around 6
years old and silly to begin with helped with the
atmosphere. Johanna, being the hostess, was last to go.
I remember her yelling not to spin her too much, which
only made whoever was doing the spinning, turn her
more. She was literally tilting as she started out. I
was sitting on an ottoman (like a footstool only
larger) down near where the prizes were located.
Johanna made a couple of steps and then tumbled to the
floor. She started laughing and everybody else did
too. That made her laugh even more. She tried to get
up and, from where I was sitting, gave me a beautiful
view of her white panties. After she tumbled over again she
lay there laughing. Her mother was there watching and
all of a sudden she jumped into the room and grabbed
Johanna, pulling her to her feet and more of less
dragging her away. Everybody went very quiet, not
knowing what had happened. For some reason, I looked
at the place where she had been lying on the floor.
There was a very definite discoloration on the rug. She
had just wet herself. Now, the other thing I remember
about this party is that it's the only one I ever
attended in which the birthday girl/boy wasn't present
for the cake and ice cream. She'd been sent to her
room and wasn't allowed back. I'll never forget it.

It was around this time that my other grandmother
became very sick. My parents took her in but that meant
there really wasn't room for me in the apartment. It was
decided that I would go live with my father's parents
(the one's with the brownstone). It was an easy
transition as I spent every Sunday there anyway. My
parents weren't that far away and I'd still be
attending the same school.

Joanie T. is back for the next incident. I don't have
a clue as to exactly when it took place but it was
after I'd moved in full time with my grandparents. We
would walk to school and back, together. Then, very
often we'd play on the front steps of the brownstones.
I loved that because it meant I'd get to peek at her
underpants. We were playing there this one day and
Joanie was a few steps above me. I have no idea what
we were playing but, for some reason, I turned and
looked up at her. She was sitting forward on the step,
legs apart, and just as in the back yard, was looking
between them. I saw the first drops of pee exit
her underpants and I just sat there transfixed. She never
looked up. When I saw the pee start to come down the
steps towards me, I moved. That movement broke her
trance and she quickly looked up and closed her legs.
I'd like to be able to say I can remember what she or
I said...but I can't. But I sure remember those first
drops of pee appearing.

Time for a little more background. As the war
progressed, my grandmother (the one I was living with)
became more and more homesick for the family
homestead. My grandfather had hoarded his gas
rationing coupons and collected enough to allow them
to go back and re-open the house for the summer. They
also thought it better for my brother and I to be
together, having lived apart for almost a year and a
half. As soon as school was out, we were on our way.

The move meant making new friends. The people next
door had a daughter a year younger than me and a son
the same age as my brother. Her name was Joan. Joan
was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Plus, she
was very gullible. By now I'd become an excellent
"panty peeker", having honed my skills through three
years of school. I'd even developed enough of a "line"
that I'd occasionally convince a girl to give me a
"free show" by lifting her skirt to show me her
pants. Joan was an easy one to convince. The problem
with Joan was that she was honest to a fault. Anyone
that asked her a question would get the truth, even if
it meant she'd get punished. My grandfather had made a
see-saw with multiple fulcrums so that two people with
uneven weight could still ride it. I'd change the
fulcrum and then get Joan up in the air and threaten
not to let her down until she showed me her underpants.
It got to be almost a joke. I knew and she knew she
was going to show them to me but we did it anyway. One
day, I had her up in the air and she pleaded to get
down because she had to go to the bathroom. I think
this is the first time I became excited at the
prospect of such a thing happening. I don't remember
what I promised her (candy, soda, whatever) but I told
her if she'd wet her pants I'd buy her something. I
can still see the pee rolling down the see-saw towards
me. I just sat there not believing she'd done it. I
didn't get up in time and got a little wet myself.
When I let her down we went and played in a converted
dog house (my grandfather had two black labs up until
they shut the house up for the war) that my grandfather
had cleaned up and made into a playhouse for me and my
brother. I'd be willing to bet that by the time she went
home she was close to being dry. The problem was
that when asked what she did that day she promptly
told her mother that she'd wet her pants for candy or
whatever it was that I'd promised. You KNOW it was a
while before she was allowed to play with me again. :-)
One "aside" to this was that their clothesline was right
next to the fence that separated the two yards. On
washday I'd end up playing nearby to get to see not only
Joan's underpants but also those of her mother.

Moving ahead to the next summer, the restrictions
about playing with me had been removed. We picked up
where we'd been. There was one change though. I had a
new friend, Terry R. His parents ran the local USO.
(There was an Army base nearby) Terry was a year older
than me and a LOT more worldly. I don't remember how
many places he'd been, but it was a lot. My
grandmother had been troubled by Arthritis and that
particular summer it was especially bad. My
grandfather hired a man, Walter, to live in and do the
cooking, cleaning and yard work. I remember him liking
to bake and always having fresh cookies available.
When I'd have Joan and Terry over to play, he'd make
up lemonade and bring us cookies or some kind of cake
for an afternoon treat.

A little more background: The property ran from Main
St. to the river. It was probably 800+ feet deep by 90
or so feet wide. When my grandfather got the Labs, he
had the entire property fenced in with chain link so
as to give them the full run of the yard. The house
was located right off the street and the carriage
house (garage) was located 200 or so feet below the
house. The entire area from the carriage house to the
river was a combination of flower and vegetable
gardens separated by grass paths culminating in a
grassy area right by the river. When my grandfather
converted the dog house to a playhouse, he had it
moved down by the river.

On this one day, we were all playing in and around the
playhouse. Joan started to leave but before she'd
gotten too far, saw Walter bringing the "goodies". She
turned around and waited for them to arrive. If that had
been today I would have certainly recognized Joan's
movements as a "pee dance". At that time I probably
took them as excited anticipation of just what goodies
we were going to get. We used wooden soda crates as
tables and chairs for the playhouse and, as Walter
approached, pulled them out and set them up for our .
afternoon "tea party". After Walter left, and we had devoured
most of the goodies, it was Terry who recognized Joan's
problem. He immediately started taunting her. When she
started to cry I told him to shut up. I have no idea where
the idea came from but I went over to her and started to
"sell" her on just going ahead and wetting her pants. I
remember pointing out how far she'd have to go to get home
and that she'd probably wet them anyway and get in trouble
for it. I suggested that she go ahead and wet them and stay
and play and let them dry. That way her mother would never
know IF SHE DIDN"T TELL HER. I really emphasized that.
Well, she stopped crying and more or less accepted the
suggestion. We all got up and went behind the
playhouse. Joan squatted down and was about to pee
when Terry told her to pull her dress up so it didn't
get wet. It wouldn't have if she hadn't but he was
smart enough to realize he/we weren't really going to
see anything if she didn't. Obligingly, Joan hiked her
dress up around her waist and proceeded to pee into
the grass. Terry and I remained standing
(unfortunately) and I was directly behind her. I
distinctly remember seeing the wetness creep slowly up
the back of her pants. When she was done we both reminded
her that this was to be OUR secret and NOT to tell her mother.
We resumed our play and to the best of my knowledge,
nothing ever came of it.

What it did do to me was to get me constantly
fantasizing on how to get her to do it again.
Unfortunately, it never did. However, I still got to peek
at her underpants when we rode the see saw.

The war was almost over by that time and my
grandfather was in the process of selling his business
in the city. My other grandmother was now dying. My
parents were overly concerned about her death and how
my brother and I would take it. They asked my father's
parents to keep us until she died. It was decided to
enroll us in the local school instead of retuning to
the city. That was to distance us from the specter of
death. All it did was to confuse us. In any case, my
grandfather now had more time for all of us. We would
occasionally make the 10 mile trip to check up on my
parents house, usually on Sundays after church. I
remember one very warm fall day and, having done the
walk around the house and determining everything was in
order, going to visit a neighbor. Also visiting was my
future mother-in-law and her children. Being a Sunday,
we were all dressed in our "good" clothes. The people
lived right on the water and, since water is a magnet to
children, we were down at the water's edge in no time.
I don't know who's idea it was but before long we were
all running in and out of the water in just our underwear.
I can still picture my future wife's pigtails bouncing
up and down on her bare back as we ran up and down the
beach. I could hardly contain my glee to be able to have an
unrestricted view of her white cotton underpants. It is a
day we both remember, but for different reasons. Even
though we'd grown up together, we hadn't really seen each
other or played since the beginning of the war and our move
to the city. I remember wanting more than anything to
return "home". It wasn't to be for a while.

To be continued...
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TO BE CONTINUED.......