a True Story By Duckie

I never had enemas as a child. I was introduced to them in the mid- 70's when I had an intravenous pyelogram X-ray that required significant "prep." In those days, this was NOT an outpatient procedure; I checked into the hospital the day before and began the prep. Water until I felt like peeing every five minutes. A bottle of the fizzy stuff that went through me like ... well, like a dose of salts. By that time, my bottom was already pretty sore. Then the X- prep stuff that kept me in the john for two solid hours and made my anus feel as if it were on fire.

Just before I was to go to sleep, the nurse came in and gave me the even worse news that tomorrow morning someone would wake me at 6 a.m. and give me a large enema. I couldn't sleep, dreading what was to come. Around 2, the nurse stopped in to check and noticed that I was awake. She asked me if I wanted a Valium to help me relax and sleep, and I accepted. Worries about the procedure dimmed, but didn't altogether go away, but I could sleep.

At 7 a.m., the practical nurse came in, set up the IV pole with an enema bag and tubing, went into the bathroom and filled a pitcher with water and filled the bag from the pitcher. Then she returned to the bathroom and filled the pitcher again.

After refilling the pitcher, she talked through the procedure and all I can remember was looking at the end of the enema tube, almost dripping with KY jelly, and wondering what this would feel like. She asked me to roll onto my left side and put my right leg over, with the knee bent. As she arranged the sheets, putting a rubber pad underneath me, I remember feeling more exposed than I ever had felt in my life. I think the Valium I had taken earlier that morning was about all that stopped me from running away right then and there.

She spread my cheeks and whistled. "Oh, hon, that's not good. Those laxatives have really got you burning, don't they? You're raw. You're not going to be very comfortable unless I do something about that. I'll be right back."

She came back and spread some jelly onto her rubber glove and began to gently rub it around my anus. "There's some novocaine in this, just like the jelly the dentist puts on your gums, and you'll feel a lot less like kicking me when I insert the tube, OK? Breathe out now, because I'm going to work a little inside, too. It will help lubricate you for the enema as well."

What I felt like was ... anything but kicking her. Her fingers were gentle as they probed and applied the gel, and I felt relaxed and warm. Spikes of pleasure as she worked the gel gently inside me.

"OK, hon. Now the tough part. I want you to hold this as long as you can. Don't get up until you are just about positive that you won't make it into the bathroom, OK? If you have an accident, we'll clean up after you and that's OK! We'd rather clean up a little mess than have to do this a second time, OK?"

She spread my cheeks and inserted the nozzle. Holding on to the nozzle with one hand, she opened the valve on the tubing and I began to feel the water slowly filling me. With her finger and thumb at my anus holding the nozzle, with the water in me, I began to feel very turned on. I could feel my labia engorging and beginning to glisten. As I squirmed a little, I could feel my lips slipping past each other. My breath quickened, and I made a little noise that was halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

"It's not unusual, you know." I looked over my shoulder at the nurse and she smiled. "We're doing stuff here with parts of your body that are sensitive, hon. Things happen. It's OK. It means you're comfortable with me, and I take that as a compliment. Don't worry. I won't say a word to anyone, OK? This won't be lunchroom talk, if that's what you think might happen."

I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter, and feeling better and better. I wanted to touch myself, take care of the need, but I wasn't THAT comfortable with the nurse's presence. Or maybe the Valium was beginning to wear off, too.

"You're filling fine, hon. It looks like those laxatives last night at least did their job. I'm going to shut off the valve for a minute and stop the flow. You just relax, breathe out of your mouth. I'm going to leave the nozzle in there because we're going to fill that bag again and see if you can take a little more." I heard her pour water from the pitcher into the bag and then felt her hand back on the nozzle, back at my anus.

"Are you OK, hon? Sometimes you'll feel like you've got to go, but if you pant a little, with your mouth open, that will go away and you can take a little bit more. The more you can take, the less chance that we'll have to do this again, OK?"

It was as if her words began a spasm deep inside me. I needed to go, I thought, but I panted as she instructed. Waves of feeling the water inside me, waves of contractions from my colon, but they settled.

She could see me calming again and opened the valve. "This will go in a little slower, hon, you'll be ok." I was more than OK. The waves of contractions in my colon had aftereffects elsewhere. My face was flushed. My nipples were as tight as a drum. The urge to touch my clit, to finish what was building in my core, was almost overwhelming. I fought not to pant, not to make the nurse think she should stop the flow of water, because my breath was not speeding from needing to control my bowels but from a growing lack of control ... elsewhere.

"Almost done. You've taken quite a bit, hon. I'm going to stop the flow now. Now, I'm going to take this out of you and I'm going to press a towel there to help you hold this, OK?" As she slowly drew the nozzle out of me, my orgasm almost broke. I could feel my anus contract against the tube, almost trying to hold it in. My breath caught as it slowly slid out of me, and again caught as she pressed the folded towel to my backside.

"OK, I'm going to go out of the room for a bit. You hold that towel there as long as you can hold that water, then get into the bathroom. Don't flush, because I've got to see whether or not we'll need to do this again."

As she left, my other hand found my clit and I came. As the spasms subsided, the spasms in my colon grew in intensity and it was time to get into the bathroom. Quickly.

On shaking legs, holding the towel in front and back like a sling, I made my way onto the commode and let go. I thought I had gotten rid of everything and had cleaned up a bit, when the spasms started again. I found my desire building once more, and as I cramped and the water flowed from me in what seemed like torrents, I frantically worked myself to another orgasm, although not as intense as the one before.

As I sat there, spent, the nurse came back into the room and peeked in the door.

She looked at my flushed face, hospital gown hiked up farther than it needed to be if I were simply emptying, my hand damp and slick and she smiled.

"It's OK, hon."