I grew up in Oklahoma during the 60s and 70s as the middle child with both an older and a younger sister. During that era a common treatment for a considerable range of ailments was a warm enema. All three of us kids got them.

As we got older my older sister went off to university, I headed to an engineering college in New York, and my younger sister, probably the brainiest of the three of us got a degree in biology and then went to medical school. Years later, my oldest sister was a teacher near Dallas, I settled in upstate New York working for a civil engineering firm, and my youngest sister became a pediatrician joining a practice in the Pacific Northwest. Scattered out as we were, we seldom got to see one another and a few years ago when I decided to go to a professional conference in San Francisco, I figured that it would be only a short plane trip up to Portland to see Emily, my younger sister.

I had flown from the East Coast to San Francisco on a beautiful Fall Sunday morning arriving just after noontime. I spent the balance of the day sightseeing and then spent three days at the conference listening to technical presentations on the various applications of digital technology to civil engineering. On Thursday morning I got up, checked out of my hotel and took a cab to the airport. The Alaska Airlines flight to Portland took only an hour and I landed a few minutes past 11:00 and it was no surprise that it was raining. I headed to baggage claim, but my roll-on was probably one of the last off the plane. After finally retrieving it I turned around and there was a very attractive blond standing there--she had a simple beauty about her as she wore her hair in a ponytail and had pearl stud earrings. She also wore a Burberry trench coat, tortoise rim eyeglasses, black tights and navy blue rubber rainboots.

“Hi, Wes!” she said.

Oh my gosh, it was Emily. I was taken aback because while Emily was 50 at the time she looked like she could pass off being in her late 30s. “Hi Em!” I exclaimed as we hugged. “You’re looking fabulous!”

“Thanks, Wes. I couldn’t wait to see you so rather than just driving around looking for you I decided to park the car and come into baggage claim. Besides I had a United Way board breakfast meeting downtown and we finished a little early. But you and I do need to catch up, like big time.”

“Oh, I know. How about I buy you some lunch and we can start to do that,” I said. “You pick the place.”

Emily headed to the door and led me to the parking garage where she pointed out her car--a new BMW SUV. After exiting the airport, Emily drove us downtown to one of the places that she and her husband enjoy that also is a microbrewery and serves great burgers. On the way she told me that her husband, Scott, had to go to Dallas on business and I would miss seeing him this trip. Then she told me that two of her children were now grown, graduated from college and out on their own; the third child had just started college; and the two twins still lived at home. I had to think about how this very successful and attractive woman also managed a family like that. Brains and beauty certainly.

Emily removed her trenchcoat and the combination of black tights, blue rainboots, and gray straight skirt further confirmed what a good looking woman my younger sister had become. We were shown to a table overlooking the street and I could see that everyone was dressed for the rain, which was once again coming down hard.

We looked at menus, the server came, and we both ordered: Emily a spinach salad with a glass of Riesling and I had a bacon cheeseburger and a draft of the local IPA. While waiting for lunch to arrive we got caught up on all of the things that siblings would be expected to talk about--parents, careers, spouses, you name it. Lunch arrived and we both dug in, but after about three bites of the cheeseburger, I couldn’t eat any more so I asked for a “take with box”.

At this point Emily asked, “Are you feeling alright? I remember even while growing up that there was nothing in this world that you liked better than a cheeseburger.”

By now the check had come and I put down $35 telling the server to keep the change. Then I admitted to Emily, “It’s been a strenuous week what all with flying out here, sitting on by duff for three days at the conference, and eating hotel food all the while. As I explained the tough week I had had we made our way back out to the car and when we got in, Emily sympathized with my plight and said that I probably needed medical attention before changing the subject.

About 20 minutes later we pulled into her driveway, she opened the back hatch, I retrieved my bag, and we headed into the house. Her comment from the car just sort of hung in the air. Finally, I asked, “What do you mean by medical attention?”

“Pretty much what I would tell a parent of one of my patients, namely that someone could probably use a good enema.”

“You recommend those?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. It’s much better for the child than any laxative even if they are a bit more trouble to administer.”

“I remember how you used to get them and how Carol and I would go hide in the hopes that Mom wouldn’t want to give all of us one.”

Emily laughed, “Yes, I suppose that I got more than just a few from Mom. But I still take one maybe every couple of weeks. It just makes me feel better. Now are you going to let me give you one this afternoon?”

I swallowed hard. Is this what sisters do to brothers? “Gee, I don’t . . . “

“What is uncertain here? I’m a doctor, I’ve seen lots of bare bottoms and then some, and I’m you’re sister, which means that not only have I seen your bottom before but you have also seen mine,” she explained showing me to the guest bedroom.

“Well, now that you put it that way.”

“I thought you’d see it my way. The bathroom is across the hall, but first I’m going to have to get changed.”

I went into the bathroom and relieved myself, but my mind was already racing as was my heart. This was a bit insane for sure. I went back to the bedroom, opened my suitcase and took out my shave kit. Emily came into my room, but now she had changed into pale green scrubs and had several bath towels in her arms. “We can put these on top of the bed to protect it,” she explained unfolding the towels and spreading them out several layers thick. “You can get undressed as I go get things ready.”

“OK, Wes, you could probably back out now, but if you do it won’t be graceful,” I said to myself taking off my shirt, unfastening my belt and stepping out of my pants. I had just hung them in the closet when Emily returned with a full red rubber combination bag, a tube of KY, a Kotex maxipad, and a pair of latex gloves. The moment of truth had arrived.

“Now, take off your little tidy-whities and lie down on the bed on your left side with your back towards me,” she instructed. Obviously there is no way to get an enema without exposing oneself, so I did what I was told. Emily put the bag down on the bed, pulled on the latex gloves, opened the tube of KY, took a generous amount on a finger and lubed my pucker really well--noting like being fingered by your little sister I guess. Then she slipped the rectal nozzle into me and with no further warning opened the clamp, but then notched it back to substantially restrict the flow.

“There,” she said pleased with the progress and holding the bag up. The warm water felt great going in, but then it must have hit just that right man-spot because I got an immediate stiff erection. It was embarrassing, but there was no thought in my mind that was going to make it subside. “What can I do in front of my sister?” I kept asking myself. In all honesty the enema did feel pretty good and I tried to relax as best I could under the circumstances.

“Just relax, Wes,” said Emily. “Take some nice deep breaths and this will probably go a little easier. I did what she said, but there was nothing that was going to make the erection go away, well I take that back because just before I had take the last of the bag I felt myself starting to cum. The worst part was that it was a major load--thank havens Emily put those towels down. Emily had to have noticed my misfortune, but said nothing. Soon she was satisfied that the bag was empty. Then she closed the clamp and said, “There, Wes, you took the whole thing. Now I’m going to withdraw the nozzle and place this pad back there, which I want you to hold in place until you get across the hall to the toilet. Try to hold the enema in for as long as you think you can, but when that point comes, just release it.”

Here was a woman who really knew what she was doing, but then again had not only gotten a bunch of enemas growing up, had probably taken hundreds herself, raised five kids, and was a pediatrician. No, there was a reason why she was so good at this. I made my way across the hall, did exactly what she told me to do, and soon I had two quarts of warm enema literally pouting out of me. And it felt absolutely wonderful.

About 15 minutes later, Emily knocked on the bathroom door. “Wes, was that successful?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely!”

“You were such a good patient, I want you to get dressed and come to the kitchen where we can finish our conversation from lunch.”

I had no idea what she meant, but when I got to the kitchen there was Emily still dressed in her scrubs. She looked at me, went to the fridge, and got out two bottles of IPA. “Here, you earned this,” she said handing me one. “Now how about it if I warm that leftover burger in the microwave for you?”

The topic of getting an enema at the hands of Dr. Emily never came up again--ever. We both enjoyed the IPA until her twins, Cassie and Tommy, came in from school. I had not seen them since they were infants and they already knew that I was their uncle from back East. They politely said hello, but then ran off to do homework and I helped Emily make dinner--nothing special, just pasta and salad, but it was a good comfort food sort of dinner with family.

So here I am three to four years later and I have never discussed this event with a soul, but then again I am not sure that there are that many that would either understand or appreciate the circumstances. I was sure much more comfortable on that flight back to the East Coast though!

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One reader of my earlier story posed an interesting question: specifically how might my sister have felt about winding up giving me an enema? After much thought I put together the following, but with the realization that I am not a female and will never have the full perspective afforded one. Anyway, tell me what you think. This event took place about three years ago. My husband, two kids, and I had just finished dinner and were cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang. It was my brother, Wes, who said he was heading to a conference in San Francisco and wanted to know if he could stop in to see us in Portland for a day or two on his way home. I didn’t have to think twice about telling him “yes” since, while we talk by phone and exchange emails, haven’t gotten to see one another in over 12 years except perhaps for the occasional family wedding or funeral. Wes was due to arrive on the following Thursday, which was going to work out just fine because I had a United Way board meeting downtown and from there would head out to the airport. My husband had to head to a meeting in Dallas so the kids and I were pretty much on our own. The morning was rainy, which is not unusual for Portland. These board meetings are very much business attire events so I selected a gray suit, but knowing that I would have to park on the street up in what is known as the Pearl District, wore my navy blue welly boots. The meeting ran a little longer than usual and I didn’t leave until 10:15. It was raining hard on my way to the car, but thankfully having lived in Portland for so many years I knew how to dress. Traffic was a bit slow due to the weather, but I still got to the airport early enough that I decided to park the car and go inside to meet Wes at baggage claim. I didn’t have long to wait, when I spied my brother standing at the carousel. I walked up behind him and didn’t say a word. When he turned around he got the surprise of his life and we soon had a sibling embrace. He offered to take me to lunch and I suggested a place famous for their burgers and microbrews Once seated the server came over. “I’ll have a spinach salad and a glass of white wine,” I then turned to Wes and said. “Wes, the burgers here are fabulous.” “That was easy. Sure I’ll have a cheeseburger medium rare and an IPA,” he ordered. While waiting for our meals to arrive, Wes told me how his wife, Sharon, was doing and about how his civil engineering career was going very well. I had no sooner started to explain about my pediatrics practice when lunch arrived. We both dug in, but after three bites, Wes said he couldn’t eat any more. He more or less picked at his food as I finished most of my salad. “Are you OK?” I inquired remembering how growing up he would just about inhale a burger. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve been away all week, not slept all that well, have sat in one meeting after another, and not eating right. My stomach feels like it has a rock in it,” he explained. As we made our way to the car I casually mentioned, “It sounds like your condition could use some medical attention,” but did not elaborate. Not long afterwards we got to the house, Wes retrieved his luggage, and I showed him to the guest room. That’s when he continued the conversation, “What did you mean by medical attention?” “Well, if you were a patient of mine, I would tell your mom that you probably could use a good enema.” Wes looked me in the eyes and said, “You tell patients that?” “Sure, why not?” “I know that you got more than your share of enemas when we were growing up. It seems like mom always had you in the bathroom. You used to even ask for one.” I had to laugh because he was absolutely right. “That’s true and I still do one every couple of weeks. It makes me feel great. But enough about me. How about I get you one?” “Gee, I don’t know about that, Em,” he stuttered. “Why not?” “First, you’re my sister?” “That’s true, but if you remember our childhood I have already seen your bare bottom just like you have seen mine. Besides I have had five children, taken countless enemas of my own, and am a medical doctor. So what doubts do you have?” “Now that you put it that way,” was his only reply. “I’m going to go change. But will be right back.” I went to my bedroom stepped out of my suit and blouse and got out a pair of scrubs. I don’t wear them that much at work any more, but they are a comfortable outfit to wear around the house. Upon return to the guest bedroom, Wes looked at me in the scrubs and said, “I guess you were serious, weren’t you?” “Yeah, I am. Now get undressed. I’ll get everything ready and will be right back.” I started by getting several huge towels from the linen closet, returned to Wes, and spread them across the bed. He had already stripped down to his underwear and had one of those little boy looks on his face. “We’re going to do this now?” he asked. “There’s no time like the present,” I said heading across the hall to the main bathroom. I filled the combination syringe with warm water and added some soap that I get at the office, but like to keep around the house for my own use. I also got out a pair of latex gloves and a tube of KY. Then a last minute thought was of Wes running across the hall and worried that he might have an accident so I found a Kotex pad under the sink. My teenage daughter does not use them any more, but there was an almost full box remaining from when she did. Then I returned to the guest bedroom. “It’s time, isn’t it?” Wes said. “It is, which means you need to get those tidy-whitey briefs off. Then lie down on the bed on your left side.” Wes took a hard gulp and complied. I snapped on the latex gloves, opened the tube of KY, took a generous amount, and lubed my brother’s bottom. “I had no idea that I would ever do this when I applied to med school,” I thought to myself as I then inserted the pipe and clicked open the clamp. I picked up the bag from the bed and raised it a couple of feet and the enema started flowing. I eased back on the clamp to slow everything down lest Wes become uncomfortable with too much too soon. Much to my surprise, Wes took the enema like a champ. The warm water apparently hit his prostate because I noticed that he became erect. While it can be a typical male response, I did not want to embarrass him so ignored it as best as I could. “Take some nice deep breaths and you’ll relax,” I coached him. He did like he was told but then he could not help but have an ejaculation on the towel, which embarrassed him, but nothing was said by either of us. Soon the bag was empty so I removed the pipe, held the Kotex against his anus, and told him to hold it there until he got across the hall to the toilet. While Wes was expelling the enema I took up the towels and placed them in the laundry and then took the enema bag to the master bathroom where I rinsed it out and dried it. Afterward I returned to the main bathroom, knocked on the door, and asked if the enema had helped him any. Wes said that it really worked and that he was feeling better. I went to the kitchen and let Wes get cleaned up and dressed in private. When he joined me he said he was feeling better, I got a beer from the fridge, and offered to heat the remains of his cheeseburger in the microwave, which he readily agreed was a good idea. A little while later the twins arrived home from school, said “hi” to their Uncle Wes and went off to do their homework. Wes helped me make dinner and the four of us had a nice evening. The next day I took him to the airport, which was right on my way to the office. As he got out of the car I could not help but think that our relationship had changed a lot during the past 24 hours--but nothing was ever said since by either of us. Friday was another day at my medical practice and it was a busy one at that.