It was some months after Sharon and I had gone to the Wellness Institute to find ways to improve our lifestyle. For the most part in the months afterward we had improved our eating habits and rejuvenated our sex life. You will note that there was one element that I failed to mention. This was what happened one Monday night.

I had come home from the office, Sharon and I had a casual dinner and afterwards I retreated to my study to review the details of a contract that we were working on and needed to be finalized for later in the week. The house was quiet save the sounds of the TV from the family room where Sharon was watching some quiz show, or at least I thought so. I had been seriously engrossed in some of the design details of the contract, but all of a sudden got that sense that I was not alone. I looked up and there was Sharon standing in the doorway just watching me.

“Hi, Are you OK?” I asked.

“I’m worried about you. Come to think of it I am worried about us,” she replied.

“Worried? How?

“We went to the Wellness Institute and it made several changes in our lifestyles. All for the good, I might add.”

“Yes, it did. So what is your concern?”

“We haven’t been living up to the practices that Tori advocated, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh!” And, yes, I did get Sharon’s meaning. She had been a regular user of enemas for years and still was. I, on the other hand, had been a slacker in that regard. “So you have had a good enema lately?”

“A couple of weeks ago, but how long has it been for you?”

“Oh, maybe a couple of months?”

“That’s about right. I think you’re long overdue. Don’t you?”

“Maybe, but I’ve been busy.”

“I don’t think that you are that busy as to ignore your body. How about we take some time right now.”

“Right now? OK, I’ll let you give me an enema if I can give you one. What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll go get one ready. I’ll see you in 10 minutes so don’t be late.”

I got refocused on the contract and sort of lost track of the time, but then I heard, “Wes, come on. I’m ready for you.”

I got up from my desk and headed for the bedroom where I took off my pants and shirt and reported dutifully to the bathroom where Sharon had already hung the bulging enema bag from the hook on the wall and was standing holding the nozzle in one hand and a tube of KY in the other.

“Don’t you think you need to lose the tidy whities?” she asked rhetorically.

Off they came and I knelt on the towel that had been spread over the rug, my rear lifted into the air and my head on the floor. So, yes, I had assumed the position. An index finger with a cold glob of KY entered my pucker and as many times as I’ve had it done, it is always a bit of a shocker. After giving me a fingering as good as any urologist, Sharon inserted the nozzle and opened the clamp. The enema started to flow and actually felt pretty good, but they usually do at first. It’s what happens a few minutes later that always gives me pause.

Sharon was using the new translucent three quart bag that we got from Tori. Not only does it have a much larger capacity than our trusty old combination red bag, but being translucent I could see that the enema solution was a milky white. “Soap!,” I said to myself. “This isn’t just some warm water, but Sharon made it soapy so that I got really cleaned out!

A couple of minutes went by and then the first cramp hit me. “That’s enough!” I exclaimed.

“No, it isn’t. You need to take a bit more so some nice deep breaths will help the cramp to pass.”

I managed to fight may way through the cramp and take the rest of the bag, but in all honesty, it was a struggle. Once the bag was empty, Sharon closed the clamp but left the nozzle in place, meaning that I had to hold the enema and let it churn away. Increasingly, the urge to expel was heavy on my mind and when I was finally allowed to go to the toilet it was one of the greatest feelings ever.

Now I’m generally a regular kind of guy, but that expulsion emptied stuff out of me that I have no idea where it was coming from. It continued to flow out of me for the longest time. Once I was finished, and stood up, I even felt weak in the knees.

Sharon returned to the bathroom stark naked. “Now don’t you feel a whole lot better?” she asked.

“I honestly have no idea where all of that came from,” I said eyeing her naked body. My wife might be in her early 50s but still has a very nice body that some women 20 years younger would love to have. Her breasts were modest to say the least but firm with the cutest nipples ever. There was nothing sagging anywhere and to say that she still easily turned me on would be an understatement.

Sharon took the enema bag off the wall and proceeded to fill it at the sink. When she turned around I could see that it was filled to capacity, but the liquid was clear. “What? No soap for you? How come I had to have a soapy one and you don’t?”

“I’m making mine baking soda instead. It always seems more soothing to me.

“How come I didn’t get a choice then?”

“For two reasons. One is that you haven’t had a good enema in a long time and second, you didn’t ask.” At that she added three teaspoons of baking soda to the bag, held the top closed, and shook it to mix before hanging it on the wall.

“There, we’re ready,” she said as she knelt on the towel. I lubed her well, actually giving her anus an even more complete fingering than she had done for me. I could feel her pucker constrict around my finger as I did so. Then in went the nozzle and the clamp opened. Moments later she moaned with pleasure—Sharon sure relished getting a good enema!

Not wanting to contaminate her vagina, I switched hands from the one that had lubed her and began playing with her vaginal opening. Her natural juices had already started and it was no effort at all for my middle finger to penetrate her for its entire length and she pulsed her hips in delight. I swiveled my hand so that I could maintain the fingering at the same time my thumb massaged her clit. “Oh, Wes!” was all that she could manage as her breathing got deeper.

This play continued for some minutes and was such a distraction that I finally noticed that the enema bag was empty—the problem was that I have no idea for how long so out came the nozzle and Sharon headed for the toilet. The effects of her enema were about the same as mine, namely that there was a prodigious volume of warm water and dissolved poop. Like me, it just continued flowing out of her.

When Sharon finally finished, her comment was “That was great. I really needed that, just like you did. But now there is something else we have to do to finish things.”

“There is?” I asked innocently.

“Don’t be so dense. Now I need you to give me a good fucking,” she said leading me to the bedroom. “Remember, Tori at the Wellness Institute said that we also need to enjoy one another.” Ah, yes, Tori. I could never forget her!

Sharon had already peeled back the bedspread and laid down on the bed. My manhood was at attention and moments later had done its disappearing act. I really have to admit that there is an incentive for a guy to be given an enema!