Getting comfortable.

"Jake? You alright?"

The young man shook a strand of brown hair over an eye. He smiled and accepted the bag of fruit. "Thanks, Mr. Lexington." Upon regaining his composure, he retreated, lobbing a wave goodbye to him and his wife, who hung by the man's shoulder. The couple exchanged looks, shrugged, then closed the door.

Crap, the boy hurried back down the snowy street, fruit slung over the upper crease of his back. He nearly forgot.

Tomorrow was his mother's birthday, and he was supposed to be getting something for her. Officially, it was from both him and his sister, Frankie. But after a lopsided rock-paper-scissors match he was the one lucky enough to be tasked with 'shopping duty.' Sometimes, he wished he had a robot clone.

As the high schooler rushed down the cross-walk, a store at the corner of the street caught his eye, on top, in large, faded lettering: 'MIRACLE ANTIQUES'. He paused, before continuing at a slower pace. After checking his phone for the time, he was just about to pass it over, boots crushing the crinkles of snow below him, the nearest sign of the living, besides the smattering of traffic, being the gated community the next block over.

This wasn't his normal route. Typically, if resorting to foot, he'd take the other side of the overpass, flit down the middle school, and then go up Stalk Avenue, after which his place would be a few blocks off. However, he opted for a short-cut, forcing him to cut through the strip mall as well as this little arterial plot which used to be home to several mom-and-pops before they went out of business.

"...okay. Okay." The mumble left his lips via white, semi-transparent cloud.

Tugging the bag up, he lifted his fuzzy collar, ensuring it cradled as much of his neck possible, and shifted on his heels towards these so-called miracles.

Frankie let her leg down, alongside Lillian's. Their formerly raised feet now settled side to side on the carpet.

"Warmer now?"

"Much," Frankie sighed contentedly, laying back across her friend's bed. "Much."

Meanwhile, in the next room over, Gilbert watched the scene play out on his monitor, mystical book splayed open on the desk before him.

He wrote for himself to have direct access to a video feed broadcasting Lil's room. It came to be. He wrote a ridiculous scenario, and made it into a custom. Neither girl balked. No recoil. No camera crew. They just... believed it.

This was that moment. The moment that everyone entangled with unimaginable ability sees the ceiling above, and watches it disappear. Where to? What did this suggest? That the only thing limiting him was his very mind's eye?

Gulping down dry air, legs tense, fingers caught in a slight quiver, Gilbert slid his pencil over the open page.

Meanwhile, as Frankie lounged over the mattress, Lillian suddenly realized something peculiar.

"Frankie," Lillian patted the girl's leg.

"Yeah?"

"Could you believe I forgot I haven't given you your massage yet? Turn over."

Frankie's eyes flickered down to her friend, who was gesturing to her to go on her stomach. That's right, she hadn't. She was feeling pretty sore too. Better late than never. Flipping on her tummy-side, the almond-skinned young woman presented her panty-clad backside to her friend, her long legs stretched straight over the top of the bed.

Just as Lillian was about to place her hands on her now-warmed flesh, she stopped. Instead, she immediately retracted either hand and stuck both sets of fingers behind her own panties. Suddenly, she began rubbing her clit from underneath the underwear's fabric, knuckles pushing against the light-purple cotton make as Frankie watched, blinking.

"As always, first step to a good massage is some cozy lubrication." Lilly caught Frankie's eye and winked, apologetically. Frankie gave hers a wry roll. Another near-miss there, but at least her friend had caught herself. Imagine going to town with dry, un-tended hands like that?

Schlick, schlick! Below, the sound of her snatch-playing steadily became louder, and wetter, after her remark. She was working at a surprisingly furious pace, the motions causing her entire torso to tremble, her arm going up and down as ecstatically as a fuel pump as the other proceeded with a slap and rub, slap and rub pattern.

"Whoooop!" With a smile, Lilly removed her hands from her panties. They were covered in globs of wet woman-juices, something that, of course, was natural to produce so decadently. Each finger was adorned in the substance, which was fairly thick and creamy and dripping down like sap off the tree bark. Not ideal for the furnishing, however. Her actions left a dark spot where her crotch was, and getting wider across her mattress, and her hands weren't able to keep all the fluid from furthering their downward trajectory into the white, depressed surface.

Frankie jutted out her body towards her friend. Her two round cheeks were pointedly aimed at Lilly's hands. "Hurry, Lilly, it's getting everywhere!"

"Alright!" the dirty blonde appeased, rubbing her holders together.

PLOP!

With a bang, as they say, Lillian McGee smacked both palms of her hands down onto the two inviting ass-cheeks below her, squeezing the jiggling skin with all ten of her fingers as they sunk into Frankie's buttock fat. The impact was powerful and immediate. Her 'natural lubrication' flew across her desk chair, onto her wall, over her poster of some sexy hip-hop guy, onto some of her clothes hanging on the open wardrobe. It was a handy mess. After a reactionary 'Oooww!' from Frankie, however, the two girls paused, turned to look at each other, and broke into a fit of laughs.

"After all this time and you still suck at this."

"Shut up, let me oil you up."

Lillian's hands smoothly traveled down to the back of Frankie's thighs, ensuring the inner as well as outer faces were adequately juiced up and covered in her pussy milk. She then proceeded to the calves, and the feet, gently sliding the gathered wall of her fingers into her friend's elegantly shaped arches before going back up the heel and up her lower leg once more.

As she continued preparing her massage, Frankie, on the other hand, let her eyelids fall over each eye, resting her chin on her forearms. She could feel Lillie's soft, warm, lubricated hands going up and down her stalks, and a subdued tingle coursed through her. Despite what she said, she always liked Lillian's massages. They were nice. And, really, the thing she could do with her asshole using her two-finger technique?

Just sublime.