Something strange happened to me during my adolescence. There were the usual physical changes of course and I suppose I was pretty lucky in that respect - everything happened more or less smoothly and on schedule.

What changed was my personality. I had always been a pretty sociable and outgoing boy until my teenage years, but I gradually withdrew from the companionship of both boys and girls and became very much a loner. My parents tried their best to get me to be more of a "mixer", and this culminated, when I was sixteen, in the most excruciatingly awful holiday of my entire life. They took me to that peculiarly British sadomasochistic institution of a "Holiday Camp" - the three of us lived in a one-roomed wooden chalet and were subjected to the incessant badgering of the staff to join in everything from a knobbly knees competition to throwing custard pies in what everyone but me thought was a hilarious battle.

There was no relief. The biggest offence was to be on your own and/or not cackling insanely at whatever humiliation was being practiced at the time. They managed to winkle me out of whatever spot was providing some temporary relief and to "cheer me up" by something like throwing me in the pool fully dressed.

Our living conditions were equally disastrous. Three single beds in a small room with the nearest bathroom fifty yards away - fifty yards in wind and rain usually. I didn't mind dad all that much, but mum embarrassed me right down to my toenails by being completely shameless about undressing. She seemed to think that it meant nothing to me when she walked around in her underwear and that I should not worry about undressing for bed in the same room as her. Far from helping me to overcome my inhibitions, the holiday stayed as a series of horrible flashbacks which only made things much worse.

The next big step in my life was my advanced level exams and my choice of university. The exams were no real problem - they were going to arrive no matter what I did and there was no choice to be made. Applying to university was a completely different problem - I got the forms and filled them out, then I tore them up and got a fresh set and repeated the process until the lady in the school office finally refused to give me any more and sent me to see the tutor in charge of the process.

I didn't know him very well and I avoided him for as long as I could until he finally collared me and marched me to his office. He sat me down and then asked me the question that I dreaded.

"Why haven't you completed your UCCA forms, Steve?"

"I can't make my mind up, sir."

"What's the problem?"

"I don't really know. It's just such a big decision. I think I know until I write it down and then it just looks wrong."

I expected the usual lecture. The one about eighteen being the age when I ought to know my own mind and how did I expect to make anything of myself if I didn't know what career I wanted.

"Have you thought of a gap year?"

"What's that?"

"A year off between school and university. You go to work for a voluntary organization - they pay your board and lodging and pocket money and you do something worthwhile for society. It gives you time to grow up and do some thinking about what you want to do with your life."

The idea appealed to me immediately. Probably for the wrong reason, but it was like throwing a lifebelt to a drowning man because it relieved me of the necessity of making a decision. It had much the same effect on my parents who had been getting more and more frustrated at my vacillation - they jumped at the chance of a reprieve.

Things moved pretty fast after that. To my surprise I discovered that there were dozens of organizations who were looking for volunteers. That sent me back into an indecision loop but not a serious one - I allowed myself to be steered towards "Young Companions". It sounded good - it was designed to help young guys, partly paralyzed from accidents, in their first steps towards an independent life. I would spend a year with a guy of about my own age, I would help him get in and out of his wheelchair and in return I would have my own room in his flat and some money to spend.

I went for an interview with a daunting lady who gave me the third degree about my attitudes to disability and my motives for becoming a resident carer. I just told her what she seemed to want to hear and watched her nod and smile as I professed my earnest desire to help a less fortunate young guy. She finally beamed at me.

"Well, Stephen, I must say it is nice to hear a young man with a social conscience. I'm sure you will find the whole experience very worthwhile."

She scribbled on a green form and handed it to me.

"Take that down to reception, will you?"

"What is it?"

"Just a chit for your medical. You're in luck - the doctor is here at the moment. Come back when he's finished with you."

My heart sank. My previous medical examination had been done by the school doctor when I was fifteen. I still cringed when I remembered having to drop my pants in front of him and a grinning young nurse and let him fiddle around with my balls - and the general mockery of all of the boys afterwards by the girls who suddenly became incapable of passing one of us without coughing loudly. If I had known, then I would never have turned up for interview in the first place, but I just didn't have the nerve to refuse.

The doctor turned out to be female, blonde and young. I stripped to my underpants and let her examine me.

"Bend forward and grasp your knees."

I did as she said and felt her fingers probing every bone in my spinal column.

"That's good - no problems there. You need to do a lot of lifting with paraplegics, you know. Now let's just make sure you don't have a hernia. Just drop your underpants please."

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as her fingers probed deeply around my balls and in my groin.

"That's fine too."

I opened my eyes and then wished that I had kept them firmly shut, because she was pulling on a rubber glove, pulling the rubber tight over her forefinger. I felt faint - one of the guys had gone for an army medical and returned with an awful story of a doctor, a rubber glove and a finger pushed up his arse. I stared in sheer horror.

Then the doctor pulled the glove off and burst into laughter.

"Gets them every time! You can get dressed now."

I could have kissed her, but my relief was short lived as she opened a cabinet and got out three of those bottles with rubber caps and filled syringes from the.

"Now we'll get your shots up to date and then I'm finished with you."

I winced as she gave me a shot in each arm. Then she picked up the third syringe.

"Guess where this one goes? Just drop them and bend over the couch please."

There is a blessed relief to having everything over. I went back to see the interview lady, limping but happy.

"All okay?"

"Yes."

She held out yet another piece of paper.

"Take this to the hospital with you on Wednesday."

I groaned.

"What do I have to have now?"

"Oh - nothing much. You need a chest X-ray, but the main reason is to give you some training."

"Training?"

"Care training. How to handle a paraplegic and... Well, there are things you have to know how to do. They'll explain it all when you get there."

I turned up as instructed and they took the X-ray, then I was handed over to one of the nurses. She looked me up and down, then selected a couple of those green pants and smocks.

"Put these on."

She obviously wasn't going anywhere, so I stripped to my underpants and donned the garments - I had to admit that it felt pretty good to be dressed like a nurse or doctor. She nodded as I fastened my shoes.

"Very good. Now we'll start with some lifting."

She was real good at it too - she showed me how to bend my knees and then sort of drape a patient over my shoulder and lift him out of bed and into a chair. After I had done a couple, she nodded in satisfaction.

"You're stronger than you look - you'll do fine. Now we'll go to male surgical."

"Surgical?"

"Don't worry about it - you don't have to do any operations. Just cleaning and bowel care."

I hurried after her as she loped along, covering miles of corridors without appearing to move at more than a walk.

"Bowel care...?"

"Spinal patients lose sensation and muscle activity. They have problems with bowel and bladder."

We turned in to a small staff room and my guide handed me over to another nurse - a motherly looking lady in a dark blue dress.

"A Young Companion for you, sister."

The sister smiled.

"Sit down. What's your name?"

"Steve."

"Any experience?"

"No. Sorry."

"Oh - don't worry about it. I'll start from the beginning."

She produced a plastic model of a spine and started talking about nerves and things.

"So some patients have a double problem. Their bladder leaks and their bowels don't move when they should. For the bladder we use a retention catheter and a collecting bag like this one."

She produced the most evil looking device I had ever seen. A long, thin tube whose end blew up into a small balloon attached to a pouch that strapped to the leg.

"You don't deal with these at all. There shouldn't be any trouble and your patient should be able to handle replacement himself."

I released my breath in a long sigh of relief. She smiled again as she put the wretched thing away.

"Have you ever had an enema, Steve?"

"A what?"

"Well, it's quite a simple procedure for the relief of constipation. Just a pint or two of warm water with a dash of soap."

"Water?"

"Come along - I'll give you a demonstration."

I suddenly realized what she was talking about when I saw the second piece of diabolical equipment. A modified hot water bottle with a long length of rubber tubing attached to its base. She held the end of the tube under my nose while I fought to retain control of my stomach.

"This is a rectal tube - nice and soft with a rounded end to avoid any damage. Now I'll show you how to make up the solution."

She just used ordinary hot water from the tap, mixed with cold to make it warm but not hot. As she tipped in a pack of powdered soap and stirred the mixture, I finally found my voice.

"Is this really necessary? It seems pretty primitive and I don't think I could do anything like this to somebody."

"My dear boy, it's not so long ago that every bathroom in the land had an enema syringe in it. Every child was used to the idea of a little warm water in his bottom if he got constipated."

"I'm glad I wasn't around then!"

"Oh - you would have got used to it. Every child did - it was just like brushing your teeth. Nothing special."

"I really don't think I could do it."

This time she gave me a hard look.

"Somebody has to help those poor paralyzed boys. Surely you aren't going to let a little distaste stop you from performing an essential service?"

"I don't know. It just seems a horrible thing to do to anyone."

She sighed.

"Well - why don't you watch while I do one? It's not nearly as bad as you think. There are a couple of young boys in for appendectomy tomorrow."

"You have to have an enema before they take your appendix out?"

"Well... we don't usually bother with them nowadays, but they won't know that. It certainly won't do them any harm. Come along with me."

As I walked behind her into the ward, I suddenly realized what she meant. She was just going to inflict enemas on two kids for my benefit! I thought about saying that I had changed my mind about the whole thing, but part of me was really curious about the whole idea of an enema. And she was right - they wouldn't know it was for my benefit. And it would probably do them good. Maybe.

The sister stopped beside a bed which contained a boy of about ten - he looked real worried as she picked up his chart and read through it.

"Put your slippers on, Peter, and come along with us."

He looked small and scared as she took him by the hand and led him into the treatment room. She smiled happily at him.

"Don't look so worried, Peter. This won't hurt - it will make you feel all nice and warm inside. Just take your pyjama pants off and climb up on the couch for me."

He still looked doubtful, but he did as he was told. The sister held up the end of the tube.

"Now what I'm going to do is to put this in your bottom, Peter. Nothing to worry about - it won't hurt at all."

The poor kid looked really shocked.

"In my bottom?"

"Yes, darling. Turn on your side for me."

He looked like he was going to burst into tears as the sister gently pushed him back on the couch and then rolled him over. She motioned to me to stand close as she anointed the tube with clear gel.

"Always use plenty of lubrication. Now watch."

She got hold of his top cheek and pulled it upwards, revealing a hairless strip of skin, terminated by his little balls and displaying a sort of tiny brown dimple that I realized was his anus.

"Use the end of the tube to force a little of the lubricant in."

I winced as she probed the dimple with the blunt and of the tube. Peter first giggled then burst into laughter.

"It tickles" IT TICKLES!"

Then I gulped as the tube suddenly slid forward into his anus. Peter squeaked in surprise, then settled down again.

"Well, my love, that didn't hurt, did it?"

"No. It feels funny though."

"I'm just going to run in a little warm water, Peter. Just relax and you'll find that it feels very nice."

He sure was a trusting kid - I could see him relaxing and settling comfortable on to the couch. The sister opened a sort of screw clip a little way and Peter giggled again.

"It's tickling me inside!"

She grinned at me in triumph as she opened the clip another notch.

"You see? Done properly, they even get to like taking their enema. Don't you, Peter?"

"Yeah. I does feel nice, but now I need to go to the bathroom."

"In a little while, darling. Not much to go now."

After another minute or so, the rubber bag was empty and she slowly extracted the tube.

"You can go to the bathroom now, honey."

I automatically stepped forward as he started to rise and helped him to the ground. Then every square inch of skin on my body started to burn furiously as I saw that he had an erection. I'd never seen an erect penis, apart from my own, and I found the sight both fascinating and horribly embarrassing. The sister took charge as I turned away and I heard the sounds of squirting water and baby farts as Peter got rid of the liquid and everything else inside of him. She ushered him back to his bed when he had finished and then returned to add to my embarrassment by being altogether too clinical.

"You noticed that the enema gave him an erection?"

I could only nod dumbly. She chuckled.

"Don't let it bother you, Steve - it didn't worry him. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. Just ignore it."

"But what if it happened when I was looking after an older guy?"

She looked sad.

"Then he would give three hearty cheers, honey. Spinal patients lose all sensation, you know, and mainly they can't achieve erection at all. It's particularly difficult for young men when it dawns on them that their pride and joy just doesn't work any more."

"God - that's awful. Isn't there anything they can do?"

"They can insert a prosthesis to make erection possible, but there's still no feeling."

I didn't ask for details - I got the picture and I was appalled. Then the sister started to refill the bag.

"I want you to administer the next enema. I'll just observe - I won't intervene unless you do something wrong. Your patient is young David in bed seven."

David was twelve and scared.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing to worry about. Just put your slippers on and come with me."

David dragged his feet until we reached the treatment room and he saw the enema bag hanging up. His face cleared.

"Oh. One of them."

"You know about enemas?"

"Yes. I get them from Aunt Margaret when I stay at her house." The he looked alarmed. "I wasn't supposed to say that! Aunt Margaret says that it's just between her and me and I mustn't tell anybody else."

The sister broke in at that point.

"Not even your mum?"

David shook his head.

"Nobody. Nobody at all. It's our special secret."

"You like it?"

He blushed and nodded.

"Yes. It's nice. You won't tell anybody, will you? Mum would be really cross if she found out."

"Of course we won't tell anybody. Now hop up on the couch and let Nurse Stephen do your enema."

"Okay."

To my surprise he took off all of his clothes and then lay down with his legs bent in such a way that his anus was exposed. I took the rectal tube in trembling hands and looked at the sister - she nodded and I gingerly inserted the tip. It met no resistance at all - it slid smoothly right inside of the boy. I was breathing more easily now and I slowly opened the valve a fraction. David gave a grunt that expressed his satisfaction and I felt a sense of accomplishment.

It was a strange sight - the red rubber tube planted firmly in his bottom, the crinkly flesh seeming to grip it tightly. I realized with wonder just how fast I had become accustomed to something whose existence I had not even suspected until a few hours previously. It really was no big deal.

Then David's anus twitched, like it was pulling at the tube and suddenly the whole thing seemed almost erotic - he was certainly enjoying getting the enema, and I was actually getting a kick out of giving it. The bag emptied quickly with no fuss from the boy. Sister waved towards the small bathroom in the corner and I led David into it, relieved to discover that the process seemed to have had no stimulating effect on his dick.

When he had finished and cleaned himself up, I took him back to his bed. I was curious.

"Did you like that, David?"

He nodded.

"It was good. Aunt Margaret does it better though."

"How come?"

He turned crimson. Then he looked worried.

"She tickles me."

"So? That's no big deal."

"She tickles me in a naughty place."

I walked back to the sister feeling very strange. I told her what he had said.

"So what should we do, sister?"

She pursed her lips.

"Ignore it. He just said 'naughty place'?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll give him the benefit of the doubt and let that particular sleeping dog lie, I think."

"But..."

"No buts. And next time don't ask."

I ate my lunch slowly, thinking about the boy. Sister was right though - he hadn't actually said what his aunt did to him. I still felt uneasy but there really was nothing that I could do.

After lunch, sister loaded the enema stuff on to a trolley and took me to a small side ward.

"Time to go solo, Stephen. The boy in there is called Mark, he's sixteen and I want you to give him an enema."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing now. He's due to go home this evening."

"Does he need an enema?"

She sighed.

"It won't harm him, and you need to get the confidence to do it yourself."

"What if he refuses?"

She smiled.

"He won't. Not when you tell him that he can't go home until he has it."

I wheeled the trolley into the room trying to look more confident that I felt. Mark was sitting in a chair, wearing a robe over his pyjamas. He smiled when he saw me.

"Is it time? Can I go home now?"

God - he wasn't much younger than me! His face was turned towards me with a look of hope in his eyes - he certainly was a good looking boy - the sort that gets the girls without even trying. I liked him immediately and I felt a pang of guilt at what I was going to do. But at the same time, I wanted to do it. I wanted to see what he had under those pyjamas, I wanted to see his most secret places and I wanted the strange almost painful feeling in my guts when I slid the tube

home.

"Soon. There's just one thing I have to do before you can go."

He looked at the trolley and then I saw recognition dawn. He groaned.

"Aw hell - I thought I had escaped one of those things."

"Sorry. You have to have it."

I waited for his objections. Instead he just stood up and removed his robe.

"You want me on the bed?"

"Er...yes. You know about enemas?"

He snorted.

"I should - the boy I was sharing with until yesterday had to have them all of the time. I expected my turn would come, but I was beginning to think I was going to get away with it."

He moved like a cat, smooth and elegant. He undid his pants and dropped them to the floor, then he stood on one leg while he slid them over his feet. I was fascinated to see that his belly was smooth and his full size dick looked like it belonged on some sort of overgrown infant.

He didn't seem to have any inhibitions. He ginned at me and lifted his pyjama top to display his shaven state.

"How long will this take to grow? I don't want my girl to see it like this - she would die laughing."

"Well - it grows the same rate as other hair, I think."

He rubbed his fingers over the area.

"It's still just stubble and it's over a week since they shaved me."

"Well, there's no way of making it grow faster."

He sighed.

"I suppose not. Maybe I can get her to shave too? That would be real good, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe. Now how about this enema?"

"Aw, okay. Let's get it over with. At least I'll know what it's like to get an enema - I've been wondering about it since the first time I saw him getting one."

I looked at him as he scratched the stubble on his belly and I realized that I envied him so much. His good looks, the fact that he was obviously screwing some girl on a regular basis, his complete lack of inhibition and his easy confidence in what for me would have been an intolerable situation. As he walked to the bed he extended the range of his scratching to his balls and his dick - and I completely lost it. Envy for his attributes turned into desire to own them - and him - for myself.

I had to take a real grip on myself as I positioned the lubricated tube against his asshole and gently pushed it into him.

"Jeezus Kerist!"

His hissed expletive momentarily paralyzed me.

"Are you all right?"

His voice sounded hoarse.

"Yeah. I just wasn't expecting anything like that. God - I never realized it could give me that sort of feeling."

"What sort?"

"You must know what I mean - that must be why gay guys do it in there."

"Oh. It does get some boys that way."

He released a huge breath.

"God - it's amazing. I wonder if that's what girls feel when they get screwed?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm going to run in the water now."

Mark lay and panted as I undid the clip. I saw his fists clench - he was obviously experiencing strong feelings. I stopped the enema pretty fast.

"You can go to the bathroom now."

He eased himself up from the bed, covering his front with one hand, and closed the door behind him when he went into the small bathroom. I waited for a long while before he returned, his face wreathed in smiles and his dick limp.

He winked at me.

"Well - that was really something. Where does a guy buy one of those things?"

I shook my head.

"I haven't the faintest idea."

He grinned as he stepped back into his pyjamas.

"Well - I'm certainly going to find out."

I felt pretty weak as I wheeled the trolley back to the sister. To my surprise, she was pouring soapy water into another bag.

"I thought I was finished."

She smiled sweetly.

"Almost. There's only your enema to be done now."

"MINE? I don't need one."

"A good carer needs to experience things for himself. It helps you understand the feelings of your patients if you undergo it yourself. Just slip your things off and lie on the couch - this won't take long."

I hesitated. The idea of this woman sticking a tube in my backside and filling me up with soapy water filled me with dread and disgust.

"You really do need to try it yourself, Stephen. You should never do something that you aren't prepared to accept yourself."

That was a challenge that I just could no let pass. I hated it, but I removed my greens and my underwear and lay on the couch, filled with fear and dread.

"That's good. For a moment there I thought I had misjudged you. I'll only give you a pint - just so you know what it's like."

At that point, my life changed permanently. I felt her cool hand on my backside, then I stopped breathing as a searing jolt of raw sexual stimulation transfixed me. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, I dug my nails into my palms and the muscles in my neck strained to breaking point as she slid that rectal tube into position.

"Now for the liquid."

It was like watching the space shuttle lift off. A roaring noise in my ears which grew and grew, my dick straining like the booster rocket, a blinding light that increased beyond the ability of my brain to comprehend it.

Then a violent set of spasms as I exploded. I came and came until there was nothing left and my balls were sore. I was dimly conscious of my voice - or at least a set of animal noises that escaped from my throat. I clung to the sides of the couch, the only stable item in a universe which had suddenly encountered a massive black hole that was sucking everything into it.

"Oh dear - I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

Then I was in the bathroom, shitting my guts into the bowl with a growing realization of what had happened. A black despair settled over me - how on earth was I going to survive this ultimate shame?

"Put these back on when you're done."

Oh god - she was there, putting my pants and underwear on the basin. I had to come out eventually - I couldn't even look at her.

To my surprise she gave me a starchy, antiseptic flavored hug.

"There now, Steve. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just be what you want to be."

I didn't think of her words until I had hurried back and put on my own clothes and I was sitting on the bus for home. I didn't work it out until I was alone that night, grappling with my feelings for Mark and my experience with the enema. It came to me in a brilliant flash. I was gay - and she had detected it.

Next morning I called the Young Companions and withdrew my application. When the lady asked me for a reason, I just mumbled that I had realized it wasn't for me and put the phone down. I couldn't cope with the idea of having to live with someone to whom I administered regular enemas - it would just be intolerable.

A month passed. The experience lost its vicious overtones and simply left me with the memories of a boy I had fleetingly loved and the haunting desire to experience again those wonderful feelings of having something slid inside my bottom and fill me up with liquid love. More than anything, I wanted to replay that enema - but that meant I had to find the equipment.

I wandered around town, peering into shops, hoping that some chemist or other would have one on display. Finally I forced myself to ask a sympathetic looking pharmacist if he stocked enema syringes. He gave me an odd look, then told me that there was a surgical store which sold things like that.

It was surprisingly expensive, particularly when I asked for a rectal tube. The man was studiously not inquisitive - he simply wrapped my purchases up, took the money and wished me good morning as I left. Ownership was just the first problem though - I had to find a hiding place and then wait until I had the house to myself for a whole afternoon before I could get it out and unwrap it with trembling hands. The mere sight and smell of it drove me into a sexual frenzy as I held it to my nose and inhaled the exhilarating while I pumped desperately with the other.

Then it was time for my enema. A long, sumptuous, gentle injection of plain warm water that transported me into a strange land of ecstasy as I experimented with the speed of injection and savored the sweet agony of incipient cramping. I grasped the thick rectal tube between my fingers and explored the innermost recesses of my bowels, grunting with pleasure as the friction made my asshole send out signals of delight as it was stimulated by the rough/smooth surface of the tube. Finally the solitary joy of an uninhibited orgasm, intensified by the growing need to expel the volume of liquid which I had injected.

Of course I had two major problems. I had to convince my parents that the reason for turning down my appointment with Young Companions was that I had suddenly realized that I could not cope with a disabled person. I also had to find some way of filling in a year of my life - dad was adamant that he would not permit me to get used to idleness and he sent me to the Jobcentre to find what he called 'gainful employment'.

I was rescued by a phone call.

"Stephen Bragg?"

"Yes."

"This is Seaside Holidays."

"Seaside Holidays?"

"We're a charity who provide holidays for children. Young Companions passed your name to us."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if you were still available. We're in need of a few strong young men."

"These children - they're not disabled, are they?"

"No. They're rather wild, actually. We give parents a break and we work to calm the kids down before we send them back home."

"You don't have holidays this time of year, surely? It's getting near Christmas."

"We're opening a new house next Easter. The workmen have finished the repairs, but the place is in desperate need of redecoration and cleaning up. We have one volunteer already - we're looking for a second to live there and fix the interior for us."

I breathed a sigh or relief. Anything which saved me from working in a fast food place was heaven-sent.

Dad drove me there in the teeth of a freezing January gale. The house lent a new meaning to the word 'isolated' - it was a good five miles through a small village on a single-track road which descended through a gap in cliffs to what must have been some Victorian mill owner's ultimate folly - a large three story house overlooking a secluded bay.

We were greeted by a boy my own age.

"Hi. I'm Simon Ross, and I'm sure glad to see you! Welcome to the mausoleum."

The place was freezing cold and the newly finished walls were exuding a smell of plastery damp. Pots of paint and ladders cluttered up the entire place. Simon grinned at my expression of horror.

"It's okay - there's a flat on the top floor for us. It's warm and dry, but this place sure is lonely for one person."

The place wasn't bad. A sitting room, one twin-bedded room, a tiny kitchen and a bathroom with obviously new plumbing. There were convector heaters on the walls, emitting a welcome warmth, and he had covered a lot of space with posters that made it look homely.

Dad had coffee with us, unloaded my things and parked my bike in what looked like it was going to be the dining room. I promised to call home at least once a week, then he shook hands with both of us and drove away.

In fact, the place was great. We had to paint and paper simply to keep warm, we played football in the hall, we splattered paint on each other and fell about laughing. Each evening we retired to the cozy flat and listened to music and to the radio - there was no TV in the place and no reception anyway because of the cliff behind us.

We took turns cycling to the village shop where the holiday organization had arranged an account for us to get our food. That was great too - none of the boring stuff, just lashings of junk food eaten straight from the packets after a few minutes in the microwave.

Those trips gave me my only chance of enjoying an enema. When it was Simon's turn to go, I got the stuff out as soon as his bike vanished from view - I had at least an hour and I made full use of it to take one of those slow, dreamy enemas where I could fantasize on his body and dream of love.

The inevitable happened, of course. I had no problem, but one morning Simon vanished into the bathroom from where I heard a series of increasingly agonized grunts. We never invaded each other's privacy, but I could not stand it any more, so I opened the door and saw that he was sitting on the toilet, his underpants round his ankles, his face red and distorted with the effort he was putting in to a fruitless shit.

Finally he stood up and pulled his pants up.

"This is no bloody good! I can't do a thing!"

"Have you been trying long?"

"About a fucking week! I'll have to go into town and get something for this - the village shop doesn't stock medicines."

I had changed a lot since I ran away from the necessity to give enemas to a boy. In fact, my erotic fantasies had included that particular activity on a regular basis.

"There are other ways, Simon."

He looked irritable.

"Like what?"

This was it. I took a breath and released it slowly before speaking.

"Well - the simplest way is to take an enema."

"What? Go to hospital just because I'm constipated?"

I could feel myself going red, but I had to say it.

"No - I've got all the stuff. You could have one right here."

Simon's jaw dropped.

"You've got the stuff? Where?"

I produced the enema equipment from the bottom of my sports bag. Simon picked it up and investigated it.

"Is this all there is to it?"

I clenched my anal sphincter tightly as he casually placed his forefinger on the end of the rectal tube and investigated its elasticity.

"Er... Yes. It's not complicated."

"Don't think I like the idea of a gallon of water up my arse."

"It's not a gallon - a pint or two is what you use. It doesn't hurt."

"How come you've got this?"

"I thought it might come in useful. Want to give it a try?"

Time stopped for me as he considered the idea. Finally he put the tube down and nodded.

"Might as well. Anything to clear this blockage."

He watched with interest as I mixed up the solution. Then I took the bag back into the bedroom and hung it on its hook beside my bed. Simon chuckled.

"I wondered why that hook suddenly appeared! You've been using it yourself!"

"Okay, okay. Lie on the bed and I'll fix you up."

He hesitated momentarily, then shrugged, dropped his underpants and stepped out of them. He lay face down on my bed.

"Not like that. Lie on your side with your knees bent."

"This way?"

"Yeah. That's fine."

"Get on with it then - before I change my mind."

His backside was hairy, his anus surrounded by a black forest of curly hair. I greased the tube and then pushed it home without any attempt at subtlety.

"Jesus wept!"

"Just hang on. Won't be long now."

I gazed lovingly at the red rubber as it disappeared up his ass, glistening with the lubricant, his anal hair matted with the surplus. Then I opened the clip a fraction and waited for the result.

I didn't have to wait long. Simon emitted a deep groan as the water hit him and I saw the muscles in his buttocks and thighs tighten. He started to breathe faster as I turned up the rate of flow.

"I can't take this any more!"

His shout momentarily paralyzed me. Then his body straightened out and his hand went to his erection. After what seemed like only two or three strokes I recognized the tautness of his body and the small, guttural cries - then he bent double and threshed around as he came - all over my sheets!

Simon looked both relieved and sheepish when he finally emerged from the bathroom.

"Sorry, Steve. I lost it there - everything suddenly got just too much and I couldn't stop myself."

I didn't quite know what to say. I muttered something about it not mattering and that it happened to most guys, then I fled downstairs and wanked myself almost to destruction while he was dressing.

Simon was a new man - full of energy for the rest of the day. We worked non-stop, hardly noticing the big flakes of snow that were falling outside of the windows, hardly speaking at all because of mutual embarrassment.