The sun was dipping low as your training session ended, leaving you both breathless and slick with sweat. PekoMama led you to a quiet, shaded corner of the dojo, her thick, curvaceous body radiant in the soft light. Her rounded hips and full thighs gleamed with exertion, and her soft skin glistened, catching every curve.

She sat down slowly, legs comfortably spread, and turned to you with a gentle but shy smile. “I’ve been feeling… tense,” she admitted softly, her voice warm and inviting. “Would you… help me relax?” Her cheeks flushed as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

You noticed a subtle wetness between her thighs, the natural scent—deep, musky, and unmistakably hers—rising in the air, thick and inviting. It was the kind of scent that spoke of warmth and closeness, of softness and life.

Her gaze met yours, eyes bright but shy. “Could you… use your fingers to help me ease it inside? I trust you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her body leaning in just a bit, seeking comfort and connection.

You reached out carefully, your touch gentle. She sighed deeply, the tension easing as you moved slowly and respectfully, her soft breathing and warm skin telling you you were helping more than just her muscles.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and Pekora’s sharp voice echoed through the room. “MOM! WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!” she groaned, half exasperated, half embarrassed. “You can’t do that here, it’s disgusting!”

PekoMama laughed softly, cheeks coloring but voice steady. “He’s just helping me relax, dear. You should try trusting others more.” She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand, her body still soft and close.