By Perry
The following story is true. I relate it now, 15 years later, as part of a personal ongoing effort to confront, with the hope of understanding and gaining meaning from, one of the most memorable incidents of my formative years. I was 12 when I received my first enema, and while I’ve had quite a number since then, my initiation into the hydro-anal arts was, to say the least, a truly an unforgettable experience.
I was at the time a foster child, having just been placed with my third surrogate mother in two years. Her name was Martha, a large 40-year-old divorcee, whose 5’ 9’’, 195-pound Rubenesque figure dwarfed mine. I was a spindly kid, about 5’3" and no more than 105 pounds. My blonde hair and light complexion, combined with my slight build, presented an appearance of frailty and fragility, which I loathed, but couldn’t do much about at the time. My mom died when I was six, and my dad sort of disappeared soon after.
Martha’s only child, her son Brad, was away at a camp for wayward youth, so it was just she and I in the Madeira Street row house in Baltimore. Anyway, within a couple of days after I’d settled in with Martha, who’d recently bid farewell to two other fosters kids, I became somewhat constipated. Looking back, it was probably due to the stress of moving to yet another foster home. But late one morning as I sat on the toilet trying to move my bowels, Martha called from outside the door.
"Perry, you’ve been in there a long time … is anything wrong?"
Her voice startled me. I hadn’t expected to be disturbed while trying to crap, and, startled, I straightened up on the throne.
"No, no, I’m fine."
"You sure?," she asked, her voice betraying her presence embarrassingly near the door.
"No, really," I softly replied, "I’m okay."
"You better not be playin’ with yourself, Perry, you hear?"
"N-no," honest," I protested weakly. "I-I think I might be constipated, but it’s all right … I’ll be fine, really."
Obviously, this had been the wrong thing to say, because the door suddenly burst open and in rushed Martha.
"Constipated?" she exclaimed. "Let me see!"
With that, Martha jerked me up from the commode by my arm and stood me at attention, my shorts and little white jockey briefs bunched and clinging to my upper thighs. Only the hem of my blue T-shirt covered my little boy penis and scrotum, but not by much. Trembling, my face flushed with embarrassment, and the bathroom redolent with the few farts I’d cut, my humiliation before Martha was complete.
She lifted my shirt, baring my privates and sending another blush radiating up through my face.
Much to my further chagrin, my penis began to harden and rise as Martha stared down at it. She raised my shirt higher, above my belly, nearly to my armpits.
"You little liar," she screamed, "you were playing with it, weren’t you!"
With that, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me from the bathroom across the hall to her bedroom, where she half pushed and hoisted me, pants down, onto the sheet of the unmade bed.
Thrust onto my stomach, I instinctively tried to rise, but she grasped me below my armpits and turned me back over, my spare, pale ass cheeks quivering naked to her view.
Martha moved swiftly onto me, pinning me under her ample thighs as she straddled my trembling body.
I felt her crotch press into the backs of my thighs as the hem of her housedress rose up her broad hips.
Straddling me, she pulled my shirt up over my head, entangling my arms and smothering me. Then she began to spank my buttocks with her open palm … THWAK – THWAK - THWAK … !!!
"I’ll teach you to lie, you little shit," she barked, as her assault brought forth my tears and shrieks.
Please, please," I gasped, "stop it, stop it!"
But her hand rained stinging slaps onto my behind, turning my smooth skin to a scarlet mass of welts. Under my shirt, I sobbed in uncontrollable gasps, sucking for air as her heaviness forced oxygen from my lungs.
As I felt myself losing consciousness, she finally ceased the spanking. She shifted her weight upon my lower back and began to thrust her pelvis against me, all the while stroking my back and sides and reaching under me to squeeze my nipples. As you might expect, this action took me by surprise, as I rocked to and fro under her undulations. I felt my little dick harden.
After a few minutes without enough breathing room, I could take no more, and, summoning all my ebbing strength, I turned my body in an effort to gain relief. Sensing my discomfort, Martha allowed me to roll onto my back beneath her.
I pulled my off over my head, and inhaling deeply, I managed to finally recover my senses.
Tears streaming down my reddened cheeks, I blubbered, "Please don’t hit me again. I swear, Martha, I wasn’t playing with myself."
She still straddled me, her dress up to her crotch, and her heavy thighs and belly heaving.
"Well," she rasped, "that little peter of yours looked pretty stiff to me, and I know boys your age jack off all the time. I know mine did."
She either didn’t notice – or didn’t care – that my penis was stick hard beneath her pantied pussy, a result of her vigorous thrusting action.
"You said you were constipated, Perry. How long has it been since you moved your bowels?"
Oh, I don’t know, maybe a couple of days … but I’ll be okay," I offered.
Martha slowly rose from off my aching body and knelt beside the bed. Her eyes seemed to widen as she surveyed my nakedness, which I hastily tried to cover. She placed her hand over mine as I began to hike up my briefs, and with her other hand, she gently played her fingers over my belly, navel, then slowly down to my nearly hairless crotch, as my cock now stood straight before her.
"I know what you need, Perry," she said knowingly. Just a minute."
Smoothing her dress down over her thighs, she got up and went into the hall to the linen closet, returning with some type of pinkish hose and a rubbery sack that looked to me like a hot water bottle.
I had heard about enemas, but had never had one or seen the equipment. But upon seeing the stuff she carried back into the bedroom, I guessed that I was soon to experience this esoteric procedure. Placing the hose on the night stand, Martha walked to the bathroom with the bag … opened the medicine closet (I guessed) … ran some water … then returned with the bag and a plastic bottle filled with appeared to be soapy water.
By then, I had pulled up my briefs and pants, but she immediately – and very firmly – wrenched them down again to me knees, then tuned me onto my belly.
"We’re going to take care of that problem, Perry boy," she intoned, as she lightly ran the tips of fingers across my lower back and down to my ass crack. "Yes-s-s, Perry, honey, Martha’s going to make you feel real, real good."
Gripped by fear, but afraid to incur her wrath again, I weakly protested.
"Martha … I really feel okay … really …"
But I sensed that I better not try to get up or escape.
"Shush," she hissed, and promptly parted my sore buttocks, gently rubbing them.
"Martha’s sorry she spanked little Perry so hard … but Martha didn’t realize you couldn’t poo-poo. Now a nice, warm enema will make you feel just fine … just fine."
One, or was it two, fingers found my anus and, after (I swear) she wet them in her mouth, they gently entered my puckered little hole, carefully moistening and stretching my sphincter.
"Perry, honey," she cooed, this won’t hurt a bit … I promise. In fact, it just might feel real good, honey. I just have to prepare your little butt for this …"
As her fingers slowly massaged and explored my anus, I felt my penis stir again beneath me. Her ministrations were dreamily working my private area to a warm and titillating state that felt increasingly –inexplicably -- good.
Martha again went into the bathroom, this time returning with a small jar of Vaseline. I felt her finger guide the gob of viscous jelly into and my anus spreading it around my rectal wall. As she did this, I felt her finger touch something inside me that caused me to clamp shut my anus as electric-like shocks coursed throughout my behind and up my balls and penis. Martha did this every few seconds, and I bucked and thrust up and down as she knowingly stimulated what I later learned was my prostate, now in its formative stage.
"Oh-oh-oh, Martha" I groaned, as she continued to tantalize me.
Suddenly, she stopped and rose from the mattress. From on my belly, I turned to catch sight of her orange print dress as she swiftly pulled it up and off, flinging it on the floor. Clad in only her underwear, I saw the perspiration glisten on the folds of Martha’s flabby belly. Her huge pale orange panties were almost soaked, and I felt my penis harden as I spied her big nipples peaking above her bra cups that strained to contain her humongous tits. I’d never seen quite that much of a woman in her underwear.
"Christ, it’s hot, isn’t it, Perry?"
She sat back down and resumed her "preparations," gently massaging and kneading my soft buttocks.
"Auh … Perry, your little behind is still red … let me …. let me …" And Martha lowered her face to my butt and started licking my tender flesh, her warm tongue soothing my tortured skin – and re-igniting the fire in my small cock, which stirred anew, as she continued to work her finger in my anal canal. I felt and arousal unlike any I’d ever had, including when I masturbated in bed under the covers – or even on those occasions when that sticky stuff was in my shorts when I woke up.
I found myself pumping my groin against the mattress, rising and falling in a slow, undulating motion, as Martha licked and fingered my behind. I began to feel… weak … like something was about to happen …
But soon (all too soon?) she stopped and turned me onto my side facing away.
"Now, honey," she said comfortingly, "I’m going to put this little hose in your butt … to flush you out and help your bowels to move. It won’t hurt, I promise, but you’ll feel a little fluid in your belly, and that’s when you need to get up and go to the toilet. I’ll help, you, okay?’
On my side and unable to see what she was doing, I felt afraid, despite her calm bedside manner. I’d never had an enema, but one foster kid had told me that they were awful – and sometimes if you couldn’t hold the water, you could shit all over the place!
"It’s not gonna hurt, is it?" I asked cautiously.
"No, it won’t, and you’ll feel really better when we get that pop out of you."
I heard her pour liquid and snap something, and next thing I knew she was parting my buttocks again, running a finger to the opening of my ass.
"Oh – oh – oh!" I felt the tip of the hose as it touched my anus. Then she was guiding it, very slowly, into my rectum.
"This isn’t so bad, is it, honey?" she purred. "It’s almost in … just a little bit more."
I felt it go further and further in me, and I tightened my bottom as it slid into my lower belly.
"SMACK!"
"Don’t tighten up, Perry," Martha admonished, as she slapped, then caressed, my buttocks and coaxed the tube all the way in me.
"There, okay," she said, "it’s in and we’re ready!"
"It feels funny," I said, "like your finger’s still in there."
"No, it’s just the hose tip … next we’ll squirt the fluid in you. Don’t move."
To my surprise, she got up again … and I swear … she unhooked and removed her bra and stripped down her panties, then sat back down behind me – naked! I thought – ‘What?’
"Okay, I’m gonna release some water now, Perry, and you tell me if I need to stop."
I heard her click something then felt the cool fluid flow into my rectum and rapidly begin to fill my tummy. Then cramps!
"Stop! Please turn it off!" The pain was unexpected.
"Okay, Perry, just for a second."
She stroked my side and ran her fingertips over my buttock as I twisted my torso to gain some relief from the water within me. Her fingers trailed down my front … to my penis. Her caress touched my glans and my little organ swelled to her feathery touch. I briefly forgot my discomfort as Martha’s fingers lightly roved over and down my hardening cock.
My tight scrotum was next teased, as my penis rose to attention. I could sense a smile on Martha’s face and I pushed my stiff cock to her cupped hand. In retrospect, I realize that I was then on the brink of my first hetero orgasm, a sensation heightened by the enema implement imbedded up my butt hole.
Just then she released more fluid, and my abdominals tightened against the cramping which surged throughout my bowels. Pain!
"Oh-oh … agh …agh …agh! I can’t … take any more! Please!"
I couldn’t keep my sphincter muscles closed and a gusher of fluid spurted from my anus and ran down onto the mattress, soaking the sheet beneath me. I felt extreme embarrassment as I sensed I was about to shit – on the bed – in front of Martha!
"Okay, honey, just a sec," Martha whispered, then slowly but expertly she eased the hose from me – as I bit my lip and tightened my tummy against the tide about to burst from my belly. I felt nauseous and weak.
"Come on, Perry," she urged, as she gripped me under my armpits and dragged me from the drenched bed toward the hallway. "Don’t let it go yet!"
Despite her urging, I’m afraid I let go just before we reached the toilet, and the fluid, followed by a spate of semi-hard turds flowed from my ass. I got onto the commode, but most of my crap had been expelled on the floor.
"Oh, God, oh, God," I moaned, "it’s so bad, it’s so-o-o bad!" The stench I’d created combined with my awkward crouch on the toilet completed my humiliation before the nude Martha, who bent over to caress and comfort me as the last of my poop plopped into the bowl. The cramps eased and I slowly regained some of my composure.
Martha stood me up, flushed the toilet, and began vigorously wiping my body with a towel. Next, she wet a cloth and cleansed my butt of the brown stuff that had splattered everywhere. Finally, she used another wet cloth to finish cleaning my belly, butt and crotch, taking care to wipe my penis clean. My hard-on began to make a comeback.
"Okay, honey," let’s go a sit down for a minute," Martha cajoled, as she led me to the living room.
We sat on the stained Naugahyde sofa and she removed my socks, shorts and soaked jockey briefs. Then she casually began to stroke and massage my body … chest, nipples, belly button, and my re-awakened groin.
"Lay back a little, honey," she rasped huskily, and she helped me down on my back, she on the edge of the big couch. "Let Martha help you …"
Strangely, my embarrassment had left me, and I closed my eyes as Martha resumed her handy-work.
It felt good, her fingers on my body, and my hands inexplicably reached for her huge breasts, fingering and fondling her large, swollen nipples.
"O-o-o, Perry, honey … that’s so-o-o good … don’t … don’t stop."
When I felt her moist lips, then mouth, touch and engulf my hard four-inch cock, I moaned and pulled on her big, soft tits, raising up on my elbows to flick her nipples with my tongue. But she gently pushed me back down and began to slowly suck on my penis, slithering her tongue down the underside, as, simultaneously, she found my exposed anus with her educated finger.
"Agh-agh-agh !…. oh-oh-oh! … Martha … Martha …
Words can’t, to this day, describe the incredible exhilaration I felt as my virgin fluid spurted into Martha’s mouth. She sucked and swallowed my meager load and licked my entire penis and testicles as afterward, I believe – I briefly passed out.
But Martha wasn’t through with me yet. When I’d recovered my equilibrium, she tenderly directed my face to her hairy triangle, and, to my surprise, I lowered my lips to her pungent pussy, and lightly licked and sucked her labia until she bucked and jerked in a powerful orgasm.
Well, to conclude my story, after that initial bonding experience, Martha and I formed a close, almost mother-son relationship. In fact she adopted me a year later and we remained together until I graduated high school and joined the Navy. But during my teen years, I’m not embarrassed to say, we were very close -- friends – and, yes, lovers, too – and enemas remained an integral part of our lifestyle. Sadly, she died during my Navy tour of a massive heart attack. I’m 27 now, single, still turned on by enemas, which I receive on a regular basis from my friend Ginger. And our sessions with the hose and bottle always fondly rekindle in me the pleasures of that long ago episode with Martha, when, in one day, I was introduced to the manifold pleasures of sex, spankings, and last, but far from least – the wonders of the enema. Thank you for your patience.
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