Jenny’s Enema

The tape rewound in the VCR as I stood up to stretch. The steamy movie had afforded ample reason to get turned on. I thought Jenny was going to come just before the end but she didn’t. Getting worked up and enjoying the release of tensions was the main reason for watching these rented and borrowed movies. Some of our classmates went all the way' but I'd only managed to get her bra off and a hand in her pants. We'd agreed thatreal sex’ was too risky for college folks, but everything else short of that was fair game. Her apartment in the basement of an old house was ideal for fun and games. The private entrance and virtual isolation from the rest of the house meant we were left alone and `unwatched.’ Short of tearing the place apart, we could do as we wanted. It was spring break and we both had time to kill. I was hoping for an adventure, but had no plans or ideas.

I felt something was different while I was taking a leak. There was a shadow behind the shower curtain. It turned out to be a fountain syringe dangling from one of the curtain hooks. It seemed new. Curious, I looked it over, imagining where the wet nozzle had recently resided. Well, at least she was keeping herself `clean and fresh’ as the adds put it.

The label on an empty box in the wastebasket also caught my eye - Folding Syringe for Douche and Enema. I’d noticed them in stores but had never had a close look at one. The sides and back were covered with little drawings and instructions. When I turned it over, a plastic tube fell out onto the counter. The parts diagram identified it as the enema nozzle. I read the panel that told how to use it and examined the drawings closely. This was all new information for me. I wondered why she was throwing away the enema part. She’d made coffee and was dishing up ice cream when I joined her in the kitchen. There were several more movies to see and we needed energy.

“I noticed your new syringe,” I said, indicating curiosity. Jenny is bit older than me and often finds my blunt inquiries humorous. I’ve learned to simply ask when I want to know something, even intimate things.

“Ya, my old bulb syringe got a leak so I got a bag to replace it with. Why?”

“Well,” I hesitated, embarrassed, “I read the stuff on the box and wondered why you threw away the enema part. Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, I just don’t need it,” she said, closing the ice cream carton.

“Oh,” I mumbled, still wondering. “Have you ever had an enema?”

“No,” she shot back just a tad testily, “do you know what it does?”

“According to the box, it squirts water in your ass.”

“Yup, and that makes you shit. Kind of like instant laxative,” she said, handing me coffee and a bowl of ice cream. “I take it you haven’t had one either.”

“Never even knew what it did until now,” I replied heading for the living room, “only heard people joke about it. Do they hurt?”

“I don’t think so, its just water, ya know,” she said taking a cassette off the stack and stuffing it into the VCR. The movie started but my mind wandered.

“If they’re like instant laxative and they don’t hurt, and all you need is water, how come people don’t use enemas instead of laxatives?” I said, half to myself.

“For Pete’s sake, Matt, why don’t you go have one and find out!”

I focused on ice cream and the movie and didn’t answer. Then a scene in the movie gave me an idea. “Let’s both do it and find out if it works the same for men and women!” I suggested, figuring I’d both learn about a taboo subject and get to see Jenny in the buff with the lights on as part of the adventure. “I’ll even let you put the tube into me and turn it on,” I offered.

“And shit it all out while I watch?” she asked in a half mocking tone.

“Ya, and I’ll do the same for you. What’a ya say? Its something new to do!”

“Go get the box. I want to see what it says,” she said as if giving in to a kid.

She read the instructions, rereading some of them more than once. She also gave the drawings showing positions for getting an enema careful attention, twisting around a little as if trying them out. The figure of a person on hands and knees, but with his head on the floor and ass in the air appealed to me - what a view it would provide! She seemed most interested in the figure getting it while laying on its back. Lots of potential for exposure there, too.

“Do you understand what this means?” she asked, holding up the box. “It looks to me like you have to do it three times, once in each position and then more until the water comes back out of you clear. See?” She pointed to the last line on the back: `For complete cleansing, repeat until returns are clear.’

“That’s at least three bags full, maybe more. I’m not going to do more than the basic three positions, even if I’m not completely clean. Three is enough for me. Period!” She was into her deal making mode, wanting to nail things down.

“Uh-huh, so what’s your bottom line,” I prodded, pleased that she was into the project for at least the basic part.

“You heard it, big boy, I’ll do it three times. No more. And I’ll do it to you until the water comes out clear. And you go first `cuz its your idea.”

“What if the water won’t come out clear. Having to do it over and over could be boring. My maximum is five. That should be enough,” I said, closing a potential loophole in the deal.

“Make it six - twice in each position - and you have a deal,” she replied.

“Deal. Lets go do it!” I said, unbuckling my pants. She went into the bathroom carrying the box while I stripped off the rest of my clothes. Water ran and the toilet flushed before I arrived to find her standing barefoot in her panties and bra. My pecker finished its rise to full attention as I stared at her. She was excited, too. Stiff nipples poked at her bra from inside.

My enthusiasm diminished when I noticed the fountain syringe hanging behind her in the middle of the shower curtain rod. It had been transformed from its former slender flatness to a gross, sagging bag full of water. “How much did you put in there,” I said in an accusing tone, suspecting a trick.

“Two quarts,” she said, looking puzzled, “its a two- quart bag just like it says on the box. I measured it with that pitcher.”

“Oh. OK. Fine,” I stammered, mentally comparing the bag to my belly.

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” she teased.

“No, no, just double-checking,” I answered, suddenly feeling uncertain.

“Good! Lay down on your left side and I’ll give it to you,” Jenny ordered, putting the box on the counter and pointing to the towel she’d spread on the floor.

As I settled, knees bent in the prescribed manner, I glanced at the bag. It looked huge and threatening. My heart started pounding when she pushed the plastic tube through my asshole. In a moment she’d be satisfying my curiosity about having an enema.

I heard a snap and warmth flooded me. “Uhhh…” I groaned. Another snap and motions inside me stopped.

“Did that hurt? I didn’t mean to make it hurt,” her concerned voice said.

“No, I was surprised by the force and warmth.”

“OK,” came the distant reply from behind me. I heard a quiet pop and then felt warmth creeping into me slowly. A fullness grew and then faded as I felt the warmth move inward. This wasn’t bad. Water rushing through the tube in my ass felt good and so did the growing warm pressure inside me. I knew for sure that I’d be needing the toilet in front of me pretty soon. A clicking sound signaled another stop in the flow.

“Turn onto your back for the next part,” she said quietly. I rolled to my back and could just make out the water level through yellowish rubber sides of the bag hanging above me. The hose ran up to it in a nearly straight line Jenny eased open the control and I both felt and saw the enema resume. The sensation was different. Warmth spread all over my middle and I knew I was being filled. A couple of times it felt like a turd was bouncing around.

“Turn to your right side for the finish,” she ordered without stopping the flow. “How does it feel?”

“It feels good, especially at my asshole, kind of vibrating from the flow.”

It seemed different yet again. My right side was tight with pressure and I could see it swollen and sticking out. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. I had all I wanted, felt stuffed, and craned my neck to see the bag. “Just a little bit left to go,” she whispered. It kept coming and I started feeling panicky - very warm, tight, uncomfortable, on the verge of being in pain. A sucking sound echoed around the room and the flow stopped. I was breathing a little hard. Jenny rolled me to my back and then onto my left side again. Water sloshed inside me and the look on her face told me she’d heard it too. She pulled the tube out of me and I clambered onto the toilet. A big gush of water and turds burst out, providing quick relief from the overall pressure. Then a series of smaller and shorter gushes started that went on for several minutes. Each one signaled departure of enema water and shit. I was surprised at the volume of both.

“Well, how was it? Was it what you expected?” she asked eagerly, watching me evacuate from her seat on the side of the tub. A look of expectant, even hopeful, concern hung on her face.

“It was good, better than I thought it would be. I was a little scared when I saw the bag filled so full, but it all fit - a tight fit, but I took it all. And it certainly did make me shit, just like you said it would. That felt great, a big relief.”

She looked relieved herself. I’d done it so she could do it, too. Her concern vanished. She quickly refilled the bag and straightened the towel. I wiped myself, pulled the handle and stood up. The swirling mess caught her eye and held it until clear water filled the bowel.

“That really did knock the shit out of you. Are you sure it didn’t hurt?”

“I got awfully full, but it didn’t hurt. Ready to do it again?”

She nodded and I got down on all fours for the ass-in- air position. She pushed the tube in right up to the flat flange and started it without comment. It went OK for a while, but the water pooled just below my ribs and made it hard to breathe as more and more rushed in. There was no pressure at my ass, just deep inside. It was much less comfortable than the first one. I wanted to stop, but she assured me it was almost done, three times before the empty noise finally sounded. I didn’t wait for the tube removal, but went straight to the toilet and spit it out with the first departing gush.

The first part of the return was clear. But then a steady dribble of soupy shit started that went on and on, punctuated with a couple of farts. Once again, the toilet was filled with lumpy brown crap from my guts. Jenny watched the second mess disappear down the drain and then hurried me back to the floor.

I got to watch the entire bag drain into my bowels, feeling increasing fullness and tension inside me as it shriveled and shrank. I knew what was happening from start to finish and exactly how much remained to charge down the hose and through my asshole. It was thrilling and scary as my belly visibly swelled while more water waited above me to enter.

My dick was up hard for the whole thing. Jenny was clearly intrigued by the sight with my legs flopped wide open, dong bobbing in time with my heart, and balls hanging down in my crotch. At one point I almost ejaculated. She noticed the twitch and smiled broadly. I now knew that an enema might make me cum.

The expulsion was a non-stop version of the second, complete with a splattering run of crap toward the end. The fourth and fifth enemas were much the same, although less shit departed with each one. I was glad I’d set an upper limit on the number I’d have because the process was becoming both tiring and boring.

Jenny perked up for the last one. I was on my back again. She seemed to take particular satisfaction in watching my gut swell and rise, hearing me quietly panting against the growing load, and seeing my engorged cock on full display. The dump ended with still more crap falling out of me. It probably would have taken two or three more fillings to get a completely clear return. But I was done, felt great and a bit lighter, and was all set to return Jenny’s favors.

“Well, what do you think now of your grand adventure into enema land?” she asked while I drained out.

I thought for a moment and then said, “Great. I’m glad I did it and I think you’ll enjoy it, too. Its your turn. Ready?”

She looked reluctant and I thought she might back out. But after a long pause during which she fiddled with the nozzle in her hand, she finally looked up at the empty bag, over at me, and then nodded without a word. There was another silent pause and then she washed the nozzle, filled the bag, and slipped off her panties. While I cleaned myself up and flushed the toilet, she slowly laid down in front of me. Delicious! I was anxious to see her response to being filled up.

I pulled up her bun, fully exposing her asshole and forcing it to open slightly, just enough to provide the starting point for pushing the nozzle into her. The whole thing disappeared and then she grabbed at it reflexively, squeezing and relaxing over and over. “Feels good, doesn’t it,” I asked.

“Mmmm,” she hummed back.

“OK, here it comes,” I said, slowly releasing the clamp.

“Ohhhhh, ohhh, oh,” she moaned after a few seconds. I put my hand on her belly. It was stiff with tension.

“Relax, relax,” I encouraged, “don’t resist it, just let it flow in,” I went on, patting her lightly.

Slowly, gradually I felt her abdomen soften and begin filling. She’d resumed flexing her anus, making a grunting `uhh’ with each squeeze. I watched the bag shrink and stopped the flow so she could get on her back.

“There’s so much left,” she moaned, eyes wide with surprise at the still-bloated appearance of the bag.

“The first part was the hardest. The rest of it goes in more easily,” I murmured to her. “Take a couple of deep breaths and then I’ll start it again.”

She sucked in several deep breaths. I started the flow again and she laid very still, watching the water level drop. Her legs opened in reaction to her filling, a marvelous view of what I had only touched before. She turned onto her right side without prompting to get the last part. A long gurgling sound ran through her gut. She groaned quietly and then said, “Ahh, that’s better.” A moment later…

“Oh! Oh! Uhhhh! Stop it, Matt, I’m full!” she squeaked.

“Just a bit more to go,” I answered, just as she had to me.

“No, no! I can’t hold it. No more, no more!”

I checked the bag and while I was looking up a little spurt of water shot out of her around the nozzle. And then another. I got a handful of water catching the loose nozzle and closed the clamp. Leaking and dripping, I helped her onto the toilet and stood back while she pushed a wave into the bowl with a noisy, grunting, groan. She hunched lower and lower with each succeeding surge, groaning with each effort. Plops and splashes signaled the effect of the enema Silence returned to the bathroom, broken only by occasional dribbles into the toilet. I thought she’d call it quits and refuse to go on.

“Gees, that was great, Matt, fantastic! All that crap rushing out was wonderful. I’ve never felt anything like it, but I want to feel it again.”

Jenny eagerly accepted the nozzle for her second enema. She took it silently at first, but started groaning again when her ass-in-the-air position caused a growing weight and fullness in her middle. She thanked me when I released her bra, making breathing just a bit easier. Erect nipples betrayed her state of arousal, lending an additional meaning to her groans - she enjoyed being filled.

She took more, but once again she couldn’t handle the whole bag. This time I stopped the enema at her first request. The towel got wetter, but not by much. Her dump ran almost non- stop, accompanied by a lot of panting and grunting. Toward the end the gush was again punctuated with plops and splashes, turning her grunts into satisfied `Ahhhs’.

Her third filling went quickly and quietly. She hummed and moaned to herself, holding her swelling gut in her hands. As the last of the water shot into her I reached down and stroked her glistening pussy.

“Yes!” she rasped, “get me off!”

I obliged and was treated to a massive, sloshing orgasm. She thrust against my hand, pushing her protruding belly upward with a lot of force, panting, gasping, and sweating profusely. At the end she leaked again, soaking the towel before regaining control.

It was quite a while before she pulled herself together enough to climb on the toilet. More time passed as she slowly released the slop in her guts, savoring the sensations throughout. Finally, she sat up straight on the can, stuck out her chest, and announced with a smile, “I’m going to give you another enema that’ll make you come like a he-goat. I owe you a thrill like the one you just gave me and I think I’ve figured out how to do it! You won’t even have to wear a rubber. With the mess we have here, a little more won’t matter.”

She always made me wear a condom when she jacked me off. I didn’t want another enema, and especially one that’d make me cum. But she insisted. Rather than ruin the experience with an argument, I gave in and agreed to let her do it.

A dry towel replaced the soggy one. I was on my back, staring up at the full bag and wondering why this enema would make me cum. Part of the answer appeared when she replaced the enema nozzle with the douche nozzle. It was bigger, longer, and bent a little about half way down its length.

“Why are you using that,” I asked, curious and apprehensive.

“To give your prostate gland a nice, hot shower. Remember your anatomy class? This, and that bag of water, should send you into ecstasy!”

I didn’t remember, but then I wasn’t as good at making connections between things as she was. In any case, I was about to find out if she was right because the nozzle was sliding in. The greater bulk felt good and so did the slow entry. My penis, already firm, grew larger and throbbed in anticipation. Jenny was turned on, too, and opened the clamp with a flick of her thumb.

A hot fountain erupted just inside my asshole. The sideways spray of the douche nozzle swathed my rectum in heat which grew more intense as the flood continued. The hot nozzle made my anus flex. I swallowed hard, and gasped in shock, groaning with each short breath.

“Oh… oh… oh… its so hot!” She slowly slid the nozzle all the way in and then back again. The spray splattered on a sensitive spot and triggered the twinge of excitement that precedes ejaculation. “Aaaaaaah, ah, ah,” I gasped.

She held the nozzle on that spot. My pelvis started thrusting upward and I knew jizz was about to burst forth. Asshole flexing wildly, pelvis jerking, I fired my wad into the air and followed it with mad pumping until there was nothing left to pump out. The tingle at the root of my pecker continued but spasmodic pumps produced nothing. I was totally spent and slumped limp on the floor, dimly aware that hot water was still pouring into me.

“My God, Matt,” Jenny wheezed, “I’ve never seen anything like it. You squirted stuff all over the place. How was it?”

“Stupendous and exhausting. I’m wiped out.. And I need to cool off.”

Her response was completely unexpected - dumping more water into the bag and resuming the enema! But it was cold water and it brought welcome coolness. She helped me onto the toilet and kept the cold water flowing as I unloaded. At the end of it all a little more shit spurted out.

Both of us were beat. We took a quick shower and then settled in to soak together in the tub. After a long time we crawled off to bed.

Over breakfast the next morning Jenny allowed as how she’d had a good time and was glad I’d suggested trying enemas. Quiet ensued while we ate. She eyed me several times. That usually meant she had more to say. I waited.

“Matt?” she started.

“Ya?”

“I want to do it again next weekend. And I’ll take as many as you do. OK?”

“Like that tickle in your asshole, eh?” I teased.

“Yes. Just as much as watching you swell up and cum like a wild man.”

“Hmmm, well not so hot next time. That was uncomfortable.”

“Is it a deal, then?”

“Ya, but you have to get whole bags, without leaks.”

“Well,” she hesitated, “OK. I’ll try to find out how to hold it while at the hospital for my volunteer work on Wednesday. I’ll ask around.”

Uh-ohh,' I thought,this may turn into more than simple bathroom fun. Damn! What’ve I gotten myself into?’ The adventure was taking a new turn already.

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