In June, Nanjing was so humid and hot it felt like a pot of warm broth. I was on a business trip with my immediate superior, Director Wen, and we were going to stay in this ancient city for nearly a week. Director Wen was already close to forty-five, yet she still maintained an astonishing figure and appearance—full but not bulky, with a waist that still had curves, and skin so fair it seemed almost able to reflect the light. Colleagues privately said that at the office she was stern and decisive, but once she left the office building, she had a rather flirtatious and open reputation. I was nearly twenty years younger than her and usually felt only awe toward her, never daring to have even the slightest improper thought. But this time, fate pushed us to the doorway of a locked restroom, and I became her human toilet.
On the evening of the day we arrived in Nanjing, the counterpart unit received us warmly. Red wine, baijiu, and beer took turns on the table, and Director Wen was as bold as a man, drinking cup after cup, her face gradually turning red and her gaze beginning to blur. I was just an ordinary staff member, and no one desperately urged me to drink, so by the end I was still seven or eight tenths 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 laughed at, so I took the initiative and said, “I'm a young man, I can support her.” The other side was happy to save the trouble, so I helped her unsteadily into the elevator, then into her room.
As soon as she entered, she ran straight to the bathroom, and the sound of vomiting continued for over half an hour. When she came out pale-faced and collapsed onto the bed, she fell into a dead sleep without even taking off her high heels. I helped her take off her shoes and covered her with a thin blanket. Those fair feet, with light pink nail polish on the toes, looked especially sexy in the light, and for some reason my heart warmed, but I quickly suppressed it. I had originally planned to go back to my own room, but worried she might make trouble again in the middle of the night, so I decided to make do on the sofa for one night. With such a big age difference, there probably wouldn’t be any gossip.
I drifted off to sleep. I don't know how long passed when, in my drowsiness, I heard suppressed moans. Opening my eyes, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Director Wen was lying sideways on the bedside, 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: 'How did you get here?'
“You got drunk yesterday, so I slept on the sofa. I was afraid you might need water or something at night, so it’s better if someone could look after you.”
“Oh... you’re really thoughtful.” After she said that, she let out a few more “ouch” sounds, her brows knitting even tighter.
"Still disgusted?"
She felt a bit embarrassed but still spoke directly: 'No... it's a stomachache, I need to use the toilet. But I have no strength at all. Every time I drink too much, I get diarrhea the next morning, and I'm always woken up by the pain in my stomach.'
The two characters “diarrhea” came out of her mouth with an oddly unguarded frankness. I suddenly felt as if something had lightly tickled my heart, and a warm surge rushed down from my chest. I helped her sit up: “Then let me take you to the restroom.”
She nodded, her voice already tearful: 'Okay... hurry up. Ouch, my stomach hurts so much... my asshole is so sore...'
The words "asshole" hit my ears directly. I almost trembled as I helped her to the bathroom door. But the door wouldn't open no matter what — after she finished vomiting last night, she had casually pulled it shut and locked it dead. It wasn't realistic to call a staff member this early. Director Wen was suddenly seized by another wave of cramps; she turned back and clutched her back entrance tightly, repeatedly crying out "ouch" as both her legs trembled.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind, and I was so excited my voice trembled: 'Director Wen... the door won't open, and you're in such a hurry. How about... you make do and just pull it into my mouth? I'll help you catch it. Let me be your human toilet once, okay?'
She was taken aback for a moment 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 flashed in her eyes: "You kid... are quite thoughtful. Unlike my husband, who at most just holds my butt from behind when I have diarrhea to prevent me from getting numb and cramping from squatting."
She did not explicitly refuse. I knew she had tacitly agreed.
I immediately lay down on the floor in front of the bathroom door, facing upward. Director Wen was probably in extreme pain, disregarding shame, she spread her legs and struggled to pull down her pajama pants and underwear, then squatted right over my face. Her plump, pale buttocks pressed down, filling my vision with waves of snowy flesh, her beautiful anus hovering 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.
She was only heard letting 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, Section Chief Wen couldn't help but cry out, 'Oh... oh...' Her voice was soft and seductive, completely different from her usual serious demeanor as a section chief. She slightly lifted her buttocks, her hands reaching back to spread apart her thick buttocks, fully exposing her anus. Another large, deeper, and thicker stream of loose stool shot out, some splashing onto my face, the tip of my nose, and even near my eyes. Yet I was so excited I was almost trembling, my hands actively helping to hold those heavy buttocks to save her some effort.
“Puff puff puff puff——”
The third wave came even more fiercely. The deep yellow, thin paste was as thick as sesame paste yet had a watery feel, directly filling my mouth. I couldn't swallow it all in time; about half 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 heed, just kept crying out: 'My stomach hurts so much... more... a little more...'
I pressed my mouth tighter, trying to swallow every spurt clean. Her watery shit grew increasingly thin, its color gradually shifting from deep yellow to pale yellow, carrying more moisture and bubbles. Each spurt was accompanied by a rapid-fire series of loud farts, the sound especially conspicuous in the quiet room. I even worried that 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 and gently lick the back of her foot and between her toes during a lull in her diarrhea, even scooping a bit of the splattered loose stool into my mouth. She seemed to feel it but didn't stop me, just sat down deeper, pressing her anus even tighter.
“Ouch... it’s coming again...”
She suddenly jerked her head up, her hands pulling her buttocks apart forcefully behind her, her anus gaping wide. This time, however, only a series of five loud farts, 'pfft pfft pfft pfft pfft,' was heard, but no feces immediately sprayed out. She groaned in pain: 'Every time after farting, my rectum presses against my anus and hurts like hell...'
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 scalding fart gas into my mouth. The fart gas, carrying a strong fishy stench and the heat from her body, poured into my lungs, making me even more addicted. Her moans grew softer and softer, more and more like pleas for sex: 'Press again... yes, right there... oh... feels a bit better...'
A few seconds later, the real eruption came. This time the loose stool was almost watery and light yellow, with tiny bubbles, spraying in large amounts and continuously into my mouth. I swallowed until my cheeks were puffed out, and my throat made gurgling sounds. What I couldn’t swallow in time flowed down the corners of my mouth, my chin, and my neck all the way, leaving my chest and lower abdomen covered entirely with her taste. But I didn’t feel dirty at all; instead, I felt this was the most private 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 all your scent. 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 one last small stream of pale yellow, watery feces, watching me swallow it all before sighing contentedly.
But her stomach still hadn’t fully settled. In less than two minutes, she frowned again: “There’s still... still a little bit. This time it might be thinner.”
I willingly opened my mouth and took her anus in again. She no longer hesitated, sitting down directly, letting the last few streams of nearly transparent, watery fluid mixed with tiny bubbles all pour into my mouth. This time I swallowed more slowly, deliberately letting those liquids linger longer in my mouth, feeling the warmth and taste from inside her. Her beautiful buttocks gently rubbed against my face, the plump, white flesh trembling with each exertion. My hands tightly held her buttocks, my thumbs occasionally pressing near her tailbone, helping her expel any remaining gas and fluid completely.
Finally, she completely relaxed and slowly got up from my face. I lay on the floor, my face, neck, and chest covered in her deep yellow to light yellow watery shit stains. The air was filled with a strong mix of fishy sweetness and fart stench. Director Wen looked at me like this, then suddenly stretched out her foot and gently tapped my already hard, purple 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?'
I nodded, panting. She then really used those fair, beautiful feet, still stained with a bit of loose stool, to slowly press and rub over my pants. Her toes deftly hooked the shape, the soles occasionally pressing down hard, making me almost cum instantly. But she deliberately slowed down, stepping while whispering: 'When I was shitting in your mouth earlier... I was actually really excited too. Usually at work I have to keep a straight face; who knows I'm this slutty deep down...'
She suddenly crouched down, scraped a bit of the remaining watery feces from my face, brought it to her own mouth to taste, then smiled and said, "It really doesn't smell bad... it's like alcohol and sourness. If you like it, next time on a business trip... I can give you more to eat."
I almost came under the stimulation of her feet; thick, white semen soaked the front of my pants. Director Wen looked at that wet patch, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes, reached out, gently pressed through the fabric, got a bit of the fluid on her fingertip, then put it in her own mouth: 'The combined taste... is quite special too.'
She slowly put her panties and sleep pants back on but didn't ask me to leave right away. Instead, she sat back on the edge of the bed, patted the spot beside her, and said, 'Come here. Clean up your face... and while you're at it, help me check if there's anything left behind.'
I crawled over. She lay on the bed, having already pulled her pajama pants and panties down to her knees again, presenting those two plump, pale buttocks, now slightly moistened by 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 away the residue with my tongue, even probing my tongue tip into the warm opening of her intestinal tract, gently stirring. She moaned in pleasure, pushing her buttocks back a little: "Deeper... yes, clean the inside too."
I obediently did as told, extending my tongue as far in as possible, drawing out the last bit of watery fluid and gas from her intestines, swallowing it all. Her intestinal walls were warm and soft, occasionally contracting, gripping my tongue tip tighter. As I licked, I gently massaged her tailbone and buttocks with my hand, helping her relax. Her moans grew softer, longer, until they almost carried a sob: "So good... even better than when my husband massages me... your little mouth... really knows how to suck..."
After I thoroughly cleaned her up, she finally turned over and pulled me onto the bed. We both still carried each other's scent—she smelled of the fishy sweetness of loose stool and farts, I smelled of the mixture of semen and her bodily fluids. She suddenly reached out, undid my pants, pulled out my half-soft member, lowered her head, and gently licked the residual semen from the tip with her tongue. Then she 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, pulled 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 proper play session. You, this human toilet... I'm very satisfied."
Morning sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, the room still filled with a浓烈的气味 (strong scent). I lay beside her, my fingers still gently pressing on her lower abdomen, feeling the occasional蠕动 (squirming) inside. She was already asleep, breathing evenly, but with a trace of a satisfied curve at the corner of her mouth.
This week-long business trip had only just begun.
In the next few days, we still maintained a serious distance between superior and subordinate during the day. Director Wen was still swift and decisive in meetings, and when she scolded people, she showed no mercy. But as soon as night fell, she would find excuses to call me to her room. Sometimes it was under the pretense of discussing work; once the door was shut, she would press me down onto the floor, squat down herself, and directly shit the prepared soft diarrhea or normal soft stool into my mouth. Sometimes, after drinking too much, she would deliberately upset her stomach and then make me catch every one of her midnight expulsions with my mouth.
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 to keep her moans from escaping. 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.
Another time, she made me take the runny shit she had pulled out into my mouth, not allowing me to swallow, and then she herself lowered her head and used her tongue to lick away bit by bit the stuff in my mouth, then kissed me. We exchanged her own taste, kissing deeply and chaotically. She said: “This is what real sharing is... you’ve eaten mine, and I’ve eaten the me in your mouth.”
On the fifth night of the business trip, she finally made a further request. She had me lie on the bed, then rode on top of me herself, while pushing her loose feces into my mouth with one hand and using the other to hold my sex as she slowly sat down. At the same time her ass was spurting out feces, her vagina was also tightly gripping me. That kind of dual stimulation almost made me collapse on the spot. She climaxed too, the loose feces spraying even more fiercely, the vagina contracting even tighter, calling my name with her mouth, yet lowering her voice: “Deeper... eat more... all of it is yours...”
We got bolder each time. She started to like having me lick her clit while she had diarrhea, or fingering her still-wet vagina. She said it felt more complete—being filled front and back at the same time, the shame amplified to the extreme. Sometimes she even asked me to smear her loose stool on her breasts, then I'd lick it clean; or have me cum on her just-finished asshole, then lick it off together.
By the day the business trip ended, she had completely let go. On the last night before leaving, she locked me in the room and played from dusk until dawn. She came three times in a row, and each time made me swallow it all clean, with drinking her urine, licking her feet, and rubbing my penis 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 red anus, preserving the last bit of flavor.
On the plane home, she sat beside me, calmly looking at documents on the surface. But under the blanket, her hand quietly reached over and held mine, using her fingertips to write a few words in my palm: “Next time... let’s go on a business trip together again.”
I held her hand and softly replied with one word: "Okay."
Outside the window, clouds churned, but I only remember those morning bouts of diarrhea, those loud farts, those plump, fair buttocks and pale, beautiful feet, and her painful yet unrestrained moans each time she erupted in my mouth.
The stern Director Wen, before me, became the most wanton, most real middle-aged beauty. And I, willingly, became her eternal human toilet.
As soon as the plane home landed, Director Wen said in a voice only the two of us could hear: “Don’t rush to go back to your own home tonight. Go open a room at a hotel first. I still have something I want to give you to eat.”
My heart almost skipped a beat. After returning from Nanjing, during the day at work we were still superior and subordinate; she still wore a cold face when reprimanding people. But in private, her occasional glances carried a hint only I understood. I nodded.
At 7 p.m., 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 the top of her thighs, her fair and full cleavage faintly visible. Watching me enter, she slightly 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 naked before me. Her forty-five-year-old body was still plump and alluring, her breasts heavy, areolas a deeper shade, belly slightly soft, and the inner thighs still bore faint marks from my bites last night. She turned around, hands braced on the windowsill, lifting 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, the edges still carrying a bit of last night's residual wetness. I pressed my face against it, my tongue licking from the perineum all the way to the tailbone, then carefully swirling around that ring of folds. She moaned comfortably, pushing her buttocks back a little: 'Harder... put your tongue inside.'
My tongue tip probed into the warm entrance of her anus, gently stirring. Her intestinal walls immediately contracted, clamping onto my tongue. After about half a minute, she suddenly groaned, and a warm gas sprayed out, carrying a strong, fishy stench. Followed by a small stream of pale yellow, thin liquid that flowed directly 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 more.'
She had me lie on the bed, then straddled me, squatting over my face. She reached back with both hands to spread her buttocks apart, completely aligning her anus with my open mouth. She took a deep breath and bore down with her abdomen—
“Pfft——puff puff puff——”
A rapid-fire series of loud farts erupted, followed immediately by a large gush of deep yellow, watery shit shooting straight into my throat. It was thicker than in Nanjing, with a distinct sourness and the smell of alcohol, the temperature almost scalding my mouth. I swallowed in big gulps, my throat making gurgling sounds. As she defecated, she cursed under her breath: 'Eat it all clean... 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. Yet she didn't mind at all; instead, she sat down harder, tightening her anus to ensure each spurt went as much as possible into my mouth. I held her thighs, thumbs pressing near her tailbone, helping her expel residual gas and fluid. Her beautiful feet pressed against my chest, toes taut with effort, the nail polish on her toenails gleaming under the light.
After the third stream, she slightly lifted her buttocks, looked down at my face covered in traces of loose stool, her eyes soft and wanton: 'Your face is covered in my stuff... so lewd.' She reached out a finger, scraped 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 taste. We exchanged her own excrement, kissing deeply and wildly.
She didn't get up immediately. Instead, she shifted her body forward, pressing her already soaked pussy against my nose. As she continued to strain to defecate, grinding back and forth, loose stool and arousal mixed, making my entire face sticky. Her orgasm came quickly; as her vagina contracted violently, her asshole released another small stream of pale yellow liquid, all pouring into my mouth. She bit her own hand to keep from crying out too loudly, but her body trembled fiercely.
After catching her breath, she rolled onto her side, pulled me up, and made me kneel between her legs. She used her own hands to spread her buttocks, her voice still tinged with lingering pleasure: 'Use your thing... put it in. Fuck me while I give you another handjob.'
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 exceptionally smooth. She let out a long moan, and her lower abdomen began to tense again. With each thrust, she would squirt out a bit of watery shit, flowing down our joining onto the sheets. 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 inside out...” she said, panting. I sped up, the scrotum slapping against the thick flesh of her buttocks with crisp sounds. Her anus was stretched open by me; with each pull-out, a little pale-yellow liquid came out, then I pushed it back in again. Suddenly her whole body tensed, and the orgasm came even fiercer than before; her vagina and intestines spasmed at the same time, and a stream even thinner than before shot straight onto the base of my sex, then flowed down onto the bed. I couldn’t help ejaculating too, my semen mixing with her thin feces and slowly seeping out from the point of intercourse.
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 lips: 'Eat it clean. This is ours together.' I stuck out my tongue and licked everything off her fingers. She smiled contentedly, then brought her own fluid-covered hand to her mouth and licked it clean too.
After about twenty minutes, her stomach started rumbling again. She rolled over and lay on top of me, positioning her buttocks toward my face, saying lazily, 'One more time. This one might be a bit more, so get ready.'
I opened my mouth. She exerted a bit more force, first letting out a long series 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 intestines contracted even tighter, squeezing out all the remaining liquid, and I was almost filled to the brim.
She finally went completely limp, lying on top of me panting. After a long while, she raised her head, her eyes holding a kind of satisfaction after completely letting go: "From Nanjing until now... how many times have you 'eaten' me?"
I answered honestly: 'Countless.'
She chuckled softly, reached out and touched my lips, still coated with her taste: “Then keep counting. From now on, whenever I go on a business trip, or on weekends... whenever I want to be pleased, you’ll come be my toilet. Understood?”
“I heard it.”
She nodded contentedly, buried her face in the crook of my neck, her voice gradually lowering: "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 still lingered with the strong, mixed scent of sweet musk and fart odor, the sheets already soaked in a large patch. 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.
Outside the window, the city lights remained bright, but in this room, the stern Director Wen had long transformed into the most lewd and real middle-aged beauty belonging only to me. And I would remain her eternal human toilet, until the next time she sprayed her scalding, watery shit into my throat.
Comments