Last Saturday I was cleaning out my garage when Mike came over and ask if I could help him move a sofa out of his living room and into the den. I said sure as this was a good excuse for me to get out of cleaning the garage.

After we got the sofa moved mike ask if I would like a beer, the offer sounded good so I took him up on it. His wife Betty made sandwiches but Mike didn’t eat anything saying he wasn’t hungry. Betty told mike that she and my wife were going shopping allowing us time to watch the football game.

When the game started we both got pretty hyped up and placed a bet on our favorite team of who was going to win. During a commercial break Mike had to use the bathroom and was gone quite a while. About 15 minutes later Mike came out of the bathroom holding his stomach , his face was flushed, I ask what was wrong. (more…)

I awoke in the hospital and found myself unable to move.  A throbbing pain in my head and a general ache all over my body made my coming of consciousness a relatively miserable experience.  The truck I had been driving had hit a mine and I had been thrown from the vehicle.  I guess I was lucky to be alive, but I sure felt closer to death the more I came out of it.

I started to gingerly explore my surroundings and found the nurses call button, which had been placed near my hand, and pushed the signal.  As I continued to look around my surroundings I could see several I.V. bags hanging over my head as I lay flat on my back.  I had a strange feeling in my penis that was really uncomfortable that was rapidly focusing my attention when the nurse walked in.

She was an young, beautiful woman, about the age of 24, who stood about 5’5″ and had a very well proportioned body.  As she entered the room she welcomed back to the world of the living and went on to explain that the reason I couldn’t move was that I had suffered a back injury and was in traction.  I learned that her name was Sue and she would be one of the nurses caring for me during my recovery.  She quickly reassured me that I would get better and that after a brief period of rehab, I would be up and walking around in no time.  I had also received a nasty knock to the head, which was responsible for my loss of consciousness, but that too would quickly heal.

I squirmed a bit when she asked if I was uncomfortable.  Before I had a chance to fully answer she had pulled down the sheets and pulled up the hospital bed gown I was wearing to over my waist.  She explained that they had inserted a catheter into me and she without hesitation took hold of penis and rearranged it so the tube was pulling so much.  I blushed as she did this, but she only went about her business and gave me a silly little smile. (more…)

I am a 41 year old male that for some time now longed for his mother to again give him an enema like she did some 30 odd years before. You see, Mom had, like so many other people had, changed her feelings about enemas. That to me is sad, for at one time, Mom swore by the healing effects that a good enema would bring about. She swore to me many a time that if I kept all that sludge from building up, that I’d never be sick a day in my life. But now that had changed. She didn’t even own an enema bag anymore.

She told me once, about 20 or so years earlier, right after I married, that her new doctor had convinced her that enemas were not needed except in special circumstances. She went on to say that the good doctor had said that Epsom salts or prunes would do the trick and in extreme circumstances, she might try Milk-of-Magnesia. Mom bought that line – hook, line, and sinker. She was so convinced that she threw the old, faithful enema bag away. (more…)

I was puttering around in the flower bed out front, when I heard a voice behind me.

   “Hi, can you give me some gardening advice?”

   It was Michelle Higgins, my neighbor from a few doors down the court. We’d talked a bit here and there since she moved in.  She was in her late twenties, divorced, with a little girl.  l turned around and looked, enjoying the view. She was about shoulder height on me, slender, with long, reddish blonde hair. As usual when she was gardening or washing the car, she had on a rather skimpy bikini top and a pair of shorts. These showed off a nice, rounded pair of breasts and a truly gorgeous bottom to advantage. This particular outfit was working even better than usual. The cups of the top were perfectly designed to afford glimpses down within, and her shorts were cut high enough to reveal the lower curves of her buns. They were also tight enough that I could discern a faint outline of a mound in front.

   I smiled my most neighborly smile. “Of course”, I said, “Not that I’m any kind of expert, but if it’s something I can figure out…”

    She got a slightly disgusted look on her face, and said, “It’s bagworms. I’ve got this huge mess on my laurel bush, and I can’t stand going in there.”

   “Never fear, Ma’am,” I replied in my best Lone Ranger imitation. “I’ve got jest the thing fer them pesky critters.”  Michelle giggled a bit. In a more normal tone, I went on, “Actually, the best thing for those little suckers is something like alcohol or acetone – dissolves those sticky silk bags, too.”

   Michelle watched as I popped the trunk on my car, and opened the first-aid kit. I got out a pair of exam gloves – bagworms are really disgusting – and a big bottle of alcohol. I saw her eyeing the contents of the box, and said “Since I spend at least a week in a tent every year, plus shorter trips, I’ve kind of got a whole medicine chest in here”, pointing to the thermometers, allergy pills, and other such items in among the Ace bandage, finger splint, etcetera.

   She noticed the rectal thermometer. “Hm, I haven’t seen one of those thermometers in years.” (more…)

Angela and I had dated for three years. I was eighteen, she was a year younger. We had been intimate for the last two years and she had made no secret of it. Her mother and sisters both knew of it. Once we became engaged they both seemed to accept things, and me, as they were.

It was a rainy and chilly November Saturday night that Angela and I had a date to go to a country music concert that she had been looking forward to for weeks. I arrived early at her house for supper and then we were to leave at seven to make the eight o’clock concert. Angela’s mom had prepared burgers with mushrooms and onions – one of my favorites. Somehow, however, I didn’t have an appetite. I hadn’t felt real good all day. Her mom noticed.

“Something wrong with my cooking, Roger?” she asked. “No, ma’am. I just don’t have an appetite tonight. Been feeling a bit queezy all day.” I answered.

“Hmm, when did you have your last bowel movement?” she asked. I told her that I hadn’t had one in a couple of days. “Well then, you’re constipated – that’s the problem.” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Do we have any laxative, mom?” Angela asked. (more…)

Cruises had never appealed to me, so I had managed to put off taking my wife on one until our tenth anniversary.  Then I broke
down and did the required romantic thing and took her on a one-week Caribbean junket on the best ship I could afford.  I had
made a point to lose a few extra pounds, even though I usually kept myself in good shape.  I had heard about the round-the-clock
feasting on board and I was ready for it. About the third day out, however, I started to get some bad stomach cramps, which I
ignored, assuming it was simply payback for the constant overeating.  I took a laxative and went to bed.  The next morning, although I emptied myself rather thoroughly, I was feeling a lot worse.  I finally dragged myself to the ship’s doctor.

Dr. Landau was a young man, apparently just finished with his internship, who had decided to opt for the easy life of a ships
doctor rather than pursue any specialty or set up in private practice.  He made a comfortable living, got to travel a lot and was able to meet and socialize with a constant stream of passengers.  When I got to his office, I was pretty uncomfortable, so he wasted no time.  He led me to the exam room, and waited right there while I undressed and he helped me onto the table.  Being this was a ship where space is precious, the exam room was an all-purpose facility, small but well equipped. (more…)

My first enema experience may not seem very exciting to you but I’m convinced that it was one of the most healthful, rejuvenating and exciting experiences I have every encountered. In fact (even though it happened many years ago) I can recall it as if it were only yesterday.

I was employed by a nationwide organization and had been experiencing severe constipation for several days. Finally when I could no longer stand the sharp stabbing pains, I secured permission from my department manager to go to the hospital for an examination. Fortunately my company maintained three large hospitals, one of which was located nearby.

At the hospital a doctor asked a number of questions, felt around on my stomach and inserted a finger into my rectum. He said he could feel some hard masses that had built up and that possibly the colon was impacted. As he was finishing the examination, a nurse entered the examining room and asked if she could be of any assistance. The doctor indicated he had completed the examination and would prescribe certain medication – then he left the room. (more…)

Anita was having lower back pains and symptoms of a clogged-up lower digestive tract. After much reading on the subject in Holistic medical books, we decided a thorough cleaning was needed.

Anita has undergone a complete cleansing session with multiple two quart fillings. She took the first lying down on her side. With her face down, I gave her a relaxing massage, finishing by rubbing and lubricating first the outside then the inside of her anal opening with vitamin E oil. For the enema, we started with her on her left side so the descending colon would fill easily. I massaged upward along her belly, following the line of her descending colon (reverse of the peristalsis movement) to help break obstructions and assist the water in filling her. As she filled, she rolled over on her back, and we continued the massage, now moving up the descending, and left to right along the transverse colon. Finally, she rolled onto her right side to drain the bloated bag. In this position, I massaged her entire colon, working the water deep into her bowels, and helping it clean away any old fecal matter crusted on the walls of her intestines. (more…)

I was very pleased to see your magazine take the initiative on the subject of the good ol’ enema. It needed to be taken out of the Victorian closets (as referred to by one of your readers). Enemas were much a part of my boyhood and teen years, living in the 80s on a farm in Northern Ontario. Except for aspirins, Mother’s only remedy for us four boys was the enema, and we all got more of them than aspirins. Mother had a big red rubber bag and tubing, to which was attached a white ivory nozzle and, though we always got the enema for anything from headaches to sprained ankles, they were also given to all of us at special times. These occasions were the weekend before we went back to school, in the spring (to get us “spring cleaned”) and after we got back from camp. All four boys, separated only by one year in between, had to remain in bed on these special occasions, usually on Saturdays. (more…)

We were all tired and slept late. Last night’s fun had really been exhausting. I woke up, still a little sore but very pleased with myself, with the two lovely girls laying in my bed and with the world in general. How is it that a good bout of sexual activity can change your outlook on the day ?

After dragging ourselves out of bed and waking up (in that order), we started packing and loading up my van. It was done quickly. I hung up a sign, locked up my shop and by early afternoon we were on the road south.

Ah, the freedom of the road. You won’t find any budding Jack Kerouacs travelling Europe’s highways in this day and age. Probably not in earlier decades either. But even so it is always exhilarating to leave the virtual urban sprawl of Belgium behind and head for the open rolling countryside of France.

I won’t bore you with a travelogue of where we went or what we saw. We made the best time we could to get south of Paris before evening. Then we entered the real France, a seemingly endless progression of small towns, villages and hamlets. I had been along this route and others numerous times and never tired of it. There was a timeless quality to the places we passed. (more…)