My heart pounded as I stood on the dusty train platform, the summer sun beating down on my neck. It had only been a couple of months since my last visit to Aunt Flo’s farm, but the memories were still fresh — raw, humiliating, and impossibly arousing. When her letter arrived, inviting me back to help with farm work, I knew deep down it wasn’t just about lending a hand. My twin cousins, Melissa and Melody, had to be behind this.
Aunt Flo’s letter had been casual, almost innocent: “It isn’t more than a couple of months ago since you spent summer holiday with us… come along, your nieces are waiting for you too…” But I remembered exactly how those “waiting nieces” had used me.
The drive to the farm was quiet. Aunt Flo looked a little older, a bit more tired, but still carried that sturdy, mature beauty — tall, strong from years of farm work, with full heavy breasts and wide hips that strained against her simple dress. Her corn-golden hair was tied back, and she smelled faintly of fresh hay and earth. Something seemed to weigh on her mind, but she didn’t speak much.
When we arrived, I unpacked in the same room as before. The house felt familiar, comforting, and dangerous.
Later that evening, Aunt Flo called me into the living room. “Tell me, how is your relationship with your nieces?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s… swell. They’re wild, but okay.”
She smiled knowingly and turned on the TV. My stomach dropped as the video started. It was the outhouse — me trapped in the box, face framed in the seat, while Melissa and Melody took turns relieving themselves directly into my mouth. Their laughter, the wet sounds, my reluctant swallowing — it was all there.
“Anything to say?” Aunt Flo asked, her hand slipping casually between her thighs.
I blushed crimson, unable to speak.
“Well, if you’re content with how they treat you, the same applies to me.” Her voice dropped, authoritative. “Come over here and settle yourself between my legs. Kiss your auntie properly.”
I obeyed, kneeling before her. She lifted her dress, revealing no panties, and guided my face to her mature, hairy pussy. That same sweet country scent — hay, soil, and warm woman — filled my nose. I pressed my lips to her sex and began licking, tongue sliding inside her folds, sucking gently on her clit. Aunt Flo moaned softly, rotating her hips, grinding against my face.
“Enough for now, dear,” she said after a while, breathing heavier. “I have to go to the loo. I think I’ll use the old outhouse again — the one my daughters renovated. I expect it to serve me just as well. Go prepare yourself. You have five minutes.”
My cock was rock hard as I hurried to the outhouse. I positioned myself in the familiar box, face up in the seat, heart racing with reluctant anticipation.
Soon the lid opened. Aunt Flo’s face appeared above me, smiling down. “The girls told the truth about you. You deserve this.” She turned around, lifted her dress, and lowered her large, warm, silky ass onto my face. Her heavy cheeks spread over me, her crack settling perfectly over my mouth.
“Lick me first. Soften up my crack.”
I obeyed, tongue bathing her asshole and pussy, tasting her. She sighed in pleasure. Then I felt it — the movement, the pressure. Her warm waste pushed out, filling my mouth completely. The degrading reality hit me: I was Aunt Flo’s toilet now. I swallowed desperately, gulping down everything she gave me while she sat comfortably, chatting casually about farm chores as if I weren’t there.
When she finished, I cleaned her thoroughly with my tongue. Then she shifted, pressing her pussy to my lips. “Open up.” Hot, golden piss flooded my mouth. I drank every drop, thirsty and humiliated.
“Good boy,” she purred, standing up. “This is going to be a very cooperative relationship. You’re staying for good. The girls and I will have plenty of use for our family toilet.”
That night, Melissa and Melody burst into my room, giggling. “Welcome back, cousin! Mom told us you’re officially ours again.”
They wasted no time. They dragged me to the barn, just like last summer. This time they were bolder. They pinned me down in the hay, taking turns facesitting me with their bare asses. Melody went first, her thick, farm-strong cheeks smothering my face as she ground her crack over my tongue.
“Sniff your cousin’s ass, toilet boy,” she laughed.
Then Melissa took her turn, pulling her panties aside and sinking down. “Remember how much you loved this last time?”
For hours they used me — facesitting, making me lick their pussies and asses, then demanding I open wide as they relieved themselves. I swallowed load after load, their warm piss quenching my thirst while they chatted and laughed above me.
The next morning, the real routine began. Aunt Flo woke me early. “Time for breakfast duty.”
She led me to the outhouse. One by one, the three women used me. Aunt Flo first — a heavy morning load that stretched my limits. Then Melissa, playful and teasing, farting loudly before filling my mouth. Melody was the messiest, giggling as she pissed a long stream down my throat.
Days turned into weeks. I became their full-time farmhand and full-time toilet. During picnics in the fields, they’d lay blankets down, eat their lunch, and casually use my face whenever nature called. I lay beneath them, mouth open under their summer dresses, swallowing everything while they ignored me and talked about boys, chores, and how useful their nephew had become.
Evenings were the most intense. After dinner, the four of us would gather in the living room or barn. Aunt Flo would facesit me first, her mature ass smothering me while the twins took turns riding my cock or making me lick them. Then they’d all use me as their toilet again — full scat sessions where I served every one of them, cleaning them afterward with my tongue.
One particularly memorable night, they tied me to the old milking station in the stable. Aunt Flo sat on my face for a long, luxurious facesitting session, grinding while Melissa and Melody took turns sucking me. When Aunt Flo was ready, she filled my mouth completely. As I swallowed, Melody mounted my cock, riding me hard while her sister facesat me next.
“You’re never leaving, cousin,” Melody moaned as she came. “You belong under our asses.”
Aunt Flo smiled down at me, stroking my hair after using me. “Such a good nephew. The girls were right about you. This farm needs a dedicated toilet, and you’re perfect for it.”
I had stopped pretending to resist long ago. The humiliation, the degradation, the constant taste and scent of my aunt and cousins — it consumed me. Every morning I woke eager to serve. Every night I fell asleep with the flavor of their bodies on my tongue.
As summer stretched on, my old city life faded. I was home now — the permanent family toilet on Aunt Flo’s farm, used daily by three beautiful, dominant women who loved nothing more than sitting on my face and relieving themselves into their willing, addicted nephew.
And I had never been happier.
This is an original creative work by Salty Vixen. This story/article, including its characters, plot, and descriptive content, is protected by copyright law. Unauthorized copying, sharing, reposting, or reproduction in any format is strictly prohibited. This content may not be used for AI training, data scraping, machine learning, or any form of artificial intelligence development without explicit written permission from Salty Vixen Publishing LLC. Violators will be pursued to the fullest extent of the law.
