Johnny's First Time

John pedaled at high speed, rushing around the neighborhood with ten year old energy, unaware that his nemesis was only an hour or so away.

His fate took the form of two twelve year old girls, Louise and Clare, who were at that moment clad only in their pants, surveying with satisfaction the mound of clothing that they had been trying in every permutation and combination, pirouetting in front of the mirror as they haggled over trades. They had, in fact, not decided to trade anything, but that was not really the point as they practiced dressing attractively for some future boy.

As the excitement subsided, more mundane matters pressed for attention. Clare clasped herself.

“I need to pee.”

She rushed to the bathroom, followed moments later by Louise, also suddenly desperate to empty her bladder. They followed each other on the toilet, gushing streams of urine in the strange camaraderie of pre- teen girls.

Louise displayed her female curiosity, peering at the items on the shelf - there was something curiously satisfying in probing the contents of someone else’s bathroom. She opened the bathroom cabinet, climbing on a stool to reach it, poking around at the expired medicines and the abandoned bath salts.

“Ooh! There’s a poo pipe in here!”

She turned, holding the enema syringe, a new excitement on her face. It was the first time she had ever actually touched one - her own bathroom cabinet had a child proof lock whose key was hidden so thoroughly in mom’s room that it had defeated all of her attempts to find it.

Clare giggled, feeling almost the same interior tickling that she got when mom held it up before dipping it into the sink full of soapy water. There was something about the thing that gave her the strangest feelings, like the ones she was now beginning to experience when a particularly cute boy talked to her.

“It’s not a poo pipe - that’s a baby name. It’s proper name is an enema bulb.”

Louise squeezed it experimentally, listening to the rush of air out of the thin white tube, smelling the curious melange of soap and rubber that issued from it.

“Do you get it very often?”

Her heart was beating more strongly now, her tummy fluttering as she recalled the intimacy of her sessions with mommy whenever she got constipated. The way that they always waited until daddy was out of the way before mom gave her that meaningful look and ushered her into the bathroom, then unlocked the cabinet and stood the rubber bulb on its end, the pipe standing straight up in the air, a mute promise of things to come.

“Well…. How often do you get it?”

“I asked first.”

“Just when I need it. How about you?”

“Same here. Every couple of weeks or so.”

They were both in a state of suppressed excitement by now - had they been older they would have been aware of the state of their nipples, the significance of the ‘sweat’ between their legs, but for the moment they just felt funny and hot. Louise fell naturally into mimicry of her mother.

“Well, young lady, have you been to the toilet today?”

Clare giggled, taking the statement at face value, and shook her head.


Clare shook her head again. Louise looked as stern as a girl could whose heart was threatening to burst through her ribcage.

“Then I think we had better do something about it, don’t you?”

Clare nodded, her eyes fixed on the bulb, her pants quite damp now, her small breasts itching, her entire skin burning.

Louise looked as businesslike as a twelve year old wearing only lace- trimmed white cotton panties with blue flowers could possible look as she turned on the hot water tap, running it directly over a cake of soap. The smell of the soapy water made her feel even more strange, as though the room was becoming larger, more distant. Her hand trembled as she went through the ritual she had often observed, squeezing the bulb, inverting it, squeezing again until it was brim full. She looked around - there was the pot of Vaseline. She removed the top - it was obviously used for one single purpose, judging by the fact that its surface was covered with shallow scrapes exactly the same diameter as the pipe. She added another one, scooping a good sized lump of the translucent grease on to the tip.

“Pants off. Bend over the tub.”

She held her breath as Clare looked surprised, then a bit scared. Was she going to do it? The breath was released in almost a sigh as the other girl stepped out of her panties and bent right down, her hands grounded inside the tub, her butt sticking out ready for her enema. Louise held the bulb in her right hand as she tentatively pulled at Clare’s cheeks, pulling them apart, wedging them apart with her fingers, exposing the tiny brown aperture.

Her nerve almost failed at that point - the tension was so great that she felt almost sick - but Louise just had to continue. She used the tip to spread the grease around, just like her own mother did, then moved her fingers close to the aperture, pulling it apart to expose the pink interior. She placed the tip square on, then pushed experimentally, not sure now much pressure was required. The tip slid home without difficulty, eliciting an ‘Ooooh’ noise from Clare.

Louise squeezed the bulb gently, the liquid streaming in without difficulty, then withdrew the tip.


Clare twisted round, a look of incipient alarm on her face.

“How many are you going to give me?”

“How many does your mom give?”

“Two. Three if I’m really stuffed.”

“I think you need three! Wait while I fill up again.”

More confident now, Louise administered two more squirts from the bulb.

“Hold it in. Let it work. Otherwise we’ll have to start over.”

Clare backed towards the toilet, jumping from foot to foot with the effort of retaining the liquid. Finally she could take it no more, and sat down, sighing with relief as she expelled the contents of her bowels in one huge rush. She dried herself, then pulled her panties back on preparatory to going back to her room. She stopped as Louise slid her own pants down her thighs and then stepped out of them.

“My turn now.”

Clare got her first experience at the non-pointed end of a syringe. She had gained confidence from the fact that Louise had managed so easily - in fact it felt just the same as when mom did it - so it couldn’t be all that difficult.

Wow! Butt holes were sure strange things - like pursed up lips, sucked in at the middle! Clare spread the grease, aimed and pushed, eliciting a squeal from Louise.

“Sorry, was that too fast?”

“It sure was! Take it slow and use lots of grease.”

This time all went smoothly. It was funny how you had to keep the bulb squashed, and the little drop of liquid that stood proud on the greased skin. Clare performed her three substantial injections, watching with amusement as Louise squirmed and grimaced afterwards, struggling to retain the hot, irritating solution.

They replaced the bulb and made their way back to Clare’s room, dressing in the glow of well-being that always followed an enema. Louise looked out of the window.

“There’s John, flying around like crazy again.”

She paused as a thought struck her.

“I wonder if he gets enemas. What do you reckon, Clare?”

“How should I know? You don’t exactly advertise it, do you?”

“All right. I just wonder if he does.”

“Why don’t you just ask him if you’re so curious?”

“Good idea. Come on, Clare.”

John screeched to a halt in one of his spectacular skids as Louise hailed him. He was slightly surprised - he had been friends with the girls for a long time, but they paid him no attention nowadays.

“Hi John.”

“Hi Louise. Hi Clare.”

Louise mustered the full amount of tact that her twelve years admitted.

“Say, John, what does your mom do when you get stuffed up?”

He blinked in surprise at the unexpected question.

“Well, she gives me bran cereal for breakfast. It’s awful stuff - tastes like wet cardboard - but it does the trick.”

“Is that all? Nothing else?”

He wrinkled his brow.

“No. Just lots of bran, then I have to try real hard when I go to the toilet.”

Louise felt a bit disappointed. She had already gotten a bit of a funny feeling just imagining John bending over the tub. Inspiration struck.

“Have you been today?”



John had to think had about that. Yesterday had already diffused into the general pool of things past.

“No. I didn’t go yesterday.”

“Do you want to have to eat lots of bran?” He pulled a face. The stuff was terrible - it made him feel sick having to force a bowl of it down his throat.

“Gee, no. I HATE it.”

“There’s another thing you can take to make you go.”

He gave her a curious look.

“Does it taste as bad as bran?”

Louise and Clare burst out laughing, shaking their heads, pointing at him. He had obviously said something silly. John began to blush - he hated it when people laughed at him. Clare finally recovered her breath.

“It doesn’t taste of anything at all. You don’t EAT it!”

“Aw, c’mon girls, don’t make fun of me.”

“Seriously - you don’t have to swallow anything. Come in and we’ll show you.”

Mystified, John followed them to the bathroom, than gaped as Louise produced the bulb and explained its purpose.

“Geez, I never heard of anything like that. Does it hurt?”

Two faces oozed seriousness and reassurance.

“No way. It feels really nice. Honest.”

John took the bulb in his hands and examined it curiously.

“Oh. It’s a sort of water pistol, is it? A water pistol for bottoms?”

“Exactly right. Do you want to try it?”

John’s first impulse was to decline emphatically, but the syringe intrigued him. We wondered just what it felt like to have something shoved up your asshole. His own anus twitched as he held the bulb and squeezed it. There was a funny sort of empty feeling between his legs, or maybe it was a cold sensation. He wavered.

Louise saw John’s indecision. She hastened to push him in the right direction.

“Come on, John, you’ll like it. And you won’t have to have bowls of cardboard for breakfast. Let me help you with your shorts.”

Confronted with decisive female fingers at his waist, John reverted to being a small boy. Actually, it was a delicious feeling of naughtiness as his shorts and underpants fell to the floor and Louise steadied his arm as he stepped out of them. Up to that point in his life, John’s penis had been a fairly inconsequential appendage, a tube that carried pee, something that let him casually urinate in the nearest bush when the urge took him. Nudity was not a source of embarrassment - the swimming teacher was a lady, and when she wandered into the locker room none of the boys felt the slightest need to even speed up the process of dressing.

This time it was a bit different. There was just him and two girls, and they could both see his willy, and that made his tummy sort of twitch and intensified the naughty feeling. John watched with interest as Louise filled the bulb and greased the tip.

“You need two squirts. I’ll give you one, then Clare will give you the other - it will feel great! Now, just bend over the tub, please.”

John was getting the strangest feelings now. There was something very… intense? about the girls and the room seemed to have gotten very hot. His balls were doing strange things, sort of tingling and pulling upwards, and his willy felt….

Suddenly, his willy stood to attention. That happened sometimes after a bath when the towel caught it, but mom had never commented about it and John had dismissed it as just one more inexplicable thing his body sometimes did. This time was different. The girls were staring at it, their eyes wide with interest, and they had gone real quiet. Suddenly, it was embarrassing in a way that it had never been before in his life. He blushed, and turned round rapidly to conceal it from those fascinated eyes.

“Come on, bend over.”

John obeyed, the strange feelings intensifying. With a slight shock he realized that the feelings were NICE. Nice in a way that no feeling had ever been, sending thrills of pleasure through channels that were opening for the first time. This was WONDERFUL!

He felt the touch of the tube, the wiggling about to grease him up, then it slid inside. John rose on his teas, every muscle rigid as an entirely new level of pleasure opened up. The rigid plastic tube was a red-hot, ice-cold rod of stimulation, his jaws clenched with the effort not to scream with pleasure. Then the water hit him.

Oh Jeez, this was indescribably nice. The jet surged into his small rectum, stimulating every square inch of tissue, sending a new wave of electric thrills through his small body as his brain struggled to comprehend this new experience. He relaxed fractionally as the pipe withdrew, but tensed again as Clare approached his naked butt.

Clare was still not as expert as Louise, and the slight extra speed of insertion hit John like an express train. He clasped the rim of the tub until his biceps ached, he felt the muscles of his butt contract, and a huge force seemed to hit his balls, making his willy jump back and forwards, like it was trying to spit something out. It jerked and spasmed, he grunted and groaned, his leg muscles tightened and loosened as the muscular contractions went on and on.

Louise and Clare stared at each other, wondering just what was going on.

“Are you OK, John?”

A weak voice replied.

“Yes. Wow, you sure were right. That was great. I need to go now.”

The girls could not help looking at his willy, relaxing when they saw it was back to being a little-boy floppy thing. John grunted and pushed to pass the lumps that had been infesting his rectum, sweat standing out on his brow.

The girls called a halt, slightly scared of what had happened, and John departed smiling to himself, to take off on his cycle as though he had several thousand horsepower at his command, whooping and yelling with glee.

Somehow, John realized that what had happened was not something you discussed with your mother - it was one of those things that kids kept to themselves like farting contests and competitions to see who could pee highest up the wall.

In bed that night, the memories were still fresh and intense. John kicked off his pyjama trousers, feeling the strangeness of cool sheets directly contacting his body. His left hand slid behind him, fingers seeking out his hole, gently probing its greased recesses. His other hand seemed to have a mind of its own, fingers wrapping round his stiff willy, moving gently, conjuring up that wonderful feeling again, producing another set of spasms. Something made him stop then, and he pulled his PJ trousers back on, snuggling into sleep, dreaming of his next session with the wonderful rubber bulb.