Not backing off one bit, Charlette’s attention remained on his lucky earlobes.  Or should that be unlucky?  Regardless, her barrage on them nearly caused Paul to jump outta his skin.  Well, someone was jumping, and he knew who it was.  As if to emphasize the point, or to take full advantage of her captive audience, she squeezed the rising sub within his boxers.  He wasn’t completely sure, but it felt like a little leakage following her squeeze.<br/><br/>I say damn, son!  She sure is one horn dog!  You, uh, up for it, Old Man?  A miniscule pause, and then, Oh, it appears you are.  Snickering soon followed.  No help as usual.<br/><br/>An onslaught of his own was hastily devised.  There was just a simple dilemma to decide upon.  Where should his initial attack focus on?  Charlette’s jiggly rack?  Or, her equally jiggly bottom?  Being a true-blue butt man, Paul already knew the answer pretty much before asking the question.<br/><br/>Confident that his hands were warm enough (hell,<i>everything </i>was warm enough by now!), Paul fondled her breasts through her frilly, pink floral tank top.  A few tweaks and squeezes of his own later, and his hands slipped under the tank top, where skin-on-skin was always preferred.  Charlette was quite the handful, after all.<br/><br/>A few minutes later, attention was now turned toward her sweet, curvy cheeks.  Paul was a firm believer in always saving the best for last.  Again, his hands remained outside for the time being, as he caressed and massaged her booty with her pajama shorts serving as interference.  And yet again, his mitts eventually found passage inside of her pj shorts, as more rubs and squeezes were performed.  Charlette was a handful in both her northern and southern hemispheres.  And that was indeed nothing but a good thing.<br/><br/>Atta boy, Old Man!  I just<i>knew </i>you couldn’t keep your hands off a dat ass!