Summer, Spandex, and Surprises: A Swimwear Adventure with My Girlfriend
It started as a fun weekend outing—just the two of us, fit, confident, and ready to show off a little. My new girlfriend and I had only been dating a few months, but our chemistry was electric. We both hit the gym hard, took pride in how we looked, and weren’t shy about a little healthy vanity. So when beach season rolled around, swimwear shopping was naturally on the list.
We hit the stores first for her. I told her she could choose whatever she wanted, but she turned the tables on me and said, “No, you pick something for me. Anything you want.”
I didn’t hesitate. I picked the most daring suit in the store—a micro-thong in shimmering bronze that hugged her curves like it had been painted on. Barely a whisper of fabric covered her, and I was half-joking when I said it might get her arrested. But she just laughed, tried it on, and walked out of the dressing room like she owned the place. Her confidence was unreal. That little thong somehow made her even sexier than if she’d been naked.
Then it was my turn.
Store after store was a disappointment. Just board shorts. Maybe a few Speedos. I’d always been a shorts guy, but she wasn’t having it.
“You’ve got a body like a statue, babe. Why are you hiding it?” she teased. “You picked a tiny thong for me. You’re wearing a real suit too.”
I laughed it off at first, but she was serious. Very serious.
Eventually she sighed and said, “We’re going to have to shop online. I’ll take care of it—just give me your card.”
Still in post-thong bliss, I handed it over without question.
The next day, she strutted into my place with a wicked grin and said, “Your suits are on the way. Three of them. From a place called Koalaswim.com. They’re small. Very small.”
I shrugged, “Cool, I’m sure they’ll be nice.” I didn’t even bother checking the site.
Big mistake.
The Arrival
The day the package arrived, she was practically vibrating with excitement. She tossed me the box and said, “Open it. You’re gonna love these—or at least I will.”
The first suit? A sleek, minimal MTF-style thong with a smooth, feminizing front. She smirked and said, “I’ve always had a thing for that look… very sleek, very smooth. You’ll look like a marble statue with a secret.”
The second? The Postage Stamp. And yes—it lived up to its name. A micro bikini with a front pouch that barely covered anything and left almost nothing to the imagination. I held it up with two fingers, stunned.
“Is this even legal?” I asked.
She just winked.
The third was the Micro Fling Thong, a stringy, ultra-minimal design with a tiny pouch and high hips. It screamed confidence. Or insanity. Or both.
At the Beach
I thought I’d be nervous, but once I slipped into the Postage Stamp and caught my reflection, something shifted. It was daring. It was hot. She couldn’t stop staring.
The first day out, I wore the MTF thong under my shorts. We hit a quiet beach, and she practically dared me to strip down. I finally did. The way the pouch smoothed me out, giving me this sleek, almost androgynous look—it was shockingly empowering. She was glued to me all afternoon.
Next time, I rocked the Micro Fling Thong. The reactions were wild. Heads turned. Eyes lingered. One woman even walked past us and whispered to my girlfriend, “Your man’s got guts—and a great ass.” My girlfriend just smiled and whispered to me, “Told you.”
By the third beach trip, I was strutting in the Postage Stamp like it was my second skin. Sun, sand, and nearly-nude confidence. We swam, played, even tanned together in our barely-there suits. People stared, but they smiled. And for once, I wasn’t hiding behind shorts—I was showing who I was, right alongside the woman who encouraged it all.
Looking Back
It started with a micro-thong and a girlfriend with bold taste. But what it really turned into was freedom—freedom to wear what made us feel sexy, confident, and powerful.
Turns out, when your girlfriend’s into micro swimwear and you let her dress you… you end up discovering a whole new version of yourself.
And damn, it looks good in spandex.
Summer, Spandex, and Surprises: Part 2 – The Heat Between Us
By the third weekend, the suits weren’t just a novelty—they had become us. Confidence wasn’t just about showing off at the beach anymore. It was turning into something electric between us. Every time she saw me in one of the Koalaswim suits, I could see it in her eyes: hunger. Pride. Possession.
We were back at the beach, this time in a more secluded cove she had discovered on a hike. The sun was low, casting everything in amber. I had slipped on the Postage Stamp—or what little there was of it. The soft stretch of the spandex hugged me so tight I could barely feel where the fabric ended and my skin began. Smooth, small, and molded to me, it gave me the look she was obsessed with—so small up front it almost looked like I had nothing.
She was already waiting, lying on her towel in her micro-thong, the gold fabric practically glistening against her sun-kissed skin. She watched me as I walked toward her, biting her lip, dragging her eyes over every inch of my nearly naked body.
“That suit makes you look like a forbidden fantasy,” she whispered, reaching for me as I knelt beside her.
“You made me wear this,” I said, pretending to scold her.
“And now you’re addicted to it,” she whispered, running her hand down my abs, letting her fingers trace the tiny waistband of my micro thong. “You have no idea what this is doing to me.”
Her mouth found mine before I could answer. The kiss was slow, sultry, and deep, her fingers exploring my chest, my thighs, slipping around the narrow sides of the tiny suit I wore. I could feel her body arching beneath mine as I pressed against her, the sensation of spandex on skin turning us both on like fire on dry leaves.
“I love how smooth you look in this,” she said breathlessly, as she gently cupped me through the thin fabric. “It’s like I have my own living statue… and I get to unwrap it anytime I want.”
We moved behind the rocks, away from the shoreline, still able to hear the waves crashing as she lay back on a blanket. Her thong barely held together as I pulled it aside with trembling fingers, my own suit straining as she tugged me closer. Every touch, every whisper, every press of her lips to my skin was more intense in that tiny spandex prison—stretching, teasing, building.
She grabbed the waistband of my suit, looked up with a smirk, and said, “Postage stamp, huh? Time to see what’s inside this package.”
Afterward, we lay tangled in the blanket, wind sweeping over our flushed, sweat-slicked bodies. She rested her head on my chest, fingers lazily toying with the now-loosened thong strap still clinging to my hip.
“You’re never going back to shorts, are you?” she whispered.
I chuckled. “Not a chance.”
With her by my side and a drawer full of Koalaswim barely-there thongs, I’d discovered not just a new way to dress—but a new way to be seen, touched, and wanted.
And the summer was just getting started.