Author: Mr. Simpleton

I am unable to remember a time in my life when the word 'enema' was not a part of my vocabulary. At times, just hearing the word would evoke a profound fear in the pit of my stomach, and at other times it brought me immense pleasure, when spoken by the right person. Some of my earliest memories include an amber latex bag tucked away in the linen closet of my parent's home, its hose coiled like a snake, ready to strike with its plastic nozzle the next time I had an upset stomach, or if I did something to displease my mother. As I grew older and my bathroom time became more private, I can remember curiously and cautiously peeking in the closet to see if it was still there, waiting to inject its venom into my behind. On occasion I would work up the courage to reach in and touch it when I knew no one was looking.

I got my first enema bag when I was about 18 years old, stealing it from a store where I worked after school as a stock-boy. It was one of those cheap yellow bags women used for douching. But I didn't care, it was mine. And neither did I care that the kit only contained a douche nozzle because by that time I had learned to love the feeling of the larger size nozzle in my backside.

For at least two months after I took the bag home, my heart would start to pound whenever I went to work. I just knew in my head that everyone who worked at that store, or who shopped there, knew what I had done. I also had a silly belief that someone would realize that the enema bag had gone missing, as though everyone associated with that store kept track of how many were in stock.

All throughout high school my masturbation fantasies included giving and getting enemas from the girls in my class, the ones I had a crush on. As well, some of my best orgasms came from imagining my female teachers giving me enemas after tricking me into stopping by their house after school for some remedial education. Whenever I was invited to a party at a classmate's house I would always snoop around for an enema bag while using the bathroom. If the mother of the house was nice looking, I would imagine faking an illness and receiving an enema from her.

I tell you all of this to explain that I have had an obsession with enemas all my life and I suppose I always will. Once I graduated from high school and was out on my own, enema play was a huge part of my life, even though I could never figure out a way to bring up the subject with the women I dated. From time to time I would make a fumbling attempt to bring up the subject after I had been with a woman for a while, but the word 'enema' was always met with a turned up nose and a look of disgust. By the time I married my first wife I had accepted the fact that I would never find a woman who would be willing to indulge my fantasies. Don't get me wrong; sex is always good, even without the added stimulation an enema provides. But as many of my fellow klismophiles will agree, sex with an enema is, well, out of this world.

For too many years I had been living with my dirty little secret. Most of the time I could suppress the desire to have a woman take me across her lap and fill my behind with a bag-full of warm water. However, on occasion, the need for an enema session was more than I could control. Giving myself an enema could not even come close to quenching the thirst I had for a mature woman, one who knew her way around the world of water-sports, to take control of me and put out the fire in my belly. As I have written about in several other stories, after my divorce I began to hire women to satisfy my desires. Though these sessions would hold me over for a while, and have served to provide me with many wonderful memories, I knew that I could not live the rest of my life hiding my love of a good enema.

When I turned 45 years old I decided to do something about my love affair with the enema and pledged to explore the reasons I am the way that I am. Call it a mid-life crisis if you will, but I could no longer live without enemas being a part of my marriage. My thinking was that if I could understand the cause for my desire to be given an enema, then maybe I could explain it to my wife and she would be willing to participate. Also, I hoped to use this knowledge to figure out why she didn't like enemas and maybe find a way for her to enjoy them as well. But how should I go about this quest? I didn't think a marriage counselor or my family physician would be much help, nor did I want to expose my little secret to someone I might run into at the local movie theater or grocery store.

Eventually I decided to locate a therapist in a neighboring town who specialized in sexual dysfunctions. Not that I thought I had a dysfunction mind you, I seemed to be functioning just fine. Rather, I thought a therapist who was involved with sexual problems may have run across my particular fetish before. After several calls I located a therapist who was willing to see me. I did not go into details over the phone, I just told her that I had some problems relating my fantasy life with my partner and needed some help learning to express myself better. Two weeks later I fabricated a story, telling my wife I was going out of town on a business trip, packed a bag and took off on my adventure.

The town where I was going was about two hours away. This distance seemed to me sufficient to create a buffer zone for me to feel secure enough that I would not bump into my new therapist outside of the safety of her office. After all, how do you say hello to someone at a restaurant after you have spilled your guts to them about your interest in enemas? I checked into a hotel and relaxed for a while, watching a little television before my 2:00 PM appointment. I considered taking an enema before going to my appointment, but decided against it. I find that after an enema session, and a good orgasm, I want to hide the fact that I am a klismophile, even from myself. I feel a lot of shame and guilt associated with the taking of an enema and try not to think about it afterwards. Given my post-enema state of mind, I didn't want to cause myself to hold back once I finally spoke the "word" to my therapist. Her time was costing me $150.00 an hour, and I wanted to take full advantage of every single minute.

Two o'clock arrived and I found myself sitting in the outer office of Dr. Kathy Williams. To say the least, I was nervous. My mouth was dry and my heart was pounding. Thankfully, there was no one else in the waiting area or I would have died of embarrassment, believing that they would somehow know why I was there to see the good doctor. After a few minutes the door at the end of the hall opened and a very attractive middle-aged woman walked towards me with a welcoming smile on her face.

"Hello" she said as she approached, "you must me Mr. Simpleton." I stood to greet her, returning her smile with one of my own, and accepting her handshake in friendship.

"Yes." I responded, "But please call me D.A." My voice cracked a little and I tried to hide my nervousness. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Dr. Williams."

"It's nice to meet you, D.A." she replied, "and you are welcome. Now, are you ready to get to work?"

I followed her back down the hall to her private office. I was pleased to see that her office was well away from the waiting area just in case someone showed up early and had to wait a few minutes for our session to conclude. Given the distance, I was secure that there would be no way for our voices to carry down the hall. Also, Dr. Williams had a private exit from her office which led down another hallway so that her clients would not have to go back through the waiting room, avoiding a potentially embarrassing encounter with other clients. Her office was cozy, not at all the clinical setting I had expected. The lights were soft and somewhat dim. Instead of the typical couch I had envisioned, instead she had two overstuffed reading chairs positioned so that they face one another with a small coffee table placed between them.

Dr. Williams closed and locked the door as I took a seat. She asked if there was anything she could get for me. "Yes" I replied. "I would love to have a glass of water, if that's possible." Dr. Williams retrieved a bottle of water from a small refrigerator in the corner and handed it to me. "Thank you, ma'am" I said, opening the bottle and wetting my mouth as Dr. Williams took a seat across from me.

"So, tell me what's been going on with you, D.A." I began to give her a little background about me; age, marital status and so forth, trying to organize my thoughts and build up enough courage to say the word. Dr. Williams listened intently, her understanding smile helping to put me at ease. I continued with my brief bio, yet kept dancing all around the subject of enemas, afraid to actually say the word in front of her. I was trying to find that perfect moment when I thought it would be appropriate to tell her that I had a thing for enemas, without her thinking I was a freak and ordering me out of her office. I thought that if I could spend a few minutes letting her get to know me, then she would trust that I was sincere and was truly interested in learning about my fetish. Finally she interrupted me and said "D.A., just go ahead and say it. I can sense that there is something very specific you have on your mind, and the sooner you tell me what it is, the sooner we can get to the heart of the matter."

"You're right, Dr. Williams. It's just very difficult and embarrassing for me to talk about. I've been living with this secret all of my life, and hiding it from my partners." I thought she could sense my sincerity now. I saw a very caring and sympathetic expression come to her face as she reached over and took my hand. "D.A.," she said, "once you begin to talk about this, you will also begin to remove its power over you. It's just like any other demon in your life; face it and let it know that it cannot control you. Now, let's have it." She then gave my hand a gentle squeeze as she leaned back in her chair. I gathered my thoughts again and took a deep breath.

"Dr. Williams, I get off on giving and receiving enemas." There, I said it. I waited for her face to turn sour and eject me from her office. I could feel my face flush and the lump in my throat turned into a baseball. I'm sure my hands were visibly shaking. I know for a fact that my voice was.

"See?" she said, "that wasn't so difficult. Please continue, D.A.. Tell me what it is about an enema that turns you on." I had just been given the 'green light' from her to expose the darkest side of my sexual desires. For the first time in my life, somebody was willing to listen to me talk about enemas and how they made me feel. Gradually I began to tell her about my enema secrets. Whenever I would veer off course, making excuses and expressing guilt, she would gracefully and professionally get me back on track with a few carefully chosen words, letting me know it was ok with her that I enjoyed something which turned most people off. The longer we talked, the easier it was for me to say that dirty little word, "enema.". And she was right, it was beginning to feel like I controlled the word, and not the other way around.

Over the next hour she asked me questions and I spilled 45 years worth of hidden feelings and emotions. I told her about the enemas I had received from my mother, and about the enemas I gave to myself as a teenager, and later as an adult. I told her about the women I had hired to give me enemas, and the few who allowed me to give enemas to them. I told her about my collection of enema bags and accessories and how I would sometimes take them out just to look at them or to feel the rubber and latex in my hands. At the end of the hour she looked at her appointment book and told me that she did not have another client that afternoon if I wanted to continue for a while longer. I took her up on the offer since I lived 2 hours away, and getting back to see her might take another month or so.

Dr. Williams focused in on the fact that much of my interest in enemas was rooted in the visual aspects of the scenario. She pointed out to me that it was not so much the enema itself that turned me on, but rather the sight of the equipment, the sight of the nozzle being lubricated by a caring female partner and the submission of being told to "roll over" or "lay across my lap." She asked me if any of my fantasies included my mother since it is generally one's mother who introduces a person to the world of enemas. I explained to her that I would get sick to my stomach at the thought of my mother giving me an enema. However, the image of a "motherly figure" pampering me with an enema was extremely erotic. The more mature the woman, the more erotic the experience.

Finally, 2 hours later, we ended the discussion and made an appointment for my next visit. I thanked her for her time and she explained to me that the first few visits were mostly going to be my getting it all off my chest. After that we could get into looking at ways for me to talk with my wife about my desires. Right now, she explained, I just needed to talk about it. She also pointed out to me that by the end of our session I was saying that word without any problem at all. I smiled at the revelation and shook her hand goodbye.

On the way back to my hotel room I ran the day's events over and over in my head. Suddenly I realized just how horny our conversation had left me. I began to plan my evening's activities which were sure to include several enemas and a mind-blowing orgasm. As I walked through the lobby of the hotel on my way to my room, I picked up a local City Paper, the kind one finds in most metropolitan areas. The kind of paper that not only carries listings of "things to do while visiting our city," but also carries advertisements for escort and massage services on the back pages. Upon arriving back in my room, I shed my clothes and drew a hot bath. I poured myself a drink from the mini-bar and unpacked my enema equipment, setting the mood for the hours to come.

Upon checking in, I had asked for the executive suite as I do every time I go out of town. I was very pleased that I had done so. Treating myself to the extra space was always nice. The bathrooms were always larger, and many had an adjacent dressing area. There was always more furniture in these suites, more than just your standard bed, chair and small table. The additional furniture would play an important role later should I decide to give myself an enema somewhere other than the bed or the bathtub. I liked the room! Treating myself like this every now and again was good for the soul.

As I soaked in the tub and sipped my gin and tonic, I began to flip through the pages of the paper. As expected, there were quite a few adds for local escort & massage services. Horny as I felt, it was not at all difficult to talk myself into calling one of these services to make arrangements for a date later in the evening. I gave myself 3 enemas before making the first call. Whenever I hired a woman to give me an enema, I always wanted to present her with a clean backside so as not to put her off. If I was going to ask her to shove something up my behind, the least I could do was make sure it was clean so that she didn't have to deal with any little surprises.

Around 8:00 PM I made my first call. As I have come to expect from my past experience with hiring escorts, not all of them will agree to being a part of my little fetish. Some just decline, while others actually laugh in my ear. This used to bother me, but after a while I learned to just brushed it off. After several rejections, I was starting to get a little disappointed, thinking my search was going to be in vain. I was reaching the bottom of the list of the larger adds and was having no luck finding a lady who was willing to give me an enema.

I took a break from the phone for a while and gave myself another 2 enemas. By this time the water was returning clear & clean. Now would be the perfect time to find an enema partner for the evening, I thought to myself. Clean as a whistle! I went back to the phone and started calling some of the smaller adds, the ones I knew from experience were women who worked by themselves, not having to give part of their fee to a service. My 3rd call was answered by a very sexy female voice who said she would be happy to see me. I started to tell her what I was interested in when she suddenly interrupted me. "Please, not over the phone. Believe me, whatever it is you are interested in, I'm sure I've done it before . I don't discuss anything over the phone because there is no way for me to know if you are a cop. Just wait until we meet, we can talk about it then." With that, I told her where I was staying and gave her a false name as I usually do. She said she would be here within the hour.

As usual, my anticipation grew with every passing minute until finally, 45 minutes later, there was a knock at the door. In my customary fashion, I answered the door wearing just a t-shirt so as to immediately place me in a submissive posture. I find it very humiliating and humbling to be standing in front a woman, my cock and balls exposed to her, while she is fully dressed. Before opening the door I peeked through the peep-hole and indeed there was a nicely dressed woman standing on the other side. I couldn't see her face very well as her head was tilted down slightly, and her hair fell in such a way as to cover most of her face. Standing behind the door and peeking my head around, I opened it so as to protect my nudity from anyone who might pass by. I invited her to come in.

"Mr. Green?" she asked, stepping through the door.

"Yes, that's me." I replied as I locked the door behind her before turning to greet her face to face.

Suddenly, both of us froze in our tracks as we took our first look at one another. I didn't know what to say, and it was quite obvious that she didn't either. One of us had to break the silence, I thought. We couldn't stand there all night just looking at each other. I began to mumble rather clumsily "Well, this is embarrassing." I tried to hide my erect cock, but it was not very easy since it was standing straight out in front of me. I started looking around the room, trying desperately to find my bathrobe so I could cover my nakedness. I cleared my throat and tried again to think of something to say.

"I'm at a complete loss here, Dr. Williams. I..I, I don't know what to say."

"Well, what are the odds of this happening?" she responded.

"Not very good," I replied. "But it looks like we have beat them, whatever they are." I nervously excused myself and went to the bathroom to put on my robe. I returned in a moment to the main bedroom area, hoping to find a way out of this uncomfortable situation. Lying to her would not work, we were both in this hip-deep and we knew it. Accepting the situation for what it was, and trying to make the best of it was going to be our only hope. "Umm, may I offer you a drink?"

"Sure." she sighed nervously, "Do you have any wine?"

"Yes, I'm sure I do." Heading to the mini-bar to get her wine bought me all of 1 full minute where I did not have to face her. But even that was not enough time for me to think my way out of this situation. "Here you go, Dr." I said, handing her a glass of red wine and motioning to the couch in case she wanted to take a seat. She handed me her coat and sat down, trying to act casual as she sipped her wine. "Well" I started, not really knowing where I was going with my thoughts "I suppose you know why I called now."

"Look, D.A." she began, "this is obviously very uncomfortable for both of us. Let me try to explain myself." Dr. Williams told me that in order to understand human sexuality better she had decided a couple of years back to do some "in the field" research. She explained that talking with clients in her office made her realize that she had little or no hands-on experience with some of their issues of concern. She wanted to better understand their longings and their fears with regard to their sexual problems, and thought that by acting out some of these scenarios she might gain a better insight into her client's psyche. She went on to give me examples, describing what some of her clients were dealing with. "What better way to understand why a man enjoys being spanked than to watch him act out his fantasy?" she asked. "What I am saying is that telling me about his desire is one thing, but watching a man's facial expressions, his body language, his emotional response to bending over a bed while I paddle his backside tends to open up a whole new world to me with regard to understanding him as a whole person, and not just a clinical case study."

I could see her point. I could also see the sincerity in her eyes as she discussed her work. Her voice expressed a tone of genuine desire to help the people who sought her advice.

"So, have you ever given an enema?" came my question.

"Yes, but not in a sexual situation" she answered. "The enemas I have given, and received, where strictly for health reasons."

My mind raced. Though I was becoming more comfortable with her presence here, I was still somewhat nervous, not knowing where this evening might be heading. "May I get you another glass of wine, Doctor?"

"Yes, that would be nice" she said. I walked over to where Dr. Williams was seated on the couch. As I bent down to collect her glass, our eyes met and I heard her ask in a very sexy voice "Would you like for me to give you an enema tonight, D.A.?"

I nearly choked on my tongue at the question. I really didn't think she would be willing to play the part I had called her about, but it was obvious now to me that she was. The butterflies in my stomach began to flutter and I tried to answer.

"You would be willing to do that?" was all I could think to say.

"Yes, as long as you're comfortable with the idea. After all, I already know exactly what you want in an enema partner. You've told me everything that turns you on." She gave me a sexy smile and handed me her empty wine glass.

While I poured another drink for Dr. Williams and tried to get connected with what might take place, she excused herself to the bathroom. My excited grew at the thought of her seeing my enema bag hanging from the towel rack above the toilet and wondered what her reaction might be. I was soon to find out.

When Dr. Williams returned from the bathroom a few minutes later she had taken on the persona of the "motherly figure" I had told her about while in her office earlier that day. She had also removed her clothing, except for her black garter-belt, stockings and bra. As well, she had removed her makeup and rearranged her hair, giving her more of a "motherly" look. In her left hand she carried my enema bag which she had filled to the brim. I could see that while filling it, water had splashed on the outside of the bag, causing those lovely little droplets I had told her I enjoyed so much. The hose trailed from the bag and in her right hand she held the nozzle. My knees weakened at this site. I watched her move gracefully across the room, hanging the bag from the wall-light next to the bed. She spread a large white towel across the bed then turned and took the glass of wine from my hand.

Looking into my eyes she set my fantasy in motion. "Sweetie, mommy needs to give you an enema" she started. I felt my heart skip a beat as she spoke those words. "I want you to take off your robe and come lay down on the bed." Her eyes pierced mine as she began to guide me into a world of fantasy. I followed her instructions like a child would obey his mother. I removed my robe and t-shirt as instructed and she helped me over to the bed. She had me lay on my left side, drawing my right knee up to my chest and exposing my anus and scrotum to her view.

"My, my" she exclaimed, "I see my baby's little testicles are much bigger than the last time I saw them." I couldn't speak. I just let my mind drift into a place where I was totally overcome with sexual excitement. All I could manage to do was follow her instructions and enjoy the moment.

Dr. Williams continued. "Mommy is going to get her little boy ready for his enema." With that, she sat down on the bed next to me and began to lubricate my bottom. She covered my anus with Vaseline, massaging the lubricant around in circles before working her long fingers into my rectum. While she slipped her middle finger in and out of my backside, she made a game of tugging on my balls each time she withdrew it. Several minutes later she decided I was ready for the enema and began to insert the long douche nozzle into me. "Relax sweetie, mommy is going to start the enema now" she warned as I felt the warm water flowing inside of me. She rubbed my lower back and my bottom, telling me what a good boy I was and how much better I would feel after I had taken my enema. I could feel the pressure building in my gut and my cock responded to these warm, wonderful sensations. I reached between my legs and started to play with myself. As I did, I heard mommy ask "Sweetie, are you touching your penis?"

I was embarrassed and afraid to answer. I didn't think she would be able to tell what I was doing, but obviously she could. "Yes, momma." I replied, "It helps me take the enema better."

"Do you need mommy to help? " she asked. Before I could answer I felt her hand cupping my balls. She softly massaged them and gently worked her fingers around the tip of my cock. Her hand felt so good and so warm. Her strokes were slow and loving and I was enjoying everything she was doing. "How does that feel, baby?" I heard her ask.

"It feels good momma" came my reply. "How much more water do I have to take?"

"You've got about another quart to go, honey. You're taking your enema like a big-boy."

"My tummy is starting to get full, momma. Can I turn over?" I asked.

"Yes, sweetie, let mommy help you." I felt her hold the nozzle firmly in place as she moved the hose out of the way so that I could roll over. As I turned over I could feel the water sloshing around inside of me. I moved over far enough for Dr. Williams to be able to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. Turning over on my back really helped take some of the pressure off my stomach and also allowed me to be able to watch Dr. Williams administer my enema. She was so lovely, and her smile truly put me at ease.

"Do you still need mommy to massage your penis, sweetheart?" she asked. I shook my head yes and she placed her hand back on my cock, resuming her gentle strokes.

Dr. Williams made me feel so relaxed that I allowed myself to get lost in the fantasy. In my mind she had become that mother figure I had always dreamed of; soft, caring, nurturing and pampering me with pleasure. After all the years of hiding my secret, I was finally being given an enema by my mother. The mother I never had, of course. I just laid back and enjoyed everything that was happening to me. I watched her fingers softly stroking my cock, and every now and then she would let me know how much water was still in the enema bag.

I didn't realize it at the time, but Dr. Williams saw me looking at her breasts. A loving smile came to her lips and she asked "Does my little boy need mommy's nipple?" Upon asking, she reached around and unhooked her bra, allowing her breasts to fall free. She leaned forward to my mouth and offered her breast to me. I started to suckle as she continued to play with my cock. Her hair brushed my cheek and the softness of her breast pressed against my face was more than I could take. She felt my body shiver with delight and knew my orgasm was not far away. Sensing this, she removed her hand from my shaft and whispered that my enema was finished, and it was time for me to go to the bathroom. I rolled over and she slipped the nozzle from my behind. As she helped me to my feet, Dr. Williams pulled me close and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

"How does mommy's little boy feel?" she asked. "Is your tummy full?"

"Yes, it is" I replied. "But I really need to go empty this water." She walked with me to the toilet and helped me sit down.

"Mommy will be right out here if you need her" she said. "I will leave the door open so I can hear if you call." With that, she turned and walked back to the bedroom as I emptied my enema into the toilet.

After several minutes she returned and handed me a glass of wine. Sitting on the side of the tub Dr. Williams asked "How do you feel, sweetie? Did the enema help?"

"Yes," I replied. I feel a lot better now."

"Do you think you need another one, honey?" she inquired.

"Yes. I think I do, momma, if you don't mind" came my response. She kissed my cheek and got up to prepare my second enema. This one was given over her knee. Mommy sat on the edge of the bed and helped me across her lap. She spread her legs and guided me in between them so that I was laying across one of her legs, facing away from her. My behind was positioned between her legs, giving her easy access to my anus and a perfect view of my testicles. The light on the wall at the side of the bed made a perfect place to hang the enema bag from. As well, it shown directly between my legs, making me feel extremely exposed and vulnerable. Mommy could see everything. As I prepared to receive my 2nd enema from Dr. Williams, she talked to me as she tended to my desires. "Sweetheart, mommy needs you to spread your legs for her so she can give you your enema." I followed her direction and opened my legs wider.

"That's good, honey" she said. "Mommy needs to put some more Vaseline in your bottom so the nozzle will go in easy." I felt her finger slipping inside me again. The in and out motions of her finger caused my cock to twitch where it was now trapped between her leg and my stomach.

"Is your penis uncomfortable, sweetheart?" I heard her ask.

"Yes, momma. Can you pull it out?"

"Yes, angel. Raise up a little for mommy."

I raised my hips slightly and she reached under me, grabbing my cock and pulling it free. She repositioned it with the top of the shaft resting against her thigh, and the underside exposed to her view.

"Does that feel better, baby?" she asked.

"Yes, momma. That's much better."

I felt her slip the nozzle inside me and heard the familiar "click" which signaled that the water was flowing. Momma laid her forearm on my lower back so she could hold the nozzle in place more easily. She playfully moved it in and out of my behind as the warm water coursed through me. With her free hand she played with my balls, gently dragging her long fingernails across my scrotum, playfully pulling and tickling my pubic hair and rubbing the underside of my cock just below the head. I was hoping this enema would never end. Every nerve between my legs was being stimulated and I was loving every minute of it. The thought that Dr. Williams had such a close up view of my private parts was causing even more excitement in my mind. I felt her wrap her thumb and finger around my shaft and squeeze, milking my cock from the base to the tip.

"I see my little boy can make his own pre-cum now" she said. "I'm so proud of you, honey. You have really become quite a little man." She continued to stroke and play with my cock until the enema had finished.

As I expelled the enema, I heard more water running in the sink just outside the bathroom door. Returning from the toilet I found that Dr. Williams had prepared another enema for me.

"Sweetheart, mommy is going to give you one more enema just to make sure you're completely cleaned out. Now hop up here on the counter so we can get started."

Dr. Williams had covered the counter top adjacent to the sink with a towel and had hung the enema bag on the towel rack just to the right of the sink. She had also placed a pillow on the towel so that I could relax comfortably and watch her administer my third enema. I climbed up on the vanity and lay down. She helped me positioned my bottom so that it was directly over the sink, my feet resting on the far wall with the enema bag hanging between them. This was a wonderful position to be in. On my right, mommy was lubricating the nozzle with some Vaseline. On my left was a mirror which reflected her beautiful and erotic image. And, when I looked between my knees, I was staring directly at the full enema bag so that I could watch it empty into my behind.

"Ready, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Yes, momma. I'm ready" I replied.

She smiled at me and moved her left hand across my stomach, reaching between my legs.

"Mommy needs to move your big-boy testicles out of her way, sweetie, so she can get to your bum."

Her hand was soft and warm. I glanced between my legs and watched her lift my balls away from my anus. She gently held them out of the way as she slipped the nozzle up my backside with her right hand.

"There we go. Good boy." she smile, looking back at me. She reached up and released the clamp. The warm water entering my belly felt so good. Mommy let my balls fall back down between my legs. Then she leaned over and offered her breast to me again. Taking her erect nipple into my mouth I laid there content as a nursing child as she resumed stroking my cock.

"Sweetheart?" she whispered, "Mommy wants you to let your sperm come out of your penis for her. Can you do that for me?" Without speaking I just nodded my head. I didn't want her to take her breast away from my mouth.

"Good boy. It will make you feel much better and will help take your mind off the enema." I watched in the mirror as she stroked my cock to orgasm, all the while speaking words of encouragement to me as I came closer to shooting my load.

"Just let it out, honey" she whispered. "Mommy wants to see it come out. It's ok, baby, just let it flow out of your penis. Mommy knows you need to let it out."

My body tensed as I ejaculated, shooting gobs of pearly white cum all over my stomach, my chest and also hitting mommy's breast.

"That's good, sweetie. Let mommy see you cum like a big-boy. Shoot it all out for me." She continued to pump my cock until every last drop had been drained out. Even after I had stopped ejaculating, mommy milked my cock until she had drawn the last drops out of my shaft. "Good boy" she whispered, softly kissing my forehead. "You had a lot of sperm in your testicles, didn't you?"

I couldn't speak. I was totally drained. But I still needed to empty the water from my belly.

"Sweetie, mommy is going to take the enema nozzle out of your bottom now and she wants you to release your water here in the sink." I felt the nozzle sliding out of my behind and heard the plastic hit the side of the sink. Mommy began to massage my abdomen, rubbing semen into my skin as I let the water drain from my bottom. She commented on how clear the water was as it came out, indicating that I was completely clean on the inside. It took some 15 minutes or so for all of the water to drain out, and the good doctor stood by my side the whole time, massaging my stomach and helping me evacuate every last drop.

When it was finally over, I was exhausted. I could not even remember how many enemas I had taken that day. Dr. Williams helped me off the counter top and walked me over to the bed. I collapsed and she sat next to me, massaging my lower back and my bottom, playfully slapping it a couple of times. I didn't want the evening to end. I could have stayed like this forever. But all good things must come to an end, and Dr. Williams had to leave. Reluctantly I got up and put on my robe as Dr. Williams dressed. She saw me looking through my wallet for money so I could pay her fee and stopped me. She told me to think about tonight, and if I thought it was helpful then I could pay her when I came back for my next appointment. I thanked her again for a truly wonderful evening and asked if I could give her a hug. We hugged close for a moment and then she turned to leave.

That night I lay in bad and relived the experience. I tried hard to analyze my reactions from more than just a sexual view. I tried to look at why I thought it was important to have a motherly type woman administer an enema to me and then help me orgasm in front of her. Was I looking for acceptance? Was I trying to resolve in my head that I was now a man and wanted my mother to know that too? Was I looking for that nurturing feeling that only a woman can provide? The security of a woman's breast? The private and intimate moments shared between a mother and her child? I found no answers that night, but maybe I would in time. Right then I was just grateful to have found Dr. Williams and looked forward to my next meeting with her.

Introspectively submitted, mr_simpleton1950@yahoo.com