Toilet
Copyright© 2026 by Andi Liminal
Chapter 1
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A bored and lonely handyman once stumbled on a curious yet fascinating and repulsive kink on his old message board. Working with his shy, awkward niece Frankie should have been a welcome distraction, but instead it forces him to confront the parts of himself he'd rather keep hidden.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Restart Workplace Sharing Incest Uncle Niece Humiliation Masturbation Scatology Voyeurism Water Sports Big Breasts Foot Fetish Leg Fetish 2nd POV ENF Nudism Slow
The smell of fresh paint mixes with the donuts and coffee you carry into the empty apartment. Your niece is running the fans with every window open, but this does very little to combat the muggy, humid air.
You remembered Frankie as this tall, shy, skinny tomboy who hides behind her glasses, and though you hadn’t seen her in years, at nineteen she was still this tall, skinny tomboy with glasses.
She’s been helping you out since fall, mostly painting and patching. You’re a property manager, a glorified handyman, so when your drunk sister got in trouble, you took in the girl. Found her a studio apartment and a part-time job. Surprisingly, she’s actually useful.
She doesn’t hear you step into the living room, she’s got her earbuds in.
These past few months she’s always worn a big hoodie and those painted overalls. But with spring coming in hot today, she wears very small shorts that expose her long, slender, pale legs and a little bit more. She walks barefoot on the drop cloth, pretty delicate feet. When she rolls the wall high, you can peek at her flat belly and notice how her slim hips struggle to keep her shorts in place, and so these slide down and hint at her ass cheeks.
But the most surprising thing about this tall skinny tomboy, beyond her delicate feminine form, are her tits.
You imagined her flat as a board, but her breasts move freely beneath the fabric of the oversized t-shirt, your company name stretched over as she herself stretches. Then notices you standing there.
She blushes, but she always blushes.
“Coffee?” She pushes the glasses back up her nose and smiles that disarming smile that makes you feel guilty for having stared at her the way you did. You were simply surprised, you tell yourself. You never expected Frankie to be such a beautiful girl underneath...
You hand her the iced coffee, a cup almost as wide as her thigh.
Don’t look at her thighs.
Don’t look at her feet.
Don’t look...
“It’s so hot,” she complains as she sips and laughs as she digs into the box and takes a chocolate donut.
“You’re gonna look like your uncle if you start putting those away,” you playfully tap her belly and then your own. Her skin is so soft. There’s so much of it as she stands there unashamed.
“Just one,” she says and licks the chocolate, making your cock twitch just watching her.
You excuse yourself, and she thanks you for the coffee and puts her earbuds back in and gets back to work.
You take a photo of her when she’s not looking. Then another. Another.
You have an old house in the suburbs you call The Shop.
It serves as your home and office, and houses your materials, tools, and your van.
You have work to do, but you cannot get Frankie’s secret perfect body out of your mind.
Who knew. That this whole winter she had been hiding this body beneath those layers of clothes. This shy, awkward girl who talks football and laughs at the stupid jokes you make and works harder than any other guy you hired for the same job.
You power up your laptop, and it boots directly into your browser. You should really put a password on this thing.
The first tab is emails from property owners, and the rest are from the message board, The Shop.
It’s why you started calling your own house by the same name. You’ve been a devoted member for decades now. The site itself looks like it’s transplanted from another simpler time.
Blue-collar guys asking and answering questions about the trades, from plumbing, your specialty, to dryway, carpentry, and even cars. These guys helped you troubleshoot your alternator just last year when Frankie started working with you.
They also showed you how to install the app that lets you take sneaky photographs with your phone.
You transfer Frankie’s pics over to the laptop and watch her in high resolution.
She’s as tall as you on bare feet, skinny all over, not in a bad way, skin so soft and as white as porcelain, and her breasts...
Your cock is in your hand as you go switch over to the browser and the tabs from the message board. Threads from the secret subforums where guys trade pornography, home-made, pro, extreme, and voyeur shots collected on the job. Only long-time members are allowed in these threads.
Even so, you only share Frankie’s unfiltered photos with the admins. You will share them with the others only after you blur out her face and your company logo on her shirt, even if it obscures those sensational breasts.
The admins are quick to reply and to praise and degrade your pretty niece.
You stroke your cock reading these and watching her, and then tab out to the home-made and extreme porn threads, often these are the same.
You still have almost retching as you open up the ones involving your new obsession. You can’t watch more than a minute or two, sometimes less, before you have to close out the photo or turn off the video.
But you quickly erupt as you quickly switch tabs between Frankie’s toned stomach and skinny pale thighs and a woman across the ocean being force fed shit by strangers.
You close every tab after you clean up the mess you made, leaving only Frankie full screen. You zoom in on every little detail of her, your cock still out and soft and dripping as you do a minimal blur effect over your company’s name on her shirt, stretched out over her breasts, enough to see now she is not wearing a bra.
It’s as hot as summer out there, and at this zoom level you see she’s sweating enough to make the fabric stick to her body in parts. To make that porcelain white skin shine so pretty.
You see the elastic waistband around her barely there hips and notice these are not shorts but her underwear, they’re boxers. They’re loose around her slim frame, and in certain shots you can see the crease of her ass cheeks where they meet her thigh.
Her feet are pretty and delicate, and you know which of the admins is right now zooming in himself.
You’ve never zoomed in so much or for so long on a girl. Long enough that your cock twitches awake. You’re pushing sixty and yet, here you are, like a horny teenager.
As you bring up her face to block it and show her off to the other non-admin members of the secret boards, you notice those thick, big steel-rimmed glasses that make her look like a little girl. But only if it’s just her face you see. The only view you had of her for the past few months. Why you never even considered...
Those pretty blue eyes, her mother’s eyes. Your sister’s. Big and round and useless without her glasses.
She’s staring at you.
When you thought you were taking sneaky photos of your niece, she could see you the whole time. You were so focused on her body, on her beauty, on her tits, that you did not notice she was aware of you.
You open up the other photos you edited and remove the black bar over her face and see that in just about every one she was looking right back at you as you photographed her.
She smiles. In all of them, she smiles, and she blushes as you photograph her.
Your cock twitches back to life.
Ashamed and with a cramp on your wrist, you drive back to Frankie to check in on her.
To remind yourself that she’s still your niece and that maybe you shouldn’t have shared all the photos with those perverts, but now it’s too late to think about those things.
She is wearing her overalls and hoodie when you return, and she tells you the story about how she had to quickly get dressed when the delivery guy from the building supply store arrived. How she almost fainted from the heat and that the guy just left.
She laughs and blushes the entire time about the awkward encounter, and you see the delivery is a big box now sitting on the living room floor.
“It’s the toilet, Tony,” she calls you Tony. She speaks with a nervous edge. Squeezing her thighs together, trying not to. “How quickly can you set it up?” She asks, biting her lower lip.
You laugh.
You look through the delivery and notice the hoses and the wax ring are all missing from it. You tell her as much and that you’ll have to go get these.
She’s not very happy, but she’s playful about her situation, at least.