It was only a couple of hours since we’d gotten out of bed—I guess it was about 11:30 and I was getting hungry already. We were still fairly early in our relationship, still having sex about twice a day and still exploring…and we both liked to explore. I had stayed over at her place and her refrigerator always had a lot of food in it but there never was much in there that did anything for me, except for the occasional item we could use in our explorations.
“Let’s go out and get some lunch. I’m hungry.” I continued dressing.
“I can make something here…and besides, it’s cold outside and I’m even cold in here,” she answered with the sound of urine splashing in the commode.
That always seemed to turn me on. “Well, I can think of a couple of ways to warm you up and keep you warm.”
“Like what?” she sounded interested and seemed to be thinking sex too.
“Well, you seemed to like that little spanking I gave you a few weeks ago and I could make it a little longer and a lot harder.” I peered around the corner and she was still sitting on the john, toilet paper suspended in hand on her knee, looking up at me. No rejection so far. “And then a nice warm enema up that beautiful rear end of yours should about do the trick.”
“What about when we go outside? How’s that going to help me then?”
I hadn’t expected that answer. We hadn’t even brought up the subject of enemas before, much less tried one, so I felt pretty bold—even nervous, like a potential-rejection nervousness. Scared she would find out I secretly liked enemas as a sexual thing and would think I was weird. I guess the fact that she liked a lot of anal foreplay allowed me to bring it up. I’d been having plenty of fantasies about starting to put things in there besides my own body parts. “We could always do the spanking here and the enema while we’re at lunch.”
She started laughing and began wiping at the same time. “Have you ever had an enema?”
I didn’t want to give away the fact that I periodically liked to give myself an enema while masturbating. “A few. Have you?”
“How’d you come to have an enema? Your mother when you were a kid?”
“Well, she did give me one when I was a kid, but then later in life—in my experimentation period—I went out and bought one of those enema-douche bags and tried giving myself a few. It wasn’t bad.” No crashing rejection yet. In fact, she seemed rooted to the toilet like she was waiting to expel an enema. “How about you?”
She sat there thinking for a little while, trying to come to a decision. And then she got up, forgetting to put any robe on and, taking my hand, brought me over to the sofa in the bedroom, and we sat down still holding hands. “What would you say if I said I had?”
“That would be exciting to me.”
“I have and it not only wasn’t bad, I actively liked it. I like it. But I’ve never had an enema with someone else present.”
“That’d be quite a step then to have one in public while we’re eating lunch!” I started laughing and she did too and pretty soon we were both bouncing around on the couch laughing like crazy. And then we kissed, first in fun and then, as if some unspoken awareness had passed between us, we began kissing slowly and deeply and I pulled her against me, her beautiful soft nakedness startlingly fresh and powerful.
Soon we lay beside each other, my hand on her hip. She looked into my eyes. “I have a couple of enema bags here. Maybe it would be fun. I let you give me one if you let me give you one. What’s the deal with the restaurant? How would we do that?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My secret fantasy was going to come true. And so easily. “Why don’t we have a trial run here and then I can fix up some kind of harness we can wear to support the bag under our coat. Are you really up for that?”
“Yeah, I think it would be wild.” She leaned forward, cleared the sofa table off—it was really a small cedar chest—and opened the top. “Take a look.” And she began bringing out enema equipment. A couple of red two quart bags, some matching hosing and then some different nozzles—different shaped douche pipes. But the prize was a single inflatable nozzle! I couldn’t believe it. She was definitely into enemas. Maybe as big as I was. I had a double inflatable nozzle of my own. “You know what this is?”
“Yeah, it’s a inflatable nozzle. And I have a double.” And we started laughing again. “I think maybe it’s about time for your spanking. You haven’t got a lot of spanking equipment too do you?”
“No, but I think I’m definitely in the mood for the slow, hard spanking you were talking about. Do you mind putting this in me first?” And she placed the inflatable nozzle in my hand.
“How hard do you want me to spank you? A little red, scarlet red, burning up hot or all of the above plus a few love marks?”
“All of it will be fine, just make it slow. I want it to last.” Her face was crimson red with embarrassment but she asked for what she wanted anyway.
I leaned forward and kissed her again, softly, letting our lips slide easily together in to a deep kiss. And then I pulled slightly away, cupping her breasts with my hands. “I do love you and I want this to be good for you. You let me know if you want it any differently. I’ll stop anytime you want.” She kissed me again.
“Let’s do it now.” She got up and we carried the enema equipment into the bathroom and quickly filled each bag with as much cool water as they could hold. I wanted her to feel the enema entering her. We attached the hoses, I attached the inflatable nozzle and, without asking me, she connected the largest douche pipe she had to the other hose. “I wish I had a larger one for you. You need it. I guess this’ll have to do.”
“You got something special you want me to spank you with? I’m accommodating.”
“Surprise me.” She began taking towels and the enema equipment in to the bedroom.
I went into the kitchen and found two nice spatulas, one of light wood and one heavier. The heavier one had a nice flat but mildly curved end. I’d have to be careful with it. Then I found a good hairbrush, actually one that she used quite often, and wondered if it had ever swatted her fanny. A couple of leather belts and I was set. I plopped them all down on the bed and she came up to me, looking down at them, not saying anything.
“Let me warm you up,” and I put light pressure on her upper back and she leaned over onto the bed, and when I didn’t do anything immediately, she climbed up onto the bed on her knees with her feet just over the side, and let her head rest on the sheets so her rear was lifted and exposed more than my wildest dreams would have imagined possible. “You are beautiful.”
She still didn’t say anything so I put my hand on her soft, unblemished skin, caressing her for a few moments and then brought my hand back and brought it down on her right buttock with good wrist motion, causing a loud whack. She didn’t move as the blow landed or as the imprint of my hand appeared on her white skin. I moved around and delivered the same blow to her left buttock with the same result. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. You can hit me harder if you want.”
I then began giving her a steady, slow hand spanking with no reaction from her other than an occasional arching of her back, as if to give me more access. I moved the slaps around, gradually turning her entire backside from her upper buttocks to her upper thighs an amazingly exciting warm pink. Her rear end was perfectly shaped, somewhat on the small side if anything, so that in her position I had a good view of the small, pigmented folds of sensitive tissue that funneled down to her anus and disappeared into her. It seemed to be tightening as some of the swats landed. Her pubic hair was unable to hide her wet slit, lips partially opened and still full from our morning lovemaking. I wasn’t hitting her as firmly as I could, wanting to prolong everything. And this seemed to be the way she wanted it too. My hand was feeling hot by the time I stopped. She still didn’t move so I began stroking her with both hands, feeling the soft, warm skin with my fingers. And she began sighing as I stroked her.
I picked up the KY tube, put some on my index finger and clicked the top shut, knowing that she would hear this and understand what was about to happen. She arched her back again, giving me maximum access. I lightly spread the cold KY jelly on her anus with my finger, again with slow, soft movements, caressing and feeling her tightness, partially entering her until I felt resistance and then withdrawing, and then scratching her lightly with my fingernail and then entering and withdrawing until her hips began moving, pressing against my finger, wanting more. I stopped moving and held my finger firmly against her, inviting her to take the initiative. And she did. She slowly pressed her rear backwards and little by little her ass hole molded itself around my finger until it was fully inside her. I began exploring her insides, feeling the smooth passage tightly wrapped around me. Her sighing deepened and her upper body seemed to relax. With my other hand, I opened the KY tube, squirted some on the end of the inflatable nozzle, spreading it over and into the folds so it would slide easily into her. “Here we go, OK?”
Her moan sounded like a “yes”—her face was partially buried in the sheets. I pulled my finger out and placed the tip of the inflatable nozzle against her and began pushing, using a slight screwing motion and she seemed to relax as it slid into her, disappearing and leaving only the hose hanging from her well- lubricated anus. By this time my pants were wet and my penis was bulging with pure lust and my balls were beginning to ache. I got undressed quickly.
I closed the valve on the inflatable nozzle and gave the bulb two full compressions which drew the hose into her further. I wanted to be able to inflate it further later on. I gave her two quick swats with my hand and went around the side of the bed. I hated to take a chance of breaking the magic of the moment but I brushed her hair back from her face and pulled her up until she was on her knees and began kissing her again. She extended her neck and we began deep kissing, this time almost violently, like we were just discovering each other again. “Are you ready for the real spanking now or was that enough?”
“Oh Alex, this has been wonderful. You don’t think me strange for wanting this?”
I caressed her. “No. In fact, I thought you might think the same of me. No, I love you all the more, I want you all the more.”
She leaned forward and down, surrounding the end of my penis with her mouth, sucking briefly on it and then lubricating the shaft with her saliva. She then guided it back into her mouth, forcing her lips down the shaft just as she had that morning, backing up only a couple of times, until her mouth touched the skin on my groin and veins stood out on her forehead. She didn’t want me to ejaculate yet and, withdrawing, she kissed me deeply again. “I want you to spank me hard. I want it to sting and burn. I’ll let you know if it’s too hard. What position do you want me in?”
“Pick up the enema bag and come over to the couch. I want you to lean forward over the arm of the couch with your head on this pillow.” She handed me the enema bag and bent over as I had asked. Her left breast, still with erect nipple, hung freely in sight about two inches off the couch cushion and her arms were stretched toward the far end of the couch. I hung the enema bag on a picture hook on the wall so it was a good four feet above the high point of her body—her still pink ass, elevated again and vulnerable. I picked up the lighter spatula and began swatting her rear with gradually increasing intensity, each blow creating a crisp “whap” as it contacted her skin. Soon, it seemed like her whole rear end was quivering. Her upper body shifted and settled, her breast rested against the side of the cushion now. I changed to the heavier spatula, almost a paddle in its size, and increased the tempo. The paddle made fresh marks, even darker than the already reddened skin. Her breathing deepened, her hands clenched into fists and her moans took on an urgency. I stopped long enough to compress the inflatable nozzle bulb two more times to its maximum inflation inside her and quickly resumed slapping her with the paddle. Whap. Whap. Whap. It was amazingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. Her buttocks bucked with the pain and her legs began flailing around but she refused to say “stop”. I covered the same area as before, occasionally hitting the enema hose that extended down between her legs.
“Oh, God. No more. Please!” She had tears streaming down her face. “Just hit me about ten times with the larger belt. I think that’s all I can take.” She was sobbing.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And start the enema first.”
I threw the spatula on the bed and retrieved the belt which I doubled up with the buckle in my hand. And I opened the valve on the enema hose with a loud click so she could hear it. I stood there without moving, watching the shiny red bag begin to develop folds as the water flowed out of it and, when about a quart had run into her, I hit her rear very hard with the belt and she almost lifted off the sofa arm as her legs flew up. This raised a welt on the already punished skin and I hit her four times more in quick succession. “That’s five. More?” Her skin was quivering around the welts.
“Oh please, yes!!! Five more, spank me ten more times as quick and as hard as you can and don’t stop whatever I do. How much of the enema have I taken?”
“About one and a half quarts. There’s not much left.” I brought the belt way back and proceeded to bring it down on her backside with a crash and followed it as quickly as I could with full arm extension to hit her as hard as I could. Bucking, squirming, crying, flailing, screaming, she endured the full ten. She had grabbed her breasts and was squeezing them under her, as if to keep her from reaching around to stop the pain. The enema ended as I brought the belt down for the tenth time. By then she was crying uncontrollably, moving her hips in a rhythmic motion. I shut the clip on the enema hose and sat down near her head, caressing her face that was covered in sweat and tears.
After a while she looked up at me, her hands still cradling her breasts. “I don’t know whether I’ll be able to sit down to empty myself. I’m on fire.”
“You can sit on me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll sit on the toilet and you can straddle me. I want you to empty yourself while my penis is inside you.”
She put her hand on my leg and then on my erect penis, stroking it. “OK.”