Discoveries

I guess I must have been twelve. My breasts were just beginning to develop, hardly more than little swellings, and I only had a few wispy hairs at the bottom of my belly. I never gave much thought to how my body worked until one spring day….

I was playing outside when I began to feel like I needed to go to the bathroom. Leaving my dolls on the grass, I went in the house. In the bathroom, I stripped my shorts and panties down to my ankles, sat down, relaxed and peed. I waited; my back end felt full, too, but nothing came out. I pushed a little; still nothing. I pushed harder; it was starting to come out when it started hurting. It felt really big and hard, and it felt like it would tear me apart if it came out.

Squeezing it back, I wiped off and pulled my clothes back up, then went looking for Mom. She was in the kitchen, cleaning up after our breakfast. Mike, my brother a year and a half older, was getting a drink of water. I waited for him to leave then said, “Mom?”

“Yes, Joy?”

“Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, but I can’t go.”

“What do you mean, you can’t go? Why not?”

“It feels real big, and sorta hard, and it hurts.”

“You mean when you try to move your bowels?”

“Yeah.”

“Did your bowels move yesterday?”

“No.”

“How about the day before?”

“Uh…I don’t think so.”

“Well, that happens sometimes. Why don’t you try again; if you still can’t go, we’ll do something to help get it out.”

“Do what?” I asked, scared.

“Oh, maybe just sort of wash it out.”

“Oh. OK.” I went back to the bathroom, taking a comic book with me, and sat down again. I really felt like I had to go, and I had some little pains down low in my belly now and then. And, every minute or two, I’d start to go and it would start to hurt. I tried to let it hurt and get it out but I couldn’t; when it hurt too much, I’d squeeze it back in.

Finally I went back to Mom. “Mom, I just can’t go. Every time I start to, it hurts too much.”

She picked up the bottle of dishwashing detergent from the sink. “All right, come on back to the bathroom. We’ll see what we can do.”

In the bathroom, she closed and locked the door, then took a flat box from the back of the linen cabinet. She took the hot water bottle out of the box, put warm water and a little detergent in it, then screwed a piece of hose into the opening. As she hung it up on one of the towel bars, she said, “Now, take your shorts and panties off.”

I started to push them down slowly. “What are you gonna do?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” she said. “See. This little tip on the tube goes in your bottom. Then I open this clamp and water runs into you like this.” She held the tip over the sink and opened the clamp. Water trickled out slowly. “The water softens everything up and makes you want to go, too.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“The tip doesn’t hurt; the water might make you feel full and uncomfortable. Maybe it’ll make you cramp a little, like you have to go real bad, but it won’t hurt as much as trying to go without it.”

“Well…OK.” I finished pushing my shorts and panties down and stepped out of them.

“Get down on your hands and knees,” Mom said, “And put your chest and shoulders down on the floor.” I did what she said, but it sure felt strange with my bottom stuck way up in the air. “I’ll put some Vaseline on you first, to make it go in easy.” Her finger smeared something greasy around my hole; I squeezed it shut tight.

“Now, I’m going to put the tip in,” she said.

I felt something cold touching me, then sliding up into my hole. Without thinking, I tried to squeeze shut even tighter to keep it out but it didn’t make any difference; she pushed it right on in. When it stopped moving, it felt really weird; it didn’t hurt at all and, except for little wiggles as it moved around some, I could hardly feel it.

Then Mom said, “I’m going to start the water now. Try not to let it come out.”

I heard a little “click” but didn’t feel anything for a few seconds. Then I felt warm inside…and then really full. “Wait! Stop. I gotta go.”

I heard the same little click. “That’s not enough, Joy. Try to hold some more.” Click.

“I…I don’t know…” I was able to hold everything for several more seconds while the pressure built up and my bottom got hotter and hotter. My stomach started hurting, then suddenly, I forgot everything else as a huge bubble of warmth and pleasure seemed to grow in my bottom and crotch, burst and spread over my whole body in wave after wave.

I guess I sort of moaned. My hole squeezed and twitched and I pushed, and water sprayed all over the place while that wonderful hot sensation washed over me. Letting my knees slip out from under me, I laid down on my stomach on the floor.

Mom’s hand touched my back. “I’m sorry, honey; I thought you could take more than that. Are you all right?”

My stomach was gurgling and beginning to cramp a little. “Yeah, I’m OK. But I still gotta go.”

“All right; get up here on the stool.” She helped me up.

Some water splashed into the stool as soon as I sat down. While I sat hugging my belly with both arms, Mom said, “Go ahead and finish, then take a shower. I’ll clean up here later.” She left and closed the door.

There was still a big hard lump that kinda hurt coming out, but not as bad as before. It must have been ten or fifteen minutes before my stomach stopped hurting and I was ready to shower.

I didn’t know exactly what had happened but I thought about it a lot for the next few days. It had felt really good and I somehow had the feeling it was something I should keep to myself. I tried to think of some way I could feel it again. Finally, I did the only thing I could think of.

I waited until a couple of weeks had gone by and deliberately held it when I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, and I kept holding it for two days. It was hard to hold at first, but then got a little easier. On the third day I went to the bathroom, sat on the stool and cautiously relaxed. It felt just the same as it had before. I went to Mom.

“I’m having trouble going to the bathroom again,” I said. “I think maybe I need to be washed out.”

“Again? When did you go last?”

“I…I think it was three days ago.”

“Well, go try again.”

“I did. Three times this morning,” I lied. “It hurts.”

She picked up the detergent. “All right, I’ll give you another enema. Let’s go.”

In the bathroom, she filled and hung the hot water bottle and hose while I took my shorts and panties off and got down on the floor. I tried to be a little more aware of what was happening, the sensations, this time. When she put the tip of the tube in my bottom, it was sort of…almost…like scratching an itch I didn’t know I had. It felt…good, but not like what I’d felt the other time. Then I heard the little “click” as she opened the clamp on the tube.

I felt the warmth almost immediately; the pressure in my bottom built up quickly and they both spread from my bottom forward. As they reached my front, between my legs, the same wonderful pleasure burst over me, wave after beautiful, surging wave. I gasped a quick intake of breath as my bottom began to twitch; I squeezed it tight, determined to make the feeling last as long as I could.

Someone seemed to be moaning. “Ummm…Ummm!” My back was arching and sagging in time with the hot waves pouring over me. I heard the “click” again.

“Is that too much, Joy?” Mom asked. “Is your stomach hurting?”

“So…some,” I gasped. The waves weren’t gone, but were beginning to die down. “It’s…it’s not too bad. I think I can hold some more.”

I’d let her blow me up like a balloon if it would keep this wonderful feeling coming.

“Well…all right. We’ll try a little more. Tell me if it hurts too much.” Click.

The waves, dying to a ripple, immediately surged again, exploding from my bottom where the hose went into me and the bottom of my belly. The pressure was almost more than I could stand and I had to squeeze my bottom as tight as I could, and I could still feel a few drops of water leak out and run down my leg.

My stomach was really hurting, now, and I was groaning again. “Ummm! O.h.h.hhh!” Still, even the painful cramps felt good, somehow, and kept the hot waves of pleasure surging and bursting at their maximum.

Click. “I think that’s enough,” Mom said. I felt the hard tip slide out of my bottom. “If you can lie down and wait a few minutes before you go to the bathroom, it’ll work better.”

I stretched out and slowly let my bulging stomach down onto the floor. As I rested on it, the cramping pressure shot from my stomach to my bottom and rebounded once more with that same fantastic feeling. “Ahhh!!”

“Do you want me to wait and help you get up, or will you be all right?” Mom asked.

“N…no, I’m OK,” I said between waves. “You don’t… have to wait….I’ll get up in…in a couple minutes.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just call if you need me.” I heard the door close.

I lifted my stomach off the floor, then lowered it again to send that wonderful, painful, cramping wave of pleasure through my body once more. “Ummm!…Ummm!…UmmM!…AHHHH!!” I was bouncing on my tight, swollen belly, each bounce feeling better…and hurting more. I began to leak, just drops, a dribble, at first, then more. I felt it, hot and wet, on my legs.

Just when I thought I couldn’t stand the growing intensity of the sensations, I couldn’t hold the water any more. As my tight belly hit the floor, water sprayed out of my straining bottom, sprayed far enough to wet my feet and the surging waves of pleasure began to die down again.

I don’t know how long it took; it seemed like an hour or two but I guess it wasn’t more than five or ten minutes after Mom left that I was ready to get up and sit on the toilet. My stomach gurgled and cramped and water splashed noisily. I didn’t feel any big, hard lumps this time. I guess holding it longer…or maybe the bouncing and pressure…broke it up.

I still didn’t know what happened when Mom squirted the water up my bottom, but I knew I liked it. And I still had the strong feeling that, if I asked her about it, she probably wouldn’t do it any more. I thought about it almost constantly for the next few days, all the while holding back every urge to go to the bathroom, getting ready for the next time.

It had been four or five days - I hadn’t had any urge at all to go the first day afterward - and I was getting ready to ask Mom to give me another of those “enema” things when I realized she was going to get suspicious about why, all of a sudden, I couldn’t go normally any more, or at least was going to get worried and take me to the doctor or something. I didn’t want that to happen…I might have to get “cured” then I couldn’t have those great feelings any more.

Sitting in my swing under the big old maple tree, I was idly swinging back and forth, feeling the pressure of the worn board against the big, growing lump in my bottom and trying to decide whether I dared ask Mom again this soon…or at all…when she came out of the door and headed for the car.

“I have to go to town and pick up some more seed for your Dad,” she said, “And stop at the grocery store. Do you want to go along?”

An idea burst into my mind. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I’ll be back in an hour or so. Mike and your Dad are out planting.”

“OK.” I watched her get in the car and drive away, watched until she was out of sight then ran into the house and to the bathroom.

Locking the door, I pulled the box with the water bottle from the closet, ran the water in the sink until it was warm and filled it up, then screwed the hose into the opening and hung it up. Stripping my clothes off, I got the jar of Vaseline from a drawer, took a gob on my finger and smeared it onto my bottom then, holding the hose in one hand, got down on my knees and put my chest on the floor the way I had before.

And my problems began. First, I had trouble reaching around to my bottom, the way it was stuck up in the air. Finally, I sort of put one shoulder down and reached around with the other hand and managed to get the end of the tip in the center of my hole. It went in easily but, as soon as I let go to reach for the clamp on the hose, it slipped right back out and fell on the floor.

So then I had to find a position where I could hold the hose and reach the clamp at the same time. By turning around and running the hose under my chest and up between my legs I managed it. Finally, I clicked the clamp open.

It didn’t feel the same; the water wasn’t as warm as when Mom had done it but the pressure grew just as quickly. I was trying to hold the hard tip of the hose in my bottom and struggle into a more comfortable position, all the while holding my hole tight against the water, when I felt it starting.

Growing and spreading over my body once more, this time it was more like ripples than waves. It felt good, but not nearly as good, as intense, as the last time. As the water kept running and my stomach began to bulge and cramp, the feelings grew a little but then, all too soon, began to fade out.

I strained to hold the water in as it continued to run, hoping…hoping. But it didn’t do any good. My stomach hurt more and more, my hole started twitching and water dribbled out of me. I closed the clamp and pulled the tip out, then tried laying down on my stomach. The only thing that happened was that I hurt even more, and more water dribbled onto my legs.

Giving up, I pushed myself up to my knees, then stood. As I took the two steps toward the toilet, I caught sight of my bare body in the mirror on the back of the door. My usually flat belly was bulging like Aunt Cathy’s before she had her baby. Squeezing my bottom and hips together to keep from leaking, I ran my hands over it. Feeling it gurgling and fighting the cramps that threatened to spray water all over the floor, I wondered if this was what it was like to be pregnant.

Looking at my tight little breasts in the mirror, I saw the tips were all crinkled and standing up. I lifted my left hand to feel one, pulling gently at the tiny nipple, while I reached behind me with my other hand.

I’m not quite sure what I had planned to do, exactly; I think I was going to hold my hand over my bottom to keep from leaking. What happened, though, was that my hand squeezed between my buttocks, found the greasy Vaseline…and one finger slipped right into my hole!

As my hole squeezed involuntarily and I jerked my finger out, something like an electric shock–or one of those waves of pleasure–shot between my hole and my nipple. Cautiously, I tried again, pulling on my nipple while I carefully, slowly, pushed my finger into my bottom. It felt good, and it felt good when I pulled it out again. I tried pushing my finger in as far as I could, then pulling it out part way, moving it back and forth.

The faster I moved it, the better it felt. I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror; belly bulging, beads of sweat standing out on my flushed face and naked body, I was pulling at my nipple while the other hand slid between my slick, greasy buttocks, thrusting a finger into my hole. For a minute or two, I thought it was going to start over again, those waves of pleasure. Then my belly cramped harder than ever and hot water splashed onto my hand and ran down my legs. I turned and collapsed onto the toilet. Water splashed out of me, and pieces, and a big, noisy burst of gas. I wiped off and stood up, flushing the toilet.

I ran my hand over my belly once more…looked down at myself, then quickly looked in the mirror again. My belly was still bulging almost as much as before! Now I was scared; what if it stayed this way? How could I ever explain it? What would Mom….another cramp hit me and I turned to the john again, barely in time. Water sprayed out of me and splashed before I ever hit the seat.

It took quite a while before the cramps finally stopped but I had time to get myself and the bathroom cleaned up, everything put away and get back outside before Mom came home. Once more, I had a lot to think about. Even though this hadn’t been as good as the other times, I was determined to try it again as soon as I got a chance. Maybe if I used warmer water, it would help. Maybe I wouldn’t have to hold everything in for two or three days; maybe it was the warmth and the pressure of the water. Or, maybe I wouldn’t even need the water. My finger had felt good; maybe it was the tip of the hose going into my hole that did it.

Several days went by before I had a chance to try anything again. Then, one Thursday evening, Mike was playing in a Little League ball game and both Mom and Dad were going. “Do I have to go?” I pleaded. “Can’t I just stay home and watch TV?”

“No, I don’t think…” Mom began.

“Oh, let her stay here,” Dad said. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours; she’s getting old enough.”

“Well…all right,” Mom finally agreed. My heart thumped in anticipation.

I watched till the car was out of sight then ran for the bathroom.

I made the water hotter this time and decided I’d try lying down; it had been awfully hard to reach everything when I was on my knees.

It still wasn’t easy; I greased my hole with the Vaseline and wiggled the tip of the hose around till it finally went in, giving a little gasp as it did so. I’m not quite sure what I felt; it didn’t exactly hurt but I felt really…well, sensitive where it went in. In fact, it felt almost good.

When I clicked the little clamp open, it took a few seconds. The first thing I felt was a gurgling, like gas in my belly. Then I felt the warmth; hot, actually, but not so hot I couldn’t stand it, and it felt good. I felt the pressure, too, quickly, and I had to squeeze my hole as tight as I could to keep the water in. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to be able to hold it when my stomach gurgled; I felt the warmth rushing up my left side and across the top of my belly…and the same wonderful feelings started again!

I wasn’t sure where it started; it seemed to be somewhere down there between my legs, maybe around my hole, or maybe it was farther forward in my crotch, or maybe it was up inside me, where the water was going. All I knew was that these great explosive waves of pleasure were rushing over me again and again. My hips were twitching and jerking as if they had a mind of their own. My stomach started hurting, from the water, I guess, but that just seemed to make it better; the more it hurt, the bigger the explosions got.

“AHHHNN!” One last huge, explosive wave made me cry out, almost scream, then it all started to die out. As the pleasure faded, the cramping pains in my belly got stronger and stronger. I closed the clamp on the hose and that helped some…but only a little. When I pulled the tip of the hose out of me, a little water leaked out too. I straightened my legs and squeezed my hips and bottom together tightly; I was afraid if I tried to get up to sit on the toilet, I’d spray water all over the place.

After a couple minutes or so, the cramps eased up, at least enough I thought I could get to the john. I sat up, then stood up cautiously. A little water dribbled, but not much; it splashed and sprayed when I sat down and relaxed. I felt better after the first surge, but my belly was still bulging, bigger even than the other time.

Then the cramps hit again. I wrapped my arms across my stomach and squeezed, trying to push the water out. It had really felt good while I was doing it but right now, I wasn’t so sure it was worth it. Then I remembered how good it had been and decided it was worth a few cramps. I felt a lot better in five or ten minutes, wiped off, flushed the john and put everything away. When I went downstairs, I glanced at the clock and realized it had all only taken about half an hour. I still had a lot of time before the folks would be home. I was wondering if there was any other way I could get those great feelings without using the water when I remembered the other time, how it had felt good, like it was almost going to happen, when I’d put a finger in my bottom. Maybe I could use something else, something a little bigger than my finger….

But what? Then I had an idea. Mom had a drawer where she kept a lot of candles. Maybe one of them….I looked. Yes! There was one, partly used, that was about as big around as a quarter and still six or eight inches long. But maybe it was too big. I decided to try it; I thought that, when I went to the bathroom, the stuff that came out was sometimes bigger than that.

I went back to the bathroom and stripped out of my clothes again, then smeared Vaseline all over one end of the candle and around my hole. Leaning over a little, I reached behind me with my left hand and pulled my butt over and, with the candle in my other hand, found my hole with the end of it. I started pushing…but didn’t have any luck. It felt like my hole was too little; I pushed a little harder. I thought it was starting to go in just a little…but it hurt, too.

I stopped to think. I couldn’t really believe the candle was bigger than my crap; why wouldn’t it go in? Then I realized…I never go to the bathroom standing up. Maybe if I’d sit down…or squat.

When I squatted, I had some trouble with the length of the candle but I finally got it situated with the end against my hole. Again, it seemed to start in, then begin to hurt. Maybe if I pushed against it, like I was going to the bathroom …and that did it!

It slipped in all at once; I gasped a quick breath at the sensation. I don’t know how far in it was, not more than an inch or two, I guess, but it didn’t hurt; felt sort of good, actually. I pushed it a little farther; that was even better. Then I started pulling it part way out and pushing it back; that was better yet…but it didn’t feel like I was getting close to those explosions that felt so good.

Maybe if I’d lay down. Holding the candle, it took a minute or two to get down, first on my stomach, then roll over on my back. I found that, if I pulled my knees ‘way up to my chest, I could reach the candle easier…and it slid in and out like it was meant to be in there.

The feelings grew slowly, but they grew. Sweat was dripping off my body, my hips were rolling and thrusting to meet the candle as I plunged it faster and harder and deeper into my hole. Dimly, I realized that I was holding the end of the candle and my hand was hitting my butt every time I pushed it into me.

I didn’t care; the feelings were growing…growing stronger…and stronger…and E X P L O D I N G! “Uhhh! Ohhh! OHHH! AHHHHH!!”

It was at least as big as the other time, at least at first but, without the cramping and the pressure of the water in my belly, it didn’t last as long. When the explosions died down, my legs and arms were trembling. I let go of the candle, left it stuck deeply in my hole, and straightened my legs out to rest.

It must have been several minutes later that I felt the strange sensation of the candle creeping slowly out of me. It felt really weird, sort of like going to the bathroom lying down…but not exactly. One good thing about not using any water inside me, though, was that I didn’t have any cramps afterward.

I didn’t put the candle back in the drawer; I hid it in a shoebox way back in the back of my closet and, after that, I used it at least a couple times a week. I’d just take it into the bathroom when the folks were outside or, once in a while, when they were watching television. I didn’t get a chance to use the water very often but I always grabbed every opportunity I got; the pressure of the water seemed to make things better, and last longer.

That was over twenty years ago and you can bet that sex with my husband includes enemas. He thought I was nuts the first time I asked him to give me one, while we were going together before we were married, but when he saw how turned on I got, he was happy to participate. When I told him to fuck my ass and he rammed his hard cock through my tight sphincter, he liked it even better. Now we seldom fuck without my intestines full of hot water.

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