I have no idea why I’m committing this to written form, suffice to say, I feel like doing so.
Some of this is total fantasy and some of this is fact. I have changed the names to
protect… etc. etc. etc.
-Well dude, you certainly have some “non-main-stream” ideas floating around in that perverted mind of yours!
-I disagree. These things may be “non-main-stream”, but I don’t think they’re perverted at all. I understand how I’ve gotten to this stage, and I’m totally comfortable with it all.
-Well, enemas aren’t exactly everyone’s forte. How did you get into them ?
-It started as a game with my sisters; Jan, Marie and Ann. Jan and Marie are actually my step-sisters. Jan and I are the same age; Marie and Ann are a year younger. We were about 7 or 8 years old. Both of our parents worked and as a result we had a lot of unsupervised time at home. Although we all had our respective friends and playmates, the four of us siblings spent a lot of time together as an exclusive group. Jan and Ann were the submissive, follower type while Marie and I were more of the domineering and adventurous persuasion.
One day Marie discovered a small enema bulb syringe on a shelf in the bathroom closet. She thought it would be fun if we had a contest to see who could hold the greatest number of squeezes before having to use the toilet. It sounded like fun to me, and a challenge, so I seconded the motion. Ann was reluctant, but felt like she had no choice (she didn’t). Jan didn’t want to participate but was interested in watching.
I really don’t recall who won (Marie or I) but Ann whimpped out after a single squeeze and Jan bolted from the bathroom in fear of being dragged in against her will. Of course by then, the die was cast. Ann and particularly Jan became the target, to be relentlessly chased, held down and administered the bulb. The fact that they were usually some distance from the bathroom by the time they were caught and would have to hold things in until they could get back to the toilet only made the ‘game’ more fun. Marie and I would administer to each other and experimented with quantity, temperature and solutions. At some point along the way we also discovered that our mother’s longer, curved black douche nozzle could be affixed to the enema bulb. It soon became the standard and preferred attachment.
We were not obsessed with the ‘game’. We did many other ‘normal’ things together, but every week or so Marie and I, sometimes with Ann’s help, could be found restraining a screaming kicking and crying Jan and filling her up. Those remain very fond and happy memories (at least for Marie and I).
-Did you become addicted to enemas at that time?
-I don’t think so, but that would change within a few years. I would become a life long enema fan, but resigned to a mostly secretive and solo existence in the wonderful world of enemas.
Jan and Marie did not live with us all the time. they would alternate school years and vacations between their birth-mother and my adoptive father. We never thought of ourselves as anything other than a real brother and sisters although we were all factually aware of our birth parents and step-parents. There were also younger half-sisters and half-brothers but they were part of a different generation and were never involved, in any way, with the antics of us older siblings.
During our house-play one late summer day, Marie and I decided we were going to get ‘Dressed Up’. Our mother (actually Marie’s step-mother) was several doors down the street, visiting one of the other neighborhood mothers. I don’t recall how Marie was dressed, but I can recall with great detail what I was wearing. The three girls all worked on my ‘costume’ as Marie was already finished with hers. We did me up, makeup and all, then came the clothing. A slip, nylons (they didn’t fit very well) and an absolutely gorgeous red satin dress. The high heels were hard to keep on my feet as we made the short trip down the block to where our mother was visiting. We gained a few other neighborhood kids as we moved our entourage down the street. The mothers must have thought there was a kid riot or something going on as we approached the porch.
The several mothers at the house (including ours) laughed about us, and were praising our work, when all of a sudden my mother recognized the red satin dress as hers. To her credit, she didn’t go ballistic, but made it clear we were to get home, posthaste, and put her dress back where it belonged. We complied, but the damage was done. Those nylons, as loose as they were, felt great with even the slightest movement of my body. And that relatively heavy red satin dress swishing around over the light nylon slip was doing pleasant things to me. We put the dress back and cleaned my face up. After changing, I spent the rest of the day with my buddies doing guy stuff.
My mother actually had three satin dresses tucked away back in her closet, the red one I had worn, a royal blue and another that was dark green. She would never see those dresses again. They became part of my secret wardrobe.
-So, did you want to be a girl?
-No. I was totally content as a boy. I liked Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails. I also happened to like Satin, Silk, Nylon, Taffeta and Chiffon.
-But boys aren’t supposed to like satin, silk and nylon.
-That’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard !
As a man of course, the snips, snails and puppy dog tails have been replaced by whisky, women and song. On the fabric side, I’ve added Leather and Latex. Don’t forget enemas too!
As it happened, Jan, Marie, Ann and I had our bedrooms on the second floor, which was a semi-finished attic. Our parents and the younger kids had their rooms downstairs. I had my own room at the short end of the attic, while the girls had a single large room at the other end. The walls had not yet been paneled but fiberglass insulation had been installed. The result was that I had about a zillion places to hide MY satin dresses and the enema bulb syringe. I also had a special nook for that curved black douche nozzle.
Sometime along the way, during the two years between our initial enema game and our moving into our respective rooms in the attic, I discovered POND’S Cold Cream. Vaseline petroleum jelly was banished to the back of the bathroom closet. If water was considered the world’s most universal solvent, then POND’S should have been the world’s most universal body lubricant. It was slicker than Vaseline, cleaned up easily and had a pleasant, clean aroma. By this time the enema games with the girls had tapered off to a ‘once-in-a-while’ thing. I was regularly ‘falling in love’ with some attractive girl at school or elsewhere, and my sisters were flirting with the boys.
My solo enema play had developed into a routine of prepping myself downstairs using a porcelain enema can and taking several half-cans until I was totally clean. ‘Prepped’, I would retire to my room, don one of MY satin dresses and do air enemas with the bulb syringe. The soft, smooth feel of the satin, slithering over my body, and caressing my hardening penis was a totally consuming experience. I never became a real fan of air enemas… a bulb too much would cause immediate cramping, and I’ve never been into pain. Water was impractical to use upstairs as it would have required eventual use of the bathroom downstairs and the danger of drawing undesirable attention or concern from my parents. On the plus side, my ‘prep’ activities were not always solo. Marie and I would occasionally have a session together. I knew she was aware of the effect the enemas had on me because of my stiffening penis. She was fascinated by the sight of it all, and wanted to know how it felt. In retrospect, it would have been so easy for me to say ‘WONDERFUL’, but I never did.
When it was Marie’s turn, I would coach and praise her as she took her enema on, always trying to coax a little more in than last time. We learned a lot during these all-too-rare sessions and discovered the techniques of adjusting can height, flow rates, water temperatures, positions, volume, retention, and massaging the recipients abdomen to avoid cramps and increase the amount of enema we could take. Not bad, for a couple of pre-teens on the cusp of their sexual awakening.
Several weeks later, I was charged with the duty of cleaning up the basement. It was a disaster area. In addition to the usual stuff one finds in a basement, like old furniture, washing machines and dryers, there was the terminal end of a clothes shut. The floor was strewn with every conceivable sort of garment, mostly female. Having many hours of work ahead of me, I started picking up the clothing and moving it toward the washer area and organizing the laundry into separate piles.
Not long after I started, I came across a black skirt made of some sort of nylon material. I stashed it off on the side next to this old, stuffed, Burgundy velvet barrel chair. I scooted up the stairs and determined that the house was empty. I went to get my bulb syringe and a jar of POND’S Cold Cream. I returned to the basement. I also collected a couple of ruffled half-slips off the floor. They were constructed from a very smooth nylon or acetate material on the waist portion, and a stiffer fluffing material down below. I put the slips and skirt on and my penis immediately became very hard.
I walked over to the laundry tub and filled an empty mason jar with very warm water. I applied a generous dab of Ponds to my anus and also coated the bulb tip. I then went over behind that old barrel chair and bent over it’s back edge, positioning my face down near the cushion, butt high. I slipped the bulb in and squeezed. I was amazed at how good this all felt. The very warm water working it’s way through my system, the soft silky nylon draped across my butt and thighs and the feel of my rock hard penis sandwiched between the slip’s soft material and my abdomen. I enjoyed a few more moments and then raised myself up to replenish the bulb and repeat the process. I continued until the jar was empty. I inserted the curved black nozzle into my anus for the last bulb full. I carefully leaned forward over the chair and began a slow steady squeeze moving the enema deep into my bowels. I was in sensory heaven. I was holding about a one quart enema, my abdomen was only slightly distended and there wasn’t a cramp in sight. My penis was harder than it had ever been before, and the silky feel of the slips and skirt was overpowering.
Keeping the bulb tightly squeezed down to prevent any of the enema from returning into the bulb, I slowly raised myself back up and carefully withdrew the long, curved black nozzle from my behind. I did a little slow hip rotation like we used to use to get a hula hoop going. I was trying to see if I could feel any of the enema slosh or move around. I was starting to feel a little funny, a little lightheaded. I quickly placed the bulb syringe, nozzle down, in the empty mason jar and instinctively bent forward bringing my mid-section to rest on the soft rounded top the barrel chair.
As I was lowering my head toward the cushion I got the shock of my lifetime. I was acutely aware of the feeling of my penis sliding underneath the smooth fabric of the slip. Suddenly my body stiffened and a series of rhythmic spasms began, and took over control of my entire body. It was at once the most incredibly pleasing physical sensation one could imagine, but I didn’t know what it was and as the spasms subsided panic and fear overtook me. Did I break something in my body? Was I going to die? Would I have to go to the hospital? My heart was pounding to beat the band and my legs were shaking. I promised God if I lived through this I’d be good.
After a while I composed myself. I removed the skirt and slips put on my pants and went upstairs to expel my enema, take a shower and get dressed. I decided to leave my basement chore for another day. The rest of the day I spent kicking around with my buddies and the evening practicing dance steps with my sisters and watching TV. I also spent a lot of time thinking about my experience in the basement.
So there we have it! I had my first sexual climax alone, wearing female clothing, and holding a ‘pleasure enema’.
Mainstream? Maybe not, but I think it’s pretty understandable!
I would continue to enjoy these little sessions for a few more years and would eventually have the enema aspect of it discovered by my parents (very embarrassing), but that’s another story. Girlfriends, falling in love and being ‘Cool’ became the new priorities as I entered the raging-hormone years.
More on that later.
Okay, don’t get all excited! The title of this part is a bit deceiving. It is not about a single, post noon, enema session or a foiled bank robbery by a bandit with a douche bag, but rather a story about the transition years from boyhood to teenager and from teenager to young adulthood. It’s a mix of tall tails, truth and trauma… so here we go.
We were never actually caught-in-the-act during the enema games, but one day we went a bit too far with Jan. We had chased her down with the enema squeezer and had her pinned down on one of beds in the attic. Marie had the bulb in her hand and I was holding Jan face down with my torso lying across her back. My hands were free so I used them to part the cheeks of Jan’s reluctant derrière. Jan was crying and mad as hell. She really didn’t like it, but we didn’t really care. The pipe went in and Marie gave the bulb a good squeeze, forcing the cold tap water deep into Jan’s rear end. Ann was assigned the task of bringing the empty bulb downstairs for a refill. When Ann returned, bulb-in-hand, the second squeezer full was administered without ceremony. Jan’s kicking and crying had changed into token resistance and muffled sobs. She was such a whimp! Marie and I switched places as Ann was ordered down the stairs once again for a refill.
On Ann’s return I took the bulb in my right hand and using my left-hand thumb and fingers gently parted Jan’s ass. I think it was at that moment that I realized how truly beautiful a woman’s backside can be. I slipped the enema nozzle into her rosebud and applied a slow steady squeeze depleting the bulb of its contents. This was the last time I would touch Jan’s body in such a personal way… she was changing somehow, and so was I.
We let her up but she didn’t make the expected mad rush to the stairs leading down to the bathroom. The tears were rolling down her cheeks but she was trying to carry herself with as much dignity as she could muster. I remember thinking to myself how long her legs looked, how slender, how smooth, how elegant. I could see a single drop of the cool liquid presently inside her that had somehow escaped her now impenetrable sphincter muscle and trickled halfway down her thigh… and then it stopped… as if it didn’t know where to go. She told us all in a rather low and quivering voice that she was going to tell Dad. Marie and I looked at each other… We knew we were in trouble.
Dad was a member of the Rizzo team, a detective in the city of Brotherly Love, and newly promoted just after the famous Police-Chief-turned-Mayor took office. We had been raised Catholic and attended both public and parochial schools. My only point in mentioning this is that corporal punishment was not foreign to us. We were never beaten or anything like that but we did receive a smack on the ass every once-in-a-while and for more serious transgressions, the belt.
Well, for our transgression vis-a-vis Jan, we got the belt. As usual, Ann caved right in. She balled her eyes out while swearing future obedience and claiming her relative innocence. Marie and I would never cry. We just never wanted to give our parents any satisfaction in the discipline department, and as a result we always got a few more whacks. Were we stupid or what!
The Jan incident was only the beginning of my enema troubles. Several weeks later, to my horror, My father was up in the attic and discovered one of my prized possessions… that beautiful black douche nozzle, the one that I would lovingly slide up my ass for the air enemas. Thank God he never found any of my satin dresses. The nozzle was bad enough. My poor mother and father must have quite beside themselves, worried half-to-death that their oldest son might be gay. They needn’t have worried. Although I didn’t know what one was at the time, I would discover while exploring my feminine side, that if I had any leaning toward homosexuality, it was as a Lesbian. My sisters never knew anything about the douche nozzle incident and I was always grateful to my parents for keeping it under wraps. My sisters did know something was going on because I spent the next 6 months paying regular visits to the kid-shrink. You wouldn’t believe the things I could see on those ink-blot cards.
After a while I think the doctors concluded, quite correctly, it was all just part of a masturbation ritual, and that I was simply an almost-teenager with raging hormones and well on the road to becoming a normal, healthy, anal erotic. No one at home ever discovered my fem-clothing fetish and in the years to come I would have many wonderful sexual experiences while secretly wearing some article of clothing borrowed from a sister, girlfriend or cousin.
On the down side, from that time, I only had four noteworthy enema sessions over as many years and at the age of 17 I was out of school and in the military. Needless to say ya don’t do enemas in the military but there were plenty of other activities to keep me distracted, primarily in the clubs and guesthouses of Germany.
One of the things happening in my life at the time was an association with an organization called Ala-Teen.
It was an anonymous, mutual-support group where teen-agers gathered on a regularly scheduled basis to discuss the experiences and problems affecting them, as a result of someone else’s alcoholism. I only mention this for two reasons: 1) AT created a totally separate social environment from my activities and friends at school. 2) I had a few troubled years that included truancy and juvenile delinquency. By the time I had begun attending AT, with my sisters, I had already run away from home several times.
I think my sisters and I all felt uncomfortable for the first few meetings. After that, however, we soon made friendships and naturally splintered into our own little sub-groups and cliques. A particular group of girls and I would become fast friends. Jenny was a cousin to two sisters, Cathy and Mickey, as well as a third cousin Margo, that I would meet within the year. Jenny was 16 years old; Cathy 15, Mickey and I were both 13. I immediately had a thing for Jenny, but it never developed beyond a certain point. She had an absentee boyfriend the same age as me but she couldn’t see him very often because he lived a substantial distance away.
Jenny was a little taller than I when she wore high heels, but that was fine with me. She was big-boned, big-breasted and shapely without being overweight. She was a very attractive, if not beautiful, girl and had a great personality. Jenny’s cousins, Cathy and Mickey were shorter and rounder… they were very big girls, but what they lacked in the model-shape they more than made up for in other ways. Jenny was always impeccably dressed. She usually wore a dress or blouse and skirt with nylons and FMPs. I loved walking the halls, hand in hand or my arm around her waist, or entering a crowded meeting room with Jenny hanging on my right arm. She might not have been mine exclusively, but I didn’t mind filling in for her geographically distant boyfriend. Besides, I didn’t have any right to squawk as I was in and out of involvements with several girls at school. All three of the girls were interested in Nursing, and I was afforded the opportunity, in the months that followed, to assist them in their quest of knowledge regarding the administration and retention of enemas.
The girls alluded to the subject one evening just before one of the scheduled meetings. They wanted to see if I would be willing to help them the following weekend with “something they wanted to try”. They said they couldn’t tell me much more about it, for one reason or another, until later. They were looking for my time commitment, and although I was frustrated by their seeming inability to explain, I agreed to help. During the social time following the meeting Jenny paid unusually special attention to me. She stuck on my arm like glue, and uncharacteristically cold-shouldered and dismissed the passes cast her way by my competitive male peers. Cathy and Mickey stuck close too. They were all smiles (like Sylvester the cat would look just after consuming Tweetybird). I discovered between that meeting night and the weekend what the “something they wanted to try” was.
A few days later, I was telling my sister Marie about my volunteering to help Jenny and her cousins. Marie then told me that at the previous week’s meeting she had walked into a story-in-progress in the Lady’s Room as Jenny, Cathy and Mickey were all-ears oohs and ahs as my other sister Jan was telling them about the old enema games. Marie said she was embarrassed about it and livid with Jan, but just laughed it off in front of the other girls. The girls said to Jan, that with all the experience that I had with enemas, that I shouldn’t mind helping them learn how to administer them properly to a ‘patient’. Marie didn’t take their comment literally and just let it pass.
I debated with myself half the day about whether or not I should beg out on the coming weekend. I could have killed Jan for telling that story. I wondered what Jenny thought of me after hearing Jan’s tale. Then I thought about how she had treated me so nicely after the meeting, and concluded that Jenny was going to make a great nurse and I was going to help her get there. So, now I knew, but they didn’t know I knew… and with that little nugget of knowledge, I knew I was going to have a good time.
Early Saturday morning I took a series of preparatory enemas and made sure I was squeaky clean before going over to Jenny’s. Jenny lived out near Villanova and it took me over an hour to hitchhike to her home. Cathy and Mickey lived near Jenny and were already there when I arrived. Jenny’s parents had gone to New York for the weekend so the place was totally hers. The girls were in the den listening to the stereo. Mickey asked if I would like a soda and offered to get it for me. Cathy wanted to dance to a slow tune and lead me over to an area relatively free of furniture. I was well-heeled, that is My mother had been a professional dance instructor and had taught me, as well as my sisters the finer points of moving about the floor.
While Cathy and I were dancing I asked what was up. She got a little red and flustered but had a big smile on her face and called out for Jenny, telling her, almost through a laugh, that I wanted to know what was up. Jenny strode back in the room, approached us and politely cut in on Cathy.
As I continued the dance with Jenny I noticed Mickey and Cathy paying very close attention to us. Jenny was cooing and caressing and in a seductively animated voice trying to find a way to tell what they wanted.
Finally, in a voice just above a whisper, she uttered my name and said “…we need a male subject for a nursing exercise, and we were hoping you would help us out.”
I looked straight into her eyes and said emphatically, “Jenny, I’d do anything for you.”
“Anything?” she asked, and I replied once again as to leave no doubt, “Anything!”
“Well… we want to give you an enema.” Jenny, not quite believing she had managed to say it, was now as nervous as I would ever see her. Cathy and Mickey were beside themselves, not knowing how I was going to react. Without breaking step, I extended my left arm to put a little upper body distance between us. In a put on, self-praising voice I simply said “The things that I offer to do in the name of Medical Science…!”. I swung my arm back closing the distance and moving into a dramatic turn and dip until Jenny was near parallel to the floor and held her there as the last drawn-out notes of the ballad faded to black.
The girls were in disbelief, momentarily confused and trying to figure out what to do next. They had probably played out in their minds a bunch of different scenarios based on their anticipation of my reaction. “So,” I said “Are you guys serious or not?” Cathy assured me they were serious and suggested that Jenny keep me company (to make sure I didn’t run away) while she and Mickey went to get things ready. Jenny couldn’t have been nicer to me over the next 15 minutes or so. Well… she could have been nicer, but she wasn’t.
Cathy called, and Jenny started walking in that direction, taking my hand and gently pulling me toward the sound of Cathy’s voice. I put up a gentle resistance to her pull, just enough to let her engage her coaxing skills. Mickey came around the corner and I was shocked to see her in a short-sleeved pure white nurse’s dress. She had the white cap and shoes on too. I broke out in laughter, stopping dead in my tracks. As if on queue, Jenny and Mickey immediately went into character, and in their best professional voices and demeanor assured me that everything would be okay.
As they led me into a large dressing alcove adjacent to the bathroom I could see Cathy through the door, also in a white uniform, with several large fluffy bath towels. I could also see a white porcelain can with amber rubber hosing and could make out a wisp of steamy mist just above the lip of the can. A trickle of suds on the side of the can left little doubt of its contents. Cathy walked into the alcove placing one of the towels momentarily on a leather lounge. She said she had a Johnny gown for me to wear and told me I could change behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. Johnny-clad, I approached the girls, becoming more and more self-conscious with each step.
Cathy had spread out a towel on the headrest back-support portion of the lounge that gently slopped down to the level seat. She motioned me to the head end and instructed me to bend down and lie over the unit so that my torso would slop down, butt high. Cathy was doing most of the talking. She was explaining that I would be receiving a mild cleansing enema that she had prepared very warm so it would be comfortable. She said it would be given to me slowly and that I should not experience any cramping. She did say I would need to take the entire can and would feel very full and have a strong desire to evacuate. She said further, that I would need to retain the enema for a prescribed time, but they would help me with massage if necessary. Mickey volunteered that that if I could concentrate on relaxing, it could be a pleasant experience. Mickey obviously didn’t see my stiffening sex beneath the Johnny because it was definitely, not relaxed. Jenny scooted over on the lounge and offered me her lap as a pillow, which I gladly accepted. She was wearing a smooth brown leather skirt, with a cream colored satin blouse. The smell of her leather skirt and the light sent of her perfume was intoxicating. I couldn’t help but wonder about the marvelous things hidden just below the leather fabric. I was in heaven and we hadn’t even touched the enema can yet.
Mickey retrieved the soapy liquid container from the bathroom and placed it on the stand next to the lounge. Cathy had chosen not to use the disposable latex gloves and was applying a generous dab of KY lubricant directly to her naked right index finger. She placed her left hand across my buttocks cheeks so that she would be able to spread them apart using just her thumb and forefinger when the time arrived. Cathy was explaining everything in great detail as we proceeded. She gently spread my cheeks apart and warned me that the KY would feel cold at first touch. The tip of her finger touching the ring of my sphincter made me contract momentarily. Cathy continued talking and was gently making a grand tour around the circumference of my anal entrance. “I need to lubricate you inside, dear. Just try to relax… this won’t hurt at all.” the tip of her chubby index finger slipped smoothly into me up to the second knuckle. My bottom instinctively clamped down on her finger, holding it in a tight grip.
“Just relax honey, we’re doing fine… just relax.” Jenny had started running her fingers through my hair and said, “Don’t worry baby, she won’t hurt you”. Cathy’s finger moved slowly forward with a very gradual rotation. It felt as though the walls of my rectum were softly gripping the entire length of her finger in an effort to totally envelop the intruding digit. Her finger also felt quite large, totally out of proportion to its actual size. Her finger now totally buried in my bottom did a slow exploratory twist, coating the lining of my rectum with the KY lubricant and searching for the location of my prostate. She found it and lingered for a seeming eternity. This was going to be a great enema!
Cathy, continuing with her dissertation started to describe the next phase of the procedure. “Okay sweetie, this is a Colon tube, and we’re going to move this way up inside. It will make taking your enema much easier because the water will be introduced very deep in your Colon. It will take a while to work it up, so you’re going to have to help me by telling me where you feel it as I move it in, okay?”
I didn’t actually answer Cathy, but I suppose it wouldn’t have made any difference. Mickey picked up the can from the stand and said “I’ll be holding the can… if it feels like it’s going in too fast just let me know and I’ll lower the can and slow it down for you.” Cathy started to move the clear plastic tube into my rectum. “Just relax… that’s right, you’re doing fine. Okay sweetie, I’m going to start a little bit of your enema just to help the tube navigate this first corner.”
I could feel the warm sudsy liquid starting to fill my rectum as the pencil diametered tube navigated the Sigmoid and entered the great hall of my descending colon. Reporting, as best I could, the current location of the tubes tip, Cathy stopped the flow as she continued to work the tube slowly forward toward the corner of the transverse colon. I could feel the tube slither its way slowly to its next waypoint. As the tube came to the sharp turn, I told Cathy I could feel it had stopped moving. Cathy had sensed this and had begun the flow anew, adding enough hydraulic incremental body to the tube to let it slip gracefully into the next large tunnel.
Again, she stopped the flow and worked the tube forever deeper. I could feel it moving left to right, just below my ribs, and gently bend downward into the well of my ascending colon. Jenny’s hand was on the top of my forehead with her fingers combed back into my hairline. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked.
I squeezed her hand, indicating I was all right. Cathy said, “Just relax now… here we go.”
Mickey was now holding the can about 18 inches above me. The flow was comfortable and it seemed like quite a while before the fullness was apparent. The warmth of the solution was radiating and soothing even though the soap was designed to promote peristaltic movement. Mickey had periodically reported the volume of enema left to be consumed in precise, professional, metric units. The 1,000-cc mark was a distant memory, and after having taken 1,500 cc’s I was as full as I had ever been. Cathy said “You’re doing great honey, we’re almost there… You’re such a good patient… Hang in there with me now…”
Jenny kept slowly caressing my head, now nestled so comfortably in her lap. Mickey excitedly announced the 2,000-cc mark and a moment later I heard the slight gurgle and vacuum as air started to enter the amber hose. Cathy clamped the hose and asked me to suck-in a little while she removed the long tube.
As Cathy started to withdraw it, I concentrated on keeping my sphincter contracted to prevent any of the soapy solution from escaping. The tube slid out very smoothly and quickly. Mickey took the equipment and walked away, but not in the direction of the bathroom. Cathy taking a warm damp washcloth in her right hand parted my cheeks once again with her left hand and wiped the excess KY lubricant from my bottom. “Well dear,” she said, “You’ll need to retain this enema for 10 to 15 minutes.”
She was gently rubbing my lower back when Jenny, in a very empathetic voice said, “Honey, if you want to move over on your back, I’ll rub your tummy.” The girls helped me maneuver from my sloped butt high position on the lounge to my feet. The distension of my abdomen was hidden by my very erect penis pushing out the fabric of the flimsy Johnny. I was further embarrassed by the darker colored, pre-cum wet spot that had developed as a result of my excited state. Noticing my embarrassment, Cathy reassured me that my condition was a very normal reaction for a male and that I shouldn’t worry about it.
Gingerly lying back in a reclined position on the lounge, I tried to relax myself into the retention. The soapy enema churning inside started to build toward a cramp. Jenny noticed my discomfort and moved behind me to the head of the lounge. Leaning forward over my head, she moved her arms out toward the bottom of my abdomen and spreading her fingers started to gently but firmly pull backward and upward, as if she were going to move the solution into my chest cavity. Bent forward, as she was, jenny’s large breasts were touching my face and I couldn’t help but envy her future children.
She repeated this maneuver 6 or 7 times until she sensed me easing out of the cramp and back into a relatively more comfortable position. I had several more cramps during the retention, and Jenny would quickly begin her massage routine as soon as I sensed one starting. I had moved my knees up and my feet were now flat on the lounge seat in an attempt to ease the cramp and help my retention efforts. Cathy deciding that the wetness on the head of my penis should be wiped off announced her intention. Cathy’s right hand took hold of the base of my penis and as soon as she touched it, it swelled to final hardness and triggered an irreversible climax. In near panic I cried out “No! No! Oh-No, I’m going to cum.”
Cathy gripped it firmly and the semen spewed out in rhythmic globs as my back arched and lifted my torso. Still in disbelief, I babbled out “No, God No, I can’t believe I’m coming.”
Jenny, through a genuine laugh said, “Don’t be silly sweetie, you’re supposed to!”
I don’t know who was more embarrassed, Cathy or I, but Jenny’s words seamed to make everything okay. Cathy quickly made light of it too, and lifting the Johnny and looking around, in her jovial voice said, “What a mess we’ve made down here!”
“Can I clean you up without a repeat performance?”
“It will only take a minute, I promise, then you can go in and get rid of your FIRST enema.” Cathy began cleaning me up with a newly dampened washcloth, wiping up the whitish sticky fluid from my distended abdomen and now less-than-rigid manhood. Jenny was laughing, but in a sympathetic voice said, “We’ll be right in the den, just call us when you’re through.”
“You can jump in for a quick shower if you like; Cathy left a few fluffy bath towels on the vanity.” As she finished her cleanup, Cathy said, “Pass me your Johnny through the door crack when you go in and I’ll have Mickey put it through the wash.” I shuffled slowly into the bathroom closing the door most of the way. I passed Cathy the cum-covered Johnny and shut the door.
I was grateful for a few minutes of privacy. After my little sexual explosion the desire to expel the 2-liter very warm and soapy enema was overpowering. After all, this was the first time I had taken that much and I had retained it for a good 15 minutes. Lowering myself gently to the toilet seat, I sat for a few moments but nothing happened immediately. Then all hell broke loose! I felt a tremendous release of pressure as a torrent of soapy water gushed from me like the contents of Lake Mead through the Hover dam’s emergency release valves. The tidal waves of enema, cascading over my prostate was a very pleasant feeling, not to mention the relief from all that built up distention. I spent about 15 minutes getting rid of the enema and took a quick shower. I dried myself off with one of the towels and then cracked the door to call the girls for the Johnny. A few minutes passed and the girls came into the alcove together. Jenny said your Johnny isn’t even finished washing yet, but there’s a green kimono of mine on the back of the door you can wear.
I slipped on Jenny’s green satin robe and as I did, started getting all excited again. This was going to be a long day! As I was walking into the alcove, Cathy asked me to grab the other towel still folded on the vanity. Mickey passed by me carrying the enema can, amber hose and colon tube into the bathroom. I handed the towel to Cathy and she started laying it out over the leather lounge’s headrest, as before. Cathy called to Mickey, “Sodium bicarbonate, 46-C, 2,000-cc’s please.”
“Got it!” came Mickey’s reply.
Cathy teased me a little with a condescending “I love your robe… definitely your color.”
Mickey asked, “Can I administer this one?”
Jenny replied, “Sure Mickey, I’ll wait and do our patient’s final rinse enema and Cathy don’t fondle the patient… that’s my Kimono and I don’t want it covered in semen.”
Cathy replied through a laugh, “Scared the hell out of me! I haven’t seen that many real penises yet and I’ve never had one spit at me… until now!” Continuing, but now elevated to a hardy laugh she said, “I just panicked when it happened, and held on for dear life!” My face was colored somewhere between crimson and magenta but we were all laughing very hard and I thought to myself “it’s a good thing I’m not holding right now!”
Jenny got us back on track and motioned me to the head of the leather lounge. “Okay sweetie, scotch down just like before and try to get comfortable.” Jenny put her hands on my hips and guided me into position. As I lowered myself Jenny’s hands moved, one to my back, the other to the back of my upper thigh just below my buttock. It was more of a supportive gesture rather than actual help. Jenny asked Mickey if she wanted to apply the KY lubricant but Mickey said, “Why don’t you do that for me, and I’ll insert the colon tube.”
Patting my behind Jenny said, “Okay with me, but I’d better use the gloves… my nails are a little long and I wouldn’t want to hurt or volunteer.” Directing her next comment to me directly, she asked, “Is that alright with you honey?”
My “Yes mam!” was immediate and unconditional.
Although I thought it was just coincidental at the time, in retrospect I came to believe Jenny’s ritual with the latex gloves was deliberate and purposely drawn out for my fetishly erotic pleasure. She had placed the box containing the gloves very near my head and the mild but distinctively latex-rubber smell was an additional turn-on for me. Jenny took her time putting the gloves on, and did so inches away from my hypnotically focused gaze. The surgically clean smell of the thin latex and the sight of the elastic material hugging and stretched skin tight over Jenny’s long slender fingers were a sensory thrill. To add a little more sonic and visual spice, Jenny finished putting on the gloves with a distinctive snapping sound and then applied the KY jelly slowly over her right index finger, caressing its length form the tip all the way down to its base. Leaving her lubricated right finger in plain sight just inches from my face, I could feel Jenny’s rubber-clad left thumb and fingers starting to part the cheeks of my buttocks. “Okay honey, just relax for me now… take a long deep breath when I tell you to.” “Okay, sweetie?”
My obedient muffled “Yes, Jenny,” followed immediately.
Jenny’s slick finger disappeared from my view and a moment later it seemed as though I could actually feel it approach the ring of my sphincter muscle. Jenny’s digital entry was elegantly slow smooth and deliberate. As her middle knuckle came into contact with my sphincter, Jenny told me to take a slow deep breath. As I did, it felt as though my body wanted to suck her finger all the way in up to the hilt.
“That was very good, sweetie,” said Jenny. I didn’t know if she was simply making a statement about the relative success of the digital entry or directing a little praise for cooperation my way. I decided to take it as praise. My penis was once again rock hard and I let myself relish in the marvelous touch of Jenny’s finger as she slowly twisted it, coating the lining of my rectum with the slick water-soluble lubricant. Jenny took her time and I certainly didn’t want to rush her.
Finally laughing Mickey said, “Come on Jenny, the enema’s going to get cold!” Jenny gave my prostate a nice circular rub and did a slow rotational twirl of her finger as she slowly removed it from my bottom. Cathy took the enema can from Mickey and feeling the radiant heat assured us that the water was still sufficiently hot.
Jenny’s two hands now parted my cheeks leaving an easy target for Mickey’s insertion of the long colon tube. Mickey started snaking the clear plastic tube into me. It was sliding in easily at a slow measured pace under Mickey’s apparently expert touch. It was going so well that after about 14 inches of insertion Mickey said, “This is going in very smoothly, let’s start the flow for him.”
Almost immediately I could feel the very warm soothing liquid as it bathed the walls of my colon. Mickey picked up the pace and before I knew it the entire length of the long tube was in and the tip having reached its destination was delivering the heavenly fluid into my ascending colon. As the enema continued to flow in so easily I could feel, and the girls noticed visually, my sphincter muscle spasm, almost like a gulping reflex, trying to bring even more of tubes length inside. The fullness was building but there wasn’t the slightest indication of impending cramps.
All too soon, Cathy announced the consumption of the 2,000-cc’s and as she raised the can to a higher level the audible swoosh of air entering the hose was heard by all. “Outstanding!” was Jenny’s considered comment. With the clamp now closed, Cathy set the can on the table next to the lounge and suggested that maybe I could take another. Mickey thought it was a good idea to find out how much I could actually take. Anticipating collective approval Cathy went into the bathroom, retrieved a two-quart measuring pitcher and began mixing her magic solution. Jenny was the only one to consider what I might think about the whole thing. She caressed my forehead and gently combed her fingers back into my hairline. In an almost whisper Jenny asked me, “Will you take some more for me, baby?”
I managed a distressed, barely audible “Okay.”
Cathy walked in with the pitcher and poured it into the can. “Okay,” she announced. “This will be slow and we can stop when necessary to let you adjust.” Mickey suggested moving me into a knee chest position, and with all the girls in agreement that the position would be the easiest way for me to take the additional quantity (however much that might be), they had me move to the flat end of the lounge.
Not long after the second flow started the pressure inside me built rapidly and I requested, with great urgency, that the flow be stopped. Whoever was operating the clamp complied and for the next few minutes I tried to accommodate the newly injected enema. When I thought I was ready I mumbled an “Okay!” and the flow continued. A few moments more and I was demanding the flow be stopped.
“Half the can!” Cathy announced. “That’s about 3,000-cc’s, sweetie, I’m proud of you!”
Mickey rested her fingers on both sides of the colon tube, placing two fingertips on either side of my sphincter. In one smooth continuos action she removed the entire length of the tube, withdrew her hand from my bottom and let my cheeks close while my butt was clenched down in an effort to contain the massive enema. Cathy and Mickey both left the room with the enema can (still half full), hose, colon tube, gloves, towels and washcloths. Jenny was going to help me to the bathroom and as she reached up to bring the garment that had been folded back up over my behind to accommodate the tube removal she noticed my very erect throbbing penis.
Jenny in a pseudo-serious voice said “You were very brave, and I’m going to help you… You better NEVER say a word!” and with that Jenny took me in her hand and brought me to one of the most incredible climaxes I’ve ever experienced. Her Kimono was soaked in perspiration and cum and we both realized if I didn’t get to that toilet very soon, that it would be drenched in enema too. Once seated, Jenny wiped the perspiration from my brow with a cool washcloth and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. As she was leaving and closing the bathroom door she paused asking me to pass her the garment.
The water gushed from me for a seeming eternity, stopped and started again, almost immediately and just as forceful. Gradually it slowed to a more-or-less normal evacuation, with the exception that I felt a little wobbly and totally sapped of energy. I felt very mellow too. Finished, I worked my way to the shower and enjoyed the warm water, the fresh sent of the soap and the very fresh memory of my most recent enema. I dried myself off with another fresh fluffy towel. Leaving the bathroom I went behind the dressing screen and put my street cloths back on.
I joined the girls in the den, and while lying on the floor with my head resting in Jenny’s lap listened to the music and the girls conversation. I didn’t say much and eventually dozed off in that wonderful position. After all, I was very tired, and I still needed a rinse.
I awoke a short time later. My head was still in Jenny’s lap and I could hear her voice and feel the sound of its vibration through her body. The girls were in the process of making telephone calls and inviting some of their cousins and some of the other teenagers from the AT group over for an impromptu party that evening. It was only 2:00 in the afternoon and they were setting the party time for seven-ish. Noticing I had awoken, Jenny said, in a cheerful voice, “Welcome back sweetie… You’re invited to a party!” Given the rather short notice afforded everyone, out of the 15 folks they contacted (directly or indirectly) they ended up with 10 commits.
Cathy was concerned about the time. “We’ve gotta get moving!” she announced. “We still have to do our special volunteer’s rinse enema.” “We’ve got to have that can back at the house before my mother notices it’s missing, not to mention Mickey and I have to change and everything.” Jenny thought for a moment and said, “Don’t worry about it.” “You and Mickey can go home now and get whatever you need to do done.” “I’ll take care of our volunteer’s ‘rinse’.” “Just be back by 5:30 to help us clean things up for the party.” Cathy and Mickey looked surprised and Cathy asked, “Are you sure?” Jenny said she was all set, and within a few minutes Cathy and Mickey were packed up and on their way home.
To me, Jenny was an Amazon goddess with the exception that both of her substantial mammillaries were in tact. Although there were only 3 years between us, Jenny at 16 and I at 13, the differences were magnified because… well… just because! I am sure there are those who would look at Jenny as a cradle robber. The fact is that I was the pursuer and, at best, her second choice. Of course, Her first choice was also 13 but, with the exception of vacations and long holidays, an absentee first choice. I was ever present and at her beck and call. Jenny had me wrapped around her little finger and we both knew it. I could deal with playing second string as long as I was playing on Jenny’s team and as long as I got a lot of game time.
I mentioned to Jenny that, like Cathy and Mickey, I would need to go home and change before the party. She laughed and said, “You’re not going anywhere!” “You need a ‘rinse’.” “Cathy or Mickey can throw your stuff in the wash when they get back here” “WE are going upstairs, sweetie.” My heart was pounding a mile a minute! Was Jenny gonna do me? I damn near had a spontaneous emission right on the spot.
She led me by the hand up the stairs, down a long hall and into her bedroom. It looked like something out of one of those ‘Glamorous-Home’ magazines. She had a canopied full-size bed with a very feminine, lush, floral patterned comforter, solid-gold colored satin sheets, numerous pillows of various shapes and sizes, shammed pillows and about a zillion throw pillows. If Jenny ever had her girlfriends over for a slumber party and they decided to have a pillow fight, it would have been like one of the super-powers opening up their nuclear arsenal. Jenny told me to get undressed and throw on another kimono she had on a pole rack near the entrance to her adjacent private bathroom. As I started to kick off my shoes and unbutton my shirt, Jenny walked into her bathroom and a moment later I could hear the sound of the water running in the tub. I continued undressing and when I was finished slipped on Jenny’s deep-red satin robe. I sat down on the edge of the bed and could make out half of Jenny’s vertical form, apparently at the sink doing things. Referring to the décor, I called to her, “Jenny, this is decadent!” She laughed and started walking toward the bed. I could still hear the water running in the tub as Jenny took a seat beside me on the bed. Taking my hand and placing it between both of hers she began to explain, in very vague terms, about the procedure for the ‘rinse’. I attempted to put my arm around her, and give her a passionate kiss, but she pushed me back and holding my hands told me to behave. “Be Good!” “Try this for me… you’ll get your reward!”
Jenny led me by the hand into the bathroom. The tub was half full of water to which Jenny had added bubble bath and by the look of the condensation on the mirror, it was quite warm. Glancing down toward the vanity’s recessed pure-white sink, I could see it had been filled with hot water as well. Jenny had me sit on the fabric covered toilet lid while she continued her preparations. She pulled out a two-quart, open-top, gum-rubber douche bag with white rubber trim. At the end of the long white hose was a curved virgin-white douche pipe that flared out to a softly curved four-sided nozzle with small recessed irrigation holes on the sides. It seemed as though Jenny was following a script. For effect, she handed me the douche nozzle in one hand and the bag in the other and said, “Hold this for me honey, while I mix up your DOUCHE rinse.” I’m sure I blushed beat-red, but remained silent. My sex had gone from semi-rigid when I put on Jenny’s satin kimono, to hardness not much different from a white-ash, Louisville Slugger.
The ‘rinse’ that Jenny had in mind for me was a little bizarre and deliciously kinky. She took out what looked like an 8-oz brown glass jar with a pure white threaded metal lid. It was commercially labeled and looked like an over-the-counter preparation. Jenny said it was her favorite douche powder and that she thought I would enjoy it too. Jenny continued, saying, “I’ve never tried this the way you’re going to take it sweetie, but I might… if you do well with it.” “I want you to really try and hold this for me as long as you can, okay sweetie?”
I nodded my head in silent compliance. I was in an emotional cyclone. Everything sensory, psychological and emotional was whizzing around in my head at warp-speed. Jenny added about two heaping teaspoons of the white powder to the hot water in the stopper’d sink. Upon contact with the water the powder instantly dissolved and the water turned a vibrant kind-of purplish-pink color. What was even more distinctive was the super-fresh flowery sent unlike anything I had smelled before. It immediately permeated the entire room totally masking the bubble bath, scented bar soap in the tray next to me and most of the wonderfully clean, gum-rubber smell of the empty douche bag just inches away from my nose. Taking the narrow, collapsed and folded bag and nozzle from me, Jenny clamped off the hose with the attached clip and started to fill the bag using an 8-oz clear-plastic drinking cup. As she repeatedly poured the special, wonderfully scented liquid into her douche bag, its sides started to bulge out until it was filled to the top of its two-quart capacity. The bag looked 9 months pregnant and soon, so would I.
Jenny lowered the nozzle into the sink and elevating the bag, unclamped the hose’s clip and let the liquid clear the hose of air. She then re-clamped the hose and topped off the bag again, back to the full two-quart capacity. Theatrically looking at the bulging douche bag and then slowly shifting her gaze until she locked-in on my riveted attention. Jenny said, “All of it sweetie, Okay?” “I want you to take the whole bag!” Bag? Hell!!… I thought to myself…for Jenny, I’d take the whole bathtub… and ask for more!
Jenny hung the bag at the plumbing end of the tub with the hook hanging from the shower-on/off control valve protruding from the wall. The bottom of the bag was hanging at the same level as the tub’s spigot. “Okay honey, let’s lubricate you with some of this cold cream.” “Knee Chest, please.” I assumed the desired position and felt Jenny fold back the red satin robe’s hem back over the small of my back. Jenny took a generous dab of the thick, smooth, white cold cream on her naked index finger, gently parted my cheeks with her other hand, and deposited the large dab directly on the tightly closed entrance to my rectum. “We need to work this inside honey, just relax and let me in.” Her voice was soft, sympathetic and hypnotic. I concentrated on relaxing my sphincter and immediately felt Jenny’s beautifully sculptured finger slide effortlessly inside of me to maximum penetration. My penis immediately went up a notch on the Rockwell scale, and that fact didn’t escape Jenny’s notice. “We’ll stop for a minute honey, I don’t want you having an accident just yet.” Jenny held her position, motionless for a while, as my hormone ravaged body adjusted to the feel of her long slender digit. Softy patting my buttocks with her free hand, Jenny asked, “Can we continue now, honey?” I managed a meek “Okay.” Jenny slowly rotated her finger, coating my rectal walls with the super-slick, lightly perfumed cream. Continuing her slow rotation Jenny found my prostrate gland, and gave it a few firm flicks of her fingertip. As Jenny gradually withdrew her finger with a gentle twisting motion she said, “Okay sweets, nozzletime!”
Jenny slid the pure-white curved nozzle slowly into me until reaching the nozzle/hose connection. Then, Jenny said, “I’m going to work this all the way inside you so it won’t slip out… Just relax.” Jenny pulled the nozzle out just a bit and moved it forward again with a little more oomph, overcoming the sphincter’s slight resistance. I could feel the nozzle slide in another inch and a half, coming to rest totally inside my rectum on the other side the muscle’s inner ring. My sphincter was now closed down watertight, save the diameter of the hose. Observing the super-excited state of my manhood, Jenny, once again, called for a time-out while my body adjusted to this latest anal intrusion.
When I had calmed down, below the danger level, Jenny helped me to my feet; slipped off the red kimono I was wearing, and helped me into the hot bubble bath. Once I had adjusted to the temperature of the water and settled down with knees bent and my torso totally submerged, douche nozzle buried inside me and penis reaching for the ceiling, Jenny said, “I think we’re almost ready, honey!” Jenny continued, “Lying in this warm water will make taking your enema much easier.” “As you can see, the bag is hanging very low… which means your enema will flow into you nice and slow… you’ll like it, sweetie!!!” “We can watch your bag empty together, and watch your tummy grow too!” Continuing her tease, Jenny, referring to my very erect sex organ, said, That doesn’t need to grow any more… we’ll leave that alone for now!” Her words faded, replaced by the distinctive click of hose’s clamp as it popped to the full flow position.
Jenny’s special enema formula started to work its way inside me under the gentle gravity feed created by the low hanging bag. After a short time the liquid made its presence known. Internally, it felt much different than just plain water. It was kind of like a mild, mentholated sensation. The scent of the douche was very noticeable and vaguely reminiscent of lilac. Visually, as the pleasure bag continued to flow its contents into me, the water level was somewhat visible through the translucent thickness of the bag’s gum-rubber wall. As my body took on more and more of the fragrant liquid the bulging bag looked less and less ominous.
I think both Jenny and I were amazed at how smoothly the bag shrank and my abdomen distended. It seemed so natural, so soothing, so pleasant, so sexual, so wonderfully full; and at the same time so crazy, so perverted and so wonderfully kinky. As the last of douche formula was drawn into the hose, Jenny clamped the hose and started a small electronic timer she had placed on the vanity. “We’re set for 30 minutes, sweetie!” “Let me know if you feel a cramp coming on, Okay?” All I could manage was a low guttural “ooh Jenny!”
Jenny coached and caressed me for the next half-hour, helping me on several occasions overcome the strong desire to release my enema. She praised my retention, ran her fingers through my hair, massaged my distended abdomen and did everything she could think of to distract me from the desire to rid myself of the retained douche solution. Jenny washed my entire body except for the rigid and erect time bomb between my legs. As the bath water gradually gave up its heat, the enema became increasingly more difficult to hold. Finally the timer sounded the passage of thirty minutes. Jenny helped me to my feet and out of the tub. “Just another few minutes, honey… you’ve been very good.” I went to pull the douche nozzle from my bottom but Jenny stopped me. “I’ll take it out in a minute, sweetie.” “Leave it in place while I dry you off.” Jenny dried me with a big bath towel… all of me except my blood-engorged penis. Jenny sat on the covered toilet lid while I was standing with my backside totally exposed to her with that white rubber hose coming out of my ass. Jenny spread my cheeks slightly and pulled just enough of the douche nozzle out so that she could grip the hose-to-nozzle fitting.
Without saying a word, Jenny pulled on my left hip and as I turned in cooperation with her guiding movement, Jenny placed her hand on the base of my penis and almost put me into full cardiac arrest as she moved her head forward and took me into her mouth. Jenny began moving the douche nozzle in a slow rhythmic tempo fully into then partially out of me. Jenny took me deeply into her mouth and then all the way out, doing a tongue twirl on the head of my penis, then taking me deeply once again. On Jenny’s third full downward thrust my sexual explosion was irreversibly triggered and I cried out, “Oh Jenny, I’m gonna cum!” I started to pull back, but Jenny took both of her hands and pulling on my buttock cheeks drew my body snuggly to her head. I gently cradled Jenny’s head as she took me to my first fellated orgasm. It was so heavenly, so intimate, so special. I would be devoted to her forever. I never thought I would stop coming, but of course I did. Jenny continued for a moment or two after my last spasm and as she finally finished she rose with a big smile on her face. I was totally spent but still pretty rigid. I held Jenny’s face in the palms of my hands and kissed her forehead, cheeks and finally full on the mouth. Jenny was still holding my semi hard penis in her left hand and said, “Okay, honey… time for you to get rid of your enema!” Jenny moved the nozzle all the way in, held it there for a few lingering moments, withdrew it about two inches and moved it back in again. She was fucking me with the narrow white makeshift dildo, but finally let it slide out. I sat on the toilet and Jenny draped the red-satin kimono over my shoulders. “Leave everything where it is, sweetie, and call me when you’re through.” She kissed my forehead and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Instead of the douche solution gushing from me in a massive torrent, it came out as a very smooth but voluminous stream, tapering off until stopped and then, after a few moments, started another voluminous stream. I surmised that this was due to the fact that the douche solution didn’t irritate the lining of my colon and that my sphincter had somewhat relaxed after an exhaustive 30 plus minutes of retention. The pleasant, lilac-reminiscent smell of the douche solution was the only odor to be had and it was very pronounced. I was finished within fifteen minutes and leaving the bathroom, I called for Jenny.
As Jenny walked into the bedroom she suggested that I looked like I needed a nap. “Why don’t you just lie down on my bed for a bit and rest, sweetie?” “I need to clean-up, myself.” I suggested, “Jenny let me help YOU!” She said, somewhat sternly, “I’m spoken for, sweetie… you can put that notion right out of your head!” “But Jenny…” I continued. She cut me off, and said, “I have someone I want you to meet tonight… Margot, she’s my cousin.” “But Jenny, we just…” she cut me off again. We bickered back and forth for another 15 minutes until Jenny literally commanded me to lie down and said, “We’ll talk later!” She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Totally exhausted, I rested my head on a pillow and was dead to the world, almost immediately.
More than an hour had passed, and I awoke to the feeling of my cheeks stretched apart and something sliding and being pushed inside me. Dazed, I looked back over my shoulder to find Jenny inserting something into my rectum. She put her hand on my shoulder, and told me to stay still a moment. As quickly as the insertion, Jenny withdrew revealing a smooth round cardboard tube and said, “There!” “I want you to leave this tampon in until I tell you to remove it later tonight!” “It will adsorb any residual douche solution that might work its way down during the evening!” I could already feel the expansion of the adsorbent swatch as it swelled to conform to the shape of its host cavity. Jenny’s little surprise had me all excited again, but she pushed me away and told me to go back to sleep. The scent of the fragrant douche was very evident and it was on, or in, Jenny. She had the gum-rubber douche bag with the white hose and nozzle neatly folded on the bed. Placing one of her hands on it and the other on my hip she said, “This is YOUR bag now.” “I’ll keep it here for you…” and with a big grin, she continued “…right next to mine!” So be it, I thought to myself. If Jenny only wants me for a diversionary sex toy, a diversionary sex toy I will be.
I slept again, till 5:30 when Cathy and Mickey returned. I went downstairs wearing only the red kimono since Jenny had gathered up my cloths for the wash. Mickey volunteered to do them up. The girls had also bought a couple of hoagies for Jenny and I since they figured we might not have eaten anything since breakfast. I hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours and salivated at the sight of the luscious sandwich.
I was somewhat lethargic, totally mellowed-out and at peace with the world. I am sure this was due to what I’ve come to know as a mild cranial edema resulting from the adsorption of water during enema play; all in all, a very pleasant and lingering feeling of wellbeing. Talk about letting an enema go to your head…!
I basically lounged around while the girls got things cleaned up and ready for the party. Cathy and Mickey debated back and forth about whether I looked better in the green or red kimono. Jenny said, to Cathy and Mickey, she wanted to make sure I would be introduced to Margot, when she arrived. The three of them discussed how they thought I might react or respond to her. They talked about me as though I wasn’t even there.
I didn’t really want to move, but Mickey had finished touching up my freshly washed & dried clothes with an iron. People would start showing up soon, so I knew I had to get dressed. Cathy had even polished my shoes. I scooted into the ‘enema alcove’ just down the hall from the den. I dressed, did my hair and then brushed my teeth with a new toothbrush provided by my private nursing staff.
Folks started showing up about 7:00PM. I new just about everyone either from the AT group or some I had met at one time or another while on a previous visit to Jenny’s or Cathy’s house. My sisters Jan, Marie and Ann had also been invited and arrived about 7:30. Music played, people danced, little clusters of people were all about. Margot and another girl arrived about 9:00. Jenny worked her way around each people-cluster, introducing everyone. Finally, Jenny with Margot in tow walked toward me. Jenny introduced us. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Margot was drop-dead gorgeous! She was a year older than Jenny, slender, casually but elegantly dressed and about my height wearing 2-inch pumps. Jenny bragged about my dancing and told Margot to be sure and check me out before the evening waned. “I’d love to!” Margot said. “You can do that later…” Jenny interrupted, “…come with me upstairs for a minute while I call Bobby.” I didn’t really need to hear that; Bobby was Jenny’s first-stringer. The girls went upstairs, but I did get some quality time with Margot later in the evening.
Margot didn’t come-on to me or anything like that, after all, I was a 13-year-old kid, and she was a 17-year-old young-woman. She was extremely polite, paid mature attention to me, and let me play the role of the big-man-on-campus. During our first slow dance Margot said I smelled very fresh and asked what I was wearing… cologne or whatever. Since I wasn’t wearing anything, I asked why. She said the scent was just like Jenny’s. I said something like I had showered upstairs before the party and it was probably the soap. Margot then said, “Well, its very nice.” We danced half-a-dozen times and she really was impressed with my floor style. I was impressed too… with Margot!
On the ride home with my sisters, I silently reflected on the day. I had been turned-on, toyed-with and ‘tampon’d’. I had been ‘enema’d’ three times by three enthusiastic ladies, had achieved an all-time volume level of three quarts, had been brought to three progressively grander climaxes… and I had met Margot. How good could life possibly get?
To say I was smitten with Margot would be like saying the Pacific is a pond. I’m sure it was the severest case of juvenile-canine amour ever recorded. She was beautiful, she was seventeen and I wanted her. She seemed to like me, and that was all the encouragement I needed. She had been so nice to me. I knew she had really enjoyed our dancing together and she had been so attentive during our conversation on Jenny’s couch. Margot had let me more-or-less dominate her time and attention throughout the entire party, save her trip upstairs with Jenny to call Jenny’s absentee first-stringer. I had managed to extract Margot’s telephone number during our conversation and she even let me kiss her goodnight as the party wound down. Margot was staying at Jenny’s overnight, as was the girlfriend who had accompanied Margot to the party.
My sisters had noticed Margot and I at the party and my behavior left little doubt about my infatuation with Jenny’s knockout cousin. Jan, Marie and Ann were filling my father in on their observations of my latest love interest as he drove us home from the party. I chose to remain silent. It had been an incredible day… one I would never forget and one I could never share except, of course, with Jenny. As I shifted my body in the back seat to find a comfortable position to rest my head, I felt the sensation of the tampon moving inside of my rectum in conformity to my changing positions on the seat. My penis stiffened and my thoughts returned to the afternoon with Jenny and, of course, the evening with Margot. I would need to remember to take the tampon out when we got home.
I slept very hard that night, in more ways than one. I awoke at 10:30 in the morning and although I was ravenously starved, my first priority was to get dressed and get down to a phone booth so I could call Jenny’s and talk with Margot. She was as heavenly on the phone as she was in person and all I knew was that I wanted to be with her. She discouraged me from coming over to Jenny’s, saying that her girlfriend and her were leaving within the hour to visit the campus at the university she would be attending in the fall. Reluctantly, I came to accept the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing Margot that day. I also spoke with Jenny and she told me I might be seeing Margot the following Wednesday night, if I attended the scheduled AT meeting.
I called Margot every day until the meeting and it seamed to me like there was never enough time. There seemed to be so much that I left unsaid. I couldn’t wait to see her again. Wednesday night did finally come and I pushed my mother to get us to the meeting early. Eventually, they arrived. Jenny, Margot, Cathy and Mickey had all come to the meeting together. As soon as I saw them come through the door, I was on them. I took on the role of host, escort and guide and, in my mind, took on a few other roles too. I even introduced Margot to people I had never interacted with before. After all, she was my prize and I wanted everyone to know it.
We had a very good meeting, with lots of interaction and participation. After the meeting we were doing coffee and donuts in the main hall. Margot and I were talking to Cathy and I had my arm around Margot’s waist. Jenny walked over to us and joined our small group. Then the teasing began. Jenny placed the back of her hand on my forehead in a temperature sensing gesture and said that I looked pale. Margot looked surprised until Cathy and Jenny giggled it off as an inside joke. If I had looked pale, I certainly didn’t any longer.
Sadly, I would never see Margot again. I was devastated a few days later when I called her at home and she told me it was best that we didn’t see each other again. She assured me that she really liked me and thanked me for all the attention I had lavished on her. Although I didn’t want to hear it, she reminded me she was 17 and would be off to college in a few weeks. I was totally crushed. Of course, Margot was right. I gave up on women for a while and was soon consumed with football practice and getting ready for the approaching season.
School wouldn’t start for another 2 weeks but organized tryouts and practice always started early. I was of average height and thin build, but not skinny. I didn’t weigh a whole lot, particularly when compared to the tackles and guards, but I could run like hell and was pretty agile. I ended up playing the position I had tried out for - left Halfback on the 8th grade Jr. Varsity team. We won all but one of our games that year and I developed a steady relationship with one of the cheerleaders, an oriental girl, Yvonne. It was great while it lasted. Her father liked me. I was quite knowledgeable when it came to electronics and was always fixing something over at their house. My academic interests were in science and I was taking the college-prep track. I ran the AV group under the supervision of the vice-principle and disk-jockey’d the noontime dancing in the gym, ran the projectors and other AV equipment when needed for classes.
I was popular enough, but I also had a “Bad-Boy” rap, after my several run-aways and a few other transgressions with authority. Shortly after Christmas, I had a big fight with my mother, and took-off from home, this time for almost a month. When I was finally picked up by the State Police, My parents had me confined to the Juvenile Detention Center, downtown. That was the end of my relationship with Yvonne. My parents let me stew for about 8 weeks at the ‘juvie-hall’ and when I finally came home we sort of developed a truce. They gave me my space. I attended school, did my chores, refrained from fighting with my parents and basically stayed out of trouble.
Things were looking better in the spring. Jenny, Cathy and Mickey were glad to see me back at the meetings and it was almost like I had never left. There were a few new faces, one of which I’ll refer to as Big-John. He was 17, stood about six-foot two, wore rather thick glasses and kind of looked like Clark Kent in the old Superman TV series. My sister Jan and he hit it off right away. The following week the meeting gained a brother & sister, Larry at 17 was a little shorter and heavier than I and was an accomplished amateur boxer. His sister Cheryl was 16, a beauty of medium build with ample breasts and jet-black hair. I liked her immediately and we became a “steady” couple within several months. Larry took a liking to my sister Jan, so Larry and John became friendly rivals competing for her attention.
Cheryl was simply, a passionate soul. Her brother, Larry, had access to a car so anytime we wanted to get together; Larry was able to provide the necessary transportation. There was always a “safe house” for us to go to, free of other people or adult supervision. It was absolutely great! Lots of privacy, lots of make-out time, lots of petting, and for Cheryl and I, eventually, pleasure enemas and intercourse.
Cheryl was a true anal-erotic. I loved caressing her perfectly shaped buttocks and she did likewise, to me. Larry liked his privacy and would disappear, with Jan, to another part of the house. While playing with, and kneading, Cheryl’s buttocks and grinding our bodies together, I made the hypothetical comment that I’d love to give her an enema. She laughed and said she got them all the time at home. I questioned her about it, and she said that her mother had been giving her and Larry enemas as far back as she could remember. She said not to bring it up or anything around Larry. Their mother had stopped giving the enemas to Larry at about age 12, but Cheryl was still getting them, 2 or 3 times a week. I asked her it she liked them and she said she found them pleasant if done properly. She asked me if I had ever had one, but I just evaded giving her a direct answer and said, “If you let me give you one, I’ll let you give me one.” Cheryl became excitedly animated and thought it was a great idea. We agreed that we would have to be alone to do it and we didn’t know how we were going to arrange that.
It didn’t take long for the opportunity to present itself. Several weeks later, Larry wanted to take Jan to a concert, and Cheryl and I were supposed to go along with them. Their parents were away and Cheryl convinced Larry that he and Jan should go to the concert alone; that she really wanted to be alone with me for awhile. After Larry and Jan left, Cheryl and I were engaged in another heavy petting session. After a short break in our passionate fondling, Cheryl walked back in the room and after sitting on my lap and putting her arms around my neck, whispered to me “I think I’m ready for my enema.” We migrated to her bedroom and I could see that she had every thing set up. She had laid out a small rubber sheet and had a two-quart, red-rubber, open-top enema bag filled to capacity and had it hanging from a hook that had been attached to a wooden garment pole-stand. The white hose attached to the bag was double length and had been made up from two regular sections of hose and joined with an in-line connector. Cheryl had attached a regular enema tip to the other end of the hose and had the flow clip located several inches up the hose, away from the small nozzle.
Cheryl removed her skirt and blouse but left her panties and bra on. We laid down on the bed and resumed the passionate kissing and fondling we had enjoyed so much in the other room. I asked Cheryl if she was ready and she responded by rolling over, lowering her panties and exposing her backside to me. I retrieved a good dab of Vaseline from the jar on the nightstand and gently parted Cheryl’s bottom, exposing her most private entrance. She had a truly beautiful body. As my fingertip touched her tiny orifice she shivered and contracted, momentarily. I let her adjust to the feel of my finger resting on her rosebud. Once she was comfortable with its presence, I circled her sphincter, coating it with the whitish-yellow petroleum jelly. I pushed my fingertip in very slowly and let her get used to it. As I pushed in further and further Cheryl responded by pushing back to meet my forward movement and helping my finger penetrate ever deeper. Once fully inserted I rotated my finger and ask if she felt okay. She said it was very pleasant, and felt much nicer than when her mother did it. Jokingly, she suggested that I might volunteer to do it for her regularly scheduled sessions. I would have… Gladly! I asked Cheryl if she was ready. She replied, “Oh yes, please”
I slid the small nozzle, slowly and smoothly into Cheryl. I unclasped her bra and then opened the control clip, beginning a slow, leisurely flow of the very warm enema solution. I held the nozzle in place with my right hand as Cheryl rolled back over on her back. We kissed deeply and I fondled her breast with my free hand. As Cheryl took on more and more of the enema, she became more and more intense, more and more passionate. I moved my mouth to her swollen breast, caressing, kissing and gently nibbling on her tender erect nipples. Cheryl rhythmically slithered and twisted her body responding to my touch as well as the pleasure enema that had begun to slowly distend her normally flat tummy. After a short while, I heard the light gurgle of water followed by a little swoosh of air entering the hose as the last of the enema suctioned from the bag, flowing it’s way down the long hose and into Cheryl’s body. I moved my left-hand to the control clip and shut it off. Sliding the small nozzle out of Cheryl’s bottom, I let it fall to the floor. She held my face in the palms of her hands and gave me a passionate kiss. Then Cheryl, still holding my face said, “Oh Thank you, …now it’s your turn!”
I anticipated that Cheryl would go and relieve herself, but she took her time and began pulling my shirt out and unfastening my belt buckle. Cheryl asked, “Why don’t you get undressed while I fill this up for you, baby?” She grabbed the red enema bag and walked briskly to the bathroom. I fully expected to hear the muffled sound of Cheryl riding herself of her enema but instead she left the bathroom door open and I heard the sound of the faucet and water filling the bag. As I removed the last stitch of my clothing Cheryl returned, still gracefully retaining her enema and hanging the freshly filled two-quart bag back on the hook. She removed the small enema tip from the hose and pulled out a curved, white douche nozzle, still in its original, sealed, clear-plastic package. “We’ll have to use this one for you, sweetheart.”
I had lain on my side with my knee slightly bent in preparation for Cheryl. She sat on the edge of the bed, put her hand on my knee and gently pulled upward, rolling me on my back. “I want you to take it like this so we can…” Cheryl moved her luscious lips to mine, “…kiss.” I was already very rigid and my penis was vectored in mid-air at a 45-degree angle back toward my head. Cheryl had already retrieved a generous dab of the Vaseline and as her finger touched and gently penetrated my anal entrance, my sex rose to a vertical 90 degrees.
Cheryl guided the longer and softly fluted nozzle to its destination. She gently coaxed the slightly larger tip past the outer ring of my sphincter. As my body yielded to the nozzle’s penetration, she gently slid the remainder on the longer curved pipe all the way in. My heart was pounding in anticipation.
We were in the thralls of a long, deep, passionate kiss when I realized that my raven beauty had started my enema’s flow. I reveled in the radiant warmth of the steady, even stream and the gentle, but firm softness of Cheryl’s body. I never wanted it to end. The texture, smell and taste of her lipstick, the light body and scent of her long, jet-black hair were absolutely intoxicating. Eventually, I came to feel the near-empty bag’s volume of water now inside me but didn’t have the usual feeling of unbearable fullness. I had taken the two-quarts with relative ease, no doubt, in part, to the wonderful distraction, or rather, attraction of Cheryl. She closed the clamp and ran her hands over my distended abdomen. Leaving the long white nozzle in place Cheryl lowered herself, leaning forward, and once again we kissed at length. Cheryl rose from the bed momentarily and as she returned she straddled my hips and lowered her hands over the head my penis. In one smooth movement she had sheathed my penis as was lowering herself onto my young manhood. I reached for her breasts and fondled them as we began moving in synchronicity.
It was so passionate and yet so deliciously kinky. Just having a relationship with Cheryl would have been great; and here we were… having sex, having each other, holding each other… and holding a gallon of enema between us!
Cheryl shuddered and arched backward digging her nails in the sides of my torso. There was no pain as all of my tactile response had moved somewhere in the center of Cheryl’s heavenly body. I could fell her contract and release around my penis, drawing me ever closer to my own impending orgasm. She sensed it coming on, and we resumed with four intense, deliberate thrusts that triggered the rhythmic spasms that would bring about sexual ecstasy.
We lingered in paradise, sated and full, and held each other for some minutes. Eventually Cheryl rose. She had been retaining her enema for nearly half an hour and the desire for relief was building to a point that demanded action. Cheryl said, “I’m going upstairs… you use the bathroom down here… I love you!” She gave me a very quick kiss, and was gone. I had been holding my enema less than half that time, but with Cheryl no longer in my immediate reach, I needed the bathroom with increasing urgency and wasted no time in moving in that direction.
We would do ‘love-enemas’ again, in the not too distant future. Cheryl still had other treasures for us to discover, “places-to-go”, so-to-speak, and we would go there.
I couldn’t be around Cheryl without also being in a state of sexual arousal. We tried to be reasonable about displays of affection in public, but occasionally Cheryl would let her hand drop from around my waist and ‘discreetly’ give one of my buttock cheeks a gentle squeeze. To be perfectly honest about it, whenever I thought no one was watching, I would do the same thing to her, but I liked to linger. The ‘Cheek Squeeze’ was our private body language, intended to well up the vivid memory of our last ‘Love-Enema’ session. Our time together was a real paradox for me; I wore Cheryl like a badge of honor and loved being in public with her, On the other hand, I wanted privacy and place… to be alone with her in our own little love nest.
During the breaks and social time at the AT meetings I would often stand, leaning back against a wall with a small group of friends. Cheryl, not surprisingly, would be right beside me. One of her body postures I was particularly fond of was when she would situate herself directly in front of me and nuzzle back gently, letting my growing erectile tissue come to rest in the heavenly valley between her cheeks. If it weren’t for the garment fabric between us, we would have been making love. As I tried to maintain a constant facial demeanor, Cheryl would carry on a, usually frivolous, conversation with one or more of the other teens congregated around us.
Jenny always seemed to enjoy the sight of Cheryl and I carrying-on as we did. One evening while Cheryl and I were ‘standing-against-the-wall’, Cheryl was called away for some reason or another and after she walked away from my immediate vicinity, Jenny came over with a big smile on her face and in an almost whisper jokingly asked, “Have I lost you forever?” Our eyes locked, and in the same spirit of the moment, with as much intimate-lust as I could muster, I intoned my reply, “Jenny, you’ll never loose me!” Jenny gave me her own ‘cheek squeeze’ as Cheryl walked back over to us. The three of us stood in a small huddle, made inside small talk and Cheryl soon resumed her previous ‘posture’. Jenny really liked Cheryl a lot, and Cheryl had a lot of admiration and respect for Jenny. They would have made great sisters, and I know that they did, in fact, become the very best of friends.
Cheryl was the only AT associate that I ever let near any of my friends at school. She loved attending our home football games. I was still playing Left HB, but now on the Jr. High’s 9th grade varsity team. I took a lot of abuse on the field whenever they managed to catch up with me, but it was peppered with enough personal glory and victory to make it all worth while. The guys just knew her as my older-girlfriend from a distant township; I took some ribbing about that, as well. Cheryl was a beautiful girl at 16 and endowed with physical attributes that most of my female classmates wouldn’t see for another few years. There were drooling eyes, and I’m sure there was some envy too, on the part of my teammates, but none of them ever tried to seriously hit on her, so I never had to defend her honor, although I would have done so in a heartbeat.
Near Christmas time Jenny had several parties at her house and had invited some of the AT folks to the first. She had a separate party the following night with her regular friends from school and elsewhere. Cheryl and I had been invited to, and attended, both parties. Jenny knew we were politically savvy enough to never mention AT around anyone. That trust did not extend to other members of the AT group. Jenny wanted to keep those worlds very separate, as did Cheryl and I. The AT party had been a ‘not-to-exceed-$10-gift’ affair and everyone had drawn a name beforehand. Cheryl had drawn Cathy, Jenny had drawn Cheryl and I drew Jenny. One of the guys had drawn my name. I had ignored the ‘not-to-exceed’ and had gotten Jenny a bottle of her favorite perfume (Taboo). Cheryl had given Cathy an album cassette of Cathy’s favorite artist. Jenny’s gift had been wrapped for both Cheryl and I together. We opened it and were blown-away. Inside, we found two beautiful his-and-hers, royal-blue, satin robes. Not that we were counting, but Jenny had exceeded her own rule, conservatively, by a factor of 10. Jenny told Cheryl to keep them together for our ‘private-time’.
The following night there was to be no gift exchange. I volunteered to handle the music and we had a great time. Toward the end of the evening, after most of the folks had gone, Cathy went upstairs with Cheryl and I was alone with Jenny near the stereo. She said she had another present for me, and came back from the tree with a box and a wearing a grin. It was light, and when I opened it and pulled back the tissue paper I saw it. It was the red satin kimono I had worn one magic afternoon, so many months ago. She smiled, I smiled… and we kissed. I knew Jenny and I would be friends forever. I would keep this present at home for myself and my memories.
It was mid-winter before Cheryl and I would have her parent’s house to ourselves for the weekend. Her mother and father had left on a gambling junket to Atlantic City early Saturday afternoon, and wouldn’t return until late Sunday Evening. When I arrived, about 4:00 PM, we were over each other like we had been separated for years. We hadn’t; of course, it just felt that way! We had been making out, fondling and petting for over an hour. We decided to take a beverage break and after we had our drinks, we retired to Cheryl’s bedroom. We relaxed on her bed. I was lying on my back and Cheryl was lying on her side, caressing my chest, running her fingers into my hair and occasionally we would kiss. Mostly we talked about the wonderful hours we were about to enjoy together. We never ripped each other’s clothes off, it just happened that at some point in time we realized we were both stark naked, lying on the soft comforter covering Cheryl’s bed. We were just having a leisurely intimate conversation and Cheryl’s hand was resting on my abdomen. My raven beauty in a slightly elevated, inspirational and animated voice asked me, “Sweetie, how would you like a nice, comfy warm, soap and water enema?” Her hand was in motion, and Cheryl was making slow circular caresses on my stomach. My reply was as casual as her question, “That sounds really good, as long as I can return the favor.” Cheryl responded, “I’d like one, but not right away.” She continued, “Mother gave me two enemas before she left this afternoon and I had two more, by myself, before you arrived.” I had prepped myself with a few enemas before coming over to Cheryl’s as well, but I decided not to share that bit of information with her.
Cheryl rose from the bed, “Why don’t you put some nice music on for us, and get us another soda while I prepare your enema?” I picked out a few of my favorite mood-music albums and adjusted the controls. I had just returned from the kitchen with our drinks, placed them on the nightstand and resumed my position on the bed. Cheryl walked back in the room with the bulging red bag, double hosed and tipped with the curved, white douche-nozzle. She was also carrying a large jar of PONDS Cold Cream. I smiled at her and rose to give her a hand. It had been months ago that I had mentioned to her that I liked the smell of PONDS and had heard that it was a better lubricant than Vaseline.
I took the bag from Cheryl and hung it from the hook that had been affixed to the wooden pole-stand. The bag was very warm, very full and looked very inviting. A trickle off suds had oozed over the lip and drizzled slowly down the outside of the bag. Cheryl had placed the jar of cold cream on the nightstand and as she was covering the comforter with the small rubber sheet she had stored under the bed she said, “I hope you don’t mind my using this.” I didn’t mind at all, and I told her so. That rubber sheet had become a sort of ‘magic carpet’… no, I thought again to myself, no, I didn’t mind at all.
Cheryl had me lie on my back, knees bent, feet flat and my legs moderately spread. She took her time. We kissed and she spoke softly telling me how much I was going to enjoy this enema, how warm it was going to feel and how hard I was likely to get. I laughed as I pointed out the undeniable evidence of my already excited state. Cheryl concurred but added with a devilish smile, “We’ll see, you might get even harder than that.” Cheryl took a healthy swatch of the cold cream and spreading my buttocks applied the wonderfully scented pure white PONDS to where it needed to be. Cheryl moved the long, white, narrow douche-pipe with the softly rounded, slightly bulbous, 4-sided nozzle to my portal of enema pleasure. As she coaxed the instrument past the outer and inner rings of my sphincter muscle we kissed again at length and I could feel the enema delivery device sliding slowly but effortlessly to its final resting-place. Cheryl’s gentle nudge on the hose just behind the connector moved it in another inch and a half so that the entire nozzle, connector and all, was buried inside me. We kissed again, and then once again, intently, passionately, soulfully. If there ever was an enema angel, she was in my arms, and about to take me to paradise.
Somewhere during our deep sensual kiss I heard the distinctive click of the flow clamp and knew I would soon feel the comforting warmth of the soap laced liquid begin to fill me. It was heavenly, taking it on, holding it in and holding Cheryl in my arms. Cheryl made gentle circular tummy rubs on my abdomen as my distention became more and more pronounced. Far too soon, the water gurgle and air swoosh told us the bag was totally depleted.
I was harder then when we had started, but we weren’t finished yet. Cheryl rose and I expected her to retrieve a condom from the nightstand drawer. She didn’t. Cheryl straddled me and then spoke, “I want you to be very still and let me do everything, okay?” “Ooh yes, yes.” came my reply. “Okay then, I think I’m ready for a special enema!”
Cheryl turned around so she was straddling me again, but facing my feet. As she parted the cheeks of her buttocks I could see traces of the white cold cream, where she had applied it to herself, probably in the bathroom while she made up my enema. Cheryl lowered herself until the tip of my penis was nuzzled firmly against her rosebud. The next thing I felt was Cheryl taking me in, very slowly, to where I had never been before. We made several safety stops along the way, and it’s a good thing we did, because I was struggling… not with holding the warm soapy enema, but struggling to control the overpowering desire to cum. I was so turned-on I thought I would go stark raving mad. The wonderful warmth of her well lubricated bottom and the snuggly sensation that I felt gripping the entire length of my penis and caressing it’s super-sensitive head was beyond description by written word. My penis was so hard, that I could feel its slight momentary growth and contraction with each beat of my pounding heart. I knew, in reality, that the length of my sexual organ had not changed significantly, but it felt like its tip must have been somewhere near her throat. After what seemed like an eternity, I calmed down to the point I could move slightly without exploding. Cheryl was very excited and as she arched back, supporting herself with her arms, I was able to reach her breast and fondle her. As my tolerance level grew, my movements became more pronounced and Cheryl began to move slowly upward, maybe a third of my penile length, then just as slowly, moved back down to full insertion. We did a slow circular grind, both of us pushing, as to achieve the fullest possible depth of penetration.
Gradually, Cheryl picked up the pace and she would rise until the bottom of my penis’s sensitive head touched her inner sphincter ring. That was followed by a heavenly trip back to maximum depth. We fell into a wonderful rhythm that was only stopped, momentarily, when Cheryl maneuvered us into a new position. Cheryl was in, essentially, a knee-chest position and I was positioned behind her, the enema bag’s hose draped behind me, with the nozzle buried in my bottom, much like I was buried in Cheryl. It was easy for me to reach her pubic eminence, and the hidden little rigid nub that would bring about her sexual bliss. Soon, Cheryl was experiencing an intense orgasm, and I was right behind her. My hand was wet with the sweet honey of her sex, and I could feel her spasms through the involuntary contraction of her sphincter muscle and the walls of her rectum gripping the shaft and head of my engorged phallus. I felt as though my penis was swelling, swelling to an impossible size and then the river of my own sexual fluid was delivered in rhythmic spasms to the only woman on the face of the earth.
Cheryl came to rest on her side and I was glued to her back. My penis was throbbing beat for beat with my heart. I had just started to slowly withdraw, but Cheryl stopped me immediately. She pushed back firmly bringing me back to full penetration. It took a very long time for my penis to relax at all, and the throbbing continued for three or four minutes. It was the next best thing to the monumental event we had just shared. I held my wonder-woman for many minutes, and eventually my penis began to soften a little and move ever so slightly out of her gentle, loving grip. As the head of my penis eventually reached the inner ring of Cheryl’s sphincter I felt her work the muscle gradually sliding me all the way out.
As I held Cheryl, I became increasingly aware of the soapy liquid still sudsing inside me. It was time for me to get rid of it. We got up and Cheryl said she would be upstairs and that and that we could shower together, once I was finished. After about ten minutes in the downstairs bathroom, I was ready to, and anxious to join my lady in the walk-in shower on the second floor. We washed one another, kissed, caressed and carried-on, enjoying the soothing warmth of the water and enjoying each other.
We toweled each other dry and Cheryl had our ‘his-and-hers’ Christmas present from Jenny hanging on a garment rack. We put on the elegant matching robes and went downstairs to cuddle on the couch in the living room. We viewed a little television and Cheryl brewed up some coffee-mocha. Her head was resting on my lap and my stomach kept growling, gurgling and making those squishy sounds. Cheryl laughed and said, “You poor thing… I think you need a two-quart rinse!” I did, but Cheryl needed a soap-and-water enema, as well as a rinse. We would need to take care of all those things… and we did.