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)

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To Be Continued....