- Nurse Jones 7
- Late Night Visit to the ER
- Nurse Jones 6
- Nurse Kitty
- Nurse Jones 5
- Tabitha, the Naughty Nurse
- Nurse Jones 4
- The Cripple and the Nurse
- Nurse Jones 3
- Rick’s Stroke of Luck
- Anal Sex
- Enema Between Couples
- Enema Humor
- Enema Stories
- Erotic Enema
- Erotic Fantasy
- Female Patient and Female Doctor
- Medical Fantasy
- Medical Story
- Medical Testing
- Nurse Story
- Punishment Enema
- Rectal Thermometer
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- April 2010
- February 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
Even back in my school days I had been known for lugging my camera about and shooting pictures of anyone I could corner. It wasn’t any surprise that most of my effort went into hunting for snapshots of the co-eds, lovely lasses that they all were. After a while I guess it was taken for granted that I wasn’t going to stop, and besides, even if I say so myself, most of the portraits were flattering. Even a blind man could see that I worshipped the fair sex, though I always kept my hands to myself, nerd that I was.
A few decades later I graduated to computers. What wonderful machines for manipulating, categorizing and saving graphics. No more polluting the environment with toxic chemicals from my darkroom anymore. From now on it was all bits and bytes, intangible orderings of electrons and whatnots on floppy disks and CDs. In a way it was very handy for copying things. In about the same time it took to make 5 decent photographic prints, I could now write a CD containing thousands of images.
Of course I cut quite a few CDs for friends of mine, all eager and interested in viewing the many aspects of erotic graphicism, be it of drawings or photos. It was inevitable that their wives viewed the images from time to time as well. If I hadn’t had a reputation before, I certainly had one by now. Looking for some racy photos, some finely executed line drawings of the female nude, other variations of erotic art ? Alex Gracier was the man to see.
Of course some of my friend’s wives might laughingly frown on my mania, but I always tried to steer clear of really objectionable graphics. Now smut as well as beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, so it was hard to gauge everyone’s reactions. Not that I really tried.
Enema graphicism was a point in case. I usually kept those gifs and jpgs to myself, though from time to time I did cut a CD for a friend containing a few directories of nice tasteful drawings and sketches. Even though most folks pretend at first to be astonished seeing images of lads and lasses with tubes and clyster bulbs up the backdoor, they are equally intrigued and fascinated as well. Maybe even turned on. But it can be difficult for them to admit it.
A year or so ago I wrote a nice CD full of classy and revealing images for Steven ,a friend of mine. In his household they keep the PC in the living room so it was inevitable that sooner or later his wife, Marlee would get a peek. A graphic artist of sorts herself, you would think she not be surprised at seeing drawings of naked ladies. I guess she probably wasn’t, not really. Maybe she was just amazed at the sheer number and diversity on that particular CD.
“Alex really has a little collection of naughty drawings and things, doesn’t he ?” she announced once while I was visiting. I think it was a remark meant primarily for her husband. He mumbled something I couldn’t catch.
I looked up at the ceiling and gave a sheepish grin. “They’re just drawings, mostly old stuff and so.” I said as if age in itself conferred veneration. “It’s a hobby like another…”
“Yeah sure….like any other.” Marlee looked me in the eye.
“Oh.. you know….I find these things everywhere, you just have to keep an eye open for them.”
“I bet you do…”
Indeed I did.
After a while Steven left on an errand and Marlee and I were alone. I went into my sincere mode. “I hope you’re not offended or anything Mar…”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh goodness Alex. No, not really. I just wish Steven would spend more time at something else though.” She meant of course instead of fooling around with the computer.
“Well, I can’t really help that. I suppose those drawings can be engrossing.”
She snorted and laughed at the same time. “Yeah. Engrossing ?”
“You know what I mean…ladies are just so damn lovely to look at…”
“Especially with no clothes on, eh Alex ?”
“Sure…especially…” I gave her a big grin.
“But there is lots of funny stuff on that CD you gave Steven. Nurses and doctors sticking things into people’s behinds.” She grimaced and shook her head. “That’s kinky…”
Was it ? I would have thought it fun. I suppose that over the years my tolerance for that sort of behavior had grown. “Well, not really you know. A lot of those things are actually done by doctors.” As if that were an excuse.
“What kind of things ? Those tubes and things ? It’s almost like going to the doctor.”
It was indeed. Actually that was the whole idea. I tried to explain some of the basic tenants of medical eroticism to Marlee, about enemas and clysters, examinations and like things. I stressed the health aspects of colonic cleansings and similar activity. She seemed to understand the general idea but still had reservations. And like most folks in Belgium, she just couldn’t seem to comprehend the idea of enemas for fun. That was a fetish too far so to speak.
Now don’t get me wrong about Mar. She was a lovely lady, just about the closest female to a raving beauty that I knew, though she wasn’t conscious of it and didn’t have to work on it either. Neither was she a prude. Indeed, her idea of a good time on a sunny day was doing some nude family sunbathing, even in her own backyard in the city. The neighbors were allowed a peek I suppose, but not to any extravagant degree. With friends there were no reservations either. Guests were expected to join in and not to leer and drool too pointedly.
“Just as long as Steven doesn’t get any ideas.” Mar said. “I’m not going to let him do anything like that.”
I shrugged, the picture of innocence. Who was I to dictate behavior to my friends ?
“I suppose you’ve got a lot of those things at home ?” Mar asked.
“You know….tubes and squeeze things and nozzles..?”
It looked like Mar had been studying the drawings quite attentively. “Oh that…” I acted like the man of the world I decidedly am not. “Well yes…I do have some of those …things.” I conceded modestly. “You never know when they might come in handy.…” That must have been the understatement of the year. Ha ha.
From then on, whenever we were alone Mar liked to tease me about enemas and related subjects. It was done in a good-natured fashion. I always responded in kind, or at least tried to, though I hinted at a willingness on my part to help her understand certain anal aspects of her nature better. I dropped more than my fair share of hints and allusions, usually wrapping them up in a vague sounding health and fitness philosophy of sorts. She would laugh and josh me, but sometimes I wondered if she wasn’t really serious.
She must have been, though it was for different reasons than I would have thought. One day, while overhearing my wife gossiping on the phone, I realized that Marlee suffered from more or less chronic constipation. That’s one of those things one doesn’t discuss over dinner parties or at picnics of course. This was private ‘women talk’. Also, I am not always the most perceptive of persons, a failing my wife never ceases to remind me of. In this case though, I decided that some of Mar’s remarks about enemas and clysters needed to be looked at in a different light. The doors of perception opened, and yes….even dim-witted me heard opportunity knocking….
It came when I was least expecting it.
One dreary day in autumn, which always comes far too early in this part of the world, I was sitting rather despondently in my shop watching sullen faced people trudge by in the rain, umbrellas flopping very which way from the gusts of wind. I hadn’t had any customers and knew enough not to expect any with this kind of weather. I didn’t know what to do and certainly didn’t feel like getting myself dirty by starting on a new piece of furniture. It was almost too late get anything done anyway.
So I was rather surprised when the bell to my shop went off. Putting on my best smile I went out front expecting to launch into my sales pitch. It wasn’t necessary though. It was Marlee, moisture dripping off her raincoat.
“Well, this is a nice surprise. How are you doing Mar ?” Actually, friends dropped by quite often. Mar however far too seldom for my liking. Now I was really smiling. I gave her a little peck on the cheek. “Come on upstairs. Ghastly weather outside, isn’t it ?”
“That isn’t the word for it. I’m not bothering you or anything, am I ?” She sounded tired. I would be too after battling the elements.
“You’re never a bother Mar. Come on. I’ll make some hot tea.”
“That would be nice.”
We went up to my kitchen. Soon I had a nice pot of fresh tea on the table.
“So, how are things ?” I asked pouring her a cup.
“OK I guess. Boy am I glad you were open. I was beat.” Mar said.
“Yeah, this rain will get you down all the time.”
“I know, and besides I just couldn’t walk much farther.”
“Feet killing you ?” I tried that old line from the movies.
“Oh, if it were only that….”
Looking at her, I noticed she did look kind of down and out. A cold or flu maybe ? “Coming down with something nasty ?”
She made a resigned face. “No…not really. Nothing new in any case…..”
Aha, could it be what I thought ? Maybe listening in on conversations was going to pay off. “Well….anything I can do to help…?”
“I don’t think so…it’s much too embarrassing….”
Now in my experience, people shouldn’t mention anything being ‘too embarrassing’ unless they truly want the other person to ask what it is. Now they may be shy at bringing the subject up or may not know how to proceed, but in truth I think they are really dying to be asked.
I tried not to start smirking and grinning. “Oh, I’m hard to embarrass Mar. The stories my wife tells me about the clinic are enough to ensure that…” I was exaggerating. The real blood-and-guts-all-over-the-place stories my wife came home with were enough to spoil my appetite and turn my stomach. And incidentally ruin my private doctor and nurse fantasies as well.
“Is she home by any chance ?” Mar asked.
Luckily she wasn’t. She’d left an hour ago for the late shift. “No, on night duty, I’m afraid.”
“You know, maybe I can help…I’ve got some medical experience. It rubs off a little….” I tried to sound light hearted.
“Well…I wanted to ask her advice on something….”
“I can try…”
“Well, maybe you could. But I don’t want you to take this wrong or anything…”
“Sure, go ahead. I’m all ears…”
“I want to buy one of those squeeze things at the pharmacy, but I don’t know how to ask for it…” she made a nervous face. “I thought she could tell me…”
“Oh, you want to get a clyster bulb ? That’s no problem. You can get them in pharmacies anywhere.” Also in sex-shops I started to add, but then thought better of it.
“I guess so, but it’s so embarrassing. I don’t know how….”
“Well, if that’s a problem do you want me to go for you ?”
I was being a bit over-confidant actually, since I had never bought any of those things at a local pharmacy. My enema devices usually came from either sex-shops across the border or from mail order catalogues. But I had an image to maintain.
“Well sure, if I can help you out that way…” I hesitated and held up a finger to my mouth, pretending to have a sudden thought. “Unless ah …you want to borrow one of ours…?”
Once again I was exaggerating since my wife never used any irrigation devices. She wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole or be caught dead with an enema tube up the ass. They were all mine, for use in private moments. But I didn’t see the need to elaborate for the moment.
“Oh Alex….I don’t know….”
“Come to think of it, we’ve probably still got a few that haven’t even been unwrapped yet.” This was true (for a change), though they were all from my private stash which I kept secreted away in hide-outs around the house. One clyster syringe for ‘health and hygienic purposes’ my wife could magnanimously stand to have around. A klismaphile’s collection of cornucopia and playthings was something else. Out of sight, out of mind was a motto practiced with a vengeance in our household.
“Why don’t I go and get one for you ?”
“Well…I don’t know. Only if you let me pay for it. I don’t think you’d want it back afterwards.”
Ha. What did she know ? The idea alone. Mar would have been doing me a bigger favor than she could have imagined.
“Silly….just wait here. I’ll go see what we’ve got.” I hurried upstairs and tried to remember where I’d hidden all those nozzles and clysters. There were some in the basement, in my workshop, my computer room, behind books in my library. But an unwrapped device ?
I finally remembered a German model I had bought several of. It was up in the attic and thankfully still wrapped in plastic. I gave it a quick wipe with a damp cloth and took it down to the kitchen where I proudly presented it to Mar.
“Here we are. Compliments of the house madame….ha ha.”
She could see it was still in it’s factory packing and therefore hadn’t been used. Gingerly Mar looked at the illustration on the box. This particular clyster syringe was more of a sex toy than a medical model. There were far too many protuberances on the nozzle for it to be otherwise. Aside from stimulating the anus, they had no medical use whatsoever. It felt great when being inserted but was of no practical value. I wasn’t going to let on though. Let Mar experience that herself.
She raised her eyebrows. “Hmmm…What a funny looking tip. Are you sure this is all right ?”
Of course it was. “Sure. It’s a sort of standard model.”
“I bet. For posing photographs…?”
Well that too. But I bet home-use won out by a mile. “No really. I use one like that a lot. It’s very effective.”
“Well OK I guess. … How do I use it ?” Mar asked while she continued studying the package.
“Hurrumphhh…well…” I cautiously began, “It’s inserted into the…eh…appropriate opening and then you squeeze.”
“I know that….I mean what do you use ? Water ? Warm ? Cold ?”
“Oh, you mean what kind of solution ? Well, what do you want to use it for ?”
“C’mon Alex….you know.”
“Stuffed up ?”
“Been like that for a long time ?”
“Long enough…A few days too many. I’m so tired of it. It feels so awful. I’m willing to try anything.”
I suppose she was if she had come to our house to ask for advice.
“Always have that difficulty ?”
“More or less…” Mar clearly did not like talking too much about her constipation.
“Huh huh…well in that case it would be best to use some soap with warm water. maybe add a bit of glycerin or something ahead of time …”
Mar frowned. “I thought it was simpler than that.”
“Believe me, that is simple.”
“You know Mar, I could help you out with some of the eh…more practical matters.”
“I bet you would !” She was more theatrically indignant than angry. And she was sporting a leering grin, as if she had been expecting me to propose that.
“No, really. What’s the big deal ? We’ve gone sunbathing so often. I can keep my hands to myself if need be….”
“Yeah sure…Mr. Clean hands Alex.” She chuckled.
“Of course. I always wash beforehand….and afterwards….ha ha.”
She snorted and shook her head, as if amazed at my audacity. Actually I was sort of amazed at myself too. Proposing to administer an enema to a lady friend was vaunting in the extreme for me. Even so, it seemed that Mar was almost begging to be talked into it.
We continued for a while until we reached a compromise : I’d help her out but had to promise there would be no hanky-panky. No fiddling around or it would be my goose. And I better not utter a word of this to anybody.
I told Mar to go on up to our bathroom while I hurried downstairs and locked up the shop. It was an hour or so before closing time, but this was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss for all the tea in China. Keeping my own hours was one of the few perks of being self-employed.
I had to keep from racing back up the stairs. Even so I slowed down to catch my breath before taking the last few steps. I wouldn’t want Mar to think I was getting excited or worked up about this.
She was already in the bathroom. Smiling as I entered I saw she had unpacked the clysterbulb and was intently staring at the nozzle. “Doesn’t it hurt when you stick this into yourself ?” she asked me.
“Goodness no. That’s not the idea at all. It’s supposed to feel nice actually.”
“It still looks screwey to me…”
I decided it best not to get into a discussion about personal preferences. A lot of these things had to do with acquired tastes anyway.
“No really Mar. With a bit of lubrication it’s no big deal.”
“Of course. Vaseline or KY jelly.”
“That sounds icky.”
I thought it sounded nice. “You’ll see. Anyway let’s run some water in the sink first. We’ll give the clyster a little wash before we wash you…he he…”
She gave a wry smile back. I admit my sense of humor could be a bit on the earthy side at times, but I tried not to be too coarse.
I added some liquid soap to the water in the sink and dropped in the rubber bulb and nozzle, giving them a preliminary soaping. By the time they were cleaned, a nice little head of soapsuds had built up, giving off a strong flowery fragrance. I took out the pieces, rinsed them off and dried them on a towel.
“Voila, clean as a whistle. Now I’ll just run some fresh water and we’ll be ready to start. OK Mar ?”
As I was about to add several generous dollops of liquid soap to the sink, Mar asked me not to. “Can’t you just do it without anything else ? No soap ?”
“No soap ?” I made a questioning face. “I don’t think it will help you very much.”
“No please. I don’t think that would be a very good idea. Just water. It’s my first time you know.”
Maybe it was, but that was no reason to start off by pussyfooting around. At least not in my opinion. But since all depended upon her acquiescence my opinion counted for but little. I just shrugged and did as she asked. Squeezing out the air from the bulb I dipped the tip into the water in the sink. After a few squirts it was full.
Now for some lubrication. Icky or not it was going to be necessary. I decided to use a bit of Vaseline. Gently I anointed the nozzle with an even coating of jelly, from tip to bottom. It gleamed in the bathroom light, a few drops of water trickling down from the tip.
Ah, what an exquisite sight. I think I savored the pleasures of anticipation more than the actual doing at times. Now was an instance in fact. Everything was ready. All Mar had to do now was lift her dress, pull down her panties (if any) and bare her no doubt cute little bumhole to me. I shivered out of sheer pleasure.
Mar was shivering too, if for different reasons I dare wager.
“Well. I guess we’re ready.” I said holding up the clyster syringe.
Mar gingerly took the bulb from my hand, though I hadn’t actually been planning on giving it her. I thought she wanted to heft it, to get a (favorable) impression of how it felt. But she gave me a look. “I feel funny. Oh well, I’ll call you back when I’m finished I guess…”
Call me back ? Where did she think I was going ? I thought I was going to play a more active role than just filling up a rubber enema bulb. “Uhhh…don’t you want me to help you out a bit here ?” I tentatively suggested.
“Just let me try it myself, OK ? I feel kinda embarrassed.”
I was going to suggest something along the lines of ‘you let me give it to you and I’ll let you do it to me in return’, but somehow I figured that wasn’t the track to take with Mar right now. Feigning understanding I wished her good luck and left her alone in the bathroom.
Hardly a minute later the door opened up and Mar urgently asked me where the toilet was. It was across the hallway and she hurriedly rushed over and closed the door behind her. Discreetly I withdrew into an adjoining room and wondered what had ever gotten into her. She couldn’t have finished so quickly. If so she must have been suffering from diarrhea and not constipation.
A few minutes later the toilet flushed and sheepishly Mar came back to the bathroom. I joined her. “Feeling better now ?” I asked, something which I seriously doubted.
She made a face. “No, not really. It didn’t work Alex.”
“What didn’t work ?”
“The water. It didn’t do anything….”
“Of course not. What did you do exactly anyway ?”
“I squeezed the water into me, what do you think I did ?”
“Just one bulb ?”
She nodded. “That’s right. I squeezed once. Good and hard.”
I put on my Mr. Know-It-All face. “Mar, you have to wait much longer than you did. And you have to use much more water as well.”
“I do ? I thought it was easier than that.”
Didn’t she wish ? “And also, you should really add something to the water as well. Otherwise you’ll never get rid of what’s ailing you.”
“This is no good. I can’t do that.”
Not on her she own couldn’t. “Well, at first you need someone to show you the ropes. Don’t you think I should lend a hand ? Believe me, I’ve done this more times than you can imagine.” I left unsaid that I had done it only with me, myself and I. Better she think me an experienced hand. Which, of course I was in a manner of speaking.
She sighed. She must have been really desperate because she finally consented. “But no funny stuff. I mean it.”
“Sure Mar. You know me. I promise. No funny stuff…” I held up my hand in a mock Boy Scout salute, though I was wondering what her definition of ‘funny stuff’ was. I hoped she didn’t include a greased and glycerined finger up the behind, because that was what she was going to get first off.
“Look, just relax, OK ?” I took the clyster syringe and cleaned it off before re-lubricating the nozzle. The water in the sink was still warm enough so I too a flask of liquid soap and added a few squirts. I mixed it with my hand, bringing a light lather to the surface. This was more like it. Then feeling bold, I added a generous dollop of glycerin. From experience, I knew that the stuff gave an enema that extra zing and really got the colon working. It would take a few minutes for it to take effect though.
I filled up the rubber bulb. “OK. This should work better than just plain water.” I gave Mar a quick smile. “Now, what position are you most comfortable in ?”
“I dunno Alex. I’ve never done this before. Which position is best ?”
A good question. I didn’t have an exam table in the house of course. It’s not a typical household item. I usually took my enemas either standing up or laying down. But a naughty thought occurred to me. “Well, the traditional position for being clystered is over the lap.”
I just made that up on the spur of the moment. Mar made a face and shook her head. “That sounds too babyish. What if I just lay down on my stomach ?”
Hmmm….she had been thinking about this apparently. Ultimately I suppose it didn’t matter much one way or the other. Just as long as her little behind and bumhole were bared and got squirted full of water and soap.
“That’s OK, I suppose.” I motioned to the big fluffy rug we have in the bathroom. Mar knelt down and spread out flat on her tummy, cradling her head in her arms. I got down next to her
“I’m going to have to get at your bottom now…..” Mar still had her dress on and most likely her panties as well. “Is it OK if I …ah…move everything out of the way ?” Such circumspect language coming from me. I felt somewhat silly talking like that myself, but didn’t know how else to proceed. I didn’t want to put her off.
Mar reached back and pulled her dress up. Just as I had expected, she still wore (skimpy) panties. Then, lifting her hips, she pulled her undergarment down around her thighs revealing her cute little fanny.
Now, of course I had seen her sunbathing in the nude several times, but this was a different situation. First off I could stare all I wanted and take my time looking. Secondly there was going to be some kind of touching involved. And also I was quite close to Mar. In fact, close enough to inhale her musky intimate scent. That was an aspect of close bodily relations that was quite often underrated. I inhaled savoring the blend of cleanly washed skin and feminine secretions.
Now it was my turn to start shivering. How I longed to just part those lovely legs and bury my face in her no doubt lovely cunny. But I didn’t want to spoil anything, so I kept my hands, and my thoughts to myself.
“Just for good measure, let me put a little Vaseline on you back here, OK ?”
I think she must have started to retreat into herself somewhat. Mar kept her head cradled in her arms and nodded, almost inaudibly mouthing a ‘Yes’.
I pressed a finger into the Vaseline jar and gently opened up the crack of her buttocks with my other hand. Mar’s quivering little rosebud finally lay revealed. She had a light colored ring of hair surrounding her asshole. Presumably it continued upwards to her pubic region. A bit of a shame that, for I’d always been partial to shaved lower regions. But maybe there would be room for a bit of further hygienic tutoring on some future occasion.
Mar was clearly tense, her bumhole clenching taut and pulsing in and out rather rapidly.
“OK, here we go. Just relax now…” I put my finger up against her lovely anus and began rubbing the Vaseline in. She tightened up but I continued talking softly, urging her to relax and let go, not to push back or pull away. Gradually I felt her easing up so I worked my way deeper into her opening. I rolled my finger around and slowly felt her sphincter slacken and accept my digit. I pushed harder and inserted it up to the knuckles. I twisted around and hooked my finger up inside her rectum, working the lubrication all over. Then I pulled out slowly as Mar lifted her bottom seemingly to try and retain my finger inside of her.
“There we are. That wasn’t so bad, was it ?” I cooed.
Mar breathed a soft and slow ‘Noooooo….”
That had gone so well I was emboldened and tried for a repeat. “Let me put a little bit more on you, OK ?”
She nodded again, eyes still buried in her arms.
The second time she accepted my finger almost eagerly, or so I like to think. In any case, her anal sphincter was more relaxed and accommodating and I pushed my finger easily up into her, pumping a bit for good measure. She seemed to like this so I continued in like manner, my finger twirling around and twisting in her asshole.
Seeing Mar give herself over so seemingly willingly to my little massage, I went a step further. With my free hand I took the bottle of glycerin and poured a small amount above Mar’s bumhole, so that it trickled downwards around my finger. I worked the liquid into her rectum, adding an extra amount of glycerin from the bottle several times. From personal experience, I knew it to be a quite effective substance in provoking a colonic response. I was sure Mar would begin to feel the effect in a short while.
Vaseline and glycerin produced a sticky and slick lubrication when mixed together. I went in and out with my finger slowly in what I hoped to be a soothing rhythm. Meanwhile Mar said nothing, accepting my finger into her fanny hole uncomplainingly if not even willingly. I could discernibly feel her sphincter loosen up and relax. While inserting my finger to the hilt, I tried as much as possible to massage her rectal wall as well. Sometimes a massage of that type was enough to provoke the beginnings of a colonic response.
But much as I would have loved to finger-fuck her bottom for another hour or two, there was a clyster with warm water waiting to be used. Gently I withdrew my finger and wiped it off on a towel. Picking up the syringe I parted her buttocks and slipped the nozzle into Mar’s glistening asshole.
She was so well lubricated and prepared that the multi-bulbed tip penetrated her easily. She gave a little moan as the last of the protuberances slid into her quivering anus. I pushed as deep into her as I could, shoving the main rubber bulb up against Mar’s bumhole. I moved it around on general principle and then squeezed.
Gently I withdrew the nozzle and filled it up again. Whispering softly that I was going to administer several more doses of water, I inserted the bulbous nozzle some 5 or 6 additional times.
In itself the volume of water wasn’t very great, hardly even half a liter if that. But it was Mar’s first enema experience and the water was liberally laced with soap, so I suppose it was normal that she began to feel discomfort rather rapidly. I saw her squirm and wriggle and move around.
“Ohhhh…Alex….no more. I can’t hold it anymore….” She gasped.
That was just a novice’s opinion. I told her she would have to wait a bit longer or else just water would come out, and nothing else.
“How long….?” She was tensing up her buttocks and obviously trying not to leak anything.
“I guess some 15 minutes will be OK for this time.”
“Ohhhh nooo…that’s forever…”
That’s what she thought. When you’re having fun, a quarter of an hour passes by in a blink.
“Shhhh….it’s all right. The urge will taper off in a while. It’s always strongest right at the beginning.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but I saw no need to explain everything in detail right now. Besides, I didn’t think this was going to turn into a multi-hour long session. Talk about cramps and spasms after holding up an enema for an hour ! That was something else.
“Sometimes rubbing the abdomen helps ease the discomfort.” I suggested to Mar. “Want to try it ?”
“OK….uhnnnn..” She lifted her middle but it was difficult to get to her in this position. Besides, she was putting too much strain on her abdominal muscles this way.
“Better turn over on your back…OK ?”
I helped her turn as she grunted and groaned softly to herself. In a way it was a shame she was laying face up, since she kept her legs tightly pressed together. From the effort of holding up her enema and from a sense of modesty as well I supposed. I would have loved to part those lovely thighs and get a good look at her cunny. As it was, all there was to see was a light covering of hair on her mons.
Still it was a delight rubbing her trembling little belly. I pressed gently into her, moving my hand sideways in slow motion. It seemed to help.
“Can you manage better now ?” I asked.
Mar as breathing deeply. She nodded. “Yes…it’s better now. Oh, but it feels so intense. ..”
I smiled to myself. That was the whole idea. “It’s supposed to…..” I confided. “Can you feel anything moving…?”
“Good grief yes…” Just then her belly gave off a loud and audible grumble.
“That’s a good sign. It means the water is starting to works its way upward, loosening your insides.”
A series of cramps must have started, for Mar clenched her hands together and closed her eyes, shivering and shaking. I continued rubbing.
When it passed I told Mar to sit up. It would be easier to ride out the cramps that way. She nodded and I helped her up.
I knelt down in back of her and told her to lean against me. Gratefully she did so, slumping into my arms, her head on my shoulder. Oh how I longed to just close my arms around her and feel her naked body pressed against mine.
As it was, she was still wearing her dress and her panties were down around her legs. It would have been so easy to slip a hand up under her clothes and cop a generous feel of her cute little breasts or give her no doubt juicy labia a good squeeze. Instead I contented myself by leaning forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. I inhaled the scent of her hair and felt the heat coming off her body. Not only was she shivering from the exertion of holding up the enema solution, but she was perspiring profusely as well. It didn’t take much imagination on my part to picture her in a similar state while having wild passionate sex.
Meanwhile I also took care what part of my own libidinous and lecherous body brushed up against hers. To describe my prick as being erect was as gross an understatement as any. I think my organ was literally straining at the leash. It was thick, engorged, pulsing and eager for some kind of further contact. Even when pressed up against my underpants it was a delicious sensation. I doubt that I needed but a few short and vigorous strokes for me to come all over myself.
But gentleman that I am, I refrained. There was also a sneaky little hope that all this might lead to further intimacies after Mar had dealt with her enema. And besides, an enema lover likes to postpone gratification for as long as possible anyway. And what are enema adepts if not true anal retentives ?
So I did nothing more intimate with Mar than whisper meaningless little encouragements into her ears while she was lost in daze of cramping and other anal sensations.
“Alex….I really can’t wait much longer…”
I supposed she was right. “OK, but you should always take one last fresh dose before heading for the commode.” That was something I always did myself, though of course there was no actual medical need to. It was something I just made up. Mar however believed me.
“Just one …?”
“Right, that’s all. Just one.”
“OK, but hurry please….”
I nodded and quickly refilled the clyster. I decided to try for one last peek. “Just lay down on your back. Don’t bother turning over…”
She did as I asked, not aware that she would have to part her legs to allow me access to her asshole, at the same time giving me a good eyeful of her pussy. Lifting her legs slightly, she kicked off her panties and opened herself up. I had to resist from stroking her cunny and wriggling a finger or two up into her. She was quite damp between the legs, though for honesty’s sake I suppose it could have been just perspiration.
As I inserted the nozzle a last time up her anus, Mar hugged her knees to herself. I squeezed the clyster and gently, but regretfully withdrew. Mar however continued to hug herself in this position. “Ohhhh…Alex…it feel better like this…..the cramps are almost gone….”
Well well. I should have known. It was one of my favorite positions as well, though in truth I had thought it a bit too exposed for Mar to assume a first time.
She stayed like this for several minutes, rocking gently. Then she asked if it was all right to get up.
“Sure, come on. Let me help you.”
I got her up on her feet and pointed her to the toilet, a door down the hall. She waggled off and hurriedly closed the door behind her.
It was now time for me to discreetly busy myself with other matters while Mar was no doubt messily and noisily expelling the contents of her bowels. From experience I knew this could take 20 to 30 minutes, depending on circumstances. If Mar had been as stuffed up as she claimed to be, she was going to have a lot of work on her hands. And incidentally, feel much better afterwards as well.
So I started out by washing my hands, after giving them a discreet sniff or two. I hoped to retain some of Mar’s intimate fragrance but all I notice was the odor of Vaseline and glycerin, both lovely scents in and of themselves for sure, but ones I was very familiar with by now.
My hands finished I cleaned up the clysterbulb and bathroom, putting everything back in order. Then I withdrew to my computer room, just another door down the hall and busied myself with various files and graphics to whittle away the time.
Mar meanwhile, was still at it. I could ear plops and splashes from time to time, as well as the more ignominious sound of passing wind. I sometimes thought that the end results of an enema shouldn’t be so messy and gross but I had never come up with an alternative yet. Human bodies being what they are, I doubted if anyone ever would anyway.
And human bodies being what they are, especially male bodies, I wondered what to do about mine. At least about a particular organ of mine. To frig or not to frig ? That was the question. I would have loved to jerk off then and there, while Mar was but a doorway removed, but thought better of it.
Optimistically I imagined further intimacies once she was done shitting her guts out, maybe even a reciprocal enema for me followed by say at the very least a friendly handjob as a token of gratitude ? I would of course be just as willing to tongue Mar to orgasmic bliss as further proof of my gentlemanly upbringing.
Well, my wife always says I live in a fairy tale world.
It was about 30 minutes later that a very tired, but happy looking Mar staggered out of the toilet into the bathroom. I heard running water, sounds of washing and cleaning. Much refreshed Mar emerged afterwards and sheepishly grinned at me, hand held up to her face.
“Feeling better ?” I needlessly asked. “Come on in, sit down.”
She plopped down on a chair, clearly exhausted. “My God Alex. I don’t think I’ve ever shit so much in my entire life.” She giggled. “Sorry…I don’t mean to be rude. But I can’t help it.”
“Don’t worry. What’s in a word ?” I grinned back. “At least I’m glad it worked so well for you. You look much better, really.” I was lying of course. Mar always looked nice and desirable, no matter what the situation. And she had looked so much more alluring with her cunny and asshole bared. But I thought it better not to mention that right now. I figured that my feverish daydreams aside, nothing else of an intimate nature was going to happen today. I suppose that my cup should have been running over as it was.
We talked a bit more about this and that. Before leaving I made us a fresh pot of tea, since I was certain Mar would be quite thirsty after her ordeal. She was very relaxed and after a while regained her composure and strength.
By now it was long dark outside, but thankfully the rain had let up somewhat. Mar told me it was time she got back home.
I stood up. “Well I hope you ..er enjoyed yourself Mar.” I joked.
She laughed back. “Don’t be fresh Alex. I don’t know if it was all so enjoyable. I do feel better and empty now though.”
“Well that’s what counts. Besides, it’s an acquired taste…”
She gave me a look of mock annoyance.
“Well it is. Say, would you like to take the clyster bulb back home with you ? You could practice.”
She thought about it a moment. “I dunno… maybe that’s not such a good idea. I don’t want anyone to find it.”
I could have given her loads of pointers about sneakiness and hiding places. Instead I just shrugged.
“Why don’t you hold on to it for me Alex ? Mar suggested. “I could always come back for another one, couldn’t I ?”
Now that must have rated as one of the All Time Greats in silly questions.
I broke into a silly grin and gave her a big hug. “You certainly can Mar. You most certainly can…..”
No Comments »
No comments yet.