Allie's gel massage

I moped, "Fine!" and dragged Allie's suitcase upstairs. Mom, James and Allie walked in front of me, James in the center, his hands on Mom and Allie's asses, guiding them up the stairs. Mom's voice echoed through the hallway, praising James' generosity: "Oh James, thank you so much for helping Allie!"

From behind, I saw James' fingers flexing against Allie's skirt, pressing into the soft flesh beneath. My sister didn't seem to notice—or maybe she did and didn't care. Either way, she giggled, "Yeah, thanks James!"

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, leaving me outside. Through the wood, I heard murmurs—James' low, confident tones, Allie's eager questions, Mom's occasional approving hum. Then rustling fabric. A sharp intake of breath. A giggle. "James!" Allie gasped, her voice laced with amusement rather than protest. "Are you sure I need to take *everything* off?"

I heard Mom's stern voice—her rare "parenting" tone—cut through the air. "Allie, don't question James. He saved my life today." A zipper hissed open. Fabric whispered against skin. Then silence.

James' voice was syrup-thick with fake patience. "Underwear traps toxins, Allie. The pores down there need to breathe—especially during sweat training. Didn’t your mom teach you about lymphatic drainage?" A pause. More rustling. "See these seams?" His words dripped with condescension as fabric snapped taut—probably stretching her panties against his thumbs for "demonstration." "Microfiber strangulation. Textbook case. You’d get heat rash by dinner."

Mom chimed in with startling enthusiasm. "He found the same issue with my thong yesterday! Look!" The mattress creaked—probably her hiking up her booty shorts to show the phantom rash. Allie gasped. "Wow... yours looks way redder than mine, Mom!"

"That's because James has been treating me longer," Mom explained, as if discussing spa appointments. I heard the sound of fabric hitting the ground, before a wet squelch cut through the conversation—the unmistakable sound of gel being squeezed onto skin. "Oh! That’s cold!" Allie squealed.

James chuckled, a predator feigning warmth. "Relax. Your mother made the same noises during her first session." The mattress groaned under shifting weight. "Now lift your hips—yes, just like that. Perfect. Legs wider, Allie. I need access to your sweat glands."

A sharp gasp. Then Mom's voice, dripping with misplaced pride: "She’s such a fast learner, James!"

The wet squelches grew rhythmic—James working the gel deeper. Allie’s breaths came in uneven bursts. "I-is it supposed to… tingle like—ah!—like this?"

"Exactly right," James murmured. I heard the slick slap of skin on skin—his palm gliding up her inner thigh. "Your mother reacted the same way. Didn’t you, Susan?"

"Oh yes!" Mom’s voice was bright with stupid enthusiasm. "At first I thought the tingling meant something was wrong, but James explained it’s just the gel activating my sweat glands!" The mattress groaned as she shifted closer—probably demonstrating. "See Allie? Like this—when he rubs *here*—oh!—you’ll feel this deep, pulsing heat..."

A choked giggle escaped Allie. "M-Mom! Your hands are freezing!"

"Because she’s doing it wrong." James’ voice darkened—the faux instructor act slipping. "You don’t spread it like sunscreen, Susan. Here." The bedframe slammed against the wall—someone lunging forward. Allie yelped. "James! Your—your fingers—!"

James brushed her concerns off, "Yes, they need to be inside for maximum efficacy." Allie yelped, "Oh! Oh!" as James' fingers inevitably wormed their way inside her.

The wet squelches grew louder—his fingers thrusting deeper—until Allie's breath hitched. Her thighs clamped around James' wrist, trapping him inside her. "I-I think it's working!" she gasped, her toes curling against the bedsheets. A flush crept up her neck, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. "It's like... like electricity!"

James smirked, twisting his fingers just beneath her pubic bone. "That’s the virus leaving your body," he lied smoothly. Allie whimpered, her hips jerking—once, twice—before her entire body locked up. Her back arched off the mattress, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Then the tremors hit—violent, uncoordinated spasms—as her first orgasm ripped through her.

James pulled out with a wet pop, flicking glistening fingers in front of her dazed face. "See? Toxins." He wiped them on her bare stomach, smearing the slick residue across her flushed skin. Allie stared at the mess, her chest heaving. "But... that felt..." She swallowed hard, eyes darting to their mother. "Is that *normal*, Mom?"

Susan beamed, reaching out to pat Allie's trembling knee. "Of course, sweetheart! At first I thought it was strange too—" Her fingers grazed James's wrist as he circled Allie's swollen clit, making her twitch, "—but James explained it's just the body releasing pent-up stress. Right honey?"

James hummed in agreement, his free hand sliding up Susan's thigh beneath her shorts. "Stress hormones clog the pores. This is the most efficient detox." His fingers curled inside Allie again as she inhaled sharply. "Your mother mastered the technique by her third session. Didn't you, Susan?"

"Oh yes!" Susan sighed, rolling her hips against nothing as if chasing the memory. Her nipples pressed visibly against the thin fabric of her unbuttoned blouse. "At first I was nervous about the—the *penetration*—but now?" She bit her lip, eyes glazing over. "I *love* it. James makes me feel so... so *clean*."