Autumn was asserting itself. Evenings were now chill and foreshortened in the early arriving dusk. Days, however, remained full, blue, and sunny; the garden remained at peak and Uncle Bartram served dinners glorious with the produce of our weeding and watering. Camp Carthage had formally closed and the several local maintenance men slowly prepared the cabins and facilities for the oncoming winter.

My own plans remained indefinite but I knew that by the third week in September I was scheduled to report to the school in my home district, grim in its look and staff and students. It was not a prospect I looked forward to. There was little doubt that the summer with Uncle had provided me with a life, a vision that had brought happiness to what had been a desiccated spirit. I was much like the tiny calendula buds that then developed into the most complex and variegated flower, and I was most grateful for the transformation.

Uncle and I had just finished lunch and he offered a small crystal cup of his rice pudding with its scrim of grated cinnamon on top, a treat I adored for its creaminess and marbled texture. I savoured every small spoonful accompanied by green tea laced with country milk. Uncle, as usual, was forthright asking if I wanted to accompany him to the Camp where he would conclude his contract with the camp's director. I thought it a first-rate idea since I had only pleasant and full memories of my visits there, especially the Camp's social about which I've written.

Uncle's Citroen had the most comfortable seats I had ever ridden in and he took a different longer route to the Camp during which we admired some early leaves turning and the pastures beginning to show a more sallow green colour. Everything here in the north looked pleasing to my eyes. I liked the commanding grip that Uncle kept on the large steering wheel and his driving was like everything else I associated with him: moderate and controlled, reassuring and calm. He was a rare comfort in an uneasy world.

We approached the camp from the north which afforded a splendid view of the lake that bore its name as well, Carthage, the white docks and their towers radiant against the full shoreline. The Camp was especially well maintained and its buildings seemed solid and substantial with the fern logo neatly stenciled nearly everywhere. When we stopped in front of the director's building, I was surprised to find Luc just emerging from the office.

He looked brilliant with a dark blue polo and those ever-present Camp shorts, both white and tight fitting showing his beautifully curved legs to fine effect. You may recall that Luc was Moroccan with a dazzling smile and an overall cocoa colour that seemed to stop my thoughts in mid-stream because of his symmetrical beauty. He was taut and lean but with a layer of fleshy resilience that I had first felt at the Camp's closing dance when he and I occupied the dance floor, soft cheek to cheek. I had thought of him often since that evening.

Luc's presence was explained by his plans to attend school at an Academy about twenty miles north of Carthage and he was permitted to remain at camp prior to the opening of school. I shyly offered my hand in greeting while Uncle ascended the few steps to the Director's office door. Luc's native enthusiasm, however, resulted in a warm embrace and a delicious hug that brought with it that special fragrance that I associated with department store soap: deep and fragrant. I smiled in spite of myself when I stammered: "You smell wonderful."

Luc and I walked down to the lakefront and sat in two adjoining chairs. The sunlight shimmered off the water's surface, a faint breeze prowled high in the sheltering trees, and I was very content to have his companionship and lilting voice. There are certain moments in which time could favour us by simply pausing, and this was one of them. In sum, I liked Luc and I believe he liked me, a commodity not easily found in a mistrusting world.

Luc revealed he had a treatment within the hour and I was intrigued since I incorrectly thought he meant with Uncle. Nurse Richelle, however, proved to be a woman in her forties with whom I had heard Uncle talk several times by 'phone from the cottage. She evidently provided many of the same services that Uncle did but for the campers on the premises. She was known as Nurse Richelle which was a truncating of her longer family name. I recalled her from the Social as someone pleasant and reserved.

After some talk of the impending school term, Luc and I wandered back to the Camp proper and found Uncle in one of the deck chairs conversing with the Director. He smiled at us reassuringly and suggested I might be interested in watching Luc's treatment that he knew Nurse Richelle was to administer. My interest was very keen, indeed, and I looked to Luc for affirmation which his smile confirmed with no need for words. Uncle and the Director were to motor into the village but would return in the later afternoon.

Luc and I found the Infirmary easily, a low building set apart from the individual campers' cabins on their low stilts. Nurse Richelle proved welcoming and I was immediately taken if not outrightly aroused by the array of equipment and the distinctly medicinal smell in the air. I was wide-eyed at the variety of enema bags that were obviously air drying along with lengths of different coloured and sized hoses. Their intense rubber smell only enhanced my gratitude for being included in whatever Luc was to undergo.

But, imagine my surprise in hearing Nurse Richelle offer to include me in the afternoon's treatment. I blushed deeply since while I had no difficulty with Uncle's ministrations at the cottage, I imagined that any interaction with Nurse Richelle might be very different indeed. Obviously, Luc had no such inhibitions since he was undressing almost automatically and one glance confirmed that he was quickly down to thin briefs, light tan in colour, at the sight of which my breathing became deeper and faster. He was, in a word, beautiful in form.

The question from Nurse still hanging in air was one I hadn't responded to but I decided there was no harm in indicating approval wordlessly by shrugging off my polo and shorts, even if hesitatingly, and standing in the slanted sunlight in a state identical to Luc's. Nurse Richelle's smile gave me the confidence to return her invitation affirmatively.

There were two cushioned examining tables, rather rudimentary in design, separated only by several feet and Nurse asked that we help in pushing them side by side, something easily accomplished. She further explained that she needed to give us both an initial bulbful of some glycerin water to prepare the way for what she called a "working enema."

Luc had evidently been through the drill before since he was quick to occupy one of the cushioned tables on his back with his legs pulled back and held back with his arms. I did the same and Nurse was easily able to reach the waistbands of our briefs and pull them deftly off with: "No false modesty in the Infirmary, lads."

Luc's waggling penis was inspiration enough for me and I could sense, without looking directly, that I was at a full stand with my penis parallel to my belly. In contrast to my penis which was a modest five inches and thin, Luc displayed a lovely and rounded dibble looking more hose-like and flexible and even deeper in colour than his cocoa torso. His scrotum was almost black in colour, very full, almost bulging in its capacity. Nurse was most efficient and she produced two black rubber bulbs, holding perhaps a cup or more of solution, whose pouting tips glistened with what was obviously generous lubricant. She inserted them almost simultaneously and squeezed vigorously; the effect was startling, a kind of instant warmth followed by a sense of pleasant fullness. Nurse cautioned we were to retain the solution for several minutes and then avail ourselves of the water closets which were at one end of the Infirmary.

As the urgency built into a groundswell, Luc instinctively reached for and grasped my hand, a move that seemed electrifying as I contemplated that he was feeling much of what I was and as his grip attested, was enjoying it as much as I. After several minutes of squirming passed, Nurse directed us to the respective water closets where we divested ourselves quickly if not abundantly. A quick washup and we were back in place on the tables ready for the next phase.

Nurse Richelle had been running considerable quantities of water in a nearby deep sink and she hoisted out of its depth an amber and large enema bag whose sides trembled with its load. She explained it was a five-quart model and that we would share it. We looked transfixed as she placed it rather high on a hospital pole, attached a similarly coloured hose to its outlet, and then it into a Y-divider, two short lengths of hose each into its own anti- flowback valve, and then sweeping down two large lengths of hose into each of which she was installing something I had seen in Uncle's examining room and experienced once before: a single-balloon nozzle, also amber in colour.

Luc and I assumed the legs bent posture while on our backs and Nurse applied a generous amount of a clear lubricant to our anuses and urged some of it into our rectum with a practised finger. Luc was the first to receive his nozzle which, similarly, was coated with the clear lubricant and then slowly twirled into his rectum with some little effort. I was fascinated to watch it disappear whereupon Nurse Richelle used what was a small bulb inflator to pump up the balloon to Luc's evident satisfaction.

Soon, I felt the pouting and lubricated outlet of my nozzle against my anus and Nurse's skill put it in place within seconds: it felt cool and slippery and then large and firm as she pumped it three or four times with the inflator bulb. My penis was at full stand with the new sensations and the fact that Nurse had spread some excess lubricant on my scrotum while she commented on its hairless nature, the product of my diligent shaving.

I have neglected mentioning Luc's nipples which made my burgeoning flesh thimbles look small in comparison; his were dark in colour and looked positively chewable, like some exquisite and formed imported chocolate. It was obvious that Uncle's suppos had brought about lovely and desirable changes in Luc's nipples as they had in mine.

With a loud click, Nurse opened the master clamp on the hose just beneath the bulging bag with its five-quart load and said that she knew we would enjoy the initial internal gulp of air that she hadn't expelled from the hoses. Luc smiled at me and I knew precisely what he meant. Cramps for me, and obviously for him, were part of the experience and they were the most direct link for me to my childhood enemas that I secretly enjoyed if not outrightly relished.

Both Luc and I were transfixed looking at the large enema bag whose very sides trembled and reshaped themselves as its heavy liquid cargo made its way into us. Nurse Richelle had located a fairly large jar of a viscous gel and she began gently rubbing it onto and around Luc's slightly flaring belly and then mine. The feeling was exquisite: at first slightly cool, and then a pleasant warmth asserted itself complementing the internal fullness that was beginning to build nicely. Needless to say, my penis was at a full stand and a glance confirmed that Luc was in a similar state of rigid excitement.

I closed my eyes to savour the variety of differing sensations and realized that the cramps were of a different type that I had previously experienced. Something in the solution was spreading not only warmth through my abdomen but a slow rolling sensation, not the usual localized knot. I made a note to ask Uncle about it since it was very near the ideal for me: my colon, in effect, was being lighted from within and without since the lotion that Nurse had rubbed onto my belly was building in its warmth.

Almost by instinct, I realized that Luc had rolled his body and was on his side facing me. It took me only a second to imitate his motion and his sudden and soft kiss sent a shock through my very core. But what was unexpected was the joining of our now bulging bellies since the lotion produced the most remarkable effect: it temporarily glued us together and the slightest movement caused a remarkable tickling of the flesh as we re-glued ourselves in a slightly different position. This obviously pleased us both since we squirmed and pitched time and again which promptly Nurse Richelle to apply even more of the gel and this time to our adjacent penises which had been rolling against each other in wave after wave of pleasure.

Once Luc began tweaking my nipples, I found I could suckle his and not lose the intimate position we had effected. It was paradisial since Luc's deep moans were the perfect accompaniment to my lips and teeth pulling on and sucking on his firm yet yielding nipples. Our genitals were locked and unlocked in the tiny tendrils of the sticky lotion and we practised and repractised rolling them together and then slightly apart, over and over.

The large bag was near empty; our bellies were glued in a mutual curve of heavy pleasure when I felt from deep within that signal unique in all the world that I was about to jet what seemed like the essential core of my existence. My brief cry of pleasure was echoed by Luc's similar sound and we pressed against each other as if our two bodies could actually unite. Luc had managed to spray a spermatic line that reached our upper chests and I thrust a hand between us to spread the balm on us both. It smelled so familiar and yet so foreign; I couldn't get enough of it.

It was in this instant that I realized what I had been missing in the desolate months and years before moving to Uncle Bartram's: the warmth and caring, the mutual giving and receiving of deep pleasure. Uncle was right: pleasure was possible to create and share and never more so than in Luc's welcoming embrace, with our guts filled with a roiling and welcome solution and a complicit Nurse ready to aid us at every step.

The years have passed. Uncle most generously bequeathed his cottage to me. Camp Carthage changed ownership but once to the nephew of its former director. I became a Physician's Assistant and am never more energized than when in the Examining Room at either the cottage or the camp helping others experience the abiding physical pleasures Uncle had introduced me to.

--END--