“I say, sir, are you all right?”

The trumpeting ceased and was replaced by a silence into which crept tendrils of a smell so foul that it was almost impossible to imagine that it had emanated from Squadron Leader Bigglesworth. Algy winced - once again Ginger had reverted to type and his blunt Yorkshire nature had shown itself. Surely, by now, he ought to realise that senior officers, like Royalty, were not subject to the same attributes of the flesh as ordinary mortals. Had Ginger been any sort of gentleman, he would have ignored the matter.

Ginger caught the odour and his apprehension increased. Could it be gangrene?

“I say, sir, if you’re ill, you really ought to see the MO. I mean to say, we need you. England needs you!”

Biggles smiled to himself. Trust Ginger to get straight to the point.

“Well, old chap, I haven’t been getting my share of the thunderbox of late. You know how it is - hours sitting in the cockpit, then a quick refuelling and back to fighting the Hun. Never seem to get the chance…”

Ginger felt a surge of sympathy for this leader of men, this tireless warrior, who was prepared to endure any discomfort in his defence of King and Country.

“If you like, sir, I could cut along to the dispensary and get you some number nines.”

“I’m afraid it’s beyond that stage, old chap. I’ve been swallowing bucketfuls of the wretched things and all they have given me is this blasted wind. Damn bad show, especially in the cockpit. Needs drastic action - only the good old botty pipe will sort it out.” (more…)

I was 18  year old boy in 1966 and boy was I naive….

We had a neighbor lady named Jean. She had a husband by the name of Everett that was a nasty foul mouthed hick from the sticks. Growing up all of the kids in the neighborhood hated the guy. My mother and Jean were pretty good friends and Jean would tell mom how nasty Everett was and how he was always treating her like dirt.

In the summer of 66 he was killed driving a truck loaded with blasting powder, I don’t know whether it exploded or not but the kids in the neighborhood were talking that it had. ??????

Jean didn’t drive so my mom would take her places, shopping, paying bills, etc. I enjoyed driving and was willing to drive anybody anywhere. Jean was asking mom to drive her places a lot and since she had other things to do, mom would ask me.

After about two weeks of driving Jean around we got pretty well acquainted. She was 41 at the time and seemed as though she was a lot older. Not now!!!!!!!!!

One evening after taking her to the drug store and bank she ask me if I wanted some ice tea. I said I did and went into the house with her. She made a lot of small talk about a lot of things I don’t remember but she did ask me if I would give her my opinion on something. I said of course. She left the den and went into another part of the house and returned a few minutes later wearing a baby blue short nightie with ruffled panties. They were the bloomer type panties. I was a little shocked to say the least and even with the ice tea right there, had the driest mouth in the world. I could have spit cotton. She ask me if I thought she was pretty and I could say nothing other than un huh! (more…)

D. and I had been playing around with many aspects of Bondage and Discipline and Dominance and submission. I was always Top and liked they way he responded to my command. He also had tried enemas and told me that he liked them a lot. His experience had always been with the 2qt. bag using the vaginal nozzle (since it was longer he preferred it to the rectal nozzle that comes with the drugstore kits. I looked at this as a very, very good sign) Since my experience was personal and professional (Dominate Enema Nurse) I considered myself well practiced and was looking forward to advancing his training.

One night D came to my apartment to pick me up to go out. He thought we would be doing a movie and dinner. This wasn’t what I had in mind. When he came in the door, I was standing in back of it wearing a very sexy one piece red vinyl bodysuit with black stockings and garters and red 5 inch heels (I wanted to make a visual statement) I closed the door behind him and stood in front of it, when he saw how I was dressed, he dropped to his knees and began kissing my legs. (more…)

following is from the book, ‘Without a Stitch’, by a Norwegian, Jens Bjoerneboe. The young girl is being “treated” by a physician, Dr. Peterson, an orgasm specialist (sic!). He has already given her two “treatments.

“Anything I do with you must have a purpose. Basically you’re still embarrassed, and that embarrassment must be eliminated before you can relax and not tie yourself up in knots.”

I suspected that he had something in mind that might not be so much fun as what I’d been hoping for. He thought for a moment, then raised his head and pointed to a door.

“In there,” he said, “is a sort of washroom. There’s an enema kit hanging on the wall. Go in there, fill it up with soapy lukewarm water, and bring it back here full. Then lie down on the table again.”

My face turned red. “No,” I said. “No.”

“If you don’t do as I say, I’ll end the treatment immediately. In that case there’ll be no appointment tomorrow.”

I knew that he meant what he said, but I thought it would be terribly embarrassing to be given an enema. Especially by him.

“Do I have to?”

“Have to what?” he said. He was putting his white coat back on. There I stood, naked and embarrassed, with my cheeks flaming red and my hair hanging down over my forehead.

“Do I have to take an enema?” I asked weakly. I felt such a mess.

“Yes, you do,” he said, “and you’re going out and get it ready yourself.” (more…)

Paul had a raging hard on as he drove home, reliving what had transpired during Thanksgiving dinner. Paul was new in town and had only met a few people. He had no family nearby and was grateful that his friend Mike had graciously invited him to his home to share dinner with him and Linda. He was glad he wasn’t all alone this year.

He had arrived on time, bringing a bottle of champagne for his hosts. The meal had been delicious, but there seemed to be some kind of tension between his two hosts.  They barely looked at each other, and there were several periods of awkward silence. It was after Mike had made a petty little comment about the mashed potatoes being “a bit lumpy”, that Linda had slammed down her fork, stood and excused herself then disappeared into the kitchen.  Mike had smiled sheepishly at him and then also excused himself.

Paul had sat there for a few moments sipping his champagne wondering if maybe he should leave, not wanting to interfere with whatever was going on between these two. His attention was snapped back into focus when he began to hear what seemed to him like flesh being slapped. Paul was a gentleman and just couldn’t stand by while a woman was being abused. He stood and went to the kitchen door. It was open just far enough for him to see exactly what was transpiring inside but not enough for his
presence to be noticed.  His groin stirred as he took in the scene before him. (more…)

We had made arrangements to meet when I was traveling through. We both agreed that no sex would occur, we would honor our commitments to our mates, however we would enjoy an enema session together. There would be no contact of body fluids, we both know we are clean in respect to disease, but this way there would be no reason to worry.

Contact was made and even though we had the entire afternoon, it was agreed upon that we would dispense with preliminaries, and utilize all available time for play. I had rented this motel room and made sure it was a suite that had a sitting area with a couch. I had fantasized of a glass-topped coffee table, but was unable to find one in all the motels in the area. The couch would make a good second choice, I moved it out to the center of the room under the ceiling fixture that would hold the bag.

With an agreed upon time of 1:00 PM, I filled the bag with hot water a few minutes before and hung it from the ceiling. The temperature would be too hot for immediate use, but by the time the preliminary preparations were over, it should be just right. (more…)

I’m a 20 year old Norwegian woman. I want to tell you of the experience that led me to the thrill and enjoyment of being an enema addict.

I remember it so well, my first experience with the pleasure of receiving a hot enema.

I was only eighteen years old, and had just had an accident on the downhill ski slopes. I was not feeling good at all. It had been a few days since the fall and I realized that I had to go see the doctor to have my leg examined. It was swollen and very painful. I called the hospital, and they asked me to come and see him the next morning. I was relieved that he was going to help me take the pain away.

My parents were away at work Since they did not think that the leg was badly injured, they said I could see the doctor by myself.

That morning I went into the bathroom and took a long, hot bath. It felt really good to be laying in the tub, feeling the hot water all over my body. I felt quite relaxed when I stood up from the tub and rubbed myself dry. (more…)

I would love to be picked up for the evening by my enema master…

We would go to a lovely motel with a huge four poster bed (all the better to hank the bag from).  The lighting would be soft
candle-light.

My enema master has obviously been to the room prior, since the candles are already lit when we enter the room.  I see a lovely silk robe laying across the huge bed. I am handed the robe and shown to the bathroom with instructions to strip and return to the bed.  I come out with the silk robe on and my nipples have become erect from the feel of the wonderful silk. 
  
My enema master is standing there in a black leather thong…… (more…)

“Steven! - Steven ! my little munchkin come here to Nanna. Goodness how you have grown. Each year you get taller and look at those big shoulders and those muscles. Steven you are a young man now not the little boy I have been tutoring for the past four years. You are eighteen right Yah ??”

Nanna carried on hugging me and kissing my cheek just like she used to do when I was smaller. She had called me munchkin since I first came to Russia. A sort of endearing loving pet name.

My father was the Russian Ambassador ’s assistant stationed in Leningrad. I had not seen him since last summer when I came to stay for my holidays. I have been doing this every year since my parents split up. Mother didn’t want to come here anyway and reluctantly allowed me to see my father twice a year Summer holidays for a month and Easter break. I was tired of being shuffled around between my mother and father each trying to influence me to stay with one or the other. I loved them both, but I sometimes wondered why. They were both so busy every time I was with them I might just as well have been in school or in another world. I was an only child and went to a private boarding school in Vermont. Visiting with my parents was supposed to be the highlight of my vacation time. It wasn’t. We had been playing this game of tug-of-war for over four years now, and I was eighteen. I would moving out when I got home.

I liked Russia and had made a few friends and that was another thing. I was taught Russian by Nanna my tutor who came to the consulate house for an hour a day three times a week. My Russian was becoming understandable and I was becoming quite fluent in the language, enough so that I could converse with my friends .They would joke with me about the beautiful tutor I had since I first started taking lessons. Nanna was now twenty three years old and very beautiful although I really never saw her that way. She was just my teacher. We had an elderly cook and housekeeper in the consulate building, but it was Nanna who seemed to be more in charge of me, at least when I was thirteen and fourteen. My friends were always teasing me that there was no way I could be taking lessons from such a beauty and not be turned on by her. I was eighteen and what did I know about such things ? A boy’s school is hardly the place to learn about the opposite sex. The closest thing we ever got to sex was in our biology classes, jerking off in the showers or in bed after lights out. (more…)

Valerie was waiting at the other end of the long hall in the white stucco building, not far from downtown Los Angeles. It had been 6 years since I had been given an enema in L.A. Sherema was long gone, and I hadn’t been aware of the L. A. Express on my earlier trips. The ad had read, “GENTLE ENEMAS, Exotic, Erotic Enemas in a fully equipped, very relaxed, private setting by an experienced fantasy nurse with a wild collection of naughty toys.”   So I called, it was a Saturday, and I would be off the convention floor by noon. I could pick up a rental car, have my enema, and then make my trip to Perris to visit the Orange Empire Railroad Museum on Sunday for their fall open house.

Saturday had dawned a miserable, rainy day, and I can’t think of any place that can be as miserable as Los Angeles in the rain. I made my call from a pay phone at the Convention Center, and was told I could come in at one o’clock. I was to call from a pay phone near the “clinic” and I would be given directions from there.

My heart pounded as I made that call, and the girl who answered told me I was within a block of the building, and how to get “buzzed” in. I parked my car nearby, followed her instructions. (more…)

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