The moment she said it, I thought she was joking.
“You’re not bringing board shorts on this cruise, babe. You’re wearing thongs. Lycra thongs. The tiniest ones I can find. You’re going to match the girls by the pool.”
I laughed nervously, assuming she’d forget. But Sophie didn’t forget. Sophie never forgets when she’s decided to make me squirm in the best possible way.
Two days later, as we were packing for our Caribbean cruise, she tossed a small bag onto the bed with a grin that was both sweet and wicked.
“Here’s your swimwear. Try them on. I need to make sure they pass the test.”
I opened the bag and my jaw dropped. Inside were four tiny Lycra thongs—each skimpier than the last. One was electric blue, another a neon coral, and the last two were sheer—sheer—white and black. They barely looked legal.
“Babe…” I started, holding one up like it might bite me. “There’s… there’s nothing here. It’s like… a triangle and a string.”
“Exactly,” Sophie said, walking over and plucking the thong from my fingers. She held it up with a satisfied smirk. “You’re going to look incredible in these. Every girl at the pool is wearing them now. You want to fit in, don’t you?”
I swallowed hard. “Fit in? Or stand out?”
“Both,” she said without missing a beat. “Now strip. Let’s see.”
I tried on the first thong, a fire-engine red Lycra number that barely cupped me in front and left my ass completely exposed. Sophie purred her approval, circling me like a predator.
“You’re going to tan so perfectly in these,” she said, her fingers grazing the thin waistband. “And look how it hugs you—like a second skin. God, this is so much hotter than baggy shorts. You’ll thank me.”
“I’m going to be the only guy in one of these…” I muttered, tugging nervously at the micro strip of fabric between my cheeks.
“Not true. Some guys wear them now. European men especially. And besides—” Sophie’s eyes glittered with mischief “—I’ll be by your side in an even tinier bikini. If I’m showing skin, so are you. Fair’s fair.”
The first day on the ship, I stepped out to the pool deck in my blue Lycra thong, my heart pounding. Heads turned. Sophie held my hand, looking like a goddess in her string bikini, utterly unfazed.
“See? No one cares,” she whispered, though I could feel plenty of eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Own it.”
I tried to relax, stretching out on a lounger next to her. The sun was warm on my bare skin, and I had to admit the feeling of the Lycra was… intoxicating. It hugged me snugly but made me feel nearly naked. A couple walked by and I swore I heard the woman giggle and say, “Nice suit.”
Sophie leaned over, grinning wickedly. “Told you. By the end of this cruise, you’re not going to want to wear anything else.”
And she was right.
By day three, I was strutting confidently to the pool in my sheer white thong, feeling a thrill every time I caught someone sneaking a glance. Sophie had turned me into a Lycra thong convert, and I wasn’t even mad about it.
“You’re my sexy pool boy now,” she teased as I bent over to adjust my towel. “And tonight… maybe I’ll make you wear the sheer black one to dinner. No one will see it under your pants. But I will know.”
The cruise wasn’t even halfway over, and I already knew—I was never going back to board shorts.
That night in the cabin, Sophie sat cross-legged on the bed in nothing but her tiniest bikini, a glass of wine in her hand and that same devilish grin on her lips.
“You’re loving it, aren’t you?” she said, her eyes locked on me as I stood awkwardly in my sheer black Lycra thong, feeling utterly exposed under her gaze.
“I… I’m getting used to it,” I admitted, my cheeks warm.
She laughed softly and set her wine down. “Used to it? Baby, you were practically strutting at the pool today. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you stood at the bar, your cute little ass on display, all those women whispering about you. God, I’m so proud of you.”
Sophie slid off the bed and sauntered over, her fingers grazing my waistband. “But now I want to see just how bold you can be. Tomorrow, no cover-ups. No towel around your waist. You’re going to walk the entire length of the pool deck in nothing but one of these tiny thongs.”
My heart thumped. “Sophie…”
She leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear. “And if you don’t… I won’t let you wear anything at all in the cabin tonight. No thong. No sheet. You’ll sleep completely naked, and I might just leave the balcony curtains wide open.”
The thrill shot through me like lightning.
The next morning, Sophie picked out the sheer white thong—barely opaque enough to hide anything. She handed it to me with a look that dared me to protest.
“Put it on. And no hiding. I want everyone to see how delicious you look.”
As we stepped onto the sun-drenched deck, I could feel the eyes—more than the first day. Sophie strolled beside me, her hand occasionally swatting my exposed rear.
“God, look at you,” she whispered. “So sexy, so brave. I can tell they’re all imagining what’s under that tiny triangle of Lycra. Maybe later I’ll give them a better view.”
By mid-afternoon, she took things further.
We were at the pool bar, and Sophie leaned in close, her fingers tracing the waistband of my thong. “I want you to order us drinks. Alone. Hands at your sides. No hiding yourself. Let them see what a good little exhibitionist you’ve become.”
The bartender, a pretty woman with sun-kissed skin, raised her brows slightly as I stepped up. “Nice swimwear,” she teased.
I stammered out our order, my body on fire as Sophie watched from her lounge chair, her eyes smoldering with approval.
When I brought her the drinks, she pulled me down for a kiss, her hand sneaking a squeeze of my bare cheek. “Such a good boy,” she murmured. “Tonight, I’m rewarding you. But first…”
Her grin widened. “I dare you to jump in the pool. Now. No hesitation.”
The water was cool, a welcome shock against my flushed skin. But as I swam to the edge, I realized just how sheer the thong had become when wet. The fabric clung tighter, nearly transparent, and I saw Sophie biting her lip with delight.
“Ohhh yes,” she purred as I climbed out. “Now that’s the kind of show I wanted.”
That night back in the cabin, Sophie made good on her promise. She pressed me against the balcony railing, my skin still warm from the sun, her hands roaming hungrily over my thong-clad body.
“You’re mine,” she whispered. “My perfect pool boy. Tomorrow, we’re going to see just how far I can push you.”
And from the gleam in her eye, I knew she wasn’t done with her little game—not by a long shot.