This is a fantasy. There is a possibility that practices described here are potentially risky or even lethal, nobody really knows. This story, including the effect of a large enema on early stages of depression, conforms closely to real experience, but Alison is a dream.
Saturday, just after lunch. I'm unloading the dishwasher, very carefully and very meticulously. Alison comes in, washes her hands at the sink, turns to face me, drying her hands.
"You need an enema," she says, dead-pan, she's not smiling. "Now."
Swallow the hot retort. "Gimme a minute." The minute is to think about this, while I finish with the dishwasher. I don't want an enema. Wait a minute, that's insane. Saturday afternoon, place to ourselves, and the lady with the delicious bum and the wonderful tits and the long brown hair is offering - no, demanding - that you go upstairs and let her drive you crazy with pure, unadulterated lust, and you're trying to figure out how to turn her down and make it stick. She's right. You're nuts. Loco in the coconut. Every man in the world would be undoing his belt, right now, in your position. Except you, Turkey. Dammit. I hate it when she's right. No I don't . . . only sometimes. She's right but I don't want an enema, I don't feel like it right now. She's right but I don't want to admit it, either. She's right, and here she comes.
"Um, Alison, I . . ."
"Peace offering." She's smiling. Not much, but she's smiling. She brings her hands from behind her back. In one is the big bulb. In the other is a cake of Ivory. "Well?"
"Ah, I, ah, agree with you, it's just that . . ."
"Good enough. Come when you're ready. And, I'm sorry I yelled at you. You were right, you just weren't very friendly about being right. Don't be long, or it'll get cold."
I put the last few cups away and follow her upstairs, my dick swelling the front of my pants in spite of me.
The bathroom door is ajar, and watery noises come from within. I leave her to it, go to the bedroom to undress.
On the bed is a neatly folded towel, exactly where you would expect to find a folded towel. In the middle, about where the end of my spine will finish up, is a sticky note from the phone pad. It says:
"You're a very silly man, and I love you."
Humph. All right, I'll do it, but I won't enjoy it.
My dick isn't sure which side it's on, but it isn't in wholehearted agreement with me, for sure. I move the note, lie down on the towel, and try to make it go down. It wags at me. Alison makes a noise, I think for a moment about what she's doing, and my dick goes up. "Fine friend you turned out to be," I'm thinking, "Traitor!" then I just lie back and relax, close my eyes. It feels pretty good, actually. Some days you get out of the wrong side of the bed. Other days you should just stay in it. Period.
Alison comes in quietly, and I open my eyes when I hear her. She's wearing a short kitchen apron, cloth, nothing else, and carrying a plastic tub. She puts the tub down on the chair, taking care to stand so I have to look at her bare ass with the apron string tied above it,. She fishes the Vaseline out of the pocket of the apron, puts it on the nightstand, and takes the apron off. I melt, a little, but I'm not ready to be friendly. Not yet.
She grabs the Vaseline, opens it. I grudgingly lift my legs and let her grease my hole. She looks down at me, trying to stifle the grin playing around the corners of her mouth. Her finger feels nice. But she doen't push her luck.
I watch her go back to the tub, carefully fill the syringe. Then she comes back to the bed and makes me watch her grease the nozzle. I think about where it's going, and what will happen then, and my traitorous rod marches resolutely to her side of the argument. This is treason, buddy, I'll get you for this.
Ready. She puts her arm under my knees, and I lift them for her. She bends down, one breast hanging like the most luscious fruit exactly where I can't help looking at it, the nipple hard and proud. I want that in my mouth. I want it there NOW!
The nozzle touches my hole, and I relax for her - otherwise it's going to hurt. Lovely warm slippery feelings race up my insides as she presses it in. Then she pulls most of it out again. Uh oh. She knows her way around in there a bit too well. I can feel my asshole quivering expectantly. Another deserter. Then she squeezes the bulb.
The warm, soapy enema shifts my dick into hyperdrive: it's not only up, rock hard, in under two seconds, it's steady and ready to go to work. My lower belly is in on the act. My dick wants to be in Alison, and there's a spot about halfway up to my navel that wants to go along with it, just for the ride. Alison looks at my dripping, quivering tool and smiles, warmly, tenderly. Damn her!
"Um, . . ." I say, but it turns out there's nothing I want to say.
"Quiet," she purrs, "you're having at least five of those. When we've done with that I'll give you a proper enema."
Oh, I don't think so. If she does that four more times I'll stick her head in the wardrobe and shoot cum up her slit so hard it comes out her ears. If I dare to stand up, that is, that stuff is strong. If she does that four more times I'm going to . . . here she comes again. This time it's all the way home and whoosh! it's all in. I can feel my cheeks contract against her hand. My dick is going to catch fire any second now, from the base up, it's already hosing itself down just in case.
So, what are you going to do, Bozo? Are you going to get up and fuck her brainless, and ruin the best turn-on you've had in a month before it even gets started? Or are you going to be a good boy and lie here quietly and enjoy this?
I'm gonna lie here and enjoy this, but not quietly. It's getting to her, too, her pussy hair is all stuck togehter, soaking wet.
Here she comes again. Oh, we're having that spot this time. Oh, yum, yum, oh, "yes, there Mhm OH!" Did I say that? Out loud? Oops.
"Too quick? That's only three. Let me rub your tummy, then."
Oh, yes, yes, YES! She puts down the syringe. She comes over. She leans on the bed with one hand, the other on my belly . . . and . . . "Gotcha!" I have her by the pelvis, one hand each side, and it's no contest, she hasn't time to squirm before she's sitting exactly where I want her sitting . . . and . . . one, two, thre, four, hands up those who want some more!
Her eyes are closed, she's grinning. Now she's laughing. Now I'm laughing. Oops. Not a good moment for that. And whose side am I on here, anyway? I stop, lie quietly, looking up at her.
She kisses her fingers, puts them to my lips, swings off. "Save it for later," she says. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but you're still getting two more."
Oh, fate worse than death. Tee hee. I'm playing puppy dog, all five legs in the air. But she's gentler. This one is carefully aimed, it goes deep, right up the middle. My navel wants to kiss her. And she looks lovely, standing there, all curves and places I want to put my hands and squeeze. She's not calmer, I can smell her pussy from here, mixed with the Ivory and the Vaseline.
I wonder if Proctor and Gamble know that there are people wo get schlocked on the smell of Ivory, people who get stiff walking through the soap secton of the supermarket. Toilet soap. Well, they got that right. I bet it would get a few blushes in the Marketing Department when the results of that survey came in, though, and I can just picture the campaign that comes out of it. Whoopee! "Raising the dicks of Americans since . . ." No, they wouldn't dare. The papers would be plastered with po-faced old farts and Woman's Rights campaigners in High Dudgeon. On the other hand they'd get a lot of free ink out of it. I mean, it's up there with God, Country, Motherhood, and Mom's Apple Pie, Ivory enemas are an intrinsic part of the American Way. Even in Canadia. Why . . .
Can it. Here she comes again. Look at those nipples, bounce, wobble, bounce, ain't she somethin'? Strange that when I first told her about this she was jealous. Of a piece of plastic, for God's sake. Oh, yes, my lovely girl, that is THE place. Oh, my. Eyes closed. Deep breath. "Oh ohohohoh yes. Exactly there. Beautiful."
She's grinning. "You're done. If you're quick this will still be warm enough that you can give me some of it. I can't stand watching you without wanting to join in. Hurry up. GO!"
Blink. Did she say what I thought she said? I should pay more attention. "You can give me some of it," I'm sure she said that. Well, if she did, I know where she'll be in about three minutes. Off the bed, around the corner, . . . there. Time to think. If she . . .no, that doesn't work. Um, yes, perfect. So, . . . paper, got it, flush, shower. Good scrub, there, towel, done - hair is a damned nuisance sometimes, but that's as dry as it's going to get. Then, top cupboard, there, got it.
She reads minds. At least she reads mine. Why else is she kneeling in the middle of the bed? Why else did she move the basin beside her? Uncanny.
She turns to look at me. "I had a thought. You know the . . . you got it. Yes, that. Do that." She puts her head down, her ass up. But, why did we both have the same idea at once? This thing is supposed to be a douche syringe, but it has this piece of tubing on it - for what, we never could figure out. But today it's going to be useful. Because you can't use a bulb on a woman when you have your tool in her, there isn't room. But that little piece of tube is just enough. I wonder what perverse individual thought of that? And how he got it past his boss? Damn thing is a nuisance to get the air out of . . . look, you stupid hunk of resin, I have a hot woman waiting for me, could we cut the comedy with the secret bubble already? There, done it. Oh, look. at. those. cheeks. They need kisses, one each. Well, maybe one more. Vaseline. Where? got it. Some, who cares. Look at that tiny hole, all puckered up, yes, look how she relaxes to let my finger in, what a marvellous contraption. And she loves it, look at her squirm.
"Mmf, oh, nice, like it," she says.
Then gently, don't poke, easy . . . whoops, there it goes. My turn. Oh, she likes that, look at her backing up onto me. Well, I like it too. Yes, there, all the way in. Just a few little strokes to get us wet, there, that's nice.
"Oh, oh, you feel so good, oh, nice, yes, OHH!" Her bottom clenches tightly as the enema rushes in. The nozzle jerks inwards, her pussy grabs me in a vise grip. I like this toy, it's good, but the damned thing is empty. How to get it out of her without releasing it and making the nozzle grab her? Back out, keep the bulb compressed grab the nozzle, done it, and into the basin with it. I can afford one hand, under there, in between, up to the top, just around the little button, yes, she likes that, then the thumb, between the cheeks, on it, not in it, easy, gently, yes, exactly, listen to her noises, watch her hips.
The bulb is full again. Can I get it in with one hand? Move the thumb, keep her clit busy, in we go, there: hand away, aim carefully, all the holes full. Now, then, what shall we have this time?
"Are you enjoying the view?" she wants to know.
View? What view? Ah, she thinks I can see those two lovely round cheeks with a hose disappearing between them. "The back of your neck looks lovely as always. The rest of you is pretty much out of sight."
If I get this right it's amazing. Little, hard spurts, carefully timed. It takes a second or so for the muscle contraction to work its way forward. Wait until she starts to relax, and give her another ounce, wait, feel, watch, SQUEEZE! She's pushing back, opening her cheeks, SQUEEZE! she sucks her breath in hard, her stomach jerks like she's been punched, then "Ohh, oh," and she draws a long, ragged breath, SQUEEZE! and I'm getting sucked into this, watching her, feeling her hungry cunt trying to swallow my balls, SQUEEZE! She's moving from side to side, extracting the last bit of friction from a hard-clenched, soaking-wet pussy, SQUEEZE! and it's bloody empty again.
Same performance, careful, you're excited and you're getting clumsy, pal, take it easy, there, it's clear, and into the tub. Now for a little plain ordinary sex. Grab the handles - poor Alison doesn't have much to grab, she doesn't eat enough, but what can you do? Force feed her chocolate, I suppose. I watch my dick sliding in, feel her cheeks bang up against my belly. She'll notice that, it will make the enema wobble. Again, it made her moan. Tits, I want some tits to play with. Got 'em.
Alison lets out a long sigh, then a moan. Then, "Whoa, stop, you'll make me come. Not yet. Give me one more, if it's ready, this was only for fun anyway, then I'll go poop."
The view, ah yes, the view. I pull back, onto my knees, and look at her gorgeous rump, my eyes following every delicious curve. "If you lie on your left side I can do this one and just look at your bum," I suggest, and pick up the tub to give her room for her legs. She flops on her left side. Ominous gurgling nosies emanate from her belly, and she covers it with her hand.
The bulb is full again, and I lift Alison's cheek so I can see what I'm doing, bending to kiss it lightly as I draw my hand away. Her hand has moved from her belly to her slit, and I can see her forearm muscles rippling as her fingers move rhythmically over her clit. It's the best pornographic movie I've ever seen, I'm sure of it, as I stand there, looking at her ass, watching the hose stiffen slightly as I slowly squeeze the bulb. The nozzle isn't all the way in, she's going to feel every drop of it: and she does, panting slightly in time with the movements of her arm.
It's done, the moment broken. I pull gently on the hose, the nozzle pops free and I catch it before it hits the towel. "Done, then, go. Unless you want another one."
"Not now, that was fine." She sits up in bed, intent on getting to her feet. She comes eyeball to eyeball with my dick, pauses, looks up. "That thing looks dangerous," she says, "you got a license for it?" Then she's up, and gone.
I take the basin to the bathtub, take the syringes apart, rinse them out, wash out the tub and turn it over. Alison appears, drying her behind. "I put too much soap in it," she said, "my asshole stings. But you," she pushes me on the chest wtih one hand, "are supposed to be relaxing on the bed. I'm not finished with you yet."
"And you," I say, grabbing the towel and binding her hands with it, "deserve better than the likes of me. I'm sorry."
"No," she replies, suddenly serious, "you're not sorry. You're you, and it's okay, it's nothing to be sorry for. Any partnership that can be put right with a few quarts of warm water and a little forgiveness hasn't much wrong with it. Now GO AND LIE DOWN! so I can beat you up your favourite way. Then maybe you can rinse me out. But you first, you need this. GO!"
I nod. She's right. I'm not happy about being forced, maybe I'm not happy about having to be forced. Never mind, I'll be happier in a while. And right now I don't even like that idea.
I arrange myself on my belly, and relax. Relax. Deep, slow breaths. Try to doze off.
Alison is very quiet when she comes in: I hear her footfalls, but only just. The bed bounces when she puts the syringe on it, and I open my eyes. It looks like a football, except it's blue. Fat and round and very full. Alison kneels across me, the nozzle in her hand. "Pull your leg up, I can't see what I'm doing." I pull my leg up, and feel the nozzle slip into place. It's cold.
Alison draws back onto her knees, ducks under the tubing, lies down beside me. I bend down, take her nipple very gently in my teeth, play with it with my lips and my tongue. "You're giving me goose bumps. Give me your dick instead, and some kisses."
She is warm, she is active, her hands playing on my back, she pushes on my cheek to get me deeper, until my tool is fully embedded in her. Her kisses are warm, pleasing, confident. I put one arm around her, the other steals under her to put my hand between her cheeks. Her belly moves as though she were threading herself onto me, pushing deeper. I'm vaguely aware one hand has left my back. Cold water surges up my behind, and my dick gets stiffer and bigger inside her. She moans. "I love it when you do that," she says, "do it again," and another surge of water, warmer this time, invades my asshole.
I don't have a lot of choice. I can block the sexual response to the enema, but that will just make it uncomfortable. And it's huge, and she's going to give me all of it whether I like it or not. So it would be stupid to suffer. Or I can let my dick swell up and stiffen, and let the muscle contractions make me lunge forward, and let myself be her personal sex toy and just enjoy it. I may be crazy, but I'm not completely stupid. She squeezes. I lunge.
We're about halfway, and she's having trouble avoiding orgasm. And if I look at her I'll go with her, although I can't avoid it, I can feel her cunt twitching against my tool, I can feel the contractions in her belly. I kiss her nose. "Stop. We'll wait until you calm down. Take it later. Or you're going to make me come, as well."
She's panting, her breathing is ragged, but we just hold still for a minute or so, ease back. "Phew," she says, "it makes you so big, I can hardly handle all that sensation. It's lovely, but I want to go with it, after a while. I'm okay, calmed down. A bit."
We carry on, more gently. I'm feeling full, heavy. I glance at the hot water bottle. Not much left. "Almost there," I say quietly, and start to move faster. Wait for the surge, then follow it. A bright flash strikes across the top of my hip bones, ignites a second detonation further down, sends a smoking fireball up through my belly, through my chest, until it breaks on my chin, my cheeks, my ears, the base of my skull. Here we go. Yumyum time. I pull back, my muscles suddenly quivering with excitement. Alison squeezes hard, and my ass tightens into a fist. Again a sheet of fire flares across the middle of my belly, brighter and stronger this time. The second, lower explosion makes my dick muscles convulse once, twice, and a wad of cum goes burning down my dick and into Alison. At the same time, another smoking fireball rises through my belly, my chest, breaks in the back of my neck and dissipates in my ears, my cheeks, my chin. "Uh - oh - oh" I can hear myself gasping.
"It's done," I can hear Alison, miles away, but I don't care. Another lunge, and the same thing happens again, this time leaving little scintillating sparks all over my belly. Once more, and the last of the liquid fire waiting behind my balls goes rocketing into Alison's hole. My dick feels enormous, and rubbing it back and forth in her feels wonderful, but the fireworks are over, and suddenly it feels like somebody shoved a baseball up my ass. Dry. I roll off Alison and relax, breathing hard, not completely conscious, my heart hammering furiously in my chest, my throat.
Alison grabs a fold of the towel, stuffs it into her crotch. "I had to swallow the last one," she says, "you weren't just kidding around." She takes the hose in one hand, pulls the nozzle out.
"Uh huh." My belly is relaxing, slowly, my asshole doesn't hurt quite so much with the nozzle out, and I think I may recover. Someday. When I can move again I stroke her face. "I'll be along shortly," I say, rolling carefully off the bed, getting unsteadily to my feet. I can hear Alison laughing. "I know," I say, "I look pregnant. Not for long."
I just settle myself and let it pour out. No pushing, just wait. Well, everything has its down side: if you throw a party, you have to wash the dishes, get the beer bottles out from under the sofa, vacuum the crumbs out of the carpet before the ants find them. All in all I'd rather have one of Alison's enemas, it's a lot more fun, and the clearing up takes less time. But it's boring. Among other things.
Alison, with the towel still stuffed up between her legs, trailing the enema tubing, wanders across my line of vision in the direction of the bathroom. "Hi," I say as her toes appear.
"I'll make myself a little rinse. It still stings," she says as she disappears.
A while later she reappears, without the towel, carrying the fat, full syringe. She glances at me, and I figure that's long enough. I wipe, flush, shower off, and go to the bedroom.
Alison is lying on her side, the reservoir hung from the corner post of the headboard. I walk around her, dive onto the bed beside her, lie facing her, playing with one nipple. "I think I love you," I say, then, looking into her eyes, "Thank you."
She smiles, very softly. "What does a girl have to do to get an enema in this place?" she says. "All this mushy stuff. Honestly!"
"Yeah, well. Roll over." I take the nozzle, and slide down so I can see what I'm doing. She curls up, and I put my mouth to her freshly showered cunt and lay into her clit with my tongue.
"Oh, oh," she says, "big, rough tongue. Oh. Nice."
I lift my head, roll slightly to grease the nozzle. Alison is watching. When it's ready I put it to her hole, then go back to work on her clit while I slowly feed the nozzle in, draw it back a little, press it in again, in time with my tongue. She grabs my head in both hands. "You're making my hair stand on end, never mind anything else. Turn it on, then you can do what you like."
I'm kneeling above her. Quick visual check of my tackle, seems okay: try it in Alison, yes, works fine. I open the shutoff, and feel her clench, then relax, as the enema starts. Slow, steady, long strokes, so she gets enough of it to do what she wants. I glance up: she's relaxed, it's running fast, she's had a lot. I shut it off and pull out of her. "Now for an orgasm you'll never forget," I say, "Roll over."
"On your belly."
She looks puzzled, but she rolls. I settle into her, only just in, my dick diving down between those big, round cheeks. I put my hand under her, the heel over her pubic arch, the fingers along her labia, the middle one on her clit. She's coming before I open the shutoff, and after the flow starts she's flying. I make my hand vibrate, not large movements but rapid. She's gasping and screaming at the same time, panting, shouting, banging her head on the pillow, finally shrieking. It's long, as well as violent, and when she finally starts to descend I quickly yank the nozzle out and get back into her. She is quiet for perhaps a minute, maybe unconscious, I can't tell, I can't see her face, but she's very relaxed. She raises her head, shakes it. "WHOA! Do THAT one again! NO! Not now, I'll explode. Let me get up."
I roll off her, and she kneels on all fours. "A bit more would be good. Can you come yet?"
"Dunno. Probably. Holler when you've had enough."
I'm on her. I have her tits in my hands, her nipples under my thumbs, and pushing hard. She's making little whimpering noises each time I push, and she's wiggling her bum like a pup. I can feel my prostate fire, but it's out of ammo for the time being. I slow down. "'Nuff? I have nothing to shoot with, for the moment, but I can keep this up until we smell smoke if you like."
"Break off the attack," she says, waving her hand. "After an enema you need a younger woman. Or two of me."
"The latter," I make it sound as enthusiastic as I feel, "but you'll do."
"Flatterer. Get out of my way, I need to relieve myself. Some idiot filled my belly with water."
I watch her go, holding her tummy with her hands.
I take down the syringe, go and clean it, glancing at the closed toilet door as I pass.
Then I sit on the bed and wait for her.
She's drying herself, again.
"So, um, what were you planning to do this afternoon?" I ask.
"Get laid," she grins.
"Well, you managed that okay. And then?"
"Get laid by the nice, warm, gentle man who gets confused sometimes about the world and his place in it."
"I think I can maange that. Now. Listen, um, are you doing anything for dinner?"
"I might scramble some eggs."
I stand up, pick her up. "I think I can do better than that."
"You're going to cook?"
"No, well, only if you insist. I was thinking more of getting you dressed in your nicest frock and taking you somewhere expensive."
"My bigger problem is that I'm incredibly horny. If you can fix that by dinnertime, we'll talk about it then. Otherwise I thought scrambled eggs and caviar would make a nice supper in bed."
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