Boracay had always been a dream destination, and this trip with my boyfriend—now my husband—felt like the perfect escape. The warm, golden sand, the rhythmic lull of the waves, and the carefree energy of the island had already set the mood. We spent our days lounging by the shore, sipping cocktails under the sun, and our nights? Well, that’s where things got interesting.

That evening, I decided to wear a sleek, figure-hugging one-piece tank dress. It clung to my curves, teasingly short but casual enough for the island vibe. As I checked myself in the mirror, my boyfriend came up behind me, his hands grazing the hem of my dress, fingertips teasing against my bare thighs.

“No need for anything underneath,” he murmured against my ear, his voice thick with suggestion.

I let out a soft laugh, knowing exactly what he was implying. “You’re impossible,” I teased, but the idea sent a delicious shiver through me. Why not? I had taken my time in the shower earlier, making sure I was silky smooth, gliding the razor carefully over my pussy until not a single stray hair remained. The thought of being completely bare beneath this dress, of knowing that at any moment, he could touch me and feel nothing but soft, sensitive skin made my pulse quicken.

So I did it. I slipped off my underwear, feeling a rush of excitement as the air kissed my freshly shaved skin, and left our villa with nothing between me and the night.

We ended up at Epic Boracay, the club’s neon lights glowing against the darkened shore. Inside, the energy was electric—music pulsed through the air, bodies swayed under the haze of dim lights, and the scent of alcohol mixed with the sea breeze. We secured a table, ordered our drinks, and let the night take us wherever it wanted.

A few cocktails in, my boyfriend leaned in, his fingers lightly tracing circles on my thigh. “I want you to tease me,” he murmured, his voice dark and full of heat. “But from a distance.”

I arched a brow. “Oh?”

He smirked and nodded toward the bar. “Sit there. Open your legs… just a little. Just enough for me to see.”

My stomach did a little flip. I was already tipsy, feeling the tequila warm my veins, and the idea of teasing him like this sent a rush of heat straight to my core. But I was also nervous, my hands slightly shaking as I grabbed my drink. So I did the only thing I could—I threw back another tequila shot, letting the burn fuel my courage. My head spun slightly, and I could already feel the heat pooling between my legs, my pussy already dripping wet with anticipation.

I bit my lip, pretending to hesitate, but we both knew I wanted to do it. So, with a sultry glance over my shoulder, I slipped off my seat and made my way to the bar.

Sliding onto a stool, I crossed my legs at first, feeling the cool air kiss my bare, freshly shaved pussy beneath the dress. Then, slowly, deliberately, I uncrossed them just enough. My thighs parted just slightly, allowing the hem of my dress to ride up ever so subtly. I glanced back at him. His gaze was locked onto me, intense and burning, his lips slightly parted as he took in the view.

But what I hadn’t accounted for was the group of guys at the next table.

Four or five of them—foreigners, their tanned faces slightly flushed from alcohol. I wasn’t sure when they noticed, but they did. And at least two of them were looking right at me.

Shit.

My breath hitched. My face flamed with embarrassment, but there was something else too—something far more wicked. I should have been mortified, should have closed my legs and rushed back to my boyfriend. But instead, I stayed. My pulse pounded in my throat, my chest rising and falling a little faster as I realized… I liked it.

The teasing, the thrill, the eyes on me, it was exhilarating.

Before I knew it, two of the guys stood up and casually approached. They leaned against the bar, one on either side of me.

“Hey,” one of them said, his accent unmistakably American. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

I smiled, feigning innocence as I took another sip of my drink. “Vacation.”

“Same,” the other guy chimed in, his gaze flicking briefly, knowingly, down my body before returning to my eyes. “You here with friends?”

Before I could answer, I felt a firm hand at my waist. My boyfriend had arrived.

“She’s with me,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but possessive. His fingers curled around my hip, subtly pulling me back toward him.

The guys exchanged glances, smirking, but didn’t push their luck. Instead, they just chuckled, lifted their drinks, and sauntered back to their table. A moment later, a fresh round of tequila shots was sent over — on them.

The tension simmered. The unspoken electricity still danced in the air as we all laughed, exchanged playful conversation, and let the night continue.

But then, as we were about to leave, one of the guys leaned in toward my boyfriend. He was drunk, grinning lazily, and half-joking when he asked, “So, think we could get another peek?”

I expected my boyfriend to shut it down. Instead, he smirked, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “It’s up to her.”

Heat rushed through me at his words. His confidence, the way he let me hold the power in this moment. It made me feel bold. Reckless.

My heart thundered in my chest as I met my boyfriend’s gaze. He knew exactly how turned on I was, how the whole night had only fueled the fire burning inside me.

So I did it.

I leaned back just a little, let my thighs part once more, this time intentionally slow. I could feel their eyes, could hear the sharp inhale of breath.

And God, I loved it.