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AUTHOR'S NOTE: A reader commented on my Spring Break short story that they would have loved to read it from the male's perspective, so I wrote this reciprocal piece.
*****
He held his book just low enough to peer over the top while still appearing to be reading it. The two women sitting across from him couldn't deny they were mother and daughter from the similarities in body style, to the way they laughed and tossed their hair while they talked.
The mother had laugh lines and crow's feet, and a bit of a sag to her chest, but they both wore yoga pants with tee shirts, and he found himself thinking that they could easily pass for sisters. He was impressed with the way the mother kept knitting while talking, without ever looking at her needles, but it was the daughter who was really the focus of his attention.
She was sitting crossed-legged on the seat at Gate C36, half turned toward her mother, her forearms resting comfortably on her out-turned thighs. In this position, the material was stretched tightly across her crotch, and he was certain he could make out the thin ridges of her pussy outlined in the shiny lycra. "No way she's wearing panties," he silently guessed, as he let his eyes wander up and enjoy the youthful swells under her white Daytona Beach tee shirt that hung loosely over her left shoulder, exposing the thin white strap of her bra.
"Since we're gonna be here for like forever," she said to her mother, with the appropriate teen-drama emphasis on 'forever', "I'm going to head back to that TCBY, you want anything?"
"No thanks, dear," responded the mother, still knitting at a Besty-Ross clip, "don't be gone too long though in case there's good news about our flight."
He put his book down and emphatically stretched while watching the sway of that firm, young ass trapped inside the thin material of her stretch pants. Her tee shirt was bunched and tied off at the waist, which meant her ass was on full display, as she blended in with the throng transversing the hallway.
"Frozen yogurts sounds good," he said to nobody in particular, as she stood up and headed off in the same direction as the young girl.
He followed about twenty feet behind her, mesmerized by the sultry sway of her hips, counting the number of fellow travelers who were also admiring the young lady's tight booty as she passed by. The poor young man in full fatigues and a crew-cut, most likely on first leave from basic training, practically broke his neck following those sexy twin hemispheres as she passed by him, to the point of nearly being run over by one of those beeper-cars.
She flung her head around when she heard the loud beep, and saw the embarrassed soldier feverishly apologizing to the two old women and the driver of the courtesy shuttle. She also recognized the man following her as the guy sitting across from her at the gate.
"Daaa-aaad," she admonished, adding extra syllables to the simple word while placing her hands on her hips, "why are you walking behind me?"
"Just enjoying the view, Mitchie," he honestly replied while using the pet name he gave her when she was just a young girl. He walked up and put his arm around his daughter's shoulder, and the two continued down the hallway, his hand resting precariously above her right boob.
"I should have figured you were back there," she joked, "I could feel my ass warming up from your staring."
"Oh honey," he said matter-of-factly, "those pants must be fireproof because the number of guys admiring your ass would have surely burned them off you if they weren't."