Finally some me time for her, pt 2

She moved her small hands lower and lower over her round, exaggerated curves. Stopping halfway around her waist. She directed her paws inward. She felt his touch on her tummy. Well-shaped and flat, still plump despite everything. She recalled how Dave had politely asked her (ordered her) to make a heart with her hands around her belly button to take off their reconciliation. With circular movements, she soaped her belly, then patted it, as if after a good meal. It was not known why, maybe as for a job well done? She embraced her rounded hips, she had a strange habit of keeping her hands locked in place while washing her bowl of oatmeal, and it was with her hips that she rotated. After this dance, she finished the lower parts of her back and turned to the lower abdomen, going down to her pussy. She applied a special intimate care product and gently spread the product on the outer parts of her vulva. With her fingertips she gently washed the area around her labia, moving from front to back. Her fingers involuntarily slid a little inside, which immediately activated her.

"Oh God, Mark how could you do this to me?" she whispered to herself - yes, I've waited for you for a long time, I've missed you so much, and you... mmm

The steamy atmosphere of the cabin only increased her internal heat even more. However, she controlled herself, after all she's not a pervert, but it left her turned on. She started to bend down, because it was time for her legs. Even if she squeezed that ham, she still wouldn't be able to cover her meaty thigh with both hands, but she somehow managed them. She lifted her left leg to take care of her calves, but it was always a problem for her to keep her balance, mainly her breasts which didn't really allow her to lift her legs enough. The lower she went, to take care of her ankles, then her feet; toes, heel and sole it was harder for her. She had to concentrate more, so as not to tip over. One of the conversations with that pimple came to mind.

-"Maybe I really should get back to exercising and stretching.. maybe some yoga" - she remembered the times when she was young and flexible, before she started to blossom. When she started to change into a real trophy woman then everything started to grow and inflate properly and without control. Back then she tried to take control of it and exercised but when she met Mark somehow this habit disappeared -"Dave even promised to help, he's so helpful."

She finished with her lower limbs, she only had one more place left. Her rump was still untouched, so it was time. The situation repeated itself shampoo, on her hands, a huge amount of liquid. She put her hands on cashions, bit her lips and squeezed her eyes tighter. Her paws always sank into this skin, 2 water mattresses. If she had problems with washing so many marshmallows with her breasts, at least she had them within sight. Her backside was something completely different, a mysterious, full land. Whenever she wandered her hands around her buffet, she always found places that hadn't been soaped yet. So many years spent with them, but they were still something she couldn't handle, whether it was the seat, underwear, narrow passages, although even normal ones were too small in width.

-"Oh golly, that cream was definitely thick" - she didn't want to admit it to herself before, but when she washed her body she felt that greasy, tart substance practically everywhere, after all it was too much. It was as if he had poured syrup or resins on her bottom. For her the explanation was completely different - "Dave probably put more on my backside to be sure. I hope he wasn't thinking dirty when he did it, especially about me" - she also realized how long he had been working on her butt - "Poor guy must have been nervous when he touched me there" - even though the bastard was enthusiastic about touching her then - "He was scared, of course. He has low self-esteem and as he talked about his school. He probably thought that at any moment she would react like some bad spoiled girls, after all he thinks I'm pretty too. I'm not like them" - she didn't draw any conclusions - "I have to make sure he feels comfortable next to me and the physical contact is good, thanks to that maybe he will gain confidence"

The squishing, sloshing, splattering sounds of her buttocks echoed through the bathroom. She worked them like they were dough before being put in the oven to become the full, browned buns they were now. She rubbed her glutes and, like she had done with her breasts, felt the struggle against gravity. This was on a whole other level though, gargantuan hunks of meat as heavy as the abnormal pumpkins they were sent to competitions, weighing in at around 16-18 pounds. That was probably the highest number for her. Muscle, fat and skin flowed through her fingers like they were modeling clay. Today she had to push extra hard because, unbeknownst to her, she was pulling some kind of coating from her dough, like her bubbles were in a chrysalis. She wiggled her flanks because she thought it helped with washing. She rubbed her hands between the peaches several times, just like you used to swipe credit cards, the funny thing was that when she did it her whole hand disappeared between them. She had to take care of her cleft and anus finally. When the time came she took her paws off her boilers, shook her hips and jumped. Such a strange ritual, but honestly I don't know how it helped. Maybe it knocked off some of the foam, apart from the fact that her ass twerked a bit. She washed herself of the foam and then opened the door.