Whenever they were kissing, his hands were never still. They caressed softly, and slowly, all the way up and down her back side, and all over her. They slipped slowly down over her back, into the gulf of the small of her back, and then outward over the protuberance of her derrière, and onward to her thighs, then up her side over her widening hips, and on to her back again. A slow, delightful exploration of all her luscious, feminine curves, that seemed to never end. One delightful curve after another, and like a race car driver rounding yet another curve, his hand never grew tired of the track. It was fun to run his hands all over her.
Ah, maiden girls won't take their clothes off and let you look at their luscious curves. But if you're kissing them good, they do let you feel them. So like a blind man, his fingers became his eyes, as he explored and memorized and adored every inch of her curvatures. He saw her in all her naked glory, or at least his hands did.
Girls don't always like being ‘felt up’ in such a way, but if his kissing is good, and his hands are truly adoring and reverential, she starts to take a liking to this. How lovely it is to be so loved, and it is obvious that his hands really loved her and her body.
She'd never been very confident about her body, and wasn't sure what men would think of her. It still felt weird to her how her body had suddenly developed and burgeoned out in several places these last couple years as she came of age. She didn't like her butt, which she felt was too big and unseemly.
Women sometimes complain that men have naughty minds and try to sexualize a woman. And indeed, his roving hands were sexualizing her now. For the first time in her life, she started to feel like she was a sexual being, in a very sexual body. His hands made her feel that she, the shy swamp girl, was a sexual goddess.
And while his hands caressed everywhere, it became obvious after a while that he preferred some parts to others. Specifically, he was spending an inordinate amount of time over her bottom. His hands would really slow down there, and backtrack all over her postérieure rotunda. And while his hands would go elsewhere, they were almost in a rush to get back to her pumpkin bottom. There they tarried. Because it starts to feel that a woman's Divine posterior is the natural home for a man's hands. Whenever they were standing and kissing, his hands would end up there. On her hind end. Where the curve of her each cheek would fit perfectly into the concave palm of his hand, like they were made for this by the Gods. The 'home' place for a man's hands to home in on when he kisses you.