With his jeans having been duly discarded, there was no hiding what the situation was like within his boxer-briefs.  Still pre-occupied with her butt (as if there was nothing else of hers to play with), Charlette’s subtle movement alerted him.  Did she just expertly slip out of her pajama shorts without interrupting his fondness for fondling?  She did, as her garment was now cast aside.  On his scorecard, all that remained were her tank top and panties.  The very same panties that his digits of derriere deployment were on the inside of.<br/><br/>And how did women do that with their clothes?!  Paul could vividly recall how he’d watch Jemma remove her bra without taking off her t-shirt or blouse, sliding it out through a sleeve.  Countless times!  Frickin’ Houdini with the bra-removal if you ask him.  But this was clearly no time for Houdini!  Let him find his own bountiful booty.<br/><br/>On a whim, Paul slid his right hand away from her bottom (imagine that!), while his left remained on buns detail.  His wandering hand found the front of her underwear, and the area near it was, um, it was rather, erm, rather damp.  Oh boy.  Did current developments just get better or worse?!  He imagined his hardness and her wetness went together like peanut butter and jelly.  Ooo, bad analogy.<br/><br/>Although he chose not to breach her pink panties just yet, he did finger-massage her skin on both sides of the front of her undergarment, occasionally feeling a wetness on his fingertips.  Might as well throw that detail into the notebook of<i>How To Turn Paul On.</i><br/><br/>Paul considered switching the red light on, albeit ever so briefly.  He was having too good a time, and so was she, what with all the clues emanating from them both.  Besides, he was under the impression that it would be a crushing blow to Charlette if he were to pull the plug on their playtime right now.  That would be just plain mean and heartless.<br/><br/>And since Paul was neither mean nor heartless, he carried on with what he was already doing.  Both hands occupied at different locales of Charlette’s anatomy?  Check.  His tongue presently in an intense mixology with hers?  Check.  He sighed with contentment, thinking it couldn’t get any better than this.