It was really quite warm out Sand Island at Rooster Rock State Park and the temperature eventually reach 92°F (at the Portland Airport). Even on the river like this with the consistent breeze, the combination of the Sun's intensity and the warm and relatively dry air could dehydrate you. Thankfully, we had brough enough to drink to keep us both hydrated (plus what the enemas had provide for us in the morning).

Sunset wasn't going to occur until around 8:30 PM, but Abby and I wanted to head back to her house before it got too late. We said our goodbyes and left around 4:30 in the afternoon to walk back to the parking lot. We were both very mellow after our beach sexcapades.

Abby imagined what it would be like to stay out on the beach until nightfall, or even overnight, and what it would be like to make love on the beach under the stars. We didn't have the proper equipment for that, but I asked Abby if she wanted to go back and get the things we might need and come back. She told me no, that we might plan that for some other time or, if she came to North Carolina, we could do that on the Outer Banks. When we got to the sandbar where we forded the river, the water level was a few inches deeper than when we first crossed indicating that more water was being released by the dams up river. We wandered to the other side and, once off the island and onshore, held each other close before putting our clothes on.

We walked up the trail to my rental car. One of the bad things about it was that it had a black exterior with a dark interior. We had to air out the car and run the air conditioner for a few minutes before we could even get in and sit on the towels we spread on the seats. Other people were leaving and emerged from the trail to the parking lot and we chatted while waiting for our cars to cool down. Abby and I finally said goodbye and returned to Portland on I-84. We stopped to get something to eat before returning to her house.

When we returned to the house, it was just Abby and I. Peter and his girlfriend (Trish) were gone. Unlike the previous night, the air temperature was cooler and falling more quickly as the Sun lowered in the sky towards sunset. Still, it was in the high 80's when we got back. We brought our stuff into the house, put what needed to be in the refrigerator away and placed our towels in the laundry room.

Abby and I went upstairs and saw that the enema bags were placed back on Abby's bed and the coat trees were in her bedroom. The video camera and tripod were in a different place in her room.

"Wanna bet they made a sex tape of themselves after we left? I asked Abby. She said she wouldn't be surprised.

We stripped out of our clothes and got in the shower to wash off the sand, sunscreen, river water, and insect repellant. As we were washing each other, still in the afterglow of our sex on the beach, Abby told me what she wanted to include in the next rounds of sexual interludes. She wanted to have another "garden party" with me, this time with enemas in the garden (back in the same area where we were the previous night). She knew that I occasionally did enemas in my backyard when I was growing up in addition to taking them on my deck where I lived in NC. Abby wanted that experience with me. I was certainly game.

We didn't know where Peter and Trish were or whether they'd be coming back to the house this night or at any other time over the weekend. I pointed out that they (or anyone else) could drive up into the driveway and see us in the backyard doing our enemasex thing. Abby's response was interesting.

"Gary, we just had a bunch of strangers watch us while you fucked me in the ass," Abby said. That's all she said and it was a statement of fact. She didn't add anything to this statement.

"But what if they come back or we're caught out there?" I asked.

"Then, they'll get a real eyeful, just as long as he doesn't cum on me again," Abby said. She seemed pretty defiant and maybe still angry. "I'm not Catie!" Okay, she was still angry. I gently gathered her into my arms to look at her, to hug and to hold her.

"No, my love," I said quietly. "You most certainly are not." I knew what she was referring to with respect to her oldest brother. But I meant it, too. It wasn't the first time in recent months that I felt the differences between Abby and Catie and I certainly wasn't trying to get Abby to do anything because her sister had. Even with the feeling of Catie's effect on our lives, I was also committed to Abby and I having our own lives based on what we felt for each other, to the extent that we could. Each thing we did differently helped define our relationship, not because it was different, but because it was "ours."

We kissed. It was a long and passionate kiss. When we broke from the kiss, she told me to take our bags downstairs and our bag stands out to the yard. I put on a pair of my running shorts, took the bags and stands down stairs, dropped the bags in the laundry room to be filled later and carried the stands out to the corner of the yard where we were the previous evening. I also took some towels out and placed some on the swinging bench and others on the table. I hadn't really thought about it until I got out there, but I realized that we could probably hang the enema bags from the chains that supported the swing seat or maybe the fittings on the overhead crossbar. I placed the coat trees by the table and the chairs since there was no way to suspend the bags by the chairs. I noticed the garden lights come on with various accent and tree highlighting fixtures. I had never seen the lights on before though it was still much too bright to see the effect of the garden lighting. Two "bug zappers" lit up and came to life on either side of the yard near the house.

While I was outside putting things in place, Abby came out the side door wearing a relatively sheer short robe (though it could have been part of a nightie set). She wasn't wearing anything underneath it, either. She was carrying the camera, recording deck, a short extension cord, and the tripod. It did have built-in battery capacity, maybe enough for 45-60 minutes of recording time. Fortunately, the backyard had been wired and had electrical outlet boxes located around the edges of the yard and at various planter locations.

"Where do you think I should set this up?" Abby asked. I pointed to a place slightly behind and to the right side of the swing looking from behind.

"That way, with the lens zoomed out enough, you can capture us coming out of the house with our bags, us hanging them, preparing each other for the enemas and, if you want to move the tripod to this spot here," I said pointing to spot that was located to the front and the side of the swing, "we can record me inserting your nozzle and you putting my cock inside you before the enemas flow in."

Abby liked the idea. I reminded her that I was a semi-professional photographer. She plugged the recorder in and set up the camera. She had me move to various places around the swing and even onto the swing to so if she could see my cock in the event she didn't move the camera. She did pick up the tripod with the camera mounted on it and move to the "front position" to see what kind of view and she could get without changes to the camera settings. Satisfied with what she saw, she moved the camera back to the right side rear position and set the tripod and camera back in place.

"I think we might be ready," Abby said.

"All but the bags and the insect repellant," I said.

"In case either of us can't hold our enema to make it back to the house, we can release over there," Abby said. She pointed to an area over towards the corner of the yard beyond the chairs and table. She had it all figured out.

With a little more than an hour before sunset, the air temperature had cooled noticeably. Abby started the video recording and we walked back to the house arms around each other's waist (the video view of her butt peaking out from beneath the robe was deliciously sexy). In the house, I dropped my shorts and Abby dropped her robe so that we could spread insect repellant on each other. We were careful about where we spread the insect repellant but wanted enough protection that mosquitoes would not go after the parts where we didn't have repellant coverage.

When we started to fill the bags, I suggested that we move the clamps further up the hoses so that they would be easier for both of us to reach.

"All the way?" Abby asked about how much to fill the bags.

"Yes," I said. "Just like before. We can take what we want and leave the rest." We filled each bag to their 3 quart capacity and screwed the hose fittings into the bags. We laid the bags down on the washing machine. I was really hard and very erect while doing this and Abby certainly noticed. She put her robe on and I started to put on my shorts.

"No, leave them off," Abby said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I want to see that nice big cock of yours swinging around while we walk back there," she said with a staccato emphasis on *nice big cock*. I remember thinking that there were towels back there if I needed to cover up, but even with the limited view into the backyard, someone might get a real eyeful. Still, I was game just to do it for Abby. We picked up our bags and headed out the door.

As we started across the yard, I took Abby's right hand in my left and walked to the swing. Abby was carrying her bag in her left hand and I was carrying mine in my right as we walked up the slight incline in the yard. We reached the swing and hung up our bags. I untied the Abby's robe belt, slipped the robe off Abby's shoulders and down her arms, placing it on the left arm of the swing. Abby was stroking my cock as I reached back to place it on the swing, telling me that she knew we had planned on anal sex for the evening, but she need my cock inside her pussy and needed more of my cum there, too. She didn't have her plugs inserted, having removed both during our shower together. But I was certain that her womb and her ass was coated with a layer of my cum. She wanted more.

I had folded a towel to go under me when we were doing the positioning of the camera. One thing we hadn't really considered was how, exactly, to get my nozzle inside me. It's one thing to be on a bed where the the hose wouldn't bend so much to cut off the flow. Here, it was a bit more difficult with me sitting on the bench.

We considered the option of having me sit far forward on the bench seat but my back and neck might be at a strained angle, at best. The nozzle really wouldn't go through some of the slats if I was that far forward. In the end, we picked a position where I would be far enough forward for Abby to settle down on me, but not so far forward that there could be balance issues in addition to neck and back strain. This allowed us run the hose behind the back of the bench to thread the nozzle through the slats. We purged the air from the hose and nozzle, moved the towel into a position to cushion my tailbone, and Abby held the nozzle for me while I settled down on it.

Once I was seated and settled into place, Abby started playing with the precum that was leaking out of the tip and stroking my cock. She got down on her knees and I spread my legs so that she could take my cock into her mouth. We hadn't done much oral sex so far this weekend and it was a wonderful sensation to be sitting here this way, the enema nozzle in my ass, and Abby's mouth engulfing my cock. I made quiet whimpering sounds as she sucked me. She did this for a little more than three minutes before she stopped and stood up. She wanted me to cum in one place and it wasn't her mouth.

Abby walked around behind the bench and behind the video camera to look through the black and white viewfinder.

"This is a great view," Abby said. She spoke of the way the bags looked hanging there and that she could see my cock standing up after she had sucked on it. "But I think I can get a better view," as she picked up tripod with the camera mounted on its head and moved it to the position in front of and to the right of the bench. A slight adjustment to the tripod and she was ready to return to me coming around behind the bench.

She purged the air from her hose and nozzle and handed the nozzle to me while she arranged the the towels to go under her knees and shins. Satisfied, she crawled up onto the bench and straddled me putting my cock right at the entrance to her vagina. She pressed me in ever so slightly and asked me to insert her nozzle for her. It slipped in relatively easily. I figured that the cum in her ass was helping as a lubricant in addition to the water that clung to the nozzle. I held her nozzle in place as she worked her way down my cock. From my slightly bent over position, I could watch her slide down until she was finally all the way down on me.

"I think it'll be easier if you're the one to open both clamps," I said, thinking that she could reach them and set them more easily.

She wasn't in any hurry to open the clamps. Instead, she wanted to be close to me and enjoy the sensation of me being inside her, being connected to her in this way, physically and emotionally. And as she slowly stroked me through her hip motions, we had a very romantic conversation that included her feelings, at a different level, about the love her mom and dad shared. We both knew, for example, that her mom and dad would slip outside, most likely to this part of the yard, for some pleasurable, personal, sexual time to themselves while the kids were asleep inside the house.

"For all I know, my mom and dad may have been right here, making love just like we are," Abby said.

"Well, maybe without the enemas," I replied. She agreed that enemas probably weren't part of their outdoor experiences. But we had wondered if enemas were part of their lives just because of their ages and their formative years.

Although, I didn't have a long history with this family to see how they really interacted, I sensed that it was a very loving relationship between their mom and dad and that they operated as a team, as loving partners to support one another and their children. I couldn't ever recall my mom and dad displaying such deep connections (and I realized later in life that the loving connection between my parents was never really there). I did understand what Abby was telling me because I had seen it in other relationships and had sought to create that relatedness in my own marriage. Of course, I was still looking upon the dissolution of my marriage as a failure (and something to learn from). I would have preferred my marriage survived and was revitalized and renewed. But I also realized that had things not gone the way they had with my marriage, that I wouldn't be here with Abby even though it took another tragedy, in the death of her sister and mother, to have us be together in this way.

Still, the sexual intensity also magnified our feelings for each other. It certainly magnified mine and had me questioning my underlying assumption and premise; that the age difference of more than 14 years was an impediment to our long-term success. I was now 33 years old and Abby would, in two months, be 19 years old. We still looked at life through different lenses of experience. But whether it was love, lust, or a combination of both, it didn't alter the way we felt in that moment.

"I love talking with you like this," Abby said. "It's so much more intimate than talking with you on the phone..." That was certainly true. We did have intimate phone conversations that were more like phone sex but with the seriousness of an intimate, romantic, loving relationship.

"...because this way," she continued, "I get your huge load of cum inside me, rather than thinking about it shooting out of your cock onto your stomach." Even now, I chuckle at that statement. She certainly did like my cum inside her. In today's vocabulary, she would probably fit the definition of a *cumslut* as a term of endearment rather than vulgarity.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and sunset was approaching. Below us, we could see the lights of the city coming on. Abby reached up to open our clamps.

"Two clicks?" she asked, inquiring how far back to reduce the flow.

"Two clicks," I replied. I looked up as she opened my clamp. I felt the sudden surge of cool water and then the *click, click* as she reduced the flow to a gradual drip. She opened her clamp and then *click, click* set hers back as well. And with that, we started a new phase to this sexual interlude. Eventually, I felt the water temperature entering my rectum change as the the hot water in the bag made slow progress down the hose.

It was wonderfully slow lovemaking, totally unhurried. Abby would have these little orgasms where, as they passed, gave her this cute smile of satisfaction on her face. Because my nozzle was threaded through the slats in the bench seat, I was pretty limited in how much I could move. This meant that Abby was really in control of the speed and the depth of any stroking and that my buildup to orgasm even slower (though I wouldn't guarantee that it would always be "slow"). Abby told me what she liked about it was rather than vigorous stroking (which she did like), she got to just feel me inside her hard and erect in a way that was different from when I had just cum inside her and stayed in after cumming.

"How long do you think you could last like this?" she asked.

Once, during spring break when I was a junior at the university, my girlfriend (who eventually became my wife) and I had my dorm room for the entire week while everyone was gone. Back in those days, even though the dormitories were locked, and they didn't recommend that you stay in your dorm room because the heating would be minimal levels during the week, they didn't lock you out by changing the locks so your keys would not work. I had a 1,000 watt toaster/broiler oven that was sufficient to keep my dorm room warm enough for the two of us during the week. We spent some of our time studying either in my room or at the library (which was open during spring break). But the vast majority of our time awake, we spent making love. It was an incredible 10 days together and afterwards, she told me that she had never felt "so loved." At that time, she and I engaged in either oral or vaginal sex. Anal sex would come later in our relationship.

It was after the first weekend of intense lovemaking that her labia, particularly on her left side, began to swell and become engorged. This made penetration more difficult, even with lubrication and she was very tight once I was inside her. This wasn't the first time we had experienced this and it would usually pass pretty quickly. Her labia were highly sensitized but she described the sensation as a "hurt so good" sensation once I was inside her. And her vaginal entrance squeezed down tightly on my cock to the point where it chafed my cock (even with lubrication). Still, we wanted more. So, rather than vigorous stroking, we chose to have minimal stroking where I was inside her and she was on top of me in much the same manner, like Abby was (minus the enema).

My girlfriend and I would go on for two to two and a half hours at time with this type of positioning and slow sex. I remember that one of the things we did was read each other *Letters to the Editor* or the *Call Me Madame* advise column responses by Xaviera Hollander from past and current *Penthouse* magazines. The erotic content, in addition to being in bed with this naked woman that I had fallen in love with, helped maintain a long, strong erection over this period of time. At some point in these long sessions, though, I felt like I really needed empty my balls and cum. At that time, I didn't have any idea of what the practical time limit was.

So, here I was more than twelve years later, with Abby straddled on my cock and very subtly riding me and wondering how long she could ride me this way. "The longest I've ever gone like this is two and a half hours. Maybe until my balls feel like they're going to burst," I offered without elaborating on how I derived that period of time. But I really didn't know.

"Do you want to try for three?" Abby asked. She was being playful about that, I thought.

"Sure, but I don't think we could hold these enemas that long," I replied. "Maybe later?"

The sun was getting very low in the sky and Abby's slow rocking stimulation of my cock was beginning to spread a tingling sensation from the head of my cock to my balls. She could feel me getting a little larger and stiffer.

"When you cum, I want to lean back so that I can feel you cum inside me," Abby said. "Do you think you can hold me while I do that?"

"Of course, I can," I replied. After about another 5 minutes, I looked up at our bags and could see that they were maybe half-emptied and I felt comfortable with the degree that I was filled. I asked Abby how she was doing. She told me she was doing fine, still having these little orgasms.

"I can tell you're getting close," she said. I told her I was.

"I'm going to lean back now and get you to cum in me, okay?" I nodded my head to indicate that was okay and I was ready.

Her leaning back changed the positioning of the swing's bench. I had her by her shoulders as she rocked and pivoted her hips. The change of angle and her hip rocking was rubbing the tip and head of my cock my forcefully which was bringing me closer to cumming. She told me that she wanted to lean back further and asked me to hold her by her arms. We locked wrists and she leaned back further and she was "bending" my cock down and putting more pressure along the top of my cock and the head/glans. Whatever she was doing, it felt incredibly good and I just let it keep building. I finally felt myself heading over the edge towards orgasm.

"Oh, Abby, here I cum!" I said, followed with low, quiet moans. I tried to thrust my hips forward a bit, but the nozzle caught between two of the slats limited that. But Abby took care of that by moving a little more and I felt like the tip of my cock was all the way in her and I was hitting the "back wall."

Abby starting shaking a little but held her position while I held on to her.

With the first spurt she said, "OH, I feel you cumming!" She didn't say anything for the next five or six spurts until she finally said "I love feeling you cum in me like this," as I continued to spurt into her. She continued to lean back as my orgasm began to subside and stayed there for another minute before wanting to sit up. I pulled her to me and we embraced and kissed.

"That was so incredible, the way you were cumming in me. Could you feel it?" Abby asked.

I wasn't sure what she was getting at. "I was cumming in you. Of course, I could feel it," I replied.

"Could you feel what I had you pressed against?" Abby asked. I told her I thought I was pressed against the back of her vagina.

"No, the tip of your cock was pressed against my cervix. You were squirting your cum into it," Abby said. I had certainly felt her cervix with my finger and knew my cock often stroked against it or by it when I was deep inside Abby. But what I also knew was that penetrating the cervix wasn't really possible. But that didn't preclude Abby getting into a position where the head of my cock and the opening of my urethra could get into position so that when I was cumming, I could be injecting some amount of cum directly into the opening towards her uterus. Maybe she really was trying to get me to flood her womb with my cum.

And with that, I had a quick and chilling thought: "She's trying to get pregnant" even though she told me she was still on her birth control pills and she wasn't trying to get pregnant. It was a momentary sense of panic I experienced. Catie and I had already talked about our life together and having children. Abby and I hadn't really discussed having children. It was more about avoiding pregnancy at this time in her life and mine.

"Keep calm," I told myself. "She's being a horny teenager," remembering that my ex-wife often got this way after her period when she was on birth control pills. She also got that way even after she went off them (though we were still using foam and/or condoms). But my ex-wife and I had been at a stage in our marriage and life where a "contraception failure" wouldn't be an issue.

Our enemas continued to flow slowly into us as we enjoyed the immediate afterglow of another orgasm.

I realized that sunset had occurred while we were in the middle of my/our orgasm and the sky seemed to be quickly transitioning to twilight. The crescent moon was also back behind us in the sky. The temperature was dropping because of the clear sky and the dry air.

"Do you want to go over there (pointing to the chairs) and watch the sunset on the mountain (Hood) while we finish our enemas?" Abby asked. I agreed. Abby closed both clamps and then removed her nozzle before standing up. She walked around behind the bench to keep my nozzle from coming loose and hitting the ground when I stood up. I was a little stiff being in that position for that long. I walked around behind the bench and she handed me my nozzle.

"Thank you, my love!" I said with a kiss. I unhooked my bag from where it was hanging and stepped away. Abby took down her bag and we both walked towards the table and chairs in what was roughly the back corner of the garden. We position the coat trees and hung out bags on them with the nozzle looped over the bag. We both put towels on the metal lattice chairs. I pointed to one chair to indicate to Abby to sit down.

"I'll put your nozzle in." She sat forward on the chair and leaned back. As I prepared to reinsert her nozzle, I noticed some of my cum leaking out of her pussy and running down towards her anus. I quickly brought my mouth and tongue towards the visible creampie and took it into my mouth with a quick lick. She let out a moan and I reinserted her nozzle. I turned back to my bag, brought the nozzle between my legs and offered Abby the opportunity to insert my nozzle. She inserted my nozzle.

Since I was standing, I told her that I'd open our clamps (this time one click). With both clamps opened, I sat down on my chair and felt the surge of the enema into me. I sat down on the forward edge of my chair and Abby and I held hands while we let the bags continue to drain into us. To the east, the snow covered peak of Mount Hood was bathed in the red light of sunset and alpenglow.

"You climbed that, didn't you?" Abby asked.

"Yes, last year, " I replied without mentioning that it was the day before her sister and I met on the train.

"Was it hard?" she asked. I was surprised she asked because I figured that it was likely she knew someone in the Portland area or even in her high school who had climbed Mount Hood. At 11, 218 feet above sea level, it wasn't a highly technical mountain to climb solo or with a group.

"No, not really. The last part of the climb is pretty steep to the summit. I was more worried coming down."

"Why?" she asked.

"Rocks. The biggest worry was a rock or rocks tumbling down behind me that I couldn't hear. I wore a helmet but I worried about getting hit from behind because I got up there pretty late in the morning and the afternoon sun could cause ice to melt and loosened rocks to fall," I said. "Worse yet, I got up there and could look to the west and see the clouds moving in over the coastal range and I realized that I couldn't dawdle. It was time to get down before the weather moved in. I got back to Timberlyne as the high clouds were moving in and it was raining by the time I got back downtown."

We were quiet for a few minutes. Like the ads and commercials where a couple was sitting in side-by-side tubs with their fingers interlinked, Abby and I were sitting in side-by-side chairs with enema nozzles in our asses and our fingers interlinked. We were getting bathed on the inside by our enemas, watching the sky darken and the summit change to a deep red and then fading to a faint red. Our bags were drained and though the enemas were warm inside us, the air was cooling around us. The bug zappers were working but the mosquitoes weren't bothering us (insect repellent). Around us the accent lights of the garden provided a soft light for us sitting there.

Abby looked over at me. "You doing okay?" she asked.

I looked away from the summit to her. "Yes," I replied.

"I love you so much! You do know that?" Abby asked.

"I do know that, and I love you, too." I said and gave a squeeze to her fingers linked in mine.