Dear Auntie Sabrena

By Anonymous

Letter No. 2 in Discovered Series

Your advice to my wife who discovered my enema equipment collection worked like a charm. She revealed that she had experienced a problem as a teenager with diet pills and had become addicted to them. So, she understood my addiction to enemas and the fact that there was no proof that it was harmful. She also confessed to me that she always had a wild repressed fantasy about a man administering her her monthly douche.

It was just about that time that she had completed her period. She suggested that I accommodate her. She insisted, however, that she was very shy and that I should say nothing and just meet her in the bathroom. I took her pink douche bag from the linen closet and filled it up and hung it up in the bathroom. I also filled up a Davol Paris enema bag with two ounces of Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap and hot water and hung that up.

We have a huge old fashioned claw foot bathtub. She took off her clothes and got into the bathtub, closed her eyes and lay back. I carefully inserted the douche stick into her vagina and unclicked the clamp. While the healing waters flowed, I kissed and caressed her beautiful body and began to move the stick all around and in and out. At times, I directed the spray against her clitoris and stimulated it with the tip of the stick. She loved it and ultimately climaxed in a tremendous convulsive explosion.

She then ordered me into the tub and she got out. She took the douche stick from the second bag, lubed it and told me to bend over. She inserted it in me and released the clamp. She started to twirl the stick and move it in and out as I had done to her, imitating my movements. I began to moan with pleasurable noises. “How am I doing, she asked?” I told her she was absolutely great. Ultimately, the pressure and the cramps became virtually unbearable and I begged her to stop. “How do I stop it?” she asked.

“The clicker, the clicker,” I moaned.

“Oh, I forgot to put my glasses on,” she replied. “I can’t see it.”

“Please, please stop it,” I begged. “I can’t take it anymore.” “Oh, I have an idea,” she stated. She reached up for the bulging red bag and grabbed it from its hook. It slipped out of her hand and cascading soap suds reeking of peppermint covered her hair and body and myself. “Oh, my new hairdo is absolutely ruined,” she cried. “I spent the entire afternoon at the beauty parlor. I’ll look absolutely terrible at the Bar Mitzvah Affair we’re going to tomorrow.” My worst annoyance is when anything happens to ruin a new hairdo.

She ran from the bathroom, slamming the door. I ran to the toilet and let go in an explosion. I cleaned up and went into the bedroom. She was in tears stating that she was a failure and that she didn’t think she would ever try giving me an enema again. I tried to reassure her that it was excellent, but without success.

Auntie Sabrena, I really enjoyed my first enema from my wife. What can I do to get her to resume.

Discovered - the Wethead.

Dear Discovered - the Wethead:

You have to assure your Wife that despite the best plans of mice and men, accidents sometimes happen. Remind her that the Challenger disaster with the spaceship came about because of a simple valve. Here, the problem was because of misplaced glasses. You present her with a gift – a fancy eyeglass holder with jeweled bands so that she can retain the eyeglasses on her head when she administers an enema to you and will not have to reach up to manually empty the enema bag to stop the flow. Then, you confess to her that you have another little letch. When you beg her to stop, you really mean that you want her to continue for a while. She unwittingly did that and it was absolutely fantastic–one of the best enemas you ever had.

For a beginner, she was incredible, you tell her. The only problem was a ruined hairdo and she still managed to redo it and look more beautiful than any other lady at the Bar Mitzvah Affair you attended. A lot of the women there commented on how lovely, “fresh” and radiant she appeared and what an extra spring she seemed to have in her step. So, nothing was lost. To make up for it, offer very sincerely to pay for the next two beauty parlor appointments.

Also tell her that the next time that you give her the Royal Douche, you will have a wonderful little surprise for her. Remind her how much she enjoyed the experience and that she had never climaxed as vigorously. Don’t tell her, but at the next episode as she is experiencing orgasmic pleasure, you are going to take the second stick and insert it in her other orifice and give it some twirls and release some water. Let me know how you made out.

Auntie Sabrena