by El Ciego

blind@faribault.net

We met on the Internet, as many people do nowadays. The correspondence was at first polite, then political, finally becoming more personal as days passed. I was free to travel, and we decided to meet at her home, a lovely chateau in an exclusive neighborhood.

I was surprised when we met to learn that she was some twenty years my senior and lovely in every way. She was statuesque with big, beautiful breasts unmarred by her sixty-seven years, long model's legs and a tight, firm backside. She explained that health had always been important to her and that she exercised regularly to keep fit and toned. Her body was in fact so good; that my forty-five year-old spare tire and flabby muscles embarrassed me. She however quickly put me at ease in her California king-size bed, and we quickly became hot, loving partners.

I visited Jonquille regularly for the next few months, stealing away to her chateau whenever I could slip away from business concerns. How I enjoyed these visits! Her bed was warm, the sex was fantastic, and her cooking was worthy of mention in Saveur magazine.

During my third visit to her chateau, I passed three days without defecating. Despite the fact that Jonquille and I were impassioned lovers, I felt uneasy about asking for a laxative or suppository. As if psychic, Jonquille came to me and complained quietly, "Mon cher, I would love to make love tonight, but, well… I am a bit uncomfortable. I haven't pooped in nearly four days…" Her voice trailed off as a deep blush suffused her lovely, patrician face. I nearly stammered, "Well Jonquille, I was just about to ask you for a suppository or some laxative. I myself have been very uncomfortable, as I haven't been able to pass anything either. Perhaps we should go to the drugstore and purchase a fountain syringe. I give myself enemas at home periodically to cleanse my system. I don't much care for laxatives, and I think that a suppository won't be enough." Jonquille smiled at me a bit strangely. "No need to go out. I have a fountain enema bag, and perhaps you would help me?"

My heart nearly leapt into my throat, as my cock grew instantly rigid. Since my first experiments with enemas as a middle-aged adult, I had always wanted to try an erotic enema. I had read nearly every page at the speculum.com website, and I was fascinated by the stories. Although happily heterosexual, I had discovered early that my anus was a pleasure zone for me. Now I would get the opportunity to explore watersports with my lovely, elder lover.

Jonquille prepared the bathroom by spreading towels in a thick layer on the white tiled floor, while I assembled the enema apparatus. The bag was the common multipurpose red bag with white tubing and could also serve as a hot water bottle. A very common setup it was, the kind that sell at the discount places for under fifteen bucks. Tonight however, it seemed nearly magical and full of promise.

I filled the bag with warm water and added a bit of table salt to the liquid, agitating it in the bag until the solution was thoroughly mixed. For this introductory session, I had decided against using even the mild Castille soap I used at home. I knew the salt would safeguard against the excessive loss of electrolytes and help prevent shock. I wanted everything to be perfect.

Jonquille came behind me then, naked, her breasts large and as luminous as pale alabaster in the soft light from the candles she had arranged around the bathroom. "I think I need to relax a bit before we get into this," she smiled, handing me a perfectly rolled marijuana cigarette. I softly chuckled as I took the joint from her elegant fingers. "First time enema?" I knew the answer of course, as the simple syringe had obviously been well-used. "No, of course not," she replied. "I used to have terrible problems with constipation, and I used it then. It's just that, well… I've never associated taking an enema with sexual play. Do many people do it?" "I guess so. There are lots of erotic stories about enemas on the Internet, and I'm sure we're not the first to do this." Smiling, I lit the joint and drew on it slowly, deeply. Jonquille took a few tokes and handed the spleef back to me. She smiled, "Okay then, I guess I'm ready."

"Lie on your left side and raise your right knee toward your chest,"I instructed. She assumed the position, and I gently massaged her rectum with a well-lubricated finger. As I mentioned, her ass is glorious, especially considering her 67 years. She let out a soft moan as I gently inserted a finger into her, thoroughly and gently moistening her passage. The enema nozzle in drugstore kits are small enough for use by a child, and it slipped into her easily. I opened the flow restrictor just a notch (I had cleared air from the line before inserting the nozzle), and warm saline water began to trickle into her. I massaged her breasts and stomach, helping the water circulate through her transverse colon. I knew this would help avoid cramping.

"Okay sweet one, roll slowly onto your other side," I commanded, noting that the bag was about half full. She rolled from her left side onto her back, and then onto her left side. A contented smile played across her face, and I knew that she was not in the least uncomfortable. "That feels kind of nice," she sighed. "It's very easy to take the water in slowly like this. Will it still work?"

I knew the answer, but decided to let her find out for herself. After a few minutes, I bade her get on her hands and knees in the doggie-style position. Her pendulous breasts hung down, and her erect nipples brushed against the cool imported tiles of the elegant bathroom. I carefully inserted a finger into her tight vagina, easing it in slowly, working it faster and faster. She shuddered with orgasm, a tremor claiming her mature body. I released the flow restrictor and allowed the water to quickly cascade down the tube and into her bowels. She cried aloud then, not in pain but in ecstasy as another firestorm of climax coursed through her.

The bag was now emptied. I laid it aside and gently pulled the nozzle from her tight rectum. I quickly inserted a finger into her ass, while at the same time easing two fingers into her now-sopping cunny, working both her ass and pussy with long, slow strokes. "I want to hold it in for awhile," she answered my unasked question. I increased stroking her asshole and pussy, savoring the orgasms which came with increasing rapidity and frequency. Finally she panted, "Now, please!" I helpd her to the stool, and inquired if I should leave her in privacy. It was a ridiculous question, and we both laughed aloud. I turned my back, washing my hands in the imported English sink, then took a sip of cabernet as I heard the water begin to flow out of her. Soon she was noisily eliminating three days' worth of overindulgence, laughing like a schoolgirl at the cacophony of noise her bowels were creating.

After awhile she requested a Coke, feeling drained and in need of fast sugar and replenishing liquid. I opened the frosty glass bottle and handed it to her, relighting the joint after ensuring her comfort and taking a deep draw. "That was wonderful!" she declared, raising the cold bottle to her lips. I smiled happily. "Now it's your turn. Give me a couple minutes to freshen up, will you? I'll meet you back here in five minutes?"

II.

I left the room, striding through the louvered French doors and onto her commodious veranda, which overlooked a carefully landscaped garden and a duck pond. The evening was humid and sweet, like the juices of a young girl, like warm CocaCola, like love. I lit a Gitane Blonde with my Dunhill lighter and grinned broadly to myself, anticipating my turn. I was aroused beyond belief, my cock becoming again turgid and throbbing as I recalled the scene that had just been played. I inhaled the sweet smoke of the cigarette and listened to the sounds of the night, until I was snapped from my reverie by my lover's dusky voice. "Your turn, baby boy." I turned and gasped. Jonquille was now clad in black thigh-high stockings and 3 inch "come-fuck-me" high-heeled pumps. She had found a silk scarf and was toying with it, occasionally drawing it across her cherry-red nipples, now fully erect in the cooling night air. I found myself wanting to submit, to obey her commands, and I quickly extinguished the last inch of the cigarette and hurried into the bathroom.

Her voice had taken on a different tone. Commanding, enervating, undeniable. "Take off your robe and lie on your back. Now!" I quickly did as she commanded. My cock was again tumescent, and she toyed with it, running a manicured fingernail, bright red across the sensitive glans and down the back of my shaft to the scrotum. I moaned softly, as she took the silk kerchief and tied it tightly around my cock and balls, shrouding and trapping my sex in fine Oriental silk. The scarf was tied tightly around the base of my organ, which pulsed in time with my racing heart. Jonquille laughed aloud, wickedly, and ran a sharp fingernail around the shrouded head of my cock. I could no more resist the sensations than I could resist the movement of the stars; I began to moan and cry out my ecstasy. "Sh-h-h, darling!" Jonquille raised an elegant finger to her pink lips, smiling wickedly at me. "If you're already this excited, what will happen when we do the enema? Heavens, you'll wake the neighbors!"

I struggled to hold in my intense arousal, to stifle its noises, as she continued to fondle my rigid penis with her fingertips. "The bag is full, and I'm ready. Are you?"

I nodded, unable for the moment to speak. At Jonquille's bidding, I spread my legs wide. "Hands above your head," she commanded, and I was greeted with yet another shocking surprise. As I complied with her command, she quickly encircled my wrists with the silver bracelets of police handcuffs, attaching them to a long chain. I trusted Jonquille, but memories of news stories I had read about sexual predators ran through my head.

She noticed my nervousness, laying a calming hand on my belly, teasing and tickling again with her fingernails, this time finding my hypersensitive nipples. I groaned loudly, and she frowned. "I told you to keep quiet!" she admonished, gently slapping my face to get my attention. "I can tell that you will be unable to control your vocalizations. This will help."

She pulled a pair of her panties from the laundry hamper and stuffed them into my mouth, then secured the wad in place with a strip of wide medical tape. The panties smelled and tasted of her sex, her sweat, perfume and a slight hint of urine; the taste and smell drove me wild, and I moaned into the cloth now stuffing my mouth. "Ready now, little boy?" she laughingly inquired, slapping at my scrotum with her open palm, eliciting both acute pain and intense excitement.

Another surprise awaited me. I watched fascinated as the red drugstore enema bag with its thin white hose was replaced by a huge black rubber bag, wider gauge black hose running to the biggest enema nozzle I had ever seen.

From excursions on the Internet, I knew exactly what it was, a 2-inch diameter Klystra nozzle made of hard plastic resin. It looked frightening, immense, and upon seeing the panicked expression in my eyes, Jonquille chuckled evilly. "You know you want to be fucked with this, little boy. I'm going to stretch your little virgin asshole with this. I'm going to fuck you with this. The water is going to fuck you, and you are going to learn to love it. I am your enema mistress, and you are my squirmy little sex toy!" She laughed again, approaching my prone body, the nozzle now glistening with slick lubricant.

"Up with your knees!" " I quickly complied, planting both feet flat to the floor, my legs spread wide at the knees. "Good boy," Jonquille smiled, "Now lift your ass off the floor!"

She slid a large rubber pillow under my tailbone, and then without warning, slammed the huge black nozzle into my unready asshole! I screamed into the panty-gag, then again drew in the musk of Jonquille's womanhood, perfume, piss. The agony in my ass was unbelievable, and I howled into the fine cloth of my Mistress' imported undergarment. She began to gently move the dildo-nozzle in and out of my ass, periodically shoving it a bit deeper, then quickly withdrawing it until its bulbous head was just inside the sphincter. As Jonquille did this, she continued to torment my throbbing cock-head with her fingernail, through the fine silk shroud. The clever knots she tied in the silk served another wicked purpose, gripping my penis around its base like a cockring, like the thumb and forefinger grasp of a skilled Thai masseuse. My cock bulged to its widest girth, the veins standing out painfully against the tenderness of the silk.

Jonquille released the valve and clicked it to a slow trickle. "You'll take all four liters little boy, before I allow you to come. And you're going to want to come very much." With that, she resumed her fingertip stroking of my manhood, tracing the throbbing veins with fingernail and then suddenly, firm grasping of her palm. I moaned lustily again and again into the improvised gag, constantly aware of the water slowly invading my bowels. It was very hot, and I began to worry that it would scald me, but again as if reading my mind, Jonquille stated, "The temperature is 47 degrees Centigrade. You won't die." I broke a heavy sweat then, my heart pulsing in my temples, my dick, my stretched anus.

She rose from her kneeling position between my legs to stand fully upright on her wicked high-heeled shoes, stepping to place a foot on either side of my head. I stared up into her shaven sex, its delicate petals flushed with her arousal and love-sweat. It was then that her intentions became startlingly clear as the bag was suddenly raised another meter into the air! Even though the valve restrictor was set to a trickle, the added height pushed the hot water through the tiny apeture at a high pressure, and I could feel water surging against my prostate gland. Jonquille deliberately jogged the bag up and down, resulting in an incredibly sensual throb of hot water into me.

She seemed then to become weary of standing, and hung the bag on the steel hook of a heavy duty medical IV stand.

"Can you be quiet? I've got better uses for your mouth than a laundry hamper." Without waiting for any sort of answer, she roughly pulled the medical tape from my mouth and pulled her soiled panties free. I gasped momentarily, wanting to thank her but daring not.

With agonizing slowness, she lowered her sweet woman flesh to nearly within tongue's reach.

She straddled my face, facing toward my feet, and settled her sex onto my begging mouth. It was then that Jonquille treated me to another surprise."My ass, boy!" she commanded, spreading her ass open. I eagerly tongued at her ochre penny, darting my tongue again and again deeply into her. She then surprised me with the tingling sensation of a vibrator against the back of my penis, just at the base of the head. She allowed me to see it then, a marvelous little toy worn as a thimble, or more precisely like the finger picks used by steel guitar players. It thrummed and throbbed against my cock- flesh, and she began to use it deftly to stimulate my most sensitive parts. She took me close to orgasm several times, but we both knew that the bag was still far too full to allow me release.

She rose from me then, checking the level of fluid in the big black rubber bag. "You've still got at least two liters to go, little boy!" She went to a drawer and pulled out two wicked looking nipple clamps. "These will help keep your mind off your ass for awhile," she chuckled, quickly stepping to me and entrapping each of my tender boy-tits in the wicked grasp of rubber-padded steel pincers. I gritted my teeth against screaming. She again resumed her position over my face. "Eat that ass, baby!" Again I started at her rosebud, as she switched the vibrator from my genitals to her own and then back again. "Eat my ass, bitch!" she screamed, taking one of the tit-clamps and tugging it violently.

My head swam with the mix of torments and pleasures rocketing through my body. Between the vibrator play against my penis through the elegant silk, the agony of my nipples and the thrill of anally servicing my dominant lover, I was too close to orgasm for comfort.

Jonquille climaxed again, her honey dripping onto my chin, the scent of her intoxicating. I continued to probe my superior's anus with my tongue, relishing her groans of delight.

Again without warning, Jonquille suddenly opened the flow control wide, allowing a sudden torrent of hot water to flow into my bowels. I began to cramp almost immediately, and Jonquille at the same moment began to masturbate me in earnest, taking me closer and closer to ecstasy. "I'm close, Mistress!" I moaned, "Eat my ass. Come on baby, lick it. We're not done yet!" she declared, again turning the fingertip vibrator against her clitoris. I did as I was told, cramps rocking my bowels, my cock aflame with Jonquille's ministrations. I heard the last of the water gurgle out of the bag, and Jonquille suddenly interrupted her caresses. "uh-uh-uh…not so fast!" she cooed. "We gotta let this solution work a little." I groaned, frustrated. "Please, Mistress! I beg you.." My pleading was cut off as Jonquille again stuffed my mouth with the panties, which she had also used to wipe the traces of her multiple orgasms from her slit, scenting the panties afresh.

She began to tug rhythmically at the tit clamps, but then just as suddenly, she removed them both. The blood began to pulse into flesh from which it had just been sequestered, and the throb was agonizing. I moaned again into the gag.

She stepped over me again, showing me her beautiful crotch, and bent over to kiss me around the gag. She massaged my abdomen for awhile, then unlocked the cuffs from the restraining chain. "To the toilet, boy," she commanded.

She eased the huge nozzle from my aching ass, but cautioned me to hold it until she gave me permission.

She raised the seat of the toilet and bade me perch on the cold porcelain rim. She then smiled, and unwrapped the silk from my aching penis. She started to massage it gently at first, her hand lubricated with warm, slippery oil. Gradually, she increased the speed and pressure of her stroking. "I'm going to come, Mistress! I cried in warning, And she suddenly knelt before me, taking my cock into her mouth. She gazed up into my eyes and said, "Shit when you come, boy!" and took my cock again deeply into her mouth, working her tongue rapidly, humming into it, squeezing with her cheeks. I began to come, screaming, crying, my shit and hot water exploding from me, release of bowels, balls, bellowing and blasphemy hurling from me, purging. I screamed Jonquille's name, the last of my seed shooting down her throat, my bowels still fully involved in expulsion. She took a sip of cold Coke and kissed me then, rising to her feet, leaning a motherly breast into my trembling mouth, cooing.

I suckled her sweet woman flesh and finished expelling over the next half-hour. I felt warm, protected, infantile, free.

We have not played much with enemas since that magical night, but we have broadened our sex play further, adding toys and costumes. Jonquille has talked recently of getting a dual-bag, dual-valve system, so we can both take water simultaneously. She's also talking about getting a double bulb inflatable nozzle.