What I saw was a slight crinkling of her areola and nipples as her arousal grew – along with a slight, faint dusting of freckles across the upper slopes of her breasts. Otherwise, her skin was flawless: a warm, rosy pink, without blemishes. She shivered a bit, and I could see the ever-so-slight jiggle of firm, young, female flesh. When I looked up again (after trying to memorize the sight!), she had a nervous – but questioning – look on her face.

I slid back to my end of the couch, and smiled at her, before telling her "I was right – from where I sit, they look just fine. Better than that, they look delightful! What you might think you lack in quantity, you more than make up for in quality."

She looked relieved, and closed her robe – something I must confess I regretted.

With her robe closed, she looked at me again, blushed slightly, and said,

"Okay, I guess now I can believe you."

I laughed briefly, and asked her "What? Is this a face that would lie to you?" gesturing to my own face.

She giggled, and headed back to her room.

I have to admit that the view she'd given me stimulated me – but not enough to follow up on it. Understand, I enjoy pretty young girls as much as anyone else – but this was my best friend's daughter, only 14 years old, and someone that I'd grown fond of, in an Uncle-like way. I wasn't about to do anything to frighten or otherwise disturb her – never mind anything that would alienate her dad, my friend. All I could do was remember it (with fondness!), without any plan or hope that things would go any farther.

Part 2 Several weeks went by before Paul had to go on any more road trips. During that time, he and I got together several times to have a couple beers, watch a game on TV, or even play a little (bad) golf. As was usually the case, our conversations varied in subject: anything from what the lugnuts in Congress were doing to screw up the country, to (only slightly exaggerated) stories from our youth, to how the kids were doing.