In June, Nanjing was as humid and hot as a pot of warm stew. I was on a business trip with my direct superior, Section Chief Wen, and we would be staying in this ancient city for nearly a week. Section Chief Wen was already almost forty-five, yet she still maintained an astonishing figure and appearance—full but not bulky, her waist still curved, her skin so fair it seemed almost able to reflect the light. Colleagues privately said that in the office she was stern and decisive, but once she stepped out of the office building, she had quite a different reputation for being amorous and open. I was nearly twenty years younger than her, and in ordinary times I only felt awe toward her, never daring to entertain even the slightest improper thought. But this time, fate shoved us to the locked door of a restroom, and I became her human toilet.
On the evening of our arrival in Nanjing, the counterpart unit received us warmly. At the dinner table, red wine, baijiu, and beer came in turn. Director Wen was as forthright as a man, drinking one cup after another; her face gradually turned red, and her eyes began to grow hazy. I was just an ordinary staff member, and no one pressed me hard to drink, so by the end I was still seventy or eighty percent sober. Around 10:30, we were sent back to the hotel. A female comrade wanted to help Director Wen upstairs. I was afraid her drunken state would be seen and ridiculed, so I took the initiative and said, “I’m a young man, I can support her.” The other side was glad to save the trouble, so I helped her stagger into the elevator, and then into her room.
As soon as she came in, she rushed straight to the bathroom, where the sound of vomiting continued for more than half an hour. When she came out, her face pale, she collapsed onto the bed and slept like the dead, not even taking off her high heels. I helped her take off her shoes and covered her with a thin blanket. Those fair feet, with pale pink nail polish on the toes, looked especially sexy in the light, and for some reason my heart warmed, though I quickly suppressed it. I had originally intended to go back to my own room, but I was afraid she might make a fuss again in the middle of the night, so I decided to make do on the sofa for one night. With such a big age gap, there should not be anyone gossiping.
I drifted off to sleep. I don't know how long passed, but in my drowsiness, I heard suppressed groans. Opening my eyes, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Director Wen was leaning sideways against the headboard, face pale, one hand pressing against her lower abdomen. I quickly got up: 'Director Wen, are you feeling unwell? Do you still feel like vomiting?'
She weakly opened her eyes, saw it was me, and was startled: 'Why are you here?'
“You got drunk yesterday, so I slept on the sofa. I was afraid you might want water in the middle of the night or something, so it’d be good to have someone around to take care of you.”
"Oh... you really are thoughtful." After she finished speaking, she let out a few more "ow" sounds, her brows knitting even tighter.
“Still disgusted?”
She felt a bit embarrassed but still said directly, 'No... it's stomach pain, I need to use the bathroom. But I have no strength at all. Every time I drink too much, I have diarrhea the next morning, and I'm always woken up by the stomach pain.'
The two characters “diarrhea” came out of her mouth, and astonishingly carried a strange kind of openness. Suddenly, it felt as if something lightly scratched my heart, and warmth surged from my chest downward. I helped her sit up: “Then I’ll help you to the restroom.”
She nodded, her voice already choked with sobs: 'Okay... hurry up. Ouch, my stomach hurts so much... my asshole is so sore...'
The words “asshole” hit my ears directly. I nearly, trembling, helped her to the bathroom door. But the door couldn’t be opened no matter what — after she vomited last night, she had casually pulled it shut and locked it dead. It wasn’t realistic to call a waiter this early. Director Wen was suddenly seized by another spasm of pain; she reached back and clutched her rear hole tightly, letting out continuous “ouch” sounds, both legs shaking.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind, exciting me so much my voice trembled: 'Director Wen... the door won't open, and you're in such a hurry. How about... you make do and just go directly into my mouth? I'll catch it for you. Let me be your human toilet once, okay?'
She was taken aback and weakly retorted: 'Don't you think it's dirty?'
I almost rushed to answer: 'It's my honor to serve you. Actually, I... have always dreamed of eating the loose shit of a beauty like you.'
Director Wen forced a smile, but a flicker of something complex passed through her eyes: 'You kid... are quite thoughtful. Unlike my husband, who at most just holds my butt from behind when I have diarrhea, so I don't get numb and cramp from squatting.'
She didn't explicitly refuse. I knew she had tacitly agreed.
I immediately lay down on the floor at the entrance of the bathroom, facing upward. Director Wen was probably in so much pain that she forgot her shame. She spread her legs, struggled to pull down her sleep pants and panties, and squatted right over my face. Her plump, white buttocks pressed down, filling my vision with waves of snowy flesh, and her beautiful anus was suspended right above my open mouth. I eagerly lifted my head, tightly wrapping my lips around the slightly parting folds, completely taking her entire anus into my mouth.
I only heard her let out a long muffled groan.
Immediately after, a series of crackling fart sounds like firecrackers exploded, her anus suddenly relaxed in my mouth, and a large stream of scalding, deep-yellow, watery shit shot straight into my throat. The smell wasn't as foul as I imagined; instead, it carried a bitter, slightly sour, fishy sweetness mixed with the lingering alcohol scent from her body. I swallowed in large gulps, not daring to waste a drop. The temperature, viscosity of the watery shit, and the incessant 'poof poof poof' farting sounds all became the strongest aphrodisiacs at that moment. My lower part was already painfully hard.
After the first stream, Director Wen couldn't help but cry out, 'Oh... oh...' Her voice was soft and seductive, completely different from her usual stern demeanor. She slightly raised her buttocks, using both hands to spread apart her thick, fleshy cheeks, fully exposing her anus. Another large, deeper, and thicker stream of loose stool shot out, some splattering onto my face, the tip of my nose, and even near my eyes. Yet I was so excited I almost trembled, actively using my hands to support those heavy, fleshy buttocks for her, saving her some effort.
“Pfft pfft pfft pfft——”
The third wave came even more fiercely. The deep-yellow thin paste was as thick as sesame paste, yet with a watery feel, directly filling my mouth. I couldn't swallow it all in time; a small portion overflowed from the corner of my mouth, flowing down my chin to my neck, chest, and even dripping onto the floor. Director Wen, however, paid no mind to this, just kept shouting: 'My stomach hurts so much... more... a little more...'
I pressed my mouth tighter, trying to swallow every spurt clean. Her thin stool became increasingly watery, its color gradually shifting from dark yellow to pale yellow, with more moisture and bubbles. Each spurt was accompanied by a rapid series of loud farts, the sound particularly resonant in the quiet room. I even worried someone passing in the hallway might hear. Yet that sense of shame only made me harder.
Director Wen's beautiful feet were clad in high-heeled sandals, her fair and plump toes swaying before my eyes. I couldn't help but stick out my tongue, gently licking the back of her foot and between her toes during her diarrhea, even scooping a bit of the splattered loose stool into my mouth. She seemed to sense it but didn't stop me, just sat down deeper, pressing her asshole tighter.
"Oh no... it’s coming again..."
She suddenly jerked her head up, her hands desperately pulling her buttocks apart behind her, her anhole gaping wide open. This time, however, only a continuous 'pfft pfft pfft pfft pfft' of five loud farts was heard, but no shit immediately sprayed out. She groaned in pain: 'Every time after I fart, my rectum presses against my anhole and it hurts so much...'
I quickly pressed my thumb against the spot near her tailbone close to her anus, while covering her asshole with my mouth again, sucking all that hot fart gas into my mouth. The fart gas carried a strong fishy stench and the heat from inside her body, filling my lungs, but it only made me more addicted. Her moans grew softer and softer, more and more like begging for sex: 'Press again... yes, right there... oh... feels so good...'
A few seconds later, the real outburst came. This time the thin feces were almost water-like, pale yellow, with fine foam, spraying in large amounts and continuously into my mouth. I swallowed until my cheeks were puffed out, and my throat made gulp-gulp sounds. Some of it was truly too late to swallow and flowed down along the corners of my mouth, chin, and neck, leaving my chest and lower abdomen covered in her scent. But I did not feel dirty at all; instead, I felt this was the most intimate gift she had given me.
Director Wen finally caught her breath a little but didn't get up immediately. She looked down at the traces of loose stool all over my face and body, her voice soft and hoarse: 'You... really ate it all?'
I nodded, my tongue still gently licking the edge of her slightly parted anus, cleaning up the last bit of residue: "All... it's your taste. So beautiful."
She suddenly let out a low laugh, the sound carrying weariness and a kind of abandon after being completely let go: 'You little pervert... so you like this.' She lifted her body slightly, then deliberately aimed her anus at my mouth, gently squeezing out the last small stream of pale yellow, watery filth. Watching me swallow it all, she sighed contentedly.
But her stomach still had not completely settled. Less than two minutes later, she started frowning again: “There’s still… a little left. This time it may be thinner.”
I actively opened my mouth and took her anus back in. She no longer hesitated, sat down directly, letting the last few streams of almost transparent, watery liquid mixed with tiny bubbles all pour into my mouth. This time I swallowed more slowly, deliberately letting those fluids stay in my mouth longer, feeling the temperature and taste from inside her body. Her beautiful buttocks gently rubbed against my face, the plump, white flesh waves trembling with each exertion. I held her buttocks tightly with both hands, my thumbs occasionally pressing near her tailbone, helping her expel the remaining gas and liquid completely.
Finally, she completely relaxed and slowly rose from my face. I lay on the floor, my face, neck, and chest all covered in traces of her deep yellow to pale yellow watery feces. The air was filled with a strong, pungent mix of sweet fishiness and fart odor. Director Wen looked at me in this state, then suddenly extended her foot and gently tapped my already hard, purplish member with the tip of her high-heeled slipper, her voice low and hoarse: 'You're this hard... do you want me to help you with my foot?'
Panting, I nodded. She then really used those fair, beautiful feet, still stained with a bit of loose stool, to slowly press and rub against my crotch over my pants. Her toes deftly hooked the shape of my erection, and occasionally she pressed down hard with her sole, making me feel like I was about to come instantly. But she deliberately slowed down, stepping while whispering, 'When I was shitting in your mouth earlier... I was actually really turned on too. Usually at work, I have to keep a straight face. Who would know I'm such a slut deep down...'
She suddenly squatted down, scraped a bit of the residual watery filth from my face with her hand, brought it to her own mouth to taste, then smiled and said: 'It really isn't smelly... it's a wine and sour taste. If you like it, next time on a business trip... I can give you more to eat.'
I almost came from the stimulation of her feet, thick white semen soaking the front of my pants. Director Wen looked at the mess, a hint of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. She reached out, gently pressed through the fabric, got some of the fluid on her fingertips, then put them in her mouth: 'The combined taste... is quite special too.'
She slowly put her panties and sleep pants back on but didn't let me leave right away. Instead, she sat back on the edge of the bed, patted the spot beside her, and said: 'Come here. Clean your face... and while you're at it, check if there's any residue left on my back.'
I crawled over. She lay on the bed, having pulled her sleep pants and panties down to her knees herself, presenting those two plump, pale buttocks, now slightly damp from the loose stool, towards me. I gently parted them with my hands and saw her anus still slightly opening and closing, the edges tinged with a faint yellow stain. I couldn't help but lean in again, carefully licking all the residue clean with my tongue, even probing the tip of my tongue into the warm opening of her intestinal tract, gently stirring. She moaned comfortably, pushing her buttocks back slightly: "Deeper... yes, clean the inside too."
I obediently did as told, my tongue stretching in as far as possible, drawing out the last bit of watery liquid and gas from her intestines, swallowing it all. Her intestinal walls were warm and soft, occasionally contracting, gripping my tongue tip tighter. While licking, I gently massaged her tailbone and buttocks with my hand, helping her relax. Her moans grew softer, longer, finally almost tearful: 'So comfortable... even more comfortable than when my husband massages me... your little mouth... really knows how to suck...'
After I thoroughly cleaned her up, she rolled over and pulled me onto the bed. We both still carried each other's scent—she carried the sweet, fishy smell of loose stool and farts, and I carried the mixture of semen and her bodily fluids. She suddenly reached out and undid my pants, pulling out my half-soft member. She lowered her head and gently licked the residual semen from the tip with her tongue, then looked up at me: 'Next time... I want you to fuck me while I have diarrhea. Eat and fuck at the same time... do you dare?'
My throat was dry; I could only nod vigorously.
She smiled contentedly, pulling me into her embrace, pressing my face against her full breasts. Her heartbeat was still fast, but her voice already carried weariness: "That's enough for today. Once my stomach is completely better... we'll have a good time again. You, this human toilet... I'm very satisfied."
The morning sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, and the room was still filled with a strong scent. I lay beside her, my fingers still gently pressing on her lower abdomen, feeling the occasional movement inside. She was already asleep, breathing evenly, but with a hint of a satisfied curve at the corner of her mouth.
This week-long business trip had only just begun.
Over the next few days, during the day we still maintained a strict superior-subordinate distance. Director Wen was still vigorous and decisive in meetings, merciless when criticizing people. But as soon as night came, she would find excuses to call me to her room. Sometimes she pretended to discuss work; once the door was closed, she would press me to the floor and squat down herself, directly dumping the prepared soft feces or normal loose stool into my mouth. Sometimes, after drinking too much, she would deliberately upset her stomach, then have me use my mouth to catch every burst she let out in the middle of the night.
Once, she even pulled me into the staff restroom of a hotel after a daytime meeting ended. The space was cramped. She took off her pants, made me kneel in front of the toilet, and sat on my face. While having diarrhea, she covered her own mouth with her hand, trying not to let moans escape. The smell of loose stool mixed with disinfectant excited me to the extreme. After she finished, she deliberately stepped on my genitals with her foot, making me ejaculate in that state of extreme shame and stimulation.
Once, she made me hold the shitty feces she had pulled out in my mouth, not allowing me to swallow, and then she lowered her head herself, using her tongue to lick away bit by bit the thing in my mouth, and kissed me. We exchanged her own taste, kissing deeply and messily. She said: “This is true sharing... you’ve tasted mine, and I’ve also tasted the me in your mouth.”
On the fifth night of the business trip, she finally put forward a further request. She made me lie on the bed, climbed on top of me herself, and while she defecated watery shit into my mouth, she used her hand to hold my sex organ and slowly sat down. At the same time her asshole was spurting, her vagina was also clenching tightly around me. That double stimulation almost made me collapse on the spot. She herself also climaxed, the watery shit spraying even more violently, the vagina contracting even tighter, calling my name while lowering her voice: “Deeper... eat more... it’s all yours...”
We got bolder each time. She started to enjoy having me lick her clitoris while she had diarrhea, or having me finger her still-flowing vagina. She said it felt more complete—being filled front and back simultaneously, the shame amplified to the extreme. Sometimes she even asked me to smear her loose stool on her breasts and then lick it clean; or to ejaculate on her just-finished anus and then lick it off together.
By the day my business trip ended, she had completely let go. The night before leaving, she locked me in the room and played with me from evening until dawn. She made me climax three times in a row, each time making me eat everything clean, with drinking her urine, licking her feet, and rubbing my genitals with her high-heeled slippers mixed in between. In the end, she fell asleep from exhaustion, but I was still gently licking her already swollen anus, cherishing every last bit of taste.
On the return flight, she sat next to me, calmly looking at documents on the surface. But under the blanket, her hand quietly reached over, held mine, and wrote a few words with her fingertip in my palm: 'Next time... let's go on a business trip together again.'
I held her hand and gently replied with one word: "Okay."
Outside the window, clouds churned, but I only remembered those early morning bouts of diarrhea, those loud farts, those plump, fair buttocks and pale, beautiful feet, and her moans, both pained and unrestrained, as she climaxed in my mouth again and again.
The stern Director Wen became, before my eyes, the most depraved and most real middle-aged beauty. And I, willingly, became her forever human toilet.
As soon as the return flight landed, Director Wen said in a voice only the two of us could hear, 'Don't rush back to your own home tonight. Go to a hotel and book a room first. I still have something I want to give you to eat.'
My heart almost missed a beat. After returning from Nanjing, during the day at work we were still superior and subordinate. When she reprimanded people, her face was still cold, but in private, her occasional glances carried a hint only I understood. I nodded.
At seven in the evening, she sent me the hotel address. When I pushed open the door, she had already changed into a silk robe, wearing nothing underneath. The hem of the robe barely covered her thighs, and her fair, full cleavage was faintly visible. She watched me enter and gently lifted her chin: 'Lock the door. Take off your clothes.'
I did as told. She walked to the window, pulled the curtain open a bit, letting the city's night lights filter in, then slowly untied her belt. The bathrobe slipped off, and she stood completely naked before me. Her forty-five-year-old body was still plump and enticing, breasts heavy and full, areolas a deep shade, belly slightly soft, the inner thighs still bearing faint marks from my bites last night. She turned around, placed her hands on the windowsill, and lifted those two plump, pale buttocks towards me, her voice low and husky: "Lick first. Lick the outside clean, then let what's inside come out for you to eat."
I knelt down, cupped her heavy buttocks with both hands, and spread them apart. Her asshole contracted slightly under the light, darker than the surrounding skin, with a bit of residual wetness from last night around the edges. I pressed my face against it, licking from her perineum all the way to her tailbone, then carefully circling the wrinkled ring. She moaned in pleasure and pushed her butt back slightly: 'Harder... put your tongue inside.'
My tongue tip probed into the warm entrance of her rectum, gently stirring. Her intestinal wall immediately contracted, clamping onto my tongue. After about half a minute, she suddenly let out a muffled groan, and a stream of warm gas sprayed out, carrying a strong, fishy stench. Immediately after, a small flow of pale yellow, watery liquid directly flowed into my mouth. I swallowed it all and continued licking. She smiled: 'It's just the beginning. I deliberately drank some yogurt and alcohol today, so there should be quite a bit.'
She had me lie on the bed, then straddled me, squatting over my face. She used both hands to spread her buttocks open from behind, completely aligning her anus with my open mouth. She took a deep breath and tensed her lower abdomen—
“Pfft——pfft pfft pfft——”
A rapid series of explosive farts erupted, followed immediately by a large gush of deep yellow, loose stool shooting straight into my throat. It was thicker than in Nanjing, with a distinct sourness and the smell of alcohol, almost scalding hot. I swallowed in large gulps, my throat making gurgling sounds. As she defecated, she cursed softly: 'Eat it all up... don't let any leak out... ah... here comes more...'
The second stream was even stronger, the thin paste overflowing from the corner of my mouth, trickling down my cheek onto the pillow. But she didn't mind at all; instead, she sat down even harder, pressing her anus tighter, making each spurt go as deep into my mouth as possible. I held her thighs with both hands, my thumbs pressing near her tailbone, helping her squeeze out the remaining gas and liquid. Her beautiful feet pressed against my chest, her toes taut from the effort, the painted toenails reflecting light under the lamp.
After the third stream, she slightly raised her buttocks, looked down at the traces of loose stool all over my face, her eyes soft and wanton: 'Your face is covered with my stuff... so lewd.' She reached out a finger, scooped a bit of the thin paste from the corner of my mouth, put it into her own mouth to taste, then leaned down to kiss me, transferring the flavor. We exchanged her own excrement, kissing deeply and wildly.
She didn't get up right away. Instead, she shifted her body forward, pressing her already soaked pussy against my nose. As she ground back and forth, she continued to strain with her bowels. Loose stool and lewd fluids mixed together, making my entire face sticky. Her orgasm came quickly; while her vagina contracted violently, her asshole sprayed out another small stream of pale yellow liquid, all of it pouring into my mouth. She bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out too loudly, but her body trembled violently.
After she caught her breath, she rolled over to lie on her side, pulled me up, and had me kneel between her legs. She used her own hands to spread her buttocks apart, her voice still tinged with lingering pleasure: 'Use your thing... put it in. Fuck me while you let me pull another one for you.'
I guided my painfully hard member, aiming at her still slightly gaping asshole, and slowly pushed in. It was hot and tight inside; the residual watery feces and gas made entry unusually smooth. She let out a long moan, and her lower abdomen began to tense again. With each thrust, she released a bit more watery shit, flowing down the joining point onto the bedsheet. I leaned down to lick her breasts, sucking her nipple into my mouth, while she reached up to grab my hair, pressing me tighter.
“Deeper... harder... get everything out from inside...” she gasped. I sped up, the sack slapping against the thick flesh of her buttocks with a crisp sound. Her asshole was forced open by me; with every pull out, a little pale yellow liquid came out, then I pushed back in again. Suddenly her whole body tensed, the orgasm came even fiercer than before, her vagina and intestines spasming at the same time, and a stream of liquid even thinner than before directly sprayed onto the base of my shaft, then trickled down onto the bed. I couldn’t help climaxing too; semen mixed with her thin feces, slowly seeping out from the point of union.
Neither of us was in a hurry to clean up. She pulled me to lie down beside her, dipped her fingers in that mixed fluid, and brought them to my mouth: 'Eat it clean. This is ours together.' I stuck out my tongue and licked everything off her fingers. She smiled contentedly, then put her own fluid-covered hand to her mouth and licked it clean too.
After about twenty minutes, her stomach started rumbling again. She turned over and lay on top of me, putting her buttocks toward my face, her voice lazy: 'One more time. This one might be more, get ready.'
I opened my mouth. She exerted a bit of force, first a long string of loud farts, followed by a large amount of almost watery, pale yellow, loose stool continuously flowing into my mouth. I swallowed until my cheeks bulged; what I couldn't swallow in time overflowed from the corners of my mouth. While expelling, she rubbed her clitoris with her hand and soon climaxed again. During orgasm, her intestinal muscles contracted tighter, squeezing out all the remaining liquid; I was practically filled to the brim.
She finally went completely limp, lying on top of me panting. After a long time, she raised her head, her eyes filled with a satisfaction of having completely let go: "From Nanjing until now... how many times have you had me?"
I answered honestly: 'Countless.'
She chuckled softly, reaching out to touch my lips which still carried her taste: "Then keep counting. Every time I'm on a business trip, or on weekends... whenever I want to pull, you come be my toilet. Got it?"
“I heard it.”
She nodded contentedly, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her voice gradually fading: "Don't leave tonight. I might have another stomach upset during the night... then I can just sit on your face directly."
I held her voluptuous body, my fingers gently pressing against her lower abdomen, feeling the occasional movements inside. The room was still filled with the strong, mingled scents of sweetness and flatulence, and the bedsheet was already soaked through. The night was still long, and I willingly let her sit on my face again and again, consuming the most intimate parts of her body.
The city lights outside the window remain bright, but in this room, the stern Director Wen has long transformed into the most lewd and real middle-aged beauty belonging only to me. And I will continue to be her eternal human toilet, until the next time she sprays scalding, watery feces into my throat again.
Comments