"Oh, here's a lovely big load for you, my filthy toilet!" Mistress Vivian London, clad only in a revealing black lace thong, stepped into the steamy shower with a wicked grin on her plump, glossy lips. Her ample body glistened with a fine sheen of water droplets as she let out a contented sigh, her tits heavy and full bouncing gently with each movement. Her eyes locked onto the toilet bowl before her, knowing exactly what was expected of her next.
Slowly, deliberately, she reached back between her thick legs and spread her moist, pouty labia apart, revealing the dark, twitching pucker of her anus beneath. Her eyes never left the toilet bowl as she did this, a look of raw desire and defiance in their depths. Then, with a slow, sultry movement, she bent forward at the waist, her plump ass cheeks parting to reveal the glistening pink inner flesh of her rectum.
"Look at my asshole opening even further," she purred, her voice low and throaty. "And the big, firm log emerging from it!"
With one hand, she slid two fingers deep into her moist, tight asshole, massaging her inner walls as she widened the opening for her prize load of shit. Her other hand pressed firmly against the cold, hard ceramic of the toilet bowl, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the first pulse of shit hit the back of her throat. Her face contorted in ecstasy, and then she was gagging violently as the hot, viscous liquid flowed down her throat and into her belly.
"Firm to start with," she gasped between ragged breaths, "the fat log pushes out, and another big, soft log is following! Oh, this is a big load of shit, and all for you, my dirty little toilet!"
Her ass clenched and flexed rhythmically, milking her own rectum as she pushed more and more of the fetid brown waterlogged turds out of her body and into the eagerly waiting mouth of her toilet. She felt dirty and filthy, but she loved every moment of it - the way the toilet bowl trembled beneath her hands, the way the hot, viscous liquid coated her tongue and filled her mouth, the way her thighs trembled with the effort of trying to contain her own magic.
Hours passed, and Mistress Vivian finally pulled away from the toilet bowl, her face smeared with her own filth, her thong stained and sodden with shit. She was spent, exhausted but exhilarated by what she had done. Her legs trembled as she stood under the cascade of steaming hot water, washing away the last traces of her dirty work.
And yet, even as she stood there, naked and vulnerable, she couldn't help but imagine the next time. The next load of shit she would push out of her body and into the mouth of her dirty little toilet. She couldn't wait.
