GIRLS WITH HOT PANTS

Or, to be more accurate, wet ones.

Boys find wet knickers very arousing, I’m pleased to say, and if you’re interested I’ll tell you that girls who like girls also find wet knickers extremeley arousing too.

All girls get like this to a greater or lesser extent and if you’re lucky yours will be one of the greater ones. Maybe it won’t be as great as some, but it’s all great believe me and though it sounds like a good idea at first, not all guys can cope with a wife or girlfriend who’s permanently on heat and trying 2 shag every man she passes in the street.

You may be suppressing a small smile about now, but believe me it’s no laughing matter, and can cause quite a bit of upset, outside the normal run of human situations. I mean in any relatiopnship there’s always an imbalance, where one likes beach holidays and the other likes activity weekends, one drinks more than the other, likes going out more, etc. And there’s usually one who likes sex more than the other. Most people manage to deal with the sex thing because it’s only a small difference.

But in a few cases the differences in desire can be massive, and very difficult to deal with. Because it’s so relevant to me, I’ve read up on it quite a bit, and I’m relieved to discover I’m nowhere near the top of the tree. That’s where you find permanent sexual arousal syndrome, where women are masturbating and fucking dozens of times a day, quite literally going from one orgasm to the next but always wanting it again right after, and I’m glad to say I don’t have it that bad.

They used to call women who enjoy a lot of sex a lot (rather like me) nymphomaniacs but the word isn’t used by doctors any more, though after he’d fucked me one young guy told Rog he thought I was ‘beyond nympho’, which was quite a nice compliment for me, and possibly one of Roger’s proudest moments. Nymphopmaniacs used to be defined as women who can never say no, and though I can see that’s a good way of defining it, I do think it’s rather more than that – sometimes I need to say yes, even when I haven’t been asked, and sometimes I think I’ll run around screaming madly if I don’t have a shag this very second with anyone who’s handy.

But a few people every day inevitably ask the same question – what turns you on? Thing is there are many answers, most of them quite complex. But there are a few simple ones too. Stiff cocks turn me on, of course. Just thinking about them can do that, usually much more than looking at pictures of them or watching them on cam. But then stiff cocks are included in all the other headings and situations that make me wet.

Like not having it for ages. As the days go by, the body gets ready and the knickers get wetter and wetter. Doing it yourself, whatever you use, eaes it for a day or so, then a few hours, then not at all. Rabbits always get me off. Big dildos always fill me up. Both make me cum, but after a while neither of them satisfies me and the only thing that does is a nice hard cock.

Another guarantee of wet pants is seeing someone you fancy. Even if it’s only 2 minutes since I had a very nice hard shag with a screaming cum at the end of it, seeing a fit and pretty young lad with wide shoulders and a promising bulge will definitely get my interest and wet my pants. If it’s someone I’ve fancied for ages then I could have been wetting them for weeks and weeks every time we meet or pass in the street, and after a while just thinking about that person will start me off again. Sit next to him in a bar chatting about everyday stuff and hoping he’ll realise what all the leg-crossing and eye contact is all about, I usually end up stuck to the seat…

Now here’s an odd one, which not all women experience, but quite a few do, including me, and that’s fear. Any kind of fear, from rollercoasters to scary movies to being driven fast in a car (I sort of enjoy it but it still scares me) to having a row with hubby, or boyfriend. If I’m frightened, my pants are wet. Strange but true, and I never really understood why, but it’s pretty universal – fairgrounds, you name it. And I’m not sure how buit it’s a pretty similar feeling to what it used to be like going to pop concerts when I was younger. Crushed up at the front screaming and yelling, my knickers were soaking every time, and anyone could have done anything to me and I wouldn’t have stopped them. In fact i would have loved it. No one did though. Not while I was young and hysterical and out of control, anyway.

You’ll be pleased to hear that everything you thought about alcohol is definitely true, especially in my case. Drinking doesn’t really make my knickers wet on its own, but it does remove inhibitions and help me get into knicker-wetting situations more quickly and easily than I would sober, and then it removes the inhibition that stops me behaving badly, so I end up doing things I shouldn’t do with anyone but my hubby or boyfriend with people I probably wouldnt pass the time of day with if I was stone cold sober. Alcohol is NOT an aphrodisiac but it does let you drop the barriers and then your pants. A tip: enough is enough, and after wild abandon comes vomiting, unconsciosness and absolutely no chance of a shag, especially not tomorrow morning when I wake up.

For me, kissing is a much easier and cheaper guarantee of wet pants. This always works. Doesn’t matter how much I do or dont fancy someone, or how long ago or recently I last had a shag. Kissing = wetness and that’s all there is to it.Rog had a girlfriend years ago who had little orgasms from being kissed. He was amazed. I’m not at all surprised. It really works.

So, to a limited extent, do porn mags and movies. I can go for months or years without them, but sometimes I just get the urge to watch a pretty young thing getting fucked silly by a big cock or 2 (or 6) and if I’m alone I will play with myself and it won’t make me feel much better (see above). If hubby is with me, I need to shag pretty badly and it’s always great. When I was a teenager and early 20’s, I used to hang around with a big group of kids, and we used to go to the pub, go back to someone’s house, have more drinks and watch porn. And everybody got turned on, the more so because it was all so public. In no time at all, the couples were at least groping if not fucking (usually started with a grope and couldn’t help themselves working up to a shag) and the singles would watch them for a while and then be unable to resist any longer, so we’d pair off for a fuck or a suck or a hand job so everyone felt better. As I’ve said somewhere else, there was a period of about two years when I didn’t have a proper boyfriend but hardly a Friday or Saturday went by without me having a cock in my hand, mouth or pussy, usually someone I knew and may have shagged before, but equally possibly it would be someone I’d only met that week or that evening.

Doing things like that, in a big room with the lights on and lots of people sitting round doing the same or just watching may account for how much I get excited by showing off. Flashing my knickers makes them wet. Showing my pants or my pussy to strangers in public places is a VERY horny thing to do and I will be dripping pretty much right away, and if I can do it without getting arrested I will almost certainly touch, and possibly make myself cum. It’s very, very horny being watched.

Silly as it first sounds, sunshine also turns me on and lying in the hot sun makes me horny. Lying on a beach I get wet. Maybe its the bikini, maybe it’s people looking at me, maybe the anticipation of what we’re going to do tonight (find some lads and get shagged) I don’t know. But lying in the sun makes my bikini pants wet. Combine it with being watched by loads of lads all over the beach while you oil yourself all over (and especially between the legs) and you know that tonight’s shag will be a good one.

It’s also true to say that travel has an effect on me – trains and buses especially, but sometimes cars and aeroplanes. It’s partly the buzzing and vibration, and partly the idea of being surrounded by all those strangers. Sometimes it makes me want to flash, especially in daylight on trains or in the car, and I’ve talked about that before, so you know what I mean, but sometimes it just makes me want to cum..On a plane I can of course, in the little toilet if it’s daytime, or under a blanket at night, so I’ve joined the mile-high club solo and with Roger (and one or two others before I met Rog of course).

Something else that has the right effect in the underwear is music. It can be fast or slow as long as it hits the mood I’m in, but obviously the slow ones you’re more likely to be pressed against a man, and more likely to be wriggling against his cock. I’ve done the slow smooching to a tune that seems to go right through me, and find that because I’m wearing a short skirt I’ve left a little snail-trail on the guy’s leg, sometimes even made his trousers wet enough for him to notice. And I don’t mean someone I’ve been talking to, flirting with or flashing at, I mean some complete randon I just happen to be dancing with when the music and the alcohol add up to make me ooze.

So there you are – ten things that make my knickers wet. But there’s another kind of wet as well, the kind that comes directly from the brain, from urgently needing to do something rude, naughty, bad, call it what you like, and is completely independent of my body.

I’m talking about those occasions when I just need to do something that ends with a rude fuck from a complete stranger, maybe several someones, maybe in public, and once you start thinking about it your pants are on fire and they stay that way, getting worse day by day, until you do something about it. That’s because the mind is building up pressure and you start seeing sexual situations everywhere you go and thinking about sex with every stranger you meet

It isn’t satisfied by any of the normal relief methods, so if I start feeling rude on Monday, its worse on Tuesday, stronger on Wednesday and Thursday, bigger still by Friday, can’t think about anything else on Saturday and close to exploding point by Sunday – and even if I play with myself twice a day and shag hubby every night or every morning or both, it STILL doesn’t go away and by the end of the week I am DESPERATE to behave badly and have a rude shag.

After two weeks the postman and the milkman are in trouble and after three weeks it could be anyone. And I mean anyone. So we go to a bar or club and I will shag the first person who offers. I mean I might have a look round and try to find someone young and pretty but if there’s no-one handy, sometimes I just can’t wait. Roger will say we can go on to another place, bound to be someone there, but I think why bother and why wait? A cock in the hand now is a guaranteed good hard shag in 5 minutes time, and there’s a bloke over there offering to do it. Then you look at him, could be older than me, a genuine contender for ugliest man in the world AND and one of those creepy estate agent types with a big collar and an ego to match (big and unpleasant) but he’s got a stiff cock, he’s here now and I could have it inside me in a couple of minutes if I just say yes – and I just have to have it. NOW.

Tell you something I’ve never mentioned on here before, so until now only me and Rog know about it. Even though shagging an ugly one has given me some of the best orgasms of my life (probably that good for two reasons, half because I’m really gagging to start with so any orgasm is guaranteed to be a whopper and half because shagging old ugly ones is just so wrong) and even though it takes the edge off the badness, there have been plenty of times when after it’s over we have gone on to the next club, found the pretty boy and shagged him as well.

The only way I can describe it is like when you’re busting for a wee so much you can’t think straight. You really want a nice comfy loo, all clean and bright, but you get so desperate you’ll pee in the street to relieve the pressure. Only after it’s done does the ability to think clearly return, and you can carry on with what you were doing. Which in my case is finding a handsome young man with a big cock to fuck me properly.

Knowing that he doesn’t know that he’s second makes it lovely and bad…

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