I had occasionally visited a provider in the past in the Jersey City area who was by trade a dominatrix, but would accommodate medical scenes upon request, including enemas and prostate massage. I was experiencing that fierce itch for a few well administered enemas – you know that itch that you must absolutely must scratch – and contacted her via her webpage. It had been a while since my last visit and she had a new address, but was happy to help me with my ‘problem.’

The last time I had a session with Irena she donned a ‘nurse’s outfit’ which was far too short in the skirt, far too skimpy in the torso, and was adorned with those stupid red crosses. It looked like a ‘naughty nurse’ costume from a cheap porno film. I asked her to just change into her street clothes and wear the apron she had worn during our original session which was far less slutty, and much more nurse-like.

This visit I had purchased a set of cranberry hospital scrubs for her which I requested she wear for me – it really helped put me into the scene. I brought along my vintage Rexall Victoria bag with accoutrements, a new box of baking soda, and an amber latex douche syringe as well. She told me to “get comfortable” while she prepared my first enema. “get comfortable,” in her terminology meant get your pants and underwear off and get on the padded table in the bedroom. I heard the water running for a long time and heard her talking to someone in her native Russian although I knew we were alone in the one-bedroom apartment. She returned with the bulging red Rexall, red hose draped over her hand and the black bakelite douche nozzle looking menacing at the end. She hung it on the prepositioned IV stand near the end of the table.

“How you want to do this?” she asked. “On side, on back, up on knees?” I told her, “on my back with my knees flexed and my feet flat on the table.” “OKHAY” she said and started to don the purple surgical gloves she always used. I heard the farty sound of surgilube, and she said, “Here it come” and she used her fingers to expose my pucker, but I still jumped when that cold glob touched me. She slowly inserted a finger, then withdrew it, then reinserted it and twisted it. It was a delightful feeling! “You OKHAY?” She said, since my breathing was quickening. “Now come the enema nozzle, RELAX!” With that she slid the curved douche nozzle home, drew it out a bit, then pushed it back in. “Feels good, no?” Pointing to the reaction from my crotch.

She opened the steel clamp with a loud CLICK and the warm water started to flow, only increasing the growing reaction I could feel. Irena stopped the flow, as was her technique, and massaged my belly, then restarted to flow. She asked, “You mind if my friend come help? She wants learning to gives enemas. She nice girl and no charge you extra.” “Hell, I thought, that would be different!” So, I said “OhKay!” imitating her Russian accent. Irena kept stopping and starting the flow, and massaging my stomach until I didn’t think I could take more and said so. “You just take leetle more, you feel better” and she raised the bag off the stand and held it up at arms-length. The gurgle signaled that I had indeed taken the whole bag and she closed the clamp, re-hung the bag, and rubbed my tummy, scrupulously avoiding touching my erection. She withdrew the nozzle and said, “Best you hold for few minutes.” It was lost on me since I was already moving for the relief of the bathroom, however!

The bathroom was small, but functional. Toilet, sink, shower and small closet. While I was intent on my business, I heard voices from the hall and assumed her friend had arrived. After finishing up and washing my hands I snooped in the closet and found a horde of Fleets, a stack of Bagenemas, wet wipes, and boxes of surgical gloves, Tubes of Surgilube, along with bottles of disinfectant soap. She was one prepared enema nurse!

I was hardly dressed to meet a stranger, since I only had a t-shirt and socks on, but I came into the hall to find a twenty-something, Slavic looking girl in black spandex pants, heels, and a black corset. Her round face done up in dark eye shadow and black lipstick. “This is Aysa” said Irena. “She my friend from Brooklyn and she want to learn to gives enemas.” I said, “Hello Aysa, nice to meet you. I hope you are as nice as Irena.”

I turned to Irena and asked if I could speak to her privately and she followed me into the bedroom. “She looks like Goddamn whore!” I said. “I don’t want her touching me!” Irena started to apologize and said they normally do BDSM scenes together, but she wanted to learn to do medical scenes as well. I said “I understand, but she is a real turn-off!” Irena said she could fix her up quickly and see if that would be OK with me. I answered, “We’ll see.”

Ten or so minutes passed and I could hear water running and Irena giving instructions. Then Irena came back in the bedroom with Aysa, now devoid of facial makeup and wearing white sailor pants, socks but no shoes, and a white apron over a white t-shirt – a bra was noticeably missing under her shirt. The transformation was amazing. She was ‘Rubenesque’ in figure and obviously Slavic in features, but far prettier without the zombie makeup. I readily agreed she could assist Irena.

Irena pointed Aysa to the empty bag hanging on the IV stand and told her to get it and meet her in the kitchenette. Again, I heard water running and the two of them jabbering in Russian first one voice, then the other. Irena entered the bedroom followed by Aysa carrying the now bulging overfull combination bag. Irena said, “I will demonstrate then Aysa will do what I do.” I just nodded and laid back, content to be their test dummy.

They both donned surgical gloves, and gathered at the end of the table like two obstetricians attending a birth and Irena started pointing and Aysa started lightly probing. Since she was in the BDSM business with Irena, where they offered strapon sessions, she was no stranger to poking men’s asses, but her tentative prodding was gentle to the point of being annoying, so I just said, “I’m ready if you are!” That spurred them to action. Irena inserted a cold lubed finger in my butt, withdrew it, and then had Aysa slip her finger inside. She definitely knew where the prostate was and started stroking it. I tightened up and Irena told her, “Enough, now time for enema before it get cold.” With that, Irena inserted the nozzle and slid it in and out, then withdrew it and handed it to Aysa. She mimicked what Irena did, but left it deeply inserted after some in-out action. She smiled at me and said, “You liking this, yes?” I nodded and gave her a thumbs-up.

Irena demonstrated the on and off with the clip and the tummy massage between slow fills. Then Aysa took her turn with the shutoff and the tummy rubs – careful to avoid the protruding penis. They spoke occasionally in Russian pointing out my reaction to their stimulus and how the procedure was progressing. When I felt I was getting really urgent and asked to stop, Aysa snapped at me and said, “NO you take it all!” Irena immediately pinched the hose to stop the flow and told Aysa sharply that, “You don’t do that. Is not good for customer. If he makes big mess you clean up! Also, he does not coming back.”

I had to agree and said I had to go NOW! They withdrew the nozzle and holding my butt clenched I fled to the bathroom. Over the noise I was making, I could hear Irena talking to Aysa with some loud comments interspersed with giggling. After the floods and the aftermath, I returned to the bedroom where the medical staff greeted me and asked if I wanted one more enema. I usually do a series of three with Irena and said, “Three is my lucky number, so yes, of course!” She pointed to the almost completely deflated bag and said, “You want to use the bag there or the other one?” I said, “let’s use the folding bag this time.”

Irena took the nearly empty bag and left trailed by Aysa. I rested while the water ran in the kitchenette and the conversation continued in Russian. They returned in formation, Aysa trailing, holding the full amber bag with a white douche nozzle on the latex hose. She hung the bag and took up a position between my legs while Irena came up closer to my head.

As before, I got a lubricated finger in the butt followed by the insertion of the nozzle. Then the metal clip was opened and the warm flow started. This time, the massage did not ignore my growing ‘problem.’ At Irena’s urging, Aysa started stroking my penis with one hand and sliding the nozzle in and out with the other. It was certainly enjoyable as my guts slowly filled again. I am not as young as I was some years ago and truthfully, I have trouble with orgasms, so I really need stimulation to set me off. Irena knew my situation and pulled up her scrub top and said, “You like my boobies?” I must admit they were pretty wonderful, but having touched them before, I knew they were more silicone than real. She asked if I wanted to see Aysa’s titties and I grinned and nodded. She said something in Russian to Aysa and she took off her apron and pulled up her t-shirt exposing her breasts with large brown nipples. They switched positions, with Irena controlling the nozzle and stroking my penis and Aysa up near my head. Aysa lifted my hand and place it on her left boob – I cupped it and found it was soft and definitely not a surgical wonder. She smiled, and it threw me over the edge. I came, probably not Vesuvius, but pretty outstanding. As I came down from coming, I heard the unmistakable sucking sound signaling the bag was empty. I had not even realized how much I had taken. Irena produced a wet wipe and mopped me off, Aysa dropped her t-shirt and covered up the Grand Tetons once again.

The aftermath was unremarkable – once again I nuked the toilet until I am sure my dental fillings were pulled out. I cleaned up and retrieved my discarded underwear, trousers, and shoes. By now, Irena was in the kitchen showing Aysa how to clean and sanitize the apparatus before packing it in my duffle. Irena made tea for all three of us and we sat sipping tea and talking about many topics except enemas. Irena’s fee for the two hours was $300, which I left in a sealed envelope on the way out. I got cheek kisses from both, and a pinch on the ass from Irena as I left. Irena said, “Thank you for being good patient. We do this again, soon.”

The opportunity to repeat the visit did not present itself for many months, and when I tried Irena’s website it was gone, and her e-mail goes unanswered. I tried finding her on the escort websites since Craigslist no longer carried ads for ‘personal services.’ I even drove past her last address only to find the business downstairs from her place empty with a ‘for sale’ sign on the building. Then when the plague hit, I assume all of the sex workers just went out of business.

It remains a wonderful memory, one of the things dreams are made of.