Mom and my step-Dad were married when I was ten. Dad had died in the Vietnam war. My step-Dad, who soon had me calling him Sam, had an eight-year-old daughter, Camilla. Nicknamed Kimmie, she was almost my height, blond, very athletic. She soon joined my neighborhood gang, and she could play sports as well as my male friends. Before long we were
inseparable.
Mom had always believed in the value of enamas for health reasons. From the time I was about six, I had received them regularly, about twice a month. The first time she told me to get ready for my internal bath, Sam was a bit taken aback, but she soon convinced him it was an excellent way to prevent the usual kids’ maladies. It was OK with Sam if she gave them to me and Kimmie together.
I’ll never forget the first time. I was a bit nervous, as I had never had anyone in the bathroom with me other than Mom. She put me in my usual knee-chest position. By the time I was positioned for the watery invasion, Kimmie was standing behind me, watching the whole thing, wearing only her cotton panties. I didn’t think too much about my own feelings as the water was running in. I was just worried about what Kimmie must be thinking. Mom ran about a quart-and-a-half into me before I had taken all I could. She made me stay in the position for five minutes, while she washed the nozzle and prepared a much smaller
dose for Kimmie’s first ever enema.
Mom finally let me sit on the pot, where I let my first torrent loose. As I emptied, I watched in fascination as Mom repeated the process with Kimmie. Kimmie stepped out of her panties without embarrassment, and I was thrilled to see her slim, bronzed body, with offsetting swim suit tan lines. She was slim, with no hint of any development, covered only by downy peach fuzz on her legs and thighs. But I loved seeing her slender little butt open up slightly as she knelt doen on the bathroom rug. Mom drained the hose, then took a dollop of vaseline and started to lubricate Kimmie. I thought I saw a little twitch, as Kimmie
instinctively arched her butt. It almost seemed as if Kimmie welcomed the digit, and before long, Mom inserted the hose and started the flow.
Mom only gave Kimmie a pint or so before snapping the valve shut. By the time Kimmie’s five minutes were up, I had finished, wiped myself and gotten off the toilet. Kimmie got up off the floor, hit the john running, and soon was expelling a long stream, interrupted occasionally with loud plops. Clearly she was pretty stuffed. When Kimmie finished, Mom sent us to our rooms to go to sleep.
I loay awake, my ten year old mind filled with images of what I had just witnessed. Clearly Kimmie had liked it. Secretly, so did I. I hoped we would get repeat treatments together on a regular basis, and I was not disappointed.
The next time Mom gave us our internal cleansings, it was Saturday afternoon. The process was almost identical. She did me first, followed by Kimmie. This time, Kimmie was abot to take about a quart before she complained she was stuffed.. By the time she was finished, it was about six. She and Sam had been invited to a cocktail party, which was to begin at about 6:30. Since it was summertime and still light, and since they planned tio return before darkness, they decided we could bypass
the usual sitters and be by ourselves for a couple of hours. Before they left, they gave us the telephone number of their hosts, in case we needed them.
A few minutes after they left, Kimmie came into my room. She was wearing just cutoff jeans and a T-shirt. she flopped down beside me on my bed, grinned at me and asked,
“What did you think about when we were getting the hose?”
I admitted that having her there made me nervous at first, then asked if she could keep a secret. I then admitted,
“Kimmie, I guess I really like it. After it’s over, I really feel light and tingly”
“I like it too,” she whispered.
Taking a bold step, I then said, “Why don’t we go back in there and get out the stuff and play with it for a while. They won’t be back for at least an hour-and-a-half.”
Kimmie sat up on the bed and sat Indian style. I could see up the inside of her thighs, right to where her cutoffs were pressed into her hairless crotch. I could see her tanned face redden a little, as she thought about my proposition. After a few seconds, she agreed:
“Well, I guess we could get the bag out and play around a little.”
We hurried to the bathroom and quickly had the equipment on the sink. I found the vaseline jar in the drawer. By the time I turned around, Kimmie had already shucked out of her cutoffs and was peeling her T-shirt off. Seconds later, I was equally naked. My little cock was standing straight up, almost parallel to my belly. Kimmie stared at my three inches, fascinated.
“Wod, I’ve heard about what happens with boys, but I’ve never seen one stiff. That is so neat!”
We decided we’d just play with each other’s asses, without using any water. I volunteered to be first, and Kimmie knelt down behind me as I took my favorite position with my butt high in the air. She took a little vaseline and spread it on her middle finger, then gently probed my anal ring. Having her young hand on me gave me the most incredible butterflies I had ever felt.
“Stick your finger in,” I gasped.
Kimmie didn’t need a second invitation. Gently, insistently, she eased her finger into my butthole. In seconds, she was up to her first knuckle, then she started moving her finger around inside my butt. The feelings were incredibly exquisite, and I murmured in pleasure.
“Go deeper, Kimmie,” I whispered.
Soon she had her whole middle finger in me. Instinctively, she started moving it in and out in a fucking motion. I was in heaven.
“Try another finger, Kimmie,” I gasped.
Within a minute, she had two fingers buried in my willing butt. She fucked my cleansed butthole for a good ten minutes, even managing to get the tip of a third finger part way in. I was onened up in a way I never imagined, and the feeling was incredibly sensual. My little cock stiffened as never before, and I felt what I now know was an imitation of an orgasm, even though I didn’t have any spunk to unload.
After a seeming eternity, I started to get sore, and I asked Kimmie to stop. I turned around and saw her kneeling there with a wicked gleam in her eye. She pulled out, went to the sink and started washing off her hand. While she did that, I got some vaseline on my middle finger, walked up behind her and started teasing her butt.
While she finished cleaning up, I worked her little rose bud. As Kimmie stood at the sink, she spread her legs a little wider, and I got my finger in about an inch.
“Wait a bit, let me get in position,” Kimmie rasped.
When she knelt down on the bathroom rug, I saw her beautiful little butt spread. In the light I could see the gleam of vaseline covering her crack. Without anouther word, I knelt behind her and worked her willing little ass for all it was worth. Within five minutes, I had two fingers all the way in. She was a little too tight for three fingers, but for several minutes, she eased her butt back and forth, enjoying my rhythmic in-and-out motion.
Before we knew it, we had been in the bathroom for an hour. Shadows on the wall were beginning to lengthen, and we realized we’d have to curtail our experiments for fear of getting caught. We cleaned up, got dressed and had all the equipment back in storage fifteen minutes before our folks returned.
After that, Kimmie and I played with each other’s butts regularly, at least twice a week. We found an old rectal thermometer at the bottom of one cabinet, and we exchanged “doctor’s visits” regularly. When Kimmie wanted to be the patient, I’d send her to her room. When I’d enter, there she was, lying face down on her bed, her shorts down to her knees, and her sweet little ass arched up waiting for the invading glass tube. It took us a few months before we actually got into exchanging enemas.
The first time we did it, it was a Saturday, and the folks had gone to an antique show. We knew we had a couple of hours. I had turned eleven, and Kimmie was nine. Having watched Mom carefully, we knew just how to drain the hose, lubricate the nozzle, and how high to hang the bag. When I hosed Kimmie, she was able, for the first time, to take almost a quart and a half. By then I pulled a first, taking a full two quart bag before launching myself onto the toilet for explosive relief.
Kimmie thought it was sexy to watch me unload. The second time we did it, I mounted the toilet like a saddle, letting Kimmie watch my butt while I emptied. Minutes later, Kimmie returned the favor. Seeing her little bud open like a flower as she expelled was an indescribablt thrill.
Kimmie and I exchanged enemas regularly until I was thirteen. Then I started to get body hair. My cock had grown to about five inches. Kimmie was starting to develop too, even at eleven. She had two soft little mounds on her chest and the beginnings of downy hair on her slit. I remember one of our last times. When I was kneeling on the floor taking my two plus quarts, all of a sudden my balls tightened and I let loose a stream of spunk onto the rug. It was the greatest feeling I had ever had, and I’ll never forget my first enema orgasm!
Kimmie, for some reason, was spooked. She thought she had hurt me. I tried to reassure her it was OK. Unfortunately, she was starting to develop a little modesty, and she informed me we’d have to stop playing our games.
That was that, until I reached sixteen and Kimmie was fourteen.
You readers will have to wait for a second installment…soon