Coming Clean

Chapter 2

I pushed the doorbell button and looked at my watch. It was 4:29. The bell rang, but there was no other sound. I was a minute early for this tryst, chest tight with tension. The things I’d agreed to do had been on my mind constantly since we’d made the date a week ago. I should walk away before she opened the door – skipping what I knew awaited me inside; avoiding discomfort and the embarrassment of submitting to her; giving up certain sexual release. Instead, I pushed the button again. A fullness arose in my pants when the door silently swung open. “Come in,” she whispered, waving me in with a smiling welcome.

I felt the door close behind me, heard a lock being turned and then a chain slipping into place. “Hang your coat in the closet,” she instructed, taking the bottle of wine I’d brought and padding toward the kitchen. She was wearing white tennis shorts, a loose blouse, and terry cloth half-socks on her feet. Shoulder length hair swished back and forth as she walked. I adjusted myself to make better use of the limited space inside my jeans.

“Everything is ready for you, just as I described it,” she said coming back into the living room. The bright afternoon sunlight was subdued by fully drawn drapes on all of the windows. She knelt in front of me and swiftly removed my shoes and socks. Straightening up, her hands undid my belt and pulled both jeans and shorts to my ankles. As I stepped back she lightly brushed my rigid cock from base to tip. “I see you’re ready, too.”

She peeled my shirt off last and put everything in the closet. “You won’t need those things again until tomorrow,” she murmured, taking my hand and leading me down a hallway. Light spilled onto the carpet through a doorway on the right. I heard a whirring fan when I followed her through it into the bathroom.

I quickly took in three features of the room. First was the soft mat beneath my feet and the thick white towel spread on top of it. Second was the large black thing laying in the middle of the towel. My eye followed a tube the size of a garden hose up to the huge enema bag, filled to the second of five lines on its side. The water level sparkled above Pam’s shoulder when she turned around to face me. Third was the toilet midway along the side of the mat.

I’d expected the scene, but the gross proportions of the tool she would use on me was unnerving. My cock drooped as my anus slackened, anticipating the stiff invader that would keep it from shutting while the bag’s contents raced into my bowels. The glint of the clamp caught my eye. It was all metal, the kind that was either shut tight or wide open. There’d be no reduction in the rate of flow to ease my filling.

Pam stepped to the counter, drawing my eye to other equally hefty tools laid out in readiness. The fat red rectal tube she’d described was there, reaching all the way from the front edge back to the wall. The thought of it sliding into the lower part of my colon was frightening, as was the flood that would gush from its gaping open end. Her hand reached past it and plucked two packets from a box near the wall. Their contents dribbled into the bag a moment later, making the water opaque like paint. The whiteness of the soap had just started to creep down into the clear hose when she turned back to me.

“What do I have to take off in order to give you the enema?” she asked in a low, husky voice. She was breathing like she’d been running, as turned on as I was scared about what was going to happen. My mind came back to the reason I was here – to bury my pecker in her cunt. “The shorts.”

She stepped out of them in a flash. The tan disappeared under the black fabric of high-cut panties pulled up snug in her crotch. I caught a glimpse of a little bit of tummy pushing against the waistband before her shirt tails descended and obscured the view. It was enough. My dick enlarged again as she squatted down, patted the towel, and picked up the nozzle. It was my turn to perform.

“Left side,” she panted, showing me the business end of the nozzle as I lowered myself before her. A ring of holes circled the blunt face of the big knob on the end. Seeing it up close I realized it was even larger than I’d thought. It glistened with lubricant, ready to overcome resistance and slip into my rectum.

She spread my ass and placed the knob against my anus. “Let it in, John,” she commanded, pushing firmly for a moment and then easing off.

“Let it in,” she ordered again, pushing longer and harder this time. I felt it begin to make me open, to make progress at entering. Then she eased up.

“Let it in this time,” she demanded, pushing steadily. The knob slowly spread my anus, sliding in and forcing it to yield. I felt the edges of the holes enter, making me relax completely for an instant. “Uhhh…,” I groaned as the full breadth of the knob slid through and my anus closed around the shaft. It filled my asshole.

Pam reached up and punched a button on the clock on the counter. It showed the time as 4:42 and a tumbling series of numbers running backwards from 90 minutes. I hadn’t been there even 15 minutes and I was about to get an enema. “The clock is running. You have 90 minutes to get clean,” she breathed, reaching up and opening the clamp with a sharp snap.

“Hhhhuuuuh, uhh uhh,” I gasped when the geyser erupted, filling my rectum in a flash and driving inward. “Uh, Uh, uuuuuh!” My asshole flexed rapidly, trying to choke off the flood. Pressure built up and then the soapy water pushed its way deeper into me several times in rapid succession. I could feel turds churning around in the torrent.

“Yes, yes, yes! Take it, John, take it!” Pam panted. “Oh, yes, take it all!” she rasped, pushing the full length of the hissing nozzle into me and holding it there.

“Uh, uh, uh, oh no, no…, uh-uh,” I choked, having no choice but to accept the invasion that was now nearly complete. I turned onto my back and the wave rolled in even farther. A loud sucking pop came from the bag. I looked up to see the water level fall most of the way down the hose before stopping. It was in. I’d taken it. All of it. And I had to shit real bad.

“That was great, John. I really enjoyed giving it to you. You took it like the real man I know you are. I’m anxious to see the results. Get onto the can.”

I needed no urging or help. The nozzle fell out with the first explosive gush, followed by a steady stream of splashing turds. I pushed out several more full spurts and then there was nothing left to push. Pam sat on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall, looking at me with her mouth hanging open for a while.

“Great, simply great,” she finally said, rising to prepare the next enema. By the time I ejected the last feeble dribble it was ready. Soap-laced water filled the hose and reached the third line on the side of the bag – a three-quart assault force. The rectal tube was attached and laying stretched out on the towel, extending about half its length. Pam was more than ready to slide all of it into me.

“What do I have to take off to give you this enema?” she asked quietly.

“The shirt,” I responded from my perch. I wanted a good view and I got it. A black bra restrained firm, ample breasts. She was breathing hard again. Stiff nipples pushed against the thin cloth each time she inhaled. Turned on!

“Get down here,” she ordered, pointing at the mat, “on all fours with knees far apart.” The first foot of the tube was lubricated. I felt more lubricant dabbed on my fully exposed anus and then the tube entered. It was about the same diameter as the hose, but a bit more rigid. “Uphh!” I grunted when it bumped deep inside.

“Shoulders on the mat and let your belly hang down. Imagine I’m spread-eagled under you, waiting to receive your throbbing cock” came the excited voice from behind me. Another poke and then I felt something very different. “Ahhhh, there it goes,” she murmured. I felt a steady slither through my asshole and sensed the tube’s advance into my colon. It felt hard and stiff. Without warning I heard the snap of the clamp.

“Ooohhhh, oh, ohhh, uh,ummm, uh,” I gasped, sagging forward at the sudden surge far inside. The straight jet I knew was gushing out of the end of the rectal tube charged into my middle, expanding, filling, and then penetrating even farther. In seconds I was panting against the weight pressing against the bottom of my ribs. Then gasping for air as I felt the enema move on my right side and then on my left, creeping back toward my bung. I gasped for several seconds before I realized that the flow had ended and Pam was extracting the tube.

“OK,” she said loudly, patting my back, “all out. Go shit. Give me a show.”

It started slowly and fitfully with several small spurts. Then I felt everything move. We both heard a rumbling gurgle and then the entire mess poured out. I gradually doubled over, feeling the stream coursing through me toward my exit hole. It went on so long and forcefully that I wondered if something might be wrong. But Pam was mesmerized by the display. It stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving me sweating and breathing hard.

“Very good, John. I seldom see anything remotely approaching that kind of end-to-end evacuation. I’ll bet you feel empty, right?”

I nodded, too winded to speak.

Minutes passed while she prepared her next treatment. Then she was standing right in front of me. “Take something off me and I’ll give you another enema.” I reached up, mashed her breasts together and released the single hook nestled between them. Her bra fell away leaving two mounds of flesh swaying before my eyes, each tipped with a pert, extended nipple jutting back at me. I stroked each of them lightly and she stepped back, sucking in a deep breath.

The retention nozzle she picked up from the towel was different from the one used on me at the clinic. It was black and the two balloons were smooth, not folded. The tube in the space between them was thick, bigger than the knob she’d pushed into me half an hour ago. It would hold me fully open, forcing me to lay there and accept the spouting fountain that would plow into me through its broad, hollow core. Once in place, the enema it delivered would be locked inside me until Pam decided to release it. Once it was in me I’d be at her mercy. Would she live up to her promise to let me control how big an enema I got? Or would she make me…

My growing fear and reluctance were interrupted when she pushed the handle to flush the toilet and then pulled me up from it. Lumpy brown soup swirled out of sight as she leaned me over the counter and drove home the nozzle. Three sharp hisses followed and I felt the balloon inside me expand. Three more puffed up the outside balloon, sandwiching my wide open asshole and sealing it shut. I’d never felt so vulnerable.

Hose, tubes and bulbs dangling behind me, she got me turned around and then laid out on my back. My legs flopped wide open in submission to her, exposing balls and surprisingly stiff cock to her stare. She stepped to one side after giving both balloons a couple of more puffs. The completely filled enema bag came into view. A five quart threat hung poised above me, connected to my crotch by the hose that ended with the nozzle locked in my rectum. My heart pounded. There’s a shit-flushing enema and then there’s a gut-stretching, gasping, choking ENEMA! With a flick of her thumb Pam was going to give me the capital- letter kind.

“Scared?” she asked, taking the clamp into her hand. She’d moved it so that it was a few inches below the bag – far beyond my reach. The bag swayed.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and put my hands on my belly.

She smiled. “Good, you should be. Ready?” Her hand closed around the clamp, thumb sliding into position to open it. The hose waved back and forth.

I nodded dumbly again, tensing to receive the onslaught.

“Do you want it?” she wheezed almost silently, opening her eyes wide.

I felt my head twitch and saw the metal catch dig into her thumb as she pushed it aside, allowing the clamp to flip wide open. An instant later I saw the water level drop quickly away from the top line on the bag and felt a very warm wave charge into me.

“Hhuuuuuh!” It knocked my wind out and then washed inward. But there was no hard jet pounding my rectum as I’d feared, just a massive, insistent surge constantly rushing inward. The warmth felt good as it flowed up my left side and into my middle. A moment later I felt it creeping down my right side. It had already spread through the full length of my colon. I looked at Pam and the bag. She seemed pleased with the sight before her, swaying her hips and grinning. Two of the five quarts were inside me. I wanted the clamp!

“Pam,” I called out, “Pam, give me the clamp.

She looked at the bag and shook her head. A tremor of fear ran through me. She was going to keep it and make me take a really big ENEMA!

“Pam, give me clamp,” I said more insistently. I’d gotten another half quart and was beginning to feel full.

She grinned down at me devilishly for a moment and then slipped the clamp down the hose, handing it to me when the water level passed the three quart mark. I held it with both hands and closed my eyes in relief. She’d kept her word.

The vibration caused by water running through the hose in my hands got my attention. I was full and stopped the flow with a snap. `Enough is enough,’ I thought. Moments later I shit out the deflated nozzle and let the warm load gush through my totally slack, wide open asshole. It felt great!

Pam seemed happy and wasted no time refilling the bag and, I noticed apprehensively, moving the clamp back up to the top of the hose. “You really should take more, John,” she chided. “You only have two more tries to get clean before I get naked and time is starting to get tight, too.”

“You’re right,” I replied, noting only 35 minutes left on the timer. “Take your panties off and lets get on with it.” The tan disappeared into her crotch, making the black hair of her muff seem to disappear. Interesting, but my thoughts were focused between my own legs right now, not hers. The toilet swallowed muddy brown water while Pam prepared me for the next filling. There’d been no turds this time.

“Ready?” she asked, all set to open the clamp.

“Uh-huh,” I muttered and watched the water level plummet.

A warmer wave plowed into me. The warmth was relaxing. I got the clamp at the three quart mark again and took a little more before stopping. I was full, but not stretched, and expelled the works in a continuous stream. Pam took off a sock and commented on the color of my output while getting me laid out again.

With the clamp in her hand she said, “This is it, John, make-or-break time. Good luck!” She flicked it open and handed it to me – no waiting for three quarts this time. Was it a sign she’d given up, knew this one would come out clean?

The water verged on being hot. I took almost three and a half quarts and quit. The dump took a little longer because the heat had relaxed my innards, but it felt like plain water, no bits of crap, running out of me. Pam watched it all with seeming disinterest. Eventually the timer went off, announcing the end of the 90 minute `game’ period.

“Stand up,” Pam ordered, “let’s see how you did.”

The look on her face told me the result before I looked for myself. The sparkle in her eyes, broad smile, and slowly rising nipples said it all.

“Oh John, John, I couldn’t be more pleased. You know what that means,” she said, pointing into the toilet, “I know you know what that means. Thank you!”

A faint tinge of color like thin coffee stained the water and, worse, dark flecks of shit were stuck all over the back of the bowl and settled in the bottom.

“You’re mine, John, all mine for the rest of the weekend. My toy boy. My stud and cum shooter. My gut to flush. My enema taker!”

I was stunned and groaned inwardly. A deal was a deal. I’d agreed to clear and firm terms. She’d finish cleaning me out and probably fuck my balls off whatever way she wanted. The sex was a plus; getting enema’d wasn’t.

“First things first. You need to be properly cleaned out. I’ll give you a series of completely filling enemas to get rid of the dregs and then we’ll go on to some you’ll find fun and entertaining.”

“How many more do I have to take ?” I stammered.

“Oh, five or six for now. And, of course, more later as required. I may even be able to get you expanded enough to take a whole bag before you leave tomorrow. We’ll work in that direction,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at me as she slid the clamp back up the hose, stopping about six inches below the bag. I wouldn’t get to hold it again. She had full control and was about to use it.

A strong urge to shit hit again and I squatted on the toilet. Successive spurts clawed their way out of me. She ignored me and my cramp-wracked gut. Was this a usual late expulsion of remnants or the result of fright? It didn’t matter. I’d be repeating it often.

Then I was back on the mat, feeling the nozzle swelling inside me as she pumped it up firm and full, grunting at each puff. For some reason the full bag looked larger, more threatening, more dangerous. I was really afraid of what she was going to put into me and my belly tremored.

“Scared, huh,” she said jerkily while stripping off the other sock, “cuz you know I’m going to give you all you can hold. And then just a touch more!”

She raised her hand to the top of the bag and slowly moved it down the side, counting the marks as she went: “One… two… three… four… and five.” My pecker got harder and harder as her hand moved down toward the clamp.

“Ahhhhh! Scared, but excited, too! Here it comes…” There was no snap from the clamp hidden in her fist. Just a massive rush in my bowels confirmed by the rapidly dropping water line in the bag. I closed my eyes.

“Watch the bag, John, so you’ll know when to get scared again.”

The level was past the half-way point and falling fast. Fullness was setting in. The three quart marked was passed and she just stood there, grinning down at me. I breathed in short pants as the ENEMA! filled my abdomen and pressed up on my diaphragm. Three and a half…

“Uh, oh, oh, oh,” I gasped, watching her hand enclose the clamp and . . . shut it when four full quarts had run into me. I was sweating from the heat of the water and choked by its weight. My skin was tight. I was shocked to see how my gut protruded, stretched taut inside and out.

Shortly before 8:00 she was finally satisfied with my state of internal cleanliness. Two successive doses had fallen out of me crystal clear and shit free. But she wasn’t finished with me. She’d aroused my desire and dashed it over and over since I’d arrived. Slumped on the toilet, tired and spewing leftovers, I knew by the sounds that she was preparing yet another enema. But there was a change. A nozzle like the one she’d used to make me cum at the clinic graced the end of the hose and the bag held only four quarts, a little less than my last dose.

“Pay off time, John,” she said excitedly. “This is what I’ve been working us toward all evening. Are you ready to cum for me?”

She waved the thrill-giving nozzle a few times and then dragged me back to the floor and pushed it into me. It expanded quickly in response to her rapid, almost frantic, squeezes on the bulbs. I recalled the somewhat different feeling of the lump it made in my rectum – a sensation of delicious pressure that aroused me once again. Yes, I was more than ready!

Pam straddled me, sank to her knees, and then settled back into my groin, slowly engulfing my engorged and throbbing cock. Panting almost silently, she ground her clit into my hair, gradually resting herself on my pubic bone and mashing my balls against her pussy. She’d taken in all I had to offer. I wanted to cum right then but couldn’t, the lump inside me prevented it. She swayed and rocked in orgasm, finally tipping forward onto her hands, swollen breasts jutting down toward my face.

When her breathing slowed a little she opened her eyes, smiled down at me, and then pushed herself upright, still holding my pecker inside. A slow bouncing ride started that soon had me gasping with excitement and grunting each time she descended into my crotch. Warmth on top of our mutual heat swarmed into my middle and spread. The falling water level above me confirmed that I was being fucked and given an enema at the same time. And the longer it ran the hotter it got, adding to the urgency at the base of my dick.

The bounce changed to long pulls and pushes on my cock as I got hotter. At last, I heard a sharp hiss, felt a nudge in my bowel, and blasted hot jizz into her grasping pussy. She moaned and groaned, dropping into frenzied, spasmodic thrusting onto my swelling gut, squeezing every last drop out of me with her internalized massage. The sound of the bag going empty set off a terminal round of shuddering and shaking that ended with her complete heaving collapse onto my chest. I was wiped out, stuffed, and suffocating under her weight. My still firm dick held her like a hooked fish.

Twice during the night she dragged me back to the bathroom. Both times I got a massive flush followed immediately by an enema-induced ejaculation into her pulsating crotch. She wanted to do it again at mid- morning but I refused. There was no doubt who had fucked whom. My cleansing had, indeed, been a primal turn-on for her based on simple erotic lust. When I left in early afternoon following a quiet brunch I was sore, stiff, and uninterested in further carnal pursuits.

Weeks passed and the events at Pam’s passion palace faded into warm background memory. Until a chance meeting at a business reception. She was there as presenter of a brief report, looking positively luscious in a well tailored business suit. I said hello and we walked out onto the balcony with our drinks.

“How have you been?,” she asked without a hint of suggestiveness.

“Fine,” I answered, “especially after a couple of days of rest.”

“Ya, I was a little stretched and sore, too,” she said with a faint smile.

We said nothing for several minutes, looking out over the city. She broke the silence by asking, “Did you enjoy it?”

I hesitated, recalling the thrills and the frights. “On balance, it was more, much more, than I’d expected or imagined.”

“Like to try for still more?” she asked, looking at me intently, challenging.

“With one change – drop for drop equality, no games.”

Now she hesitated, casually resting a hand on her stomach. “I’ve never…,” she paused, “I’ve never had such an offer. Same time, Saturday,” she went on with a quaver in her voice and then turned and slowly walked back inside.

She’d accepted my terms! Once again, I was excited and a little scared about what I knew would happen to me, to her, and to us. My asshole tightened.