Part 1 - The First Time
[This is a true story, but the names have been changed to protect anyone who might recognize themselves]
Jack was sounding miserable as we spoke on the phone. In this case, he really did sound ill.
"Joe, you have to come over, if you can. I need some help here."
I thought about my day, and answered, "Sure Jack, I can be over in about an hour."
"Thanks cousin. I really do appreciate it. See you then."
I finished what I was doing at the time and then started over to see jack, parking in the driveway of his house, and then knocking at the side door. Jack opened the door, and i walked in, not knowing what was coming next.
By way of background, I am 32 years old, single, just out of the military, and taking some weeks before going to work. I live in a small apartment downtown. Jack lives at the outskirts of town, in a house his mother and father owned before they passed away. Jack was their only child, and has been pretty much spoiled his whole life. The family knew he was gay from his early years, and he had a relationship or two, but they never lasted very long, except for his most recent. The two seemed happy for nearly six months, and then the guy was gone. Jack went into a deep funk.
"Hey Jack, What's going on?" I asked, walking through the kitchen with Jack toward the living room, where his usual news program was blaring.
"Joe, you were a medic, right?"
"Sure was. Still am, in the reserve. What's the problem"
"Well, this is it," responded Jack, getting right to the point. "Aunt Sue is off on a trip, and I really need some of her medical magic, if you know what I mean?"
"Not really, " I answered, "What 'medical magic are you talking about?"
"Well... that is...'um," stammered Jack. "Sometimes I have problems going to the bathroom. You know, had that since I was a kid. Aunt Sue comes over once in a while to help me out."
"She does," Jack said, "And what magic does she do for you?"
"Well, I mean, for me pills don't work real well, so she sort of, well, she gives me a big soapy enema, like my mom used to do. That's it. Can you do it for me?" Jack blurted out.
I was stunned, never thinking of this kind of 'treatment', and not having been closely involved with him, it threw me for a loop.
"Well," I started to respond, "What about those squeeze bottle things. You can do those yourself."
"I know that Joe, but they don't really work either when I get backed up. Could you do it for me?"
I thought about who else was in town, and realized I was it. "I guess so Jack. I remember how to do those. Do you have the stuff for it?"
Jack waved me toward the bathroom, and, on the wall I saw a large red rubber bag, a long red hose, and a black tip on the end.
"It was my mother's," Jack opined. "She really knew how to give an enema with that thing. You got a big bag with a lot of soap and had to hold it for a while to get the results she wanted or you got another one a short time later. Can you do it for me?"
I thought back to my own house, and the enema bag mom kept on the door to the bathroom on a hook. It reminded you what might be coming if we did not stay 'regular', which to her meant every day. Her bag was more orange than red, and she had a bigger tip she used, but this one looked to contain about the same amount of water and soap.
Amazingly, my pecker started to stir looking at the enema bag and renewing my memories of my childhood. Secretly, I loved mom's enemas, and tried to find ways to get them. Eventually, I just gave them to myself, but it was never the same. When I went in the service, the memories faded, and were now coming back in full living color.