Darryl prefers ass

"Listen, your breasts are enough to make anyone into a tits guy. But I'm an old dog stuck in his ways. I've always been partial to a girl's ass, and even though it shocks me to say anything that takes away from what has easily been the most amazing tactile day of my life, I'm saying it. God strike me down if this is the wrong answer, but I've said it."

Abbie laughed. "You've said it. Now it can't be unsaid."

"Which part?"

"All of it!" Abbie wiggled, her body still rubbing against Darryl's hands. "But the most important bit is that you should be shifting your focus to a different part of my body."

"I should?"

Abbie scowled at him playfully. "You just said it! Don't tell me that five minutes of playing with my tits is enough to hypnotize you to the point that you don't even know what you said?"

"So ..." Darryl started slowly. "You want me to ... touch your ass?"

"Yes!" Abbie cheered. "I mean -- you want to touch my ass, don't you?"

"I ... huh?" Darryl was perplexed.

Abbie took a deep breath and sighed. "Come on, Darryl. You just said you were more of an ass man. Do you think I would press you for such information if there wasn't a payoff?"

Darryl smiled. "I ... I suppose not. So just to be clear -- you'd be okay if I moved my hands to your ass?"

"I'd be more than okay, Darryl. I'm asking you to do it." Abbie stood up straight, lifting her chin, and stretching her arms outward. "Go on. I'm waiting."

Darryl took an extra moment before moving his hands. He didn't really want to let go, but then the moment he started to move, he realized that rubbing Abbie's body was actually far more stimulating than keeping his hands planted firmly on her breasts. He slowly slid his palms down the front of her body, and then around the sides. He felt her curves, the softer middle of her torso just beneath her rib cage and above her hips, and then how her body widened at her hips and ass.

"Mm, your touch feels really nice," Abbie murmured, her eyes drifting closed and her head rolling forward a bit. Her breathing got a bit heavier too, and as her head fell, it brushed against Darryl's chest.

Her dress was thin and light, and as Darryl moved his hands around her body, he could feel her through the material. Less than a millimeter of thread separated him from her bare skin. His fingers grazed over her hips, and he could feel the edge of her panties through the dress. He felt his cock twitch with excitement as his brain processed the notion of her panties. That he could feel them meant that they existed, and that he thought about their existence was enough to send a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Darryl let his fingers drift around Abbie's body, nostalgia of a younger version of himself flashing through his mind. He gradually shifted from what might have been modestly appropriate enough for a middle school dance (i.e., a boy's fingers around a girl's waist and hips) to what was desirable but taboo at a high school dance (i.e. a boy's hands resting on and perhaps lightly squeezing the softer part of a girl's butt).

"Why do I feel like a teenager?" he asked aloud, but intended for himself.

"Because you're touching me like one," Abbie commented. "Touch me like a man."

Again, Darryl hesitated. He stared at Abbie, his hands not moving. Abbie sensed the ****, and looked up at him.

"What?" she said innocently.

"Do you understand, this sort of thing doesn't happen."

"People don't touch each other?"

Darryl smirked. "Hot women don't come onto me this aggressively."

Abbie smiled. "Oh, Darryl," she said, her voice a little condescending, though not hurtful. "This is hardly aggressive."

"Well, this is hardly common," he said. "At least, not for me. You know that, don't you?"

Abbie nodded.

"You're hardly common as well. You know that too?"

"Uh-huh."

"And I'm a big dork who talks about geometry and thinks about sex instead of the other way around."

"You'd rather be thinking about geometry?"

Darryl laughed. "Right. Obviously, that's what I meant."

Abbie put a hand on his face, gently touching his cheek. She moved a finger over toward his lips and grazed against him. "Good. I hoped that's what you meant."

Unintentionally, Darryl shifted his hands, slightly squeezing Abbie's ass.

"Mm," Abbie hummed, instinctively squirming a bit with pleasure.

"Oh, I -- sorry."

Abbie breathed deeply. "Not sorry. Do it again."

"Do ... this again?" Darryl asked, clutching her tighter and with more purpose.

"Mm, yes."

He pressed his palms against her ass, pulling her slightly toward him. She was soft, round, firm, and warm. He moved his palms around, feeling her shape, caressing her curves.

"And ... this?"

Abbie lifted one leg slightly, rubbing the inside of her knee against the outside of his thigh. "Yes," she sighed.

He pulled tighter again, this time with enough **** to draw her completely against him, her chest pressed to his. He could feel the swell of her breasts on his body, especially as she deeply breathed in and out. He squeezed his hands tighter on her ass, pulling her, lifting her. She raised the one leg higher, rubbing harder against Darryl's leg. Darryl moved his hand on that side to support her, his hand sliding down her ass and toward her thigh.

As his hand moved down past the edge of her dress, he touched the bare skin of her leg. The new contact sent a shiver through him, the touch of her leg muscle, the tone of her thigh, the taper toward her knee, all combined in a symphony of physical beauty.

"Hold me," she whispered.

He gripped her leg more firmly. She lifted it higher, her knee now near his hip. She touched her foot to his leg, poking at him with the edge of her shoe, raising and lowering her leg an inch or so in each direction, creating friction between her knee and his body. He held her thigh, and as she moved her leg, his fingers nudged back toward her ass again. His other hand remained outside her dress, holding her body tightly against him.

Abbie wiggled against him, rubbing as much of her body on his as she could. She felt his hand creeping back up her thigh, pushing the material of her dress higher and higher. With one move of her leg, the thin cotton fell back down, but now over Darryl's hand.

"Your dress," he muttered. "I didn't mean to -- I mean --"

"Ssh," she whispered. "It's okay."

Darryl slid his palm slowly back up her thigh, now feeling the smooth skin of her upper leg. His right hand still being on the outside of her dress only drew more attention to the sensation of his left hand on her bare skin. She lowered her foot back to the ground, running her knee against his leg the whole way down.

"Do I have to do the same thing with my other leg ... or will you just touch me the way you want to?"

Darryl remained astonished at how confidently forward and unrelenting Abbie was. He didn't feel pressured, and she certainly wasn't asking him to do anything he didn't desperately want to do. But the social norm was to resist those urges, to not hit on the young pretty girl, to not put his hands all over her in the middle of a public hallway. But she seemed completely immune to social norms, skipping straight ahead to doing the thing they both wanted.

"Right," he said. "Yes, I'll just ... I'll put my hand here?"

He moved his right hand down to the edge of her dress, and touched her leg. He waited for her to stop him (which she didn't, of course), and then slowly drew his hand back up, pulling the material of her dress with it. Her dress was already bunched up on the other side (his left hand remained firmly planted on her bare ass just under the back of her dress), and now he was simply making the sides match.

Darryl marveled at her skin as he touched her. His hands roamed around the backs of her thighs, his fingers running along the soft, plump underside of her ass cheeks. As he felt around, the tips of his fingers brushed against the edges of her panties, and again, the thought of her panties sent another rush through his body.

"Mm, I think I felt that," Abbie said quietly. She brought her hands up to his face, and idly touched his cheeks, his hair, his neck.

Darryl didn't know if she meant that she felt his fingers or that she felt his dick, stiffening, still encased in his pants, but straining against the fabric.

"Don't make me ask," she whispered. "I want you to take the next step."