Another Midnight Ride

By Dave Russell

Listen, hosefans, and you shall hear

Of the well-greased tube up Paula’s rear.

Paula met Bob, and both married young,

But neither yet knew the joys of the bung.

A honeymoon brief, then a cottage so cute

Where Bob porked Paula, his bride such a beaut.

Once every dawn, at noon and then night

Bob couldn’t believe Paula’s hole was so tight.

Weekends a thrill, a marathon of screwing

Every Friday Paula realized something was brewing.

Bob had his books, his games and his toys –

“Honest,” said Paula, “boys will be boys.”

Then one holiday, she snoozed like a mouse

When Bob unpacked an ancient Penthouse:

Letters to Xavier, oozing with kink

Caught Bob’s eye, and he started to think.

Then Paula awoke, and saw Bob with the mag

Fearing his interest in nookie might someday lag

She asked him “what’s up?” – “and not just your dick.”

Hoping her hubby had one more bedroom trick.

“Oh Paula,” he answered, “a book about screwing:

Where we read what other couples are doing.”

He flipped the page, to a letter from Maine

About a young bride, who developed a pain.

Her doctor suggested she might have a block

She needed to flush, before she could fock.

On his advice, a red bag she soon bought,

Where at drugstore the nozzle and hose she had sought.

The red rubber gear her hubby soon found,

As he greased up his finger and tickled her mound.

“What’s all this?” he asked with a straight face –

“Oh hubby, my dear, my guts are off pace,

I’m all full of poop, and need help to grunt

Before you again taste my sweet cunt.”

A strike-out he feared, and his dick then did sag,

Until she asked, “would you mind holding my enema bag?”

This gentle lass got down on her knees,

Chin on the floor, and ass in the breeze.

The bag he held up, bulging and red

And the tube in her butt so gently he fed.

Open the clamp, let the water flow in

As his face was now spread with a lecherous grin.

The letter went on about the two quarts she took,

Whilst at her moistening twat he got a good look.

“Enough,” she cried out, “I can’t hold any more!”

And her guy had visions of pussy galore.

And old pail he found under the sink,

Which he held near her hole, all rosy and pink.

“Give a big push, my honey so sweet,”

Her man uttered, while stroking his meat.

A squirt, a plop, then a real gush

As the wife spewed forth with a full bowel push.

Out it all came, brown water and poop,

A big load of grunt with her enema goop.

She sighed, she moaned, she spouted,

While hubby’s huge schwantz fully pouted.

One final turd, she finished her expulsion

(I hope these details don’t engender revulsion).

Hubby wiped off her tail, and cornholed her again,

A favorite obsession of most horny men.

He emptied the pail, and she washed off her twat

And a full day of screwing now thickened the plot.

“Well, dear bride, please don’t think I’m a louse

For reading these tales in this ancient Penthouse–

Having heard her long story, “Now what do you think?”

“Oh husband of mine, it’s right under the sink.”

This blushing young bride got down from the bed

And hubby took in what she had just said.

She slipped off her gown, all naked and young

“Perhaps it’s time you flushed out my bung.”

Before you knew it, it was enema time

Now that they’re married, hardly a crime.

He got out the gear, all rubber and red

Knowing what awaited them back in their bed.

Paula was hesitant, not sure of her capacity

So asked Bob – she trusted his veracity.

“One quart or two? – oh I sound like a nag?

Said Bob, “one if by bulb and two if by bag.”

The bag got her vote, he filled it up full

And his swollen pecker received a cute pull.

Paula got hosed out, just like in the letter

She said, “with this enema I never felt better.”

In the tub she did squat, all set to unfurl

The kind of details not found in “The Pearl.”

The enema worked, her brown load shot out

And Bob rubbed his tummy: “now I think it’s my bout.”

So Paula took over, filled up the bag

If Bob were a puppy his tail would now wag.

She filled up his bum with enema lukewarm –

As the kids used to do, down on the farm.

Bob got his enema, and soon emptied his load

And Paula’s clit, my how it had growed!

They showered together, all soapy and wet

Bob now thinking some poontang to get.

They dried off together and fell into bed

And recalled more joys from being just wed.

From this day forth, the enema bag

Hung from the shower like a great flag

And twice weekly now, the neighbors can hear

Bob slide the slick tube up Paula’s rear!