The Cligasm


As any self-respecting klismophile will tell you, an “Enema Cum” is an extraordinary Physico-Psycho phenomenon. It is several levels of magnitude above the climax or orgasm one can experience during more traditional sex play with a determined and dedicated partner. Of course, combining or bringing together these two elements will manifest itself in what I’ll coin a “Cligasm” or “Super-Cum”.

It’s impossible for me to describe what a woman might feel during a “Cligasm” but consider the following as my attempt to characterize what this anal-erotic enema lover experiences during one of these monumental events. Let’s fast-forward through the preliminaries, foreplay and actual administration of an enema and pick things up at the moments just before the big event. The first sign, for me, is a kind of body ionization. I experience a queasy sort of sugar-overdose-high, like what you might feel after consuming too much frosting from that layer cake or consuming that one-too-many piece of candy. It’s a tingly sensation that tells you that near-future events are going to be out of your control, that they’re going to happen regardless of what you do, that you’re now simply along for the ride and ought to just flow with it, let it happen… enjoy it. My penis becomes the center of the universe and the rest of my body feels like the walls of a huge conical funnel.

There is the sensation of all of the blood in my body, save that needed to sustain life, rapidly moving from my extremities into a single rapid confluence, straight down and into the confines of my very erect, very hard penis. The inflow of this final-stage blood surge forces an immediate incremental expansion and lengthening of my already rock-hard cock. The nuclear warhead is now armed, and all the pre-launch safety systems have been disabled.

A noticeable increase of pre-cum lubricant readies itself for the receiving organ of my partner. I sense the buildup of ejaculatory fluid restrained at the base of my erection, and swelling the staging areas in my prostate and testes. Then begins the first phase of the rhythmic spasm, that will lift the armed missile, slowly but surely, on a pre-programmed flight path to it’s intended destination.

The Spasm’s first half cycle feels like the priming phase of an old-style, country, hand-operated water pump. A slow, automatic rearward movement of my buttocks refocuses attention momentarily to the sphincter muscle and my colonic walls now containing the very warm and high volume enema solution. Although closed down water tight, my sphincter is now at its most relaxed and receptive state. The walls of the entire colonic tract are exerting a uniform pressure on the contained liquid and trying, in vain, to overcome the awesome holding power of that magic, circular muscle at the end of my rectum. This first part of the cycle is the optimal moment for the introduction of a butt plug, or a strap-on, attached to the body of a leather-clad beauty in FMPs. The rearward movement continues until reaching its apex, taking the object deeply inside while maintaining the sphincter’s watertight seal.

A smooth but very rapid transition begins the second half-cycle of this first spasm. My hips move forward and my sphincter tightens down in a kind of death-grip. Because of its shape, a butt plug will quickly slide its base tightly down into the valley between my cheeks, moving its form as far into my body as possible. A strap-on will simply slide rearward as the sphincter tries to expel the long, thick, cylindrical object. I may feel the erect nipples of my partner’s breasts as she moves forward at a measured pace to slow down and resist the rearward movement of her make-believe cock. Her arm may wrap around my side as her hand envelops my penis. She begins a stroking action in perfect synchronization with the moment. The thrusting, forward movement of my penis carries with it, a first-strike quantity of seminal fluid. The feeling of fullness and pressure in the colon is momentarily gone. The colonic walls seem to be gripping the object that’s buried to the hilt in my backside. A blissful, very brief moment of calm then follows, as my body readies itself for the next spasmic cycle. The pressure begins to gently build as my hips move rearward receiving more and more of her strap-on phallus.

The really good news is that this is only the first of a number of spasms that will occur in rapid succession over the next few moments. As she rhythmically takes me though all of them, and senses that the end is near, her final thrust forward changes to a slow, hard, circular grind. Her hands on my hips pull me snugly back to her body as her latex dildo reaches maximum penetration deep in my rectum. She holds me in that position for several minutes, praising my efforts and my submission, and instructing me on the next phase of our play.

As my pounding heart recovers, the urge to rid myself of the high volume enema returns. My partner unsnaps her phallic toy but leaves it buried, deep inside me. She removes her harness and attaches the holding belt around my waist. The converging straps are drawn down in a “v” where they become a single holding strap, designed to keep her detached love toy snugly seated inside me. The strap continues forward, splitting in two just beyond the toy’s base, flanking my scrotum and continuing upward, eventually connecting to the holding belt’s adjustable buckles. A few more moments of rest, and I resign by body to retain and bear the enema’s pressure, until I bring her to her own orgasm.

Her aggression sated, and need temporarily fulfilled; I’m unstrapped and retire slowly to the bathroom. Wonderful relief and a shower later, I can be found filling that big bulging bag… But this one’s for her, and sufficiently recovered, as I now am, the artificial toys will not be needed.