LUDOVICA LUXURY -NO BIRTHDAY GIFT -hd

The afternoon is lazy and muggy. My friend and I decide to break in our novice human toilet. We make him lie naked on the floor, the cold tiles under his back reminding him right away where he belongs.

We start slow, no rush. My friend squats over his face first. She releases a warm, slow, heavy stream straight into his mouth. He opens wide, swallows in rhythm, eyes half closed in pleasure. Not a drop escapes; he gulps with obvious gratitude.

Then her body tenses slightly. A wet, deep sound, and the mess comes without warning: yellowish, soft, almost creamy. My friend does not stand up. She stays crouched and feeds it to him directly. She lets the first dense, warm portions drop right onto his open tongue, then pushes gently to release more, controlling the flow.

She fills his mouth little by little. One lump after another coats his palate, swells his cheeks, and starts oozing from the corners of his lips. The sweet acrid smell floods the air in seconds.

His eyes snap wide in pure terror, mouth already full and unable to close. He gurgles loudly, trembles uncontrollably under her, tries to hold it, but after barely two minutes he breaks. He spits it all out in a disgusting gush, yellowish splatters running down his chin, neck, and chest.

My friend rises slowly, a calm cruel smile on her face. She bends toward the floor, picks up a small piece of the spat out mess with two fingers, still warm and sticky, and locks eyes with him. Without a word she brings it to his lips. He hesitates for a split second, but she presses it against his mouth, made him open again.

She feeds it to him deliberately, sliding the fragment inside with her index finger until she feels it settle on his tongue. He coughs, swallows with difficulty, tears streaking his face, but he gets it down. The taste makes him shudder, yet his cock throbs harder against his stomach.

The moment he finishes swallowing, my friend does not waste time. With fingers still filthy she gathers the rest of the leftover mess from his chest and the floor, that warm, dense remainder, and starts smearing it slowly over him.

First across his chest, wide deliberate strokes covering his pecs and sternum in a glossy, sticky layer. Then lower: she takes more and spreads it straight onto his cock and balls, wrapping his erect shaft in the soft cream, sliding her hand up and down slowly while he moans quietly. Every pass makes him dirtier, more marked, more hers.

Only after coating him thoroughly does she start writing. Still using her fingers, still using that same yellowish paste she just smeared on him, she traces her name first across his chest, elegant, deep letters that sink into the mush and leave permanent grooves.

Then, without pausing, she adds my name right beside hers. Every stroke is slow and precise. Her fingers glide over his heaving chest, pressing hard to make it cling to his skin, turning his torso into a permanent brand of ownership. Two names, handwritten by her, declaring exactly who this ruined body belongs to.

He breathes short and ragged, eyes fixed on the ceiling, chest trembling under our signatures.

My friend steps back a moment, looks down at him with a satisfied smile, then orders him firmly: jerk off with what is on you. Use what we smeared on your cock.

He obeys instantly. His right hand, already coated in the thick cream, grips his shaft and starts sliding up and down. Faster and faster, the wet obscene sound fills the room.

I stay close, watching with a smile as he pumps furiously, smearing his fingers, cock, balls, splattering a little everywhere with each stroke.

When he comes it is explosive: white spurts mixing into the filth on his chest, stomach, and hands.

We leave him there, lying in the puddle, humiliated, marked, and still shaking.

A debut human toilet, already completely ours.

Tomorrow he will be back.

And next time he will have to keep everything inside much longer.

LUDOVICA LUXURY -FIRST AND LAST TIME -hd

For two months this guy has been flooding my inbox with pathetic emails. Always the same plea: I want to be your human toilet.

At first I deleted them without even opening. Then his persistence started to amuse me. Eventually I sent one cold reply:

If you are serious, there is one non negotiable rule. You swallow it. Every last bit. Otherwise do not waste my time.

He replied in under sixty seconds: I accept.

10 a.m. sharp. The intercom buzzes right on time while outside the cold bites straight into the bones.

I open the door wearing only a black thong, push up bra, and a thick pair of yellow wool socks I have had on for four straight days. The bright yellow has darkened slightly at the toes and heels. They are heavy, damp, reeking of that thick winter sweat wool stench that hits him the moment he steps inside.

He enters head down, hands trembling, probably from the chill, probably from nerves after a three hour drive in this miserable weather.

On your knees.

I point at the plastic sheet. He drops instantly, knees smacking the floor.

I press one socked foot right under his nose.

Sniff. Get acquainted with my winter socks.

He inhales; his whole face twists. He once confessed he cannot stand strong smells. Too bad. This is warm wool, four days of trapped sweat, and the cold soaked deep into the fibers. Yet he takes another long breath.

Take them off. Teeth only.

He fumbles clumsily at the fuzzy edges. Finally my bare feet slide free, still hot, glossy with old sweat, soles darkened from days pressed against yellow wool.

Lick them. Toes to heel. Do not miss a spot.

His tongue comes out shy, flat, sliding between my toes. Every pass makes him grimace; the sour taste of damp wool must be coating his mouth. I laugh softly and rub the other still socked foot across his face, leaving bits of yellow fluff stuck to his cold reddened cheeks.

Good toilet. But today you are not here for feet.

No, Mistress.

Exactly.

I push him flat on his back on the sheet. I position the portable toilet over his head, then spread my legs wide, ankles framing his face, perfectly balanced. I want him to see every second while the radiator wheezes uselessly against the frost creeping through the windows.

Today is not one of those massive loads. I ate light last night, so it comes out as one long, solid piece, about twenty centimeters, soft enough to mold. It lands straight in his mouth, then overflows gently in brown streaks running down his cheeks and neck.

I remove the toilet slowly. I slip on the long black gloves up to the elbows.

First, though, my bladder is full. I bend slightly and release a hot stream onto his cock, soaking the shaft, the pubes, the balls. A burning contrast to the icy room. He jerks but keeps his mouth sealed. Not a drop escapes.

I crouch beside his head. With gloved fingers I scoop up what spilled out, pack it into fat mouthfuls and push them in one after another.

After about ten he starts to break. Hands shaking uncontrollably, throat convulsing, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

I press my palm flat on his forehead, pinning him.

I have not given you permission to quit yet.

He raises a trembling hand: stop.

I sigh, voice like ice.

This was your one and only chance. This was your first and last time seeing me in the flesh. Do not message me again unless you have trained yourself to swallow everything without acting like a little bitch. Apologize. Now.

I am sorry Mistress. Thank you for using me.

Louder.

I AM SORRY MISTRESS. THANK YOU FOR USING ME AS YOUR TOILET.

Good boy.

I stand up slowly, looking down at him. He is still flat on his back on the cold sheet, mouth stuffed, cheeks smeared, cock cooling in a puddle beneath him. His chest rises and falls fast; he breathes through his nose because his mouth is full.

I say nothing more. No permission to rise, to spit, to wipe himself. Nothing.

I turn, pick up the yellow wool socks from the floor, they are still warm, and drop them onto his chest like dirty rags.

For a moment I just watch him lie there: pathetic, frozen, too terrified to move without my command.

Then I turn and walk out of the room without another word. The door clicks shut behind me.

I leave him right there on the floor in the freezing silence, my smell all over him.

How long will it take him to realize I am not coming back? That he will have to crawl out alone, clean himself up as best he can in the guest bathroom, get dressed, and leave without daring to knock again?

Maybe he will disappear for good. Maybe in a few weeks another desperate email will land in my inbox.

We will see.

Soaking my enormous balloon with golden rain

You'll see me inflate my enormous balloon, pass it over my body, and sensually wet it with golden rain. It's the first time I've done it with a balloon, it was very exciting!

Poop and squirt

I poop and have a wet orgasm on a pile of poop

Stretched wide open when a huge solid poop

Pull my pants down, sitting above you. Spread my juices cheeks. Being the first poop in days, as painful as it was, it was relieving to finally get some shit out. Watch my creamy pussy as I push out log after log. As I sit here, pushing and pushing and nothing coming out but nothing a little water enema cant fix, liquid gushing out, and the remaining log slipping out at the end. Grunting, moaning, grasping on for dear life as I push and push to get it all out.

Surveillance Camera: Our Dirty Mess for You

We're at home, fully aware that the security camera on the corner is recording every second. We're doing this for you, voyeur. My guy lies naked on the floor, his rock-hard cock pointing at the ceiling. I climb on top, my perfect ass right over his belly and his dick. I squeeze tight and unleash a big load on him: a creamy, hot, and smelly turd that falls heavily onto his belly and covers his entire cock, the shit sliding down his balls and dripping onto the floor.

He goes wild with horniness, grabs the shit with his hands, and pushes me onto my back. He starts smearing me all over: rubbing the poop on my tits, my belly, my soaking pussy, my face, and my mouth. He shoves it on my lips for me to lick, the earthy, bitter taste flooding me as I moan. My body is covered in sticky, shiny, hot brown.

Then he fucks me hard, his filthy cock plunging into my cunt, thrusting like an animal while shit splatters everywhere. We switch: he sits on my face, making me eat his ass and shit-covered balls, his filthy anus in my mouth as I lick and swallow. He puts me on all fours, grabs my hips, and pounds me again, my dirty cunt dripping with juices and shit with every wild thrust.

Meanwhile, you're watching us from the corner camera, without us seeming to know.. but we do. Every moan, every splatter, every disgusting smell is for you. We come together, screaming, shaking, covered in shit and semen, a total mess recorded just for your secret pleasure.

Do you want us to leave the door open for you next time?