We talked while we waited for her plane to board,
and during the conversation I happened to notice
that her shirt was billowing open at the top,
treating me to an unobstructed view down the
front of Patty's shirt. While I wouldn't normally be
interested in such a cheap peek, it was almost
impossible not to look -- and I could see absolutely
everything since the girl wasn't wearing a bra.
From where I sat, and without any effort what so
ever, I could look right down into Patty's shirt to
see her tiny breasts on display. Even though I tried
to be nonchalant about looking, I'm almost
positive she had to know -- and she didn't seem to
care.
The way her shirt buttoned, along with the way she
sat, gave me a completely private view of her tiny
boobies, which weren't even enough to fill a
heavily padded A-cup. In fact, those perfect little
breasts looked to be no larger than golf balls and
much of what she had was just her cute puffy
nipples straining up from her chest. The view I had
was so good, I could almost count the little bumps
on her areolas and I could see the pristine
smoothness of her delicate, pink nipple caps. I can
only remember getting a chance like this once or
twice before in my life, and each of them left me
with enough fantasy material to fuel many jerk off
sessions, so after covering my hardening cock with
my magazine, I feasted my eyes on her bare
breasts while we talked.
To be honest, there are only two things which are
100% guaranteed to get me to notice a woman.
The first being smallness in the tit department, and
I don't mean that in a derogatory way. What I
mean is, when I think about the perfect woman -- I
mean my perfect woman, I visualize a woman with
very petite breasts. That old adage, "Anything
more than a mouthful is wasted" is my mantra.
When ever I see a woman that might hold
prospective romantic interest, the first thing I try to
figure out is her cup size. If it's more than an 'A', I
lose interest quickly.
The second thing that always catches my eye is
VPL, or Visible Panty Lines. While I guess most
women are now wearing thong underwear to
reduce panty lines under today's synthetic
fashions, hopefully, there are some smart ones
that realize what an eye catcher panty lines are. I
can't understand why women wear fashions to
highlight their bounding breasts, but don't give the
same effort to highlight their butts. What's the use
of seeing a woman's butt if you can't visualize her
panties? It just doesn't make sense to me.
In Patty's case, her cute, clear and uncomplicated
complexion, along with her petite stature were a
visual bonus, and the fact that she seemed to be
an intelligent and articulate girl made her
attractive as hell to me.
So, I spent a good thirty minutes looking down the
top of her blouse directly at her unharnessed
boobs. Unless I'm seriously mistaken, when she
saw me checking her out, she actually shifted in
her seat to give me an even better view. While we
conversed, I rarely raised my eyes to look at her
face, and she didn't show the slightest bit of
concern that she was exposing her breasts to me.
Man, I was in heaven! And, she was an angel.
When the gate agent called for first class boarding,
she asked how she could thank me for my
generosity of giving up my seat. I almost told her I
would appreciate a picture of her tiny breasts as a
keepsake, but being the gentleman I am, I told her
it wasn't necessary and added that I'd thoroughly
enjoyed her company. Blushing, she lowered her
eyes to the floor and then gingerly peeked up at
me and said, "Uhm... I did, too. I wish we could
talk longer, but I have to go."
Before she walked away, Patty insisted that I give
her my name, address and phone number so she
could thank me properly once she got home.
Hopeful I might get another chance to see her
micro-breasts again, I jotted it all down on one of
my business cards and handed it to her. As she
stood, she shook my hand firmly and thanked me
again. Right before she disappeared through the
boarding door, she turned and stood on her
tiptoes to wave at me and then she was gone.
Now, my luck with women isn't what I would call
spectacular. In fact, it's horrible. I've been through
several relationships with women that were
snooty, moody and shallow. Since I'm about to
turn 30 and already own my own thriving business,
I'm doing pretty well for myself and I'm financially
comfortable. I try to keep that fact under wraps
when I first meet a prospective woman, but more
often than not, once the lady finds out my financial
situation, they seem to become interested in
marriage pretty quickly. Now, I'm not trying to
make all women out to be gold-diggers, but I've
run across more than my share. I may be the last
man on earth who actually wants to fall in love
before I get married, so, until that happens, I'm
just going to keep looking.
Yes, I get as much sex as I want. It's not hard to get
laid, but, it's not the kind of sex I'm looking for,
and, it's not the kind of sex I want. Perhaps I
should state it like this: It's not the kind of sex I
really need.
See, I've got some fetishes and interests which
most women seem to regard as 'Kinky' and I'm
very reluctant to disclose them because I've had
more than one girlfriend accuse me of being a
pervert or a sicko. But, the way Patty sat there and
let me ogle her tiny nubbins, it sure made me
think about all the fun I could have with her and
her beautiful A cups.
My flight finally boarded and as I sat on the
darkened plane for the trip home, I closed my
eyes and brought back the vision of Patty's little
buds. My cock responded almost immediately,
pushing against my suit pants in an urgent fashion.
"What an amazing experience" I said to myself as I
remembered the way she exposed herself to me.
When the plane landed, I made my way through
the terminal and was surprised to see a very well
dressed man standing there holding a sign with my
name on it. Now, sometimes I arranged for a limo
when I traveled, but this was my home airport and
my car was in the parking garage. So, what was up
with this?
Probably just a similar name, I thought -- but I
approached the man anyway and told him who I
was. "Paul J. Davis from ILP Corporation?" He
asked questioningly.
"Yes." I replied. "Are you here to pick me up or
something?"
"No, Sir" He answered. "I have a delivery for you. I
was asked to hand it to you, personally."
Immediately, the training from my over bearing
attorney kicked in and I took a step back so he
couldn't hand me a summons, subpoena or serve
me with court papers. Not that I've done anything
wrong, but the whole country is "Litigation Happy"
and I've been trained not to take things from
people without knowing what they are.
The man simply smiled and told me I had nothing
to be concerned about and held out an envelope
with my name hand printed on it. Cautiously, I
took the mysterious envelope from the man, and
while he waited, I opened it up and read it. To say I
was surprised would be a gross misstatement. The
envelope contained a very courteous and
thoughtful hand written 'Thank You' note from
Patty's father, thanking me for helping his
daughter get home and inviting me to have lunch
with him tomorrow so he could show his gratitude.
The note contained the address and time of the
engagement as well as an offer to have me picked
up.
"Shall I convey your acceptance to Mr.
Wallingford?" The man inquired.
"I appreciate the offer, but, tell him this isn't
necessary," I replied, smiling to the man. "I was
happy to help her out given the situation."
At that point, the man handed me a business card
and told me Mr. Wallingford insisted I accept his
offer. Looking at the card, my eyes bugged out as I
read the name. "P. J. Wallingford".
"P.J. Wallingford?" I asked curiously. "The real P.J.
Wallingford?"
"None other." The man replied quietly.
Taken aback that fate had thrown me into a lunch
invitation with the famous P.J. Wallingford, I shook
the surprise out of my head and readily agreed,
telling the man I would be honored to accept the
invitation.
"Very good, Sir." The man answered. "And by the
way, Sir, you needn't worry about Miss Patricia's
Grandfather. Seems it was just a bout of
indigestion, and he's perfectly fine." Then, after
giving him the address where he could pick me up
tomorrow, he expressed his thanks and left.
All night I struggled with the whole idea of meeting
P.J. Wallingford and the unbelievable memories of
how I shamelessly peeked at his daughter's
breasts. I can't tell you the thoughts that flew
through my mind, even wondering if I was going to
be chastised by the powerful man for my
voyeuristic behavior.
But, the lunch went fine and he was quite cordial,
even offering to pay me back for the first class seat
I'd given to his daughter. Smiling, I told him not to
worry about it; that the cost of the seat wasn't a
consideration in my mind. We ended up spending
most of the afternoon talking business and I found
him quite intriguing. He expressed an interest in
my business and even offered a few tips to help
me prop up cash flow. It turned out we had
something in common -- that being a passion for
golf. And golf is what enabled me to start dating
his only daughter, Patricia, or as he referred to
her, his "Baby Girl".
He invited me out to his club the next Saturday
morning to play a round of golf. I was enormously
excited about playing with this business icon, but
that excitement paled in comparison to the way
my heart jumped when I arrived and found Patty
there and learned that she was joining us, too.
While PJ went into the pro shop to check us in,
Patty and I waited outside. As I sat on the bench to
put on my golf shoes, Patty squatted down next to
her bag and started feeling through the pockets
obviously looking for something. The way she was
positioned was a dream come true for me because
her legs were parted a few inches and I was
treated to a nice peak up her skirt. Well, it was
actually more than a 'peek' because I could see it
all; a complete, straight ahead panty shot. Not just
a sliver of panties, mind you -- I saw her whole
panty covered mound.
She kept that position for another minute, and all
the while, I just kept looking. She glanced up with a
grimace on her face and said, "you don't have an
extra divot tool do you?"
I told her I didn't think so, and she simply turned
her attention back to her golf bag and kept digging
around, looking for it. Throughout all this, I'm still
sitting there and I'm staring between her legs at
the hot pink panties which were pulled tightly
across her pussy. "Damn, what luck!" I thought to
myself. First I see this girl's boobs at the airport
and now I'm seeing her panties. "The girl is
completely oblivious to what she's doing." I
thought.
The instant the pro shop door opened and her Dad
came out, she magically found her divot tool and
stood up. "I knew I had one in there." Patty said,
holding it up. Honestly, I didn't care if she'd found
her divot tool or not -- I just wanted to see more of
her panties.
Since we were a threesome, PJ suggested that he
and I share a cart for the front nine and once we
make the turn, Patty and I should ride together on
the back nine. Hell, I was thankful to have any time
alone with her, so I readily agreed and strapped
my bag into the cart alongside PJ's.
Not more than 10 minutes later, when we were at
the first tee, I saw her panties again and when we
were putting, she bent over and I got another look
straight down her top. Again, today she wasn't
wearing a bra and I saw her tiny boobs clear as
day.
When she stood up, she saw me looking and gave
me a sly smile. And with each successive hole, I
either got see her panties or I got to see her
breasts. Her tiny nipples were on display, too,
thrusting out wonderfully in the crisp morning air,
a fact I'm sure her father must have noticed. But
neither he, nor she, seemed to be the least bit
bothered at her appearance, so I took advantage
of the situation and enjoyed the show. She had my
total attention and I'm almost positive she knew it.
When we were hitting over the water hazard on
four, PJ and I stood behind her as she made her
approach to the ball. We were quiet as she looked
out over the water and up toward the pin. Then, PJ
leaned over toward me. "She's quite fetching, isn't
she, Paul?" He said quietly.
"Sir," I replied, "If you don't mind me saying, that's
probably the biggest understatement I've ever
heard a sane man say."
PJ, as he asked me to call him, just smiled and
patted my back lightly as we watched Patty hit the
ball and we followed it through the air as it rolled
to the outer edge of the green. Damn, the girl was
shooting right at par and I was already three over.
I kept telling myself it was okay, though -- it was
their home course and I'd never played it before.
Plus, with the distractions being thrown my way, I
was glad I wasn't eight over!
All the way through the front nine, Patty was more
than generous with her panty and breast
exposures. I kept waiting for her father to catch on,
but he never did, and the show never stopped. I
kept a perpetual hard-on for those two hours and I
never complained one bit!
During the back nine, Patty talked up a storm in
the cart with me. I let her drive, and under the
guise of being a good conversationalist, and
behind the safety of my dark sunglasses, I enjoyed
the view of her dainty nipples jiggling under her
shirt as she drove. Along the way, she told me her
life story and I told her mine. The more time I
spent with Patty, the more I realized she was
actually a pretty cool person. Granted, they way
she was showing herself off to me might have
caused my initial interest, but after a while, I
wondered if there wasn't a spark growing between
us.
At the twelfth hole, PJ stopped to take a restroom
break, so Patty and I hung out at the tee box
waiting for him. I watched as she bent down to
place her tee and set her ball up. She stayed bent
over for a while which allowed me to get another
clear view of both her petite breasts when the
front of her shirt fell away from her chest.
Continuing to adjust the height of the tee and the
way the ball sat on it, she stayed bent over long
enough for me to get an extra long look at her
lovely breastlings. Moving toward her, I kneeled
down across from Patty to brush away some
leaves and grass clippings next to her tee. Imagine
my surprise when she kneeled down opposite me.
Glancing over her shoulder to see if her dad was
coming yet - and then satisfied he wasn't, she
allowed her knees to open wide enough for me to
get an extremely close look at her pink panties.
The view she afforded me was nothing short of
mind blowing, and I could easily make out the
gusset of her panties and even the intricate
stitching along the elastic between her thighs. I
glanced up at her to see she'd caught me looking
between her legs. Embarrassed that she caught me
gawking at her panties, I quickly looked away and
apologized, but, she reached out and softly
grasped my hand saying, "No, it's okay, Paul. You
can look. We can't let Daddy see, though."
My eyes dropped down between her legs again
and she pivoted slightly, enough for the sun to
shine directly on the silky fabric covering her
pussy. I swear I could make out the lips of her
labia pushing against the tight material of her
panties. "Oh, Patty, that's so nice." I whispered as I
looked up at her. My heart started to beat wildly as
I stared at her panties.
"Daddy's coming." She whispered as she twisted
her legs away from me.
With that, Patty stood up and I followed a second
later. When PJ joined us, I had to turn away to
discretely adjust my hardened manhood inside my
pants. Patty saw my predicament and smiled,
knowing full well she'd given me an embarrassing
erection with her father about to walk right up to
us.
When we got to sixteen, PJ hit off into the rough on
the left side, so Patty and I waited in our cart while
he went to look for his ball. Turning toward me
and away from her Dad's view, she cocked one
knee up on the seat between us and pulled her
golf skirt up a little. Now to me, this was nothing
short of blatant exhibitionism, and I made my
mind up I was going to say something to her.
Initially, neither one of us said a word, but as she
looked toward her father to make sure the coast
was clear, my eyes traveled down between her
legs and I was treated to a full, wide open view of
those pink panties, which now had a very visible
wet spot and the material was creased up between
her pussy lips.
Without caring what her father might say if he saw,
I stared between her legs and said "Patty, forgive
me for saying this, but, if you've been trying to get
me hot and bothered, I just want you to know that
it worked. In fact, you've had me hot and bothered
since I met you at the airport the other day."
"I wondered if you were ever going to bring that
up." She replied cautiously. "I saw you looking
down my top, you know." She looked at me and
then asked, "You're a voyeur, aren't you?"
"And you're an exhibitionist." I answered. "It's kind
of convenient that we met, don't you think?"
Patty looked over at me and shrugged her
shoulders. "Most guys wouldn't bother looking
down my top," she said, "there's not much to see
down there. When you kept looking, I knew you
were either a voyeur or small tit man."
"You know," I replied, "I sat in that airport for 30
minutes with a hard-on looking at your beautiful
breasts, and then on my own flight, I spent
another hour with a hard-on remembering what
they looked like, and the instant I saw you this
morning, I got excited all over again. And to tell the
truth, you've kept me excited all day long."
"Yeah," she giggled, "I saw you back there trying to
make yourself presentable when Daddy came back
from the restroom."
"Found it!" We heard PJ yell. Patty pulled her skirt
down and shifted her legs around and we turned
to see her father walking toward us, about twenty
yards out. As he got closer to the cart, I leaned
over and said, "By the way, I think you're breasts
are absolutely lovely."
"Why, thank you, kind sir." Patty said in return as a
slight blush overtook her cheeks. "I don't think
anyone has ever said that to me before."
"I'm not kidding," I whispered, "I mean that very
sincerely."
I could see the blush spreading down Patty's neck.
I think my comments embarrassed her and she
glanced over at me in a bashful manner. I'm not
sure why I did it, but while she was looking, I
slipped my hand down into my pants and made an
obvious move to straighten my cock out so my
hard-on wouldn't be obvious when I stepped out
of the golf cart. Patty watched the whole time.
"You've really had an erection all day?" Patty
asked. "Because of me?"
Continued in the next chapter.
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