The Therapist

We’d met at the gym and I’d invited her to lunch. The usual bits of personal information had been exchanged. I asked several questions about her work and then she hit me with the bombshell.

“ET - enema therapy - its part of the fitness program. Very popular, you know. Have you ever had an enema, John?” she asked in a teasing tone.

My gut tightened at the repeated the ‘E’ word. I ate some chili, avoiding her question.

She sipped her coffee and then asked again: “Have you, John? Have you ever had an enema?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “it was years ago, and it wasn’t part of any fitness plan.”

Sarah leaned her elbows on the table, no longer teasing, but inviting instead. “Tell me about it,” she said as a lock of golden hair fell forward over her shoulder, emphasizing the fullness of her shirt. My reluctance faded.

“It was in high school. My older sister, Martha, caught me looking at girlie magazines I’d gotten from a friend. She threatened to tell our folks if I didn’t do as she wanted. I was scared, so I agreed.

“I had to let her to give me enemas whenever she wanted. I thought she was just being nasty. One day when she pushed the big nozzle into me and gave me a hot one, I got a hard on and came all over the bathroom. She went nuts. I thought she was having a heart attack. But as I soon found out, she was having an orgasm.”

As I spun out the details I could see, in my mind’s eye, a bulging bag hanging from the shower curtain rod. I was spread-eagled on the floor with the nozzle buried deep inside me. The hose coming down from the bottom of the bag was just barely long enough to reach.

The old feeling of expectation and fear came rushing back. I imagined my naked sister smiling down at me, reaching for the control clamp that was beyond my grasp as I waited for the flick of her finger that would start the rush of both pleasure and pain.

SNAP!

Sharp needles of hot water spouted in my rectum. I choked and groaned as my dick rose up hard off my belly. Martha was kneeling beside me. She pulled my hand between her legs, twitching as she settled on my fist.

The nozzle in my ass was hot. It made my anus pulsate and throb. She gripped my dick and milked it in fast, jerky strokes. The volcano in my rectum kept spouting, pumping heat upward into my body.

“Its coming, its coming, Martha,” I moaned. I pushed my wet and slippery hand as far into her as I could. She sank onto it, rolling back and forth like she was on a rocking horse.

Jets of hot liquid spewed onto my chest. Martha kept rocking and milking, but my dick fell slack and lifeless.

“Its over, Martha. …The water, stop the water,” I begged. But she wasn’t hearing. I got the whole bag and had to hold it until she regained her senses and released my hand.

I opened my eyes. Sarah stared at me, her mouth hanging open. I took a deep breath and went on.

“After that I always got the hot enema and mutual orgasm. I started enjoying the process. Until the day our mother walked in on us.

“Oh, the shouting and yelling that went on. Within days Martha was shipped off to boarding school and, later, to an out-of-state college. I was given all kinds of holy hell and watched like a hawk until I left for the Army. Not a fun time.”

“But that’s great, John,” Sarah whispered after an eternity of silence, reaching across the table toward me.

“I’ve never… I’d like to,” she stammered, wheezing a little, looking into my eyes…..

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