It had all gone well at lunch, right until we got back to Clarissa's studio.

But here we were almost quarreling before I realized it - quarreling about something which seemed to me wholly unconnected with my reason for coming back with her. For no sooner had she taken off her dress than she said she liked nothing more than to be given an enema as a preliminary to love-making.

At first I didn't take her seriously. It just didn't seem to fit in with the rest of her, and as far as I was concerned it was just plain silly.

But she pursued the subject, and the gap between us began to widen.

'I'm saving you ,from confusion,' she laughed. 'You remember Tennyson said that if a woman didn't keep her proper place - or something like that - all would be confusion?'

It was hard to believe that it was Penny speaking, Penny a supporter of Women's Lib. Nor had she finished.

'I thought you'd like to be reassured, that you'd like to assert your masculinity,' she smiled. 'after all, we went Dutch for lunch.'

I looked at her unbelievingly.

'But I don't need reassurance,' I told her. 'I never suspected you of role reversal, still less of the sillier forms of women's lib. So it just doesn't seem to me to be necessary to make a point by giving you an enema.'

'You think it's deviant?' she laughed again.

'Yes, in a way I do,' I admitted.

'That's because you have a scripted idea of sex. It's all written down and you act out your role accordingly,' she said, stretching her elegantly nyloned legs out on the divan. 'Anything you haven't got in your script is therefore deviant.'

It was like her to be laughing one moment and to be giving me a lecture the next. It was, I suppose, part of her extra ordinary appeal. As if she hadn't enough with her purely physical attractions!

I wasn't quite sure how I should answer her; in any case I found it difficult to concentrate on a discussion about sex when she was there in front of me, already stripped down to her bra, knickers, suspender-belt and stockings.

'Admit it, it's true, isn't it?' she demanded, laughing again.

'No,' I resisted. 'I don't admit anything of the kind. I'm not a bit scripted as you put it. You've known me a week now and you should have a better idea of me. You said yourself that I didn't lack imagination

'I was meaning your writing. But now I'm talking about sex, sex between us. You could even be rather dull at it, for all I know. All that routine stuff, like every other man.

She was eyeing me severely now, even though she was still laughing with her eyes.

'I just don't fancy giving you an enema, that's all,' I said, now more defensively. 'We came back to make love, not to engage in antics.'

'Listen, Frank,' said Clarissa now speaking in earnest, 'I just don't like you referring to having an enema as "antics". I'll try to explain. Speaking for myself I never feel so beautifully passive - even submissive if you prefer - as when a man gives me an enema. You're absolutely in his hands, totally vulnerable. Then, on top of that, the enema itself is stimulating. It's not easy to explain if you've never had the sensation yourself but it's stimulating and soothing at the same time. Then if you get someone to massage you - move the water along the colon - then it's quite terrific.'

I had to admit that I knew nothing about enemas. I still thought the idea off-beat a little but Clarissa was far from being a fool and if she enjoyed them to that extent there must be something in them at least for her.

'Now when I talked about Tennyson's confusion,' she went on brightly, 'of course I wasn't being all that serious. But it's true at least as far as l am concerned - supporter of women's lib though I am, that I still like to take a passive role in love-making. I like looking up to a man. Whatever anyone says, the woman's role in love-making is basically a passive one: I mean she usually lies underneath, and the man penetrates her, not the other way round. I despise male chauvinists but any man I respect and care for can really have his way with me: I give myself unreservedly. And letting him give me an enema is a symbol of my dependence, even my surrender. Now what do you say?'

She was so beautiful that even if there hadn't been quite a lot in what she had just said I would still have given way.

'Let me give you an Enema!'

'All right. Let me give you an enema! How do I go about it?' I said.

That's fine, Frank. I love you for it. Now don't think you're going to see all the filth that comes out of me. I do that in the loo when I've had the enema in for a few minutes. All you have to do is to thrust the tube into my rectum. If you like you can lubricate my anus beforehand though that's not really necessary.

She got up, led me to the far corner of the studio where a small divan covered in some sort of waterproof sheet was placed against the wall, a few feet from a sink over which there was a gas water-heater. Suspended from a bracket in the wall was an enema can from the base of which a red rubber tube ran into the sink.

Clarissa washed the end of the tube which I now saw ended in a rigid vulcanite nozzle about a third of an inch in diameter. When she had washed it she hung the tube over the bracket and then ran some warm water from the tap into a jug. Into this she squeezed some lemon juice. Then she poured the liquid into the can.

'Now,' she said, 'I'm going to take my knickers off and then lie on my left side facing the wall. You will lubricate me and then push the end of the tube into my bottom, three or four inches. After that you turn on that stop-cock and the water will flow into me. I've put just enough in, about two pints. Let it all run into me, than close the stop-cock and pull the tube out of my bottom.'

'Doesn't the water run out of you?' I asked her, never having had any experience of enemas.

'No. not if you lie on your left side. You can keep them in as long as you like, move the water about by massaging it along, and then when you want to you expel it in the lavatory. That's a fantastic feeling, too. You must have one yourself one day.' she concluded.

'Right,' I said, 'off with your knickers.'

'You can take them off for me,' she laughed.

I had known her a week but so far we had never made love, not even getting as intimate as seeing her in her bra and knickers. I therefore jumped at the chance to take off her knickers. I would see her genitals for the first time: I was prepared to bet she would have a prominent mound and lips and that her pubic hair would be as soft and silky as the hair on her head.

She stood up and put her arms above her head. 'I'm all yours,' she said.

I put my fingers in the elastic of her brief white knickers and slowly slid them over her buttocks, touching the wonderfully buoyant flesh as I did so. It occurred to me that it wasn't such a bad idea after all that I should be giving her an enema .

The knickers fell to the floor before I'd done more than brush my hands against her glamorous thighs but I caught sight of a beautiful bush of pubic hair and two rather shaggy labia before she swung round and got onto her side on the bed. 'Now,' she told me, 'run the water into me.'

She said it with a catch in her voice, as if she was anticipating something very exciting. She told me afterwards it wasn't that that made her catch her breath, but her excitement at the thought that I was giving her an enema. She'd forgotten about my lubricating her arsehole. I hadn't.

'Just a minute,' I said, 'I want to lubricate your anus. I can't miss a chance to touch you there.'

She nodded and told me the lubricant was on the draining-board.

I unscrewed the cap and squeezed Some into my left hand and then I put the tube down and went over to where she was lying on the bed.

I knelt at her side, she exposed more of the deep valley between her buttocks and rubbing the fingers of my right hand in the jelly I started to apply it to her anal region. When I had put most of it on I rubbed the rest over her buttocks using both my hands. Now I was ready to attend to her anus.

I must say I have a weakness for women's anuses. They are not all alike though most people seem to think so, any more than cunts are.

Clarissa's anus was perfection itself. The very smallest ones, no more than a suggestion of a hole, don't excite me, but Clarissa's was perhaps the size of a sixpence, a beautifully puckered completely round symmetrical button, the radii running true to the center.

I pushed a finger into it and almost at once I was pushing into the sphincter. She had had many enemas before, I surmised, and despite the tight appearance of her anal orifice it was indeed quite slack and my whole index finger entered without difficulty.

The warmth of a lovely girl's anus is worth anything. I was content to leave my finger there as long as she wanted me to, very gently moving it, the pad of my finger feeling the luscious membranes.

'That's okay,' she said, her breath coming in short gasps. 'I want it now.'

I withdrew my finger, took hold of the end of the enema tube and thrust it into her. It went in quite a long way, I hoped about the right amount.

Then I turned on the stop-cock and Clarissa gave another gasp of pleasure as the water flowed into her colon.

In less than two minutes the whole can full was inside her and I withdrew the tube. It came out of her perfectly clean, much to my relief.

She lay still on the bed her eyes closed, not speaking for three or four minutes.

'Look, you can massage me like this if you like,' she said, showing me what to do.

I leant over and watched her as she moved two fingers over her left side.

She very gently kneaded her groin and then slowly moved her fingers up the intestine.

'If I was having a colonic,' she said unexpectedly, 'then the massage is carried right along to the descending colon. But with an enema it's just the colon on the left side. You see it is stretched with the water now.'

She took my hand and I could feel the water through her flesh when I put a little pressure on.

'Just move your two fingers along that path, that's all.' As she spoke she showed me again what she meant by the 'path'.

I was too occupied in carrying out her wishes to enjoy the wonderful feel of her skin and the sight of her lovely flat belly, not to mention her breasts now almost falling out of her brassiere. I simply did what she had told me, being careful not to put too much pressure into my kneading.

'That's it,, she suddenly said. 'Stop now. It's just wonderful. 1 can lie here and feel the water moving about. But I shan't be long, I'm beginning to feel an urge to evacuate it all.'

As good as her word she got to her feet a few moments later and walked calmly to the loo.

'You can come in and watch me if you like,' she said, turning to me as she went into the lavatory.

'All right, I will,' I shouted crossing the floor quickly to get there in time.

And why not? A girl as lovely as Clarissa would be unlikely to my mind to have faeces smelling unpleasant, especially as she is used to taking enemas.

'Don't worry about the odor,' she said. 'There's an extractor fan in the window and, in any case, when you have regular enemas you don't smell unless you eat a lot of rich or strong food.'

She sat down and I saw a beatific expression on her face as she expelled the enema and the faecal matter it had released or collected.

I had never seen such a picture of fulfillment and pleasure as she sat there, the whole of her colon being emptied of the fluid and of all that it contained.

'It's a most wonderful feeling,' she said when she caught my eye. 'Oh, it's like those words of Yeats's:

"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold . .

'Well,' I said, 'I hope you are not going to loose anarchy upon the world.'

She laughed. 'No it's all over now and I feel two stones lighter and a year younger. Come and fuck me. I'm all clean for you.

I did tuck her and then when we'd had a sleep she suddenly said: why don't you have an enema?'

'I don't know. Why should I?' I said weakly.

'Because you'll enjoy it. even if you don't, it'll cleanse you and you'll feel better for IL.'

I gave way. Not because I wanted to feel better after it but because I remembered about having to have one's anus lubricated. There's almost nothing I wanted more in the world at that moment than to have Clarissa fingering my anus, actually putting a finger inside!

I went over and lay on my left side on the bed near the sink and waited while Clarissa prepared a fresh enema.

'I'm going to put some china tea into it,' she told me. 'I don't mean the tea leaves, the infusion. Not a lot. It's kind of astringent.'

'Well, make it quite hot,' I said to her, 'because while the temperature is dropping you'll have time to lubricate my anus.

'Oh, yes, of course, you anus. With pleasure, darling.'

She applied a large blob of the lubricant and then began to rub around the anal area. When she'd done this she started to use her finger as a probe, feeling her way gingerly into my anal orifice.

It hurt when one of her long finger-nails caught the membrane, but on the whole she was particularly skilled at introducing a finger at the end' of which she had a nail like a claw. It wasn't long before she had a finger right up my arse. Then she began to move it up and, down, very slowly at first and then when she was sure she could avoid scratching the lining, much more rapidly. If this was lubrication then I was all for it. If every time one had an enema you first had Clarissa's finger probing your anus, then there was no doubt you'd be for as many enemas as possible.

She drew out her finger and I had that peculiar sense of loss that one gets when the outer sphincter rejects something. But a moment later it was replaced by the catheter-shaped end of the tube from the enema can.

'I'm turning' on,' she said, 'The water's running into you now.

I could feel it.

It was a rather pleasant sensation, not one you'd walk a mile to experience, but pleasant enough. Gradually I became more aware of the weight of the water in my colon. I tried to picture it, recalling as much as I could of my one-time medical knowledge, wondering where the sigmoid flexure was, the descending colon and the ascending colon. But I couldn't quite remember.

But whatever colon it was that had the water in I knew that it was just about full.

'What the hell?' I said suddenly. 'Do you want to burst my colon?'

'No risk of that, you've barely had two pints. However, if you feel you've had enough, I'll switch off.' With that she stopped the flow and quickly withdrew the tube.

'Now lie still,' she said, 'and if you're a good boy I'll excite you with all that inside you.'

She reached over, took my penis in her hand and began to move the foreskin back and forth over the glans penis until with a dozen or so strokes I was fully erect.

It was a strange feeling to have her holding my hardened, tumescent prick with all that water inside me. I wondered if she could make me come with it inside me.

I was prone to think that the "antics" I had condemned earlier weren't to be despised after all. Being masturbated by a woman while you lie on your left side with two pints of water inside you seemed to me to definitely fall under the heading of "antics"!

I was feeling that I was going to release the water but I held on as Clarissa gradually brought me to within an ace of climax.

'Now,' she said, almost desperately, determined that I should enjoy myself. 'Now to the loo - quickly.'

I ran to the loo and she at once told me to let the stuff out half standing over the loo so that she could get hold of me and bring me off.

It would have been an extraordinary sight to an onlooker. There I was standing over the loo, still holding onto the liquid, while Clarissa quickly rubbed me to a conclusion. As she heard my breathing coming faster she knew that I was just about to come.

A minute or so later she brought me off and at the moment of the first spurt of my semen I released whole enema.

God! It was an experience of a kind I'd never had before, nor could ever have imagined. It- seemed that I was giving everything away. At the same time my normal! orgasm was intensified seeming to merge with the void that I was beginning to feel inside me.

It seemed there was something to be said for an enema after all particularly when you had Clarissa around the house to show you how to make the most of it.

I finally got to my feet, staggered to the studio and lay on Clarissa's bed. She joined me and asked me whether I still thought she indulged in sex antics.

I had to concede that I didn't. Then I asked her where she had first found out about enemas.

Quite simple,' she said. 'I was brought up in Switzerland and most people have them there. We don't think of them as something odd and unusual. Just a normal part of cleansing the system.'

'But they don't administer them for sexual reasons in Switzerland, surely?' I asked her.

'No,' said Clarissa, 'that was my own discovery.'

The End