I was married, briefly, after a whirlwind courtship that lasted six months from meeting to marrying. A year later she met someone else and a year after that we were divorced. My mother in law, Lucy, a widow, liked me, I liked her. She went out of her way to keep in touch. We got to the point where we'd have dinner. I'd take her to a nice restaurant, or she'd have me over.

The third, fourth time I was at her place for dinner I suddenly became unwell and she convinced me I need to stay over, not drive home. I felt so awful I agreed. I went to bed in what had been my former wife's bedroom. Mom Lucy had found me a track suit to wear and after I was in bed she knocked on the door and came in to check on me.

She sat on the edge of the bed. We talked. She said when this happened with her daughter, or her son, she would give them an enema. She said she thought I should have an enema and she'd give me one if I liked. Sick as I was I was also intrigued. She said she'd fix an enema for me.

Soon she was back carrying a large traditional red enema bag. Following instructions I rolled on my side and slid down the track pants. She asked me to move over so she could sit on the edge of the bed. She asked if I'd ever had an enema before. I said I had, growing up. Not for a long time. She said she was going to give me a good enema. I'd need to take the whole bag to be sure it worked. If I had a cramp or just needed a short rest to let her know and she'd clamp it off for a minute.

She asked if I was ready. She inserted the nozzle, said she was going to start the enema and I heard the clamp open. She asked if I could feel the enema starting. I said not really. She held the bag up to get it started. I felt the rush of enema and told her. She said she'd lower the bag and give it to me slowly.

All the time she was giving me the enema she talked about how this reminded her of all the enemas she'd given my wife, and her son. She even talked about enemas she'd given to friends and ones she'd given herself. I wanted the enema to continue forever so she wouldn't stop talking about enemas.

When I came back from the bathroom I admitted I felt much better and thought I could drive home. She wouldn't hear of it, and so I stayed the night. I slept well and in the morning felt near normal. She agreed I was well enough to drive. One last thing. Before I left she said she was going to give me another enema. This time she didn't ask. Just said I was getting one. I got another good one. This time not in the bedroom. In the bathroom.

When I left she gave me a hug and said if I ever was unwell and needed an enema again she'd be glad to give it to me.