Influenza

Roy was an old friend, younger, friskier, and considerably more irreverent than my late husband, but similar. Enough alike to be brothers rather than cousins. So when he came down with a terrible case of the flu, it was natural for me to stop by and check on him.

I took him a large order of Mexican food which I knew he liked, and I thought the spices might help clear his head. I found him in that shack of an apartment he rented after his divorce. Once a motel on the edge of town, the apartment units were one step from razing with weeds growing between cracks in the concrete. I found him in his underwear lying in sheets that needed changing, half asleep and attempting to watch the television at the foot of his bed. The place had wadded tissues and yesterday's newspaper littering the floor. I cleaned house as quickly as I could while waiting long enough to be sure he ate some of the meal. And then I went to the supermarket to buy an assortment of cleaning supplies, and stopped at the drugstore for over the counter pain-killers and some odds and ends before returning to that awful apartment.

I told Roy that I had bought him ice-cream and put the container into the tiny refrigerator before washing the dishes in the sink. I then went into the bathroom and gave it a good cleaning. While in there, out of sight, I took the new douche kit out of its wrapper, fitted the fat curved nozzle, because as long as I was going to shock him I might as well do it right, and carried it brimming with soapsuds back to the bed where Roy lay sprawling.

"Roll over," I ordered in my best schoolmarm voice. I was determined to give Roy an enema, no matter how much he protested. His body went rigid, his mouth hung open, he seemed to choke. I shoved him down rather hard, feeling the strong muscles of an almost-healthy young man and "helped" him turn on his side while I pulled down his boxer shorts. My ten years seniority and position as chief shareholder in his business were probably the only things that saved me from a fist.

I rubbed that well greased nozzle up and down his crack to get some lubricant around the anus and gently pushed it into his ass while his whole body seemed to withdraw. I expected him to begin shaking and was worried that he might pull away from me as soon as I opened the clamp, so I pushed my other hand between his legs and took a gentle but firm hold on his testicles to keep his body in place.

Roy was silent throughout the insertion but moaned loudly when the warm water rushed into his body.

I spoke to Roy as quietly and soothingly as I would a sick animal. I told him the enema would wash the germs out of his system and that he would feel much better in a little while. I slid the nozzle in and out occasionally "to make sure I have inserted it correctly," and "to make sure the flow is good."

Knowing his ex-scatter-brained-wife, I was sure that this was the first enema Roy had received in years. I did not judge that woman high on any caregiving scale and I knew that she certainly wasn't up to forcing a healthy sexual man into full relaxation on any kind of schedule. Roy's body was still tense when I realized that much of the soap solution had drained from the bag. He was clenching so I knew he was fighting to hold it, and was too clogged to take the entire two quarts. I clamped off the flow and eased out the nozzle. "You have my permission to use the bathroom."

I knew that the "permission" would infuriate him even more, but I didn't care. He was sick and I was pulling all the rank I could in order to treat him properly. He needed an enema badly I could tell, and I just love pushing a nozzle up a sexy man's butt.

I mixed the second enema at the kitchen sink while I waited for him to leave the bathroom. He had said nothing to me after thanking me for the ice-cream and just when I decided that he would not come out of the bathroom as long as I remained in his apartment, and that I would have to go in there to give him the second enema, he walked out. His erection bulged through his boxers which pleased me immensely. Many men would have taken care of that problem themselves, or nature would have taken care of it for them. But he had waited. I lifted the bag so he could see it clearly and ordered him back into bed. Roy pushed his own pants down and clearly showed me his excited condition.

I administered a slow and methodical lubrication this time. I started with the tip of his penis, swirling my heavily creamed fingers round and round the tip, then slowly down the shaft. I dipped out another three fingers of the thick coldcream and slipped it around and under his testicles. I worked it up his crack from underneath. And I took out more coldcream before reaching his anus. He was cooperating fully by the time I started to open his muscled butt. He moaned and pushed his body against my hand. I lubed his anus and then slipped in a finger to gently stroke his tight prostate. His body suddenly shuddered and his sphincter muscles gripped my fingers in a tight hold. He cried out and spilled his seamen again and again as I stroked firmly to get it all out of him. I waited until he was totally spent and resting quietly before I gently pushed the nozzle all the way inside and opened the clamp to flood his body with a warm-water rinse.

Roy was still in the bathroom when I let myself out, locking the door behind me. I left the enema bag draped to dry over the bed head-board. The bag was still there when I let myself in early the next morning with the key I had taken off his key chain.

"Roy, it's me," I whispered. "You just keep resting while I mix your day-starter enema."

I knew that I would never have to worry about Roy trying to pull away from me, and that I was going to push nozzles into that sexy butt just as often as I wanted.

And that was how our affair started over three years ago.

The End