Her sad, desperately and failed attempt

When Otto slammed the door, Olivia wondered deeply whether to follow him. But she thought

–"But to run out in only bikini, just like that?"- she looked worriedly at the door -"What would our neighbors thinks of me, of Mark. He always tries to make good impression on them, I can't do this to him"- she turned her head "H-he's an adult. H-h c-can handle it. I d-don't have t-to worry"

But she did as a true mother should but in addition, she wanted to get rid of this unidentified but somehow familiar substance as soon as possible. She tried just water and then wiped it off, but it only wiped off the top layer of this gunk. She was afraid to use any stronger chemicals, for fear of destroying the material. She took her phone to look on some forums, portals or other sites. Portals did not help at all, because it is hard when you do not know the substance you are trying to clean. And on the forums she only learned that if she allowed something like that to happen, she was a bad housewife, which undermined her morale and self-confidence. So she started doing what she did best, the trial and error method. Throughout this large house, only loud, acoustic sounds resounded, which resonated deeply, filling the space with rich, lively tones and long-lasting echoes. *CLAP* *SLAP* *SPLAT* *FLAP* *SMACK*

The source of that wet, fleshy sound was Olivia's buttocks colliding powerfully with each other as a result of the violent and rough movements of her body. The sounds were so incredibly hypnotic, enticing and tempting as if it was some wilderness and mating season and she as a female was calling some powerful member of the opposite sex for a long, rough, direct breeding session so that her hungry womb and uterus could finally be fertilized and become a mother with a huge number of offspring, just as nature intended for her. Only God knows what would have happened if Otto had stayed in that house and heard that, albeit unintentional, yet still primal call, but who knows what the future holds. Err... back to the story. All of her lower body clapping was caused by the swinging movement of her upper body, specifically her hands, as she tried with all her might to wipe off that persistent, mysterious stain on her beloved's armchair.

– Please, please. Disappear, get off, wipe off. I beg you, for God's sake. Why doesn't anything work.

She spoke to herself desperately. Time passed, and all Olivia did was mix that goop with various cleaning agents. After a good 1 hour session of squatting and leaning her face right over the stinking, material-eating stain and clapping without even using her hands (and that's talent), Olivia theatrically flew back, falling onto her buttocks like huge poufs. Her arms were sore, her knees were red, she was breathing heavily, and her powerful breasts went hand in hand with it, she was hot inside, her body was generally numb and, on top of that, she felt mentally awful. She looked at the armchair, tried her best, but oh well, there was still a fairly visible white-yellow stain the size of her two palms, did it even spread a little?

–"That's pretty drastic, but should I use bleach? Eh... maybe I'll wait with that"

She got up with no small difficulty, mainly because of the mass of her assets, but also because of the previously mentioned aches in her body after intensive cleaning attempts. She looked around for other inconveniences, whether in the living room, at the table and in the kitchen, and what needed to be arranged, cleaned and polished. Again, her home looked like a land of neatness, which she had always prided herself on, only she was still, to her ignorance, a mess, covered as if someone had poured wax on her and it remained on her. One thing did not give her peace, the thought that despite everything, she had allowed her husband's favorite armchair to get dirty, in some unknown way, haunted her. This meant that she couldn't have 100% satisfaction that she could do something for Mark other than just live off his money. She was still panting sweetly like a little puppy and began to think about her exhaustion. She thought it was strange that she was still exhausted, although I think that every hour of squatting and intensive work with her hands and then cleaning several rooms would exhaust almost anyone. For her, however, this was a reason for a new conclusion.

–"I really should get back to working out. I'm out of shape, plus Dave said he'd help me. He's so handy for me" - then it strikes her - "Wait! Where's Dave?"

Cold shivers ran down her spine, making stops to vibrate on her monumental ass cheeks and tits.

– Dave! You're home!

She screamed with the obvious hope that she would hear his shallow, low, squeaky voice, but unfortunately or fortunately she didn't hear anything. She ran upstairs to "his" room, but it was empty. Only a stuffy, musty stench wafting in the freshly prepared room. Holding her nose and waving it in front of her face, she went to open the windows, not having time to check what the result of this smell was, and it was a pile of real Dave's socks, soaked in Otto's slime. Real fear crept into her heart with every moment of realization that he wasn't home.

–"What to do, what to do" - she walked in circle -"I don't have his number, I didn't ask, it's my fault"- she grabbed her head -"How could I be yet again so selfish and forgot about him. He leaved so long ago"

Looking at the phone screen, she sighed deeply. She remembered what she had promised him. She was supposed to be a good girl. However, the situation demanded it. She was going to call Mark.