Paul thought that it was far better to be in control.  Sorta.  Although he was touching Charlette wherever he wanted to, that didn’t stop her from doing the same.  A light stroke from her in just the right place resulted in a little more leakage.  Hell, Paul could see the spreading stain of his not-so-secret sauce, some of it even seeping through his boxer-briefs.<br/><br/>There were, after all, strokes of his own to perform.  One of which concentrated on the front of her pajama shorts, right between her thighs.  The other wasn’t so much a stroke, as it was more of a fondle.  Charlette’s scrumptious bottom rightly deserved attention, too.  And Paul was happy to oblige, while still rubbing up against her.<br/><br/>Sadly, but only for a moment or so, her ample breasts lacked any attention from his wandering hands.  Now would be a good time to be an octopus.