I was 6 years older than my sister Jean and we were never close. I was an athletic boy and had no interest in girls until I was well into my teens. I had occasionally been a babysitter for her but it was strictly a relationship of “don’t bother me I’m busy”. After we were grown we would see each other off and on at large family gatherings but after our parents passed away even that became very infrequent.

However, I was now in my late 40s, just divorced, and my sister had been divorced for several years (and neither of us had kids) and was living in Seattle where I had a business trip. More or less on a whim I called her, said I would be in town, and maybe we could get together on Friday or over the weekend. Although surprised she said sure but she and a friend were going out to dinner on Friday but she’d happy to have me tag along. I think we were both relieved to have a third party there just because we had so little in common.

I met them at an upscale Italian restaurant and she introduced her friend Katherine who was a reasonably attractive lady with a pleasant but very assertive personality. Very different than my sister who had clearly gained considerable weight since her divorce and lost her previously confident demeanor. After we were well into the second round of drinks Katherine asked us both what it was like growing up together. We both chimed in that we weren't exactly together much but that our mother was completely in charge of both of us. Our father had his job, made the money, but had very little interest in other family life except to watch me on my various teams.

Jean then said that she was always a little afraid around my mother because she had so many rules and was a health nut. Kathy (we were now on informal terms) said what happened if you broke the rules and what kind of health nut? Again Jean jumped in and said, well, breaking the rules usually meant being grounded or doing extra chores but if you did something really bad it could mean a spanking with my mother’s hairbrush, And, the health nut part was stuff like vapor rubs and steam for colds and enemas for stomach aches. Kathy sort of smiled and looked at me and said, well Peter, did the same things happen to you? By this time I had turned bright red and said, well I got a few pretty hard spankings until I was about 12 but I still remember getting my last enema when I was around 16. It was incredibly embarrassing, never mind all the other bad parts, and she agreed that I could do it myself from then on- which I never did. Jean then said, well, I got them until I left home at 21 so you were really the lucky one. Trying to turn the conversation around I asked Kathy, how about you, what was your childhood like? She said nothing too special, both parents disciplined us, and I got an occasional enema when I had the flu but nothing like what you all describe. Eventually dinner came, we talked about other stuff, and then I went back to Jean’s house where I was staying in the guestroom.

The next day I took Jean to a Mariner’s baseball game in the afternoon and we began to understand each other better now that we were grown ups, not kids who were 6 years apart. We also ate hot dogs, nachos, chips and drank beer so when we finally got home around 7 nether of us wanted to see food again that night. When we finally settled into her living room and opened another beer and began talking she said, what do you think mother would do if she saw the two of us now? I said, what do you mean? She said, I bet we’d both be in for big time enemas after all that food and if we were young enough I bet we’d get paddled also for overdoing everything.. I said you’re probably right, but fortunately she’s not here. Jean replied, well I have a confession, that I once looked through the keyhole in the bathroom door when you were getting an enema and you were really squirming and complaining the whole time until mother threatened a spanking, Whenever I was getting punished I always thought about you getting it also. And, Peter, you know we both could really use an enema right now.

At that moment I’m not sure what came over me but I said , alright jean, I’m game if you are. After all we are brother and sister. But, since I’m the oldest you have to go first. Jean said, alright, but don’t think you’re getting out of it. Come on up to my bedroom and I’ll get the stuff ready in the bathroom. Nervously I followed her up, obeyed her instruction to get undressed (at least to my underwear) and she soon emerged from the bathroom in her bra and panties carrying a bulging enema bag, towel, and jar of Vaseline. Alright Peter, now you’re in charge.

I quickly assumed the role, and said Jean get out of your bra and panties, kneel down on the towel on the bed, and raise your bottom as high as you can. I hung the enema bag on a dresser next to the bed, lubricated her bottom thoroughly inside and out, and inserted the nozzle. At that moment I paused because I had never seen my sister like this, and sister or not I was incredibly aroused. In as authoritative a voice as I could muster, I said, jean, I’m going to start the enema, you must take it all, and if you try to stop the process at any time I will tan your bottom and start over- understand. In a soft voice she said yes Peter. I then released the clamp and watched her react to the feeling of the enema by moving up and down, clenching her behind, squirming in place, and finally after about 2/3 of the enema was in she said, please stop for a minute Peter, lust a minute. I said alright, but you must finish and you will now have to hold the enema for extra minutes. She said I don’t care, and I gave her a minute’s rest before giving her the rest of the enema. I then made her wait 7 minutes before running to the bathroom, and we talked about this enema compared to those her mother had given her and she said this was the largest and strongest but she didn’t mind as much because it was me doing the giving.

When she came out of the bathroom 15 minutes later she was carrying the refilled enema bag and asked me what I was doing with my underwear still on, and I had better be in position or there would be consequences. Soon I was on the receiving end, and was immediately reminded of the power of an enema and how much control the giver really had. Like Jean I was desperate for some relief and was also punished with extra holding minutes.

After I came out of the bathroom she said, well, what do you think? I said, I’m not sure, but I certainly know you a lot better now than I ever have before. And, if I were to indulge again I wouldn’t mind getting an enema from you as long as I could do the same when you needed it. She smiled and said, that was how I felt too. Kind of amazing after all these years.

Next Chapter: Katherine Joins In