Enema Nostalgia

Many will recall my story of making Richard, my husband, my enemate. That actually occurred nearly two years ago. Since then we’ve enjoyed a new common ground together and don’t mind telling others of either our happiness nor how it occurred.

The following, a sequel to our original story explaining our evolving enemate adventures, is a recent episode that perhaps touches many familiar chords with others who enjoy this same interest of ours.

Planning a Quiet Evening

I had just returned from a client meeting in Cleveland and feeling perhaps just a bit bedraggled as air travel can sometimes do to people. As I entered the house, Richard was reading the mail in the kitchen. He’d gotten home only minutes before me.

“Hi, Hon, how’s everything?” I asked with a cheery note as we gave each other a little kiss.

“Couldn’t be better. How did the meeting go?” he inquired.

“Just fine, but I really do need to relax. Why don’t we go rent a movie for tonight. We could just kick back, veg out and not do much of anything.”

“Sounds good to me, too. C’mon, let’s go find something,” he said grabbing both his jacket and the car keys while heading for the door. I was right behind him.

Our favorite video store is in a small strip mall about two miles from home. It was quiet this night and we found a parking place right in front. Both of us went in.

“There’s the new flicks over here. Or do you want one of the oldies?” I asked knowing full well that he isn’t much for old movies, but is just crazy for sci-fi. This is one point where we do differ. I’m just sentimental for the old classics and will watch them over and over.

“Let’s get one of each and head home. I’m really kinda tired,” Richard replied. We found a pair, checked them out and started walking to the car.

At that point I looked up and saw the small pharmacy in the strip mall and said, “Let me run in here for a minute, I think I’m going to need a box of tampons for this coming week. Go ahead to the car and I’ll be right out.”

“That’s OK, I’ll come with you. After all I haven’t seen you all week,” he said perhaps a little to my surprise.

It was a tiny store and it didn’t take long before we located the feminine hygiene aisle and I found the large box of supers that I usually get. After taking a package off the shelf, I turned and, admittedly to my amazement, saw Richard looking at the syringe outfits on the neighboring shelf.

“Will you just check out the selection this place has!” exclaimed Richard, “I’ve never seen so many. Not even in the large chain stores.”

I walked over and started to look. He was absolutely right. It was the largest selection of combinations, open tops, bulbs and travel syringes I’d ever seen. All in a variety of colors and capacities. Years ago it used to be that pharmacies carried selections like these, but certainly no more. Now all they have are the disposables plus maybe one type of open top and one of the combination, at most.

“Golly, there’s one exactly like my mom used to have,” I said pointing to a red two-quart open top. I took the box off the shelf – it was one of the thin 14 inch by 12 inch by 1 inch packages that haven’t been seen in ages. “This is really exactly what she used to have. Look,” I said, “it even comes with a red hose and black nozzles. I remember this so well from when I was a little girl. I’ve certainly had my enemas from one of these! What do you say we get it? Kind of like for nostalgia sake?”

“Sure, why not,” said Richard, although not with much enthusiasm. I felt my heart skip a beat, but I was all smiles as I took the box from the shelf. Without further delay, we walked to the counter to pay for our purchases.

“Richard, I’m so excited that you found this. I never would have seen it.” I heard myself say as we walked to the car. “When we get home, would you be a dear and let me try it before we settle down to watch the movies? Mmmm. I can’t wait I’m so excited.”

At Home

Although the ride home seemed to take forever, it was only minutes later that we pulled into the driveway. As we walked from the garage into the kitchen, I took the movies from Richard and put them on the counter, took his hand and said, “Those will have to wait. C’mon, can we do this now?” as we headed for our bedroom.

Once upstairs, I opened the box and carefully examined the new syringe. What a beauty it was, too – gleaming red rubber with a nicely coiled length of hose. The hose, about six feet long, was rubber, too, and not the kinky plastic kind that comes with many of the newer models. I could see that it was a quality item as the clamp was stainless steel and the nozzles did not appear to be plastic, but the black hard rubber kind. Moreover, they were not the snap fit type, but screwed on. After looking at the douche nozzle, I was amazed to find it was probably twice the diameter of the one I regularly use – but I decided that I’d have to wait to try that out. The new outfit even smelled nice – it had that certain pungency of new rubber. I was getting more excited by the minute.

I handed the new outfit to Richard and said, “Hon, be a real dear and make me a nice warm enema while I go get undressed. Oh, and make a soapy one – it’s the only kind I can ever remember mom making. I’m sure there’s a bar of Ivory under the sink.” I gave Richard a little kiss and headed for the bedroom. Although relatively new to enemas, Richard makes and gives a wonderful one. As he ran the water waiting for it to get suitably warm, Richard attached the hose, adjusted the clamp and screwed on the nozzle. In the meantime I got completely undressed and slipped into one of my shorty night shirts. When I finally walked back into the bathroom, Richard had just finished topping off the bag with more water, having made it nice and soapy like I wanted.

“Why the nightshirt?” he asked.

“This is what mom would have me do when she had to give me an enema. I’d have to go get undressed and put my nightie on,” I replied.

Then giving some directions for what I hoped would be a most memorable enema, said, “Now you have to sit on the edge of the Jacuzzi and I’ll lie over your lap so you can give it to me. And I promise to be a good little girl and not give you any trouble. I know that you’re giving me an enema because it’s good for me and I’ll surely feel better,” I said with the most innocent and perhaps juvenile facial expressions. I then took the beautiful new bag from Richard and hung it from the hook on the back of the door.

“But, one more thing. Mom never used K-Y, so I want you to put some Vaseline in my bum first. OK, I think I’m ready now. Also, I’m sure I really do need this because I haven’t had a BM in three days. And you know that Mom never let me go for more than two, because if I ever did, it was one of her warm soapy enemas before I went to bed – just like you’re about to give me now,” I said as I laid over Richard’s lap.

Richard raised my nightshirt up to the level of my shoulder blades. He then took the jar of Vaseline, put a generous amount on his index finger and massaged some around my bum and then began probing into my bottom. It felt absolutely wonderful and I started to give some little moans. I could also feel my clit getting damp at the same time. After being sure that I was fully lubed, Richard removed his finger and gently inserted the nozzle. “Oh, that feels good. I really need this, Richard,” I said, “Start it now. Pleassssssse start it now.”

Richard snapped open the stainless clamp and the new bag began to release its wonderful warm soapy contents into my eagerly waiting bottom. It felt wonderful going in and I started to think of how much it was like those enemas my mother used to give me. Back then, and gosh it was nearly 25 years ago, I’d tell her after a few moments, “That’s enough, Mommy. That’s enough!” Now, I was telling my husband that I wanted even more. How times can change!

I seldom have a problem taking a whole bag and this evening was no exception. There had been a full two quarts in the bag and I seemed to be taking them with ease. The bag was nearly empty and I was feeling some disappointment that I wasn’t feeling really full. So I said, “Richard, I think I’d really like some more. When the bag is empty, go to the sink and refill it. But, just use plain warm water because I don’t want to wait long enough for you to make it soapy.”

Unfortunately, I had to get up to let him refill the bag, but the beauty of an open top – and this was one of those very wide mouth models – is that you don’t have to disassemble it like the combination type. So Richard only closed the clamp leaving the nozzle inside of me, and moved over to the sink to refill the bag.

As he did, I looked down at my tummy and saw that I was a bit distended, but also wondered how much more I’d be after the second bag full. I’d never held this much before. Certainly, not with mom, because as a little girl I probably only would get no more than a quart. And with what I know now, may have been as little as a pint.

Moments later, the bag was rehung and Richard was back on the edge of the Jacuzzi. He helped me back across his lap and without even telling him, he started the flow of the second bag. I was really enjoying the feeling of all the warmth now up inside of me as well as the tender touch that is part of Richard’s enema technique. It was at this point that he started to play with my clit and pussy. I was certainly wet enough and he easily inserted two fingers. I felt myself moving to climax, but was worried about cumming while at the same time trying to hold all of this huge enema that was now churning around up inside of my other end. All I can say is that I managed, but it took an awful lot of concentration to do so, too.

I finished the second two quarts and Richard removed the nozzle. Just as I did for my mom, I remained across his lap for a few minutes and allowed all of the enema to work its wonders. After a few minutes I finally did have to go expel as I thought I would soon explode if I didn’t. All told it probably took fifteen minutes for the enema to go in, but I know it took much longer for it all to come out. It seemed to come in waves. And you know what, I felt just wonderful. I was totally relaxed and even wore, at least according to Richard, a huge smile.

In a way it was just like my mom used to give me. Maybe a bit bigger volume now, but those Ivory soap solution enemas from the old-fashioned, red, open top bags always did the trick. I’m not saying that the other bags Richard and I have don’t work, because they certainly do. And trust me, we’ve shared many wonderful sessions with those. It’s just that this one brings back a lot of memories. And as I exclaimed to Richard afterward, “Golly, do I love a good old fashioned enema.”

Funny, I don’t recall what the titles of those videos were!

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