Summer Holiday/Spain Day 1/Airport./Molly
I sit down just on the end of the row on which the brother and sister were playing, fish my Kindle out of my bag and pretend to read.
The two kids are playing happily in the space between the seats, with Mum and Dad casting the occasional glance at them. The pair are certainly making enough noise and you can see a few fellow travellers are more than a little irritated by it. For yourself, you are quite happy for them to continue. The girl, who I gather from their chatter is called Molly and her brother, perhaps two years younger is called Harry.
Molly is quite the little show-off and is trying to teach her little brother various gymnastic tricks including cartwheels, handstands and bridges. He is a poor student but it does mean that most of the time is spent with her demonstrating and this was very much to my taste. She's wearing a light cotton dress and with the reckless abandon of girls her age everywhere (she's about eight I think - perfect) she gives no mind to turning flips and standing inverted whilst her dress falls down over her head. Each time she does, I and the entire departure lounge are treated to a full view of her pale yellow cotton knickers and the smooth bare skin of her thighs. Once back on her feet, she idly smooths it back down before going again.
Then she does a handstand and drops down into a bridge almost right in front of you. She couldn't see you as her dress is down over her face but you get a wonderful close-up of her panties, her bare tummy, and her chest with its two bee-sting nipples. In fact, if you had the nerve, you could reach out, pull the panties aside and shove a finger into her immature little cunt right then and there. Of course, this would mean a premature end to your holiday, most likely a punch from Daddy, and an unpleasant interview with security, but it is a tempting thought. It is almost as if she's deliberately teasing you as she holds the pose for what seems like an eternity before rolling out of it onto your sandaled feet. Her dress is still up around her armpits and you made eye contact as she lays there for a further five seconds with her flat chest on show and her yellow panties, pulled right up into her pussy. I smile kindly at her in case she thought I might be annoyed and are rewarded with a lovely gap-toothed grin.
"Sorry Mister, I didn't see you there," she says with a giggle. Well of course she hadn't, because her dress, which should normally be hanging down around her knees had been over her head!
"And you are a fucking liar," I think. The little minx knew perfectly well what she was doing.