Nowhere in particular

The two of you wander down the sidewalk in a full-stomached haze, occasionally burping up the sweet aftertaste of breast milk. You get to wondering as you walk just how much control you may have over this ring's effects. So far, you've just asked to do something and it's done the rest on its own, but is there any way you could determine how things get rationalized? Maybe if you explain the "reason" you're doing something as you do it? It's worth a shot...

"Here," you say, slipping your hand into Cara's back pocket and giving her ass a good squeeze, "let me massage that for you."

"Mmm... Thank you!" she stops suddenly and presses back into your kneading hand. "How'd you know that muscle was starting to cramp? Was I walking funny? OH! That's it, right there!"

You step in front of your and reach your other hand around to her other pocket, your face inches from hers as you grope both her ass cheeks.

"It wouldn't do to get things uneven," you explain with a grin.

Cara arcs her back in pleasure, biting her lip with her eyes closed. Her slender chest rubs against you as she breathes, enjoying your evidently pleasant ministrations.

"You've got skilled hands, you know that?" she hums, "Have you been taking massage classes on the sly?"

"It's a natural talent, I guess," you laugh. "But since we're giving compliments, your ass is amazing; soft but toned. I could massage it all day."

Cara suddenly pushes you back, her doe-eyed smile replaced with stern, knit eyebrows.

"That's enough," she states firmly. "Thank you for the massage -- I owe you one -- but the cramp is gone now. You know I have a boyfriend."

Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend; you were getting real sick of hearing that word.