How to Get an Enema Without Really Trying

Every now and then a delivery or two really sticks out in my memory. Oh, I’ve delivered thousands of pieces of antique furniture over the years of course and mostly the deliveries are quickly forgotten or else become an indistinct blur of faces and hard to find addresses on rainy nights.

I’ve yet to be seduced by a horny nymphomaniac or asked to watch two obviously lesbian live-togethers get it off together (an exceptionally favorite fantasy of mine). Goodness I haven’t even been propositioned by any of my gay customers either, which at times troubles me, odd as it may seem. I like to think that I’m not really all that unattractive looking.

So deliveries are usually routine affairs. I get the piece in place, fiddle around acting professional, make some nice comments about the house or apartment and wait to get paid so I can high tail it back home.

But there are exceptions.

A few weeks ago an old customer of mine, Mrs. Van Dorque, a divorced lady who had already bought several things from my shop came by and purchased a rather small cabinet for her bathroom. We went through the whole routine of measuring things, examining the condition of the piece, discussing the number of shelves needed and so on. She hinted at getting a small reduction for being such a good customer and with a smile on my face we agreed on a price.

It was a small piece and she told me there would not be much difficulty getting it up to her bathroom. Besides, if necessary she could always lend a hand. We agreed on a time and date for the delivery and after profusely thanking her as if she had just saved my family and myself from impending bankruptcy she left my store.

But this was one of those deliveries were everything seemed to go wrong. To begin with I was late starting out - a customer came into my shop just at closing time and moped around uninterestedly, leaving without saying a word nor buying anything. Then I was caught in traffic and spent another half hour cursing the city council for their half-assed plans at inner-city renovation.

Finally, almost an hour late, I pulled up at the correct address. I rang the doorbell. When Mrs. Van Dorque opened up I excused myself for my tardiness.

“Oh never mind. Things like that can’t be helped I suppose. But I’m afraid I can’t give you a hand right now. I’m rather pressed for time as well. My ex is coming by to take my daughter to a school thing and I have to help get her ready.”

Well, that’s how things are. Since I was so late already, I decided that instead of waiting I would just move the cabinet by myself. It wasn’t all that large and I was used to moving things around. The major problem would be not to damage any walls or the staircase.

“That’s all right ma’am,” I replied ever the cool and reliable professional, “I’ll get it by myself. Where do you want it ?”

“Are you sure Mr. Gracier ?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“It’s for the bathroom, on the second floor. I’ll show you which door when you get there. Now, excuse me, I have to see to my daughter.”

The lady hurried off up the stairs and I went back to my van and began moving the small parts inside - the shelves, drawers and door. When all those are taken out, a piece of furniture weighs considerably less of course and is usually quite manageable. I also had a rolling flat cart which made moving furniture on a flat surface small potatoes. The stairs were going to be the hard part.

I started carrying the door up, two flights of stairs worth. There were several doors in the second floor landing, so I just put the small door down and went back down for the next load. The second time up I took my time, examining the framed family photos hanging on the walls. They were quite nice, a lot being from vacations obviously, at least judging from the sun-drenched beaches in the background and the sparsely clothed people in the foreground. In fact, I couldn’t help but notice that several photos seemed to have been taken at a nudist beach of some sort, since none of the persons was wearing much of anything except sandals. I recognized the lady of the house ‘au naturel’ but none of the others in the photos. Not that it was any of my business to begin with. Still, I couldn’t help noticing.

Going back up with a third load I couldn’t help chuckling to myself. Well well, the Van Dorques at a nudist colony. I wondered where. Saint Tropez or Cap d’Agde maybe ? I’m sure that Spain and France abounded with naturalist colonies.

Lost in a naughty little reverie concerning Mrs. Van Dorque, the Mediterranean sun and suntan lotion I wasn’t paying attention to voices coming from one of the doors on the second floor landing.

“Oh, Mommy please. Not now…” It was a younger female voice.

“Nonsense Hilde, you know this is best for you right now….so hurry up please, we haven’t got all evening…” I recognized Mrs. Van Dorque. Obviously she talking to her daughter.

I didn’t dare stand around eavesdropping, much as I would have liked to, so I went back down to my van and started with the cabinet itself. I got it in the doorway and to the stairs without much trouble. Getting it up the stairway without damaging anything, my back included, was going to be tricky.

It was strenuous to a degree, but by balancing the cabinet before me on every other stair or so, I managed to get it upstairs without scratching the walls or dislodging any of those charming little nudist photos.

But on the second to last step I slipped or something, lost my footing, banged my knee, dropped the cabinet onto the hallway floor. Luckily I prevented it from toppling over by grabbing on to it at the last moment. I did cut myself in the hand on a hinge and gave a little yelp of surprise and anger.

“Shit…. !” I muttered, some more invectives following as I saw blood seeping out from the cut. It probably wasn’t a serious wound at all, just messy and inopportune. I started to bleed somewhat more copiously and took out a dirty handkerchief to wind around the gash in my hand. Red blood began to seep through.

I must also have made quite a noise, shaking the wooden floors. Mrs. Van Dorque came out of one of the doors to see what had happened. “Are you all right Mr. Gracier ? My goodness what happened, you haven’t hurt yourself have you ?”

She looked anxious and to her credit didn’t ask if I had damaged anything. She spied the dark red blood staining an already filthy handkerchief. “That looks like a nasty cut. Let me take a look. I hope it doesn’t hurt ?”

‘Only when I laugh…’ I wanted to quip, but instead of dazzling her with my sense of devil-may-care humor I just mumbled something unintelligible (like I always do in such situations).

“We have to take care of this immediately. Come along so I can wash your hand out properly. My goodness, using that dirty cloth. Why, you’ll certainly get an infection if we wait too long…”

I hardly thought so but followed the lady anyway, if only not to bleed all over her clean carpeting.

Once in the bathroom I got the surprise of my life. Laying on a padded table, just as nakedly nude as in the photos in the hallway was a young teenager, presumably Mrs. Van Dorque’s daughter. She was on her back, legs flexed open and pulled back. A red rubber tube coiled from between them.

“Oh mommy, please…!!! What are you doing…!!!” The poor girl looked at me wide-eyed with surprise. She was just as startled as I was.

I stopped in mid-step, staring at this unexpectedly luscious and lithe little beauty. I should have averted my eyes, but didn’t.

“Not now Hilde, this is an emergency. Can’t you see he’s bleeding severely ? We’ve got to clean Mr. Gracier’s wound.”

It looked like I had dropped in on a cleaning session of sorts as well, only one a little more intimate. The young lady of the house had been getting an enema. Unbelievable.

Hilde must have seen my bloody hand, for she said nothing more. She looked around for something to cover herself with, but finding noting in reach, she crossed her hands over her breasts and rolled away from me, in the process presenting me with a view of her bottom, from which indeed a rubber tube protruded.

Mrs. Van Dorque bustled me over to the sink, in which was still a quantity of white milky water. She removed my sodden handkerchief and told me to lower my hand into the sink. “It’s just warm water with soap,” she explained, though I for one needed no explanation. I knew perfectly well how cleansing such a solution was. And what it was primarily used for.

She kept up a series of ‘my mys’ and ‘oh my goodnesses’ while washing my hand gently with a clean cloth. Once cleaned off, the cut didn’t look all that bad. Mrs. Van Dorque went to a small medical cabinet to look for a bandage and disinfectant.

Meanwhile I couldn’t help but stare at young Hilde by way of the mirror hanging over the sink. She too was looking in my direction, hands still modestly over her no doubt virginal bosom. Our eyes met and I tried to express that none of this was my idea. I made an exaggeratedly helpless face and shrugged, holding up my hands. She saw me and made a face before turning away. I’m not sure if she was scowling or grinning.

Mrs. Van Dorque came back with several items and rearranged them on the counter. She opened up a package of bandages and unwound one.

“Mommy, I have to leave soon. Please let me go and dress now….”

The lady was in a quandary. “Oh do hush Hilde. Not now. This is more pressing than your lavage.”

“Then let me get dressed…please…”

“You’ll do no such thing until you’ve taken every drop. You know how distraught you’ll become if we don’t calm you down now. That will never do tonight, now will it ?”

“But please…that man can see me ….” She nodded at me.

“The man’s name is Mr. Gracier if you don’t mind Hilde. You keep a civil tongue in your head. Ask to be introduced if you don’t know someone’s name. Understand ?”

“Yes mommy….but please…may I get dressed ?”

“I don’t see the urgency. You’ve gallivanted around beaches and villages wearing just as little. I’m sure Mr. Gracier doesn’t mind.”

No indeed I didn’t.

“But then everyone is naked….” Hilde retorted.

“Maybe I should ask our guest to undress as well ? Or all of us. Would that make you feel better ?” Mrs. Van Dorque made for a compelling if unconventional argument. But I was sure she was just posing a rhetorical question anyway. More’s the pity.

Hilde’s face lit up in a momentarily lecherous grin. I wondered if she was going to take her mother up on her dare ? She just snorted and looked away.

“Besides,” Mrs. Van Dorque continued. “Mr. Gracier’s wife works in the hospital. So he should be quite used to this.”

Now that sounded screwy, even to me, I had no idea what the lady implied by that remark. But it was nice of her all the same. It seemed like she really didn’t care if I saw her daughter get clystered. In fact, I got the sneaking suspicion she even welcomed it. But for what reason I couldn’t fathom.

“But you are right, we are running late. Your father will arrive any minute now.” She thought a moment. “I can’t hold up the enema bag and let poor Mr. Gracier bleed to death. But if he can use his good hand to hold the bag up I’ll bandage his hurt hand in the meantime.”

Mrs. Van Dorque turned to me, all smiles. “You wouldn’t mind, would you sir ?”

Mind ? Me ? That was a silly question though I couldn’t very well say so. I tentatively nodded acquiescence, hoping I projected an air of guarded reluctance.

“Come now Hilde,” her mother said. “Turn over on your back and spread those legs wide if you please.” She helped her daughter into place. Mrs. Van Doque took the rubber enema bag and gave it to me to hold.

“It’s almost half empty, so it shouldn’t be too heavy. Do you think you can manage while I bandage your hand ?”

Ha ! Even with an arm shot off I would have stood there for this opportunity. Young Hilde, all lovely 16 years of her lay half grudgingly and half provocatively wide open to my view. I was able to confirm that she was a natural blond, even though her pubic hair wasn’t all that profuse. The slit of her sex organ was nicely visible, pinkish and rounded around the labia. Her inner lips were hidden or else very small in size. I would have loved to find out the particulars, but was in no position to do so. Besides, it wouldn’t do to press my already outrageous luck. I just held up the enema bag and stole several long and lustful glances of Hilde’s adolescent charms.

Since the girl hadn’t been able to do anything about my presence, it seemed she decided to take an opposite tack. She wiggled about with her hips, slid her bottom lower (and nearer to me) and opened her thighs even further, leaving not much hidden from my view. Only her little brown bumhole remained relatively covered.

Mrs. Van Dorque worked on my hand in the meantime, expertly binding my wound after applying a disinfectant. Her ministrations and touch were pleasant as well, even under these unfortunate circumstances. Had not the greater charms of Hilde lay naked under my gaze, I am sure I would have become entranced by the attention the older lady was lavishing on me. As it was I was delightfully light headed. And that was certainly not due to loss of blood from my cut either.

For while the blood may have drained down from my head temporarily, it looked like another organ of mine had taken in the overflow. There was a distinct and discernable bulge in my trousers, right about at Hilde’s eye level. The teenager saw it of course and pursed her lips at me knowingly. Oh what a lecherous little smile she sported.

I winked back and she grinned even more. It certainly hadn’t taken long for Hilde to adjust to my presence.

Meanwhile Mrs. Van Dorque finished with my hand. “There we are Mr. Gracier. I hope this feels all right.”

“Wonderful, ma’am. Really. Thank you ever so much.” I did my best not to smile too lasciviously.

“Good. Let me take the bag. You must be tired by now.” She reached for the rubber enema bag, now almost empty. I figured I best retire discreetly to another part of the bathroom, if not to another chamber altogether. But Mrs. Van Dorque asked me to stay.

“Would you mind rubbing Hilde’s stomach and tummy for me ?”

“Excuse me…?” I wasn’t suddenly hard of hearing that evening, but a little flustered.

“Her tummy ? Just rub it in slow circles, it gets the solution good and high up in her bowels.”

“Ohhh…I see…Well, of course.”

“Thank you Mr. Gracier. You’ve been quite the gentleman this evening, despite your unfortunate ordeal.”

Now that was a patented embellishment of the truth if not an outright lie. I just cleared my throat and tried to compose myself enough to carry on a more or less normal conversation.

“It is quite indispensable for Hilde to get her lavage. Otherwise she is such a flibbertigibbet.” She leaned closer, “I use chamomile and mint tea, with a generous squirt of lemon juice and soap. That and a little massage calms her down every time.”

I didn’t doubt it and nodded appreciatively. I continued with my massage until the enema bag was empty.

“There we are, darling. See ? That wasn’t so bad, now was it ?”

“I guess not Mommy. Please can we hurry up now ?”

Hmmmm…the youngster still looked worked up to me. Maybe I wasn’t all that an expert in massaging as Mrs. Van Dorque had thought. But no, it wasn’t that.

“Just stay calm now. We’ll do this as always. Lift up your legs…there we are…” Her mother gently withdrew the tubing and nozzle from between Hilde’s buttocks. I made out a rather large sized spout, something larger than I would have expected for a teenager of Hilde’s build. Maybe she had been getting a lot of training. Mrs. van Dorque took a tissue and wiped her daughter’s anus clean of lubricant, giving it a good push inwards with her finger for good measure. Finally, from a pocket the mother whisked out a nicely sized rubber anal dildo. I recognized it immediately, since I had one of the same models at home. She quickly and deftly inserted it in Hilde’s asshole, pushing it all the way in up to the flange. It fit quite snugly. Remembering how long it had taken me to accustom myself to the adult sized dildo, I wondered how long the daughter of the household had been receiving such treatment.

The used enema equipment was put in the sink and Mrs. Van Dorque washed and dried her hands. “We’ll not wait much longer for your final massage, dear. Maybe Mr. Gracier would like to lend me a hand ? He’s been doing such a fine job helping out.”

Had I ? Honestly I thought all I had been doing was lecherously staring at the young girl’s private parts. But apparently Hilde’s mother thought differently. “Why don’t you rub Hilde’s forehead while I take care of things down here ? Around the neck would be fine as well.” I moved over so Mrs. Van Dorque could take my place by Hilde’s abdomen.

The girl meanwhile lay quiet with her eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed to be ready for the next part. Nodding to me I began to softly rub Hilde’s forehead and brow as the mother ruffled over the girl’s lower belly and went to work between her thighs. I distinctly saw her part Hilde’s vaginal lips and caress her no doubt luscious and sweet sex organ. She went higher and uncovered the girl’s clitoris.

Hilde began breathing deeper and faster, obviously enjoying things. I watched as the tip of her tongue snaked out from between her moist and panting lips. She moved her head from side to side. Hilde’s hands were no longer chastely crossed over her bosom. She had begun to caress and twitch her nipples, unconcernedly playing with them as her mother continued rubbing and massaging her genitals.

Several times, Mrs. Van Dorque caught my eyes and with a smile nodded her approval. I moved lower with my unbandaged hand and rubbed along Hilde’s neck. She stretched her neck out and tried to take my fingers in her mouth. To keep her head still I placed a finger or two on her lips. She licked them and worked her tongue around them eagerly.

Though I could scarcely credit it, the point of all this massaging and rubbing was to give the girl an orgasm. No doubt skilful from much practice, Hilde’s mother soon succeeded and the girl was writhing about on the table, shuddering and jousting her pelvis up and down in short rhythmic thrusts. Then she lay still, breathing deeply, several drops of sweat rolling between the small cleft of her rounded breasts. Hilde let go of my fingers, her mouth still parted in a smile.

“There we are darling. Now wasn’t that nice ?” Mrs. Van Dorque needlessly asked her daughter. Hilde sleepily nodded.

“Good, now let’s remove your little protector here,” - out came the dildo, “and you can head off to the commode. It looks like you’ve got enough time to dress.”

Hilde sat up and sighed several last times. Getting up, she made to leave the bathroom.

“Hilde darling, shouldn’t you thank Mr. Gracier for his trouble ?”

Smiling coyly Hilde stepped up to me and took my good hand. “Thank you very much, sir.” She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth. It was proper enough as kisses go though she might just as well have done it on my cheek. Even so I could discern her wetness. “I’m sorry I put up a fuss when you came in. You’ve been very nice to me.”

“That’s eh….quite all right miss.” I stammered. For indeed, the pleasure had been all mine.

Hilde left the bathroom, leaving a very flustered and trembling me alone with Mrs. Van Dorque. She cleaned up a few things while I waited, trying to compose myself.

“Well, shall I help you move the cabinet into the bathroom now ?” she asked me.

I came back down to reality. Cabinet ? What cabinet ? Goodness me. Is that what I had come here for ? If I didn’t know better I would thought I had just witnessed a private little sex show. I shook my head and smiled at the lady. “Oh, yes…most certainly…”

“Can you manage with your hand ?”

I had managed the rest quite well. I couldn’t very well plead incapacity now. “Sure, no problem.”

As we were going into the hallway, I heard a flushing noise. A door opened and Hilde, still alluringly lithe and naked stepped out, smiled at us and scuttled off to her room.

Mrs. van Dorque and I carefully moved the cabinet into the bathroom and into place. While I took care of laying the shelves and hooking up the door, she went to see how her daughter was doing.

Several minutes later the doorbell rang. I heard both ladies hurry down the stairs. I thought it a shame I hadn’t said a final goodbye to the young lady of the household. I would have liked to see Hilde clothed, so that I could at least recognize her if I ever met her again outside of a nudist beach. But I guess the final image I have will be of Hilde’s naked backside.

I waited outside the bathroom door for Mrs. Van Dorque to approve of her cabinet. She looked it over, opened the door several times and declared herself satisfied.

“And how about you Mr. Gracier ? That was quite an ordeal. Are you feeling up to things ? Why it looks like you’re still trembling.”

If I was, it was from sheer desire and arousal rather than anything else. But I thought it best not to mention so. Not that I could hide the still present bulge in my pants from the lady’s gaze. She grinned knowingly. “You know, if you like, you’re welcome to compose yourself a bit before you leave. Maybe something to drink ?”

I thanked her, but declined the drink.

“But you’re still shaking. Really, I think we should get some liquid into you. Are you sure I can’t prevail upon you …?”

She looked pointedly and unabashedly towards the bathroom. “There is still some chamomile and mint tea left downstairs. I think it would be most beneficial for you right now. If you don’t care to drink it, there are other ways of getting some into you, you know.”

I don’t know how she kept a straight face. I was hard put not to break out in a silly grin. I mumbled something about better being safe than sorry.

“I quite agree, Mr. Gracier. Why don’t you step inside and make yourself comfortable ? I’ll be right back.”

And she was.

Now if only all my customers were like this.