A Friendship Changes

We had seen each other off and on since we stopped working together a few years ago. She was about my age and a hard worker and it was always pretty easy to talk to her. Sometimes we would see each other in the store or talk to each other in a text message or two here and there and it was always good to talk to her. She was married and so was I and whenever we talked always caught up things.

One day, at my office, she told me that she was going to be going in for a colonoscopy the day after tomorrow and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She had a history of polyps and so had to have one every year or so as a follow up until they could be fairly comfortable that she didn’t have any more. This was her third year having to have one and said that maybe she could skip a year or two but it all depended on what the outcome was. She asked me if I had ever had a colonoscopy. I told her I had not had one yet and it was mainly because of that crap you had to drink and that it made you sick as hell you had to basically take a day off to get it all done.

“That’s dumb as fuck,” she said. I was a little surprised about that and she wasn’t done talking, “If you don’t get checked you are running the risk of getting colon cancer. You don’t want that.”

I knew all of this and the thought of drinking all that crap was a big kicker for me. She told me that her first colonoscopy she had to drink that stuff and yes drinking it could, “… make you shit through a key hole at fifty feet!” That was a pretty good laugh and then she told me that there were pills you could take or ask for an alternative or something. I put up the usual lame assed excuses about not wanting to be close to a stool all damn day or shitting my guts out and on and on and on.

Well this pissed her off because she was talking to one of the dumbest people on the planet and she said, “You know, you can have an enema or two before you start all of that medicine to kind of clear out the way and have less to shit. You do know what enemas are, don’t ya? You have had them before haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I know what enemas are. I do them whenever I can.” I think we both looked pretty damned shocked at what came out of my mouth just then.

“Do you like them, too?” she asked. I think she had a look on her face when she asked me that like, “… did I say ‘too’?”

Too? Did she say, too? The look on her face was one of whether or not she should die right there or hope I hadn’t heard her say, ‘too.’ She was thinking she may have crossed the line and then again we both had just said things we weren’t too sure about.

I looked at her and thought that since I had already opened my mouth, I would just change feet, “Yes. I like them, too.” We both had looks on our faces that said, “Oh wow!”

Now we were both curious as hell about to what extent we both liked enemas. The door had been opened. Both of us sitting there going, “No shit, I thought I was the only one who liked enemas.”

We both took a deep breath and then dropped our guard completely and began to talk about how we came to like enemas. The more we talked the more we found out about each other and that we more than ‘liked’ enemas. We both pretty much kept our love of enemas from our spouses. She asked me if my wife knew I liked enemas or ever knew I had taken them. I told her about one time when I really did have a problem with being stopped up and had gone to the doctor about it. I had told my wife that the doctor prescribed three enemas for me and that I basically lied about that just so I could do something to clean my ass out and not take those damn laxatives. I told her my wife was in no way a fan of the enema or anything else back there and was kind of a prude in that way.

She laughed at that and I asked her about her if her husband knew about her love of enemas. “No, but us women have a little more space to be able to pull off those things without catching hell or what-the-fuck-ever.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well,” she started, “he knows I had to have those polyps removed and that part of it might have been because I’ve always had problems with constipation – periods and all that ‘female stuff’ and so it was easy for me to become a little more open about my taking an enema.”

“Lucky,” I said.

“You betcha,” she laughed. “Us women can get away with anything.” And she gave me a wink. “He thinks it is gross and won’t talk about it and leaves me alone. I’d really like for him to just talk to me or keep me company but, seeing how he feels, I don’t bother. It would be nice if he would even help or something.”

I must have been sitting there with a dumb look on my face or something because I was getting a hard on just thinking about her having an enema. It was probably one of those silences that could have got awkward and finally I said, “So, you have your colonoscopy the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said, waiting for me to do or say something more. She was looking right at me. I was thinking, it was something crucial about this.

“You said you do some enemas before you start the medicine?”

“Yes,” she said, still looking at me. She could probably hear my mind twirling.

“When will you start?”

“When I leave here.”

“Anything I can do to help?” We were both processing this whole conversation in our minds. It was a lot we had learned about each other in a short time and something that we didn’t really want to let go of just yet. I was hoping she would say yes and that she was trying to think about how to say yes and both of us not wanting to screw up a friendship or our two marriages. Or was I wrong about what she was thinking?

Then I thought to myself, “Oh shit! I fucked this up!” She looked at me and I would have bet she was reading my mind.

I saw her take a deep breath and I thought this was going to be it, I’m going to be apologizing or that was the end of this friendship.

“Yes,” she said and my heart was in my mouth. She looked like she wasn’t done talking and she wasn’t going to make me ask her what kind of help, she said, “Would you keep me company?”

I wasn’t sure what she meant and she said, “Maybe we could talk on the phone while I had my enemas, sort of you keep me company while I do them. I’m always nervous before I go in and my husband doesn’t get it.”

I could tell that it bothered her, there is a history of colon cancer in her family, and that she really did want to talk about it – even without her doing enemas.

“I’d be glad to. I’m assuming you mean by phone.”

“For now,” she said. “I’m probably going to have a couple tonight and then some more tomorrow. We could talk or text or both. Do you think you could?”

The texting would be no problem. The talking on the phone might be but I didn’t know and neither did she. It all depended on where our spouses were and all of that jazz.

Then we got to talking about the how we would do this and what would need to be done so she could have her enemas and talk at the same time.

“Do you want me to have an enema while you do yours? If I can?” I asked her. “I’m not sure I could get my stuff and have the privacy.”

“I would like that,” she smiled, “and thanks for offering, but I know it would be hard. If you could just talk to me or text me when I am having the enemas, I would really like that.”

“No problem,” I smiled back at her. “I am looking forward to talking to you.”

“Me, too,” she said still smiling but sort of tearing up. “This always bothers me.”

“How will I know when to call or text?”

“I’ll text you. If you can talk, then I’ll call you. If you can’t, then we will by text – if you can,” she told me and she really seemed glad that we were going to be talking when she had her enemas.

She got up to go and so met her and we hugged. As we hugged I told her everything was going to be alright and she said it had been ok the last couple of times. She was just worried. We held that hug and finally let go and there were tears in her eyes.

She got to the door and was ready to open it to go when she said, “Hopefully the next time we talk tonight I will be having my enema and getting closer to getting this shit done.”

“Could you maybe wait to start your enema until after we can talk?” I asked her and she had kind of a quizzical look on her face. “Yeah. I don’t know why I asked that but, hell, I’d just like to be there when you are just about to start.”

She gave me a wink and a smile and said, “I know what you mean. I won’t put it in until I see if we can talk.”

Another hug before she left, and suddenly I had something to look forward to tonight. Dirty dog that I am, I did look at her ass as she walked down the steps. We knew it could be something special about to begin.

Interesting story.I am looking forward to a follow up regarding how the story unfolded.

A

It's a little slow starting ... but will there be more? Is it a true story? Is this your first time writing?

When she left the office I found it was pretty damned hard to, pun wasn’t intended but it works, concentrate. I had found out something about a woman I thought I had known and also something about myself. I wanted her, or someone, a woman, to find out about my love of enemas and not freak out. I replayed our conversation over and over in my mind and watched that clock slowly wind down. One of the things I remembered her saying when I told her I was assuming she meant by phone was, “For now.” My mind played with that little remark and I let my imagination go wild.

Then things got busy at the office and I was getting swamped. It would be another night I would be staying over. I would have to back up all of the days’ files and stuff and that would mean I would be going to the house late. I was thinking I would not be able to finish up and beat feet towards the barn in time to talk to her when she did her enemas. That is if she didn’t come to her senses or her husband actually kept her company.

I was starting to think, “Well, fuck. That is going to bite.” I actually said it out loud because I do talk to myself sometimes. Then my cell phone started dancing all over the place and I had an incoming text. It was from her!

The text said, “Can you talk?”

“Yes,” I typed in and sent it to her and added, “I’m still at the office. Call me here.”

I got a smiley face sent back to me almost immediately.

I waited for the phone to ring while I was getting things backed up. Then my cell phone vibrated again, “Blonde moment – what is the number?”

I sent her the number and said, “You still wanting to do this?”

Then the phone rang and she was on the other end. Now my heart was really pounding away.

“Hello?” I didn’t do the formal answering of the phone.

I heard her chuckle on the other end, “You sound as nervous as I do.”

“Guilty,” I said. “I haven’t done anything like this before.”

“Me either,” she said just as nervous as I was.

“It may sound strange, but I’ve been looking forward to this,” just like some blathering idiot teenage boy with raging hormones. All that was missing was my voice cracking.

“You and me both – you and me both.” Then there was a little bit of silence.

“Did you start already?”

“No. I waited. Damn near chickened out a few times. Thinking this is nuts,” she kind of rushed her words.

“Well,” I started to say.

“No. I need to do these enemas and I would love the company.”

I tried to be light-hearted when I said this, “So, what are you wearing?” I used my dirty old man voice. But I was serious. Damn I was hard. My jeans were getting pretty tight. Not a normal thing nowadays.

She laughed and called me a dirty old man and then said, seriously, “I’m wearing my sweats. I’m going to pull my bottoms down and we can get this rodeo started.”

I had my headset on so that I could listen and still kind of work around while this was going on. Right then I wasn’t working. I was listening. Then I asked, “Will you need to put the phone down?”

“Nope. I have an earpiece.” I should have guessed that.

I listened like I never had before and I swear I could hear her breathing like she was pulling her sweat pants down by what I thought was the sound of fabric on skin.

“I’m getting too fat,” she snickered. “I hope I don’t have to run anywhere with these bottoms down around my knees. No underwear so I don’t have to worry about that.”

Still some more sounds from the other end of her situating herself on the bed. “Where do you take your enemas?” I asked her while she was getting into position.

“I’ve got this back bedroom, you’ve seen it, where I do my sewing and crafts and shit. I use this bed to lay on when I do my enemas. No one bothers me here. It’s my sanctuary.”

“Where do you hang your bag?”

“I’ve got a plant hook right above the bed. Only I don’t hang plants there!” and we both laughed at that.

“That sounds like a pretty good set up.”

“It is,” she said and sounding like she was about ready to start. “This will be a first for me. Just a little KY on this thing-a-ma-bob and we can get this show on the road.”

“Sounds good.” And it really did sound good.

I heard her let out a little breath as she said, “And here it goes.” Her earpiece was pretty sensitive and I could hear her breathing and I imagined her reaching around behind her with the nozzle in her hand and slipping it into her ass. Then I heard her go, “Mmmmm.” It was soft and not one of those fake or loud sounds, just the sound of someone liking the feel of the nozzle going into her.

“Sounds like that was some smooth sailing,” I said as her now intimate friend.

“It was. It’s one of my favorite things about an enema,” and it sounded like her timidity or hesitation was melting away right along with my own.

“Mine, too,” I told her without any more guardedness. “I like to put it in and just have it there for a little bit before I start the flow.”

“Really? Me too!” she said as we got down to finding out about this part of each other. “I’m going to lay here for a little bit and just relax before I get it going.”

I’m thinking to myself that there is a woman on the other end of this phone laying on a bed in her house, sweat pants pulled down around her knees, with an enema bag hung from the ceiling and the tube making its way down and maybe coiling a little before slipping in between the cheeks of her ass and held there by a nozzle. Water just waiting to be set free to flow down into her at any moment.

Thinking about that and trying to visualize it brought up some questions to my mind.

What kind of bag? A yellow open top, two quarts, with white tubing. Mine? A hot water bottle combination syringe, red, with white tubing.

What was her preference on a nozzle? The regular douche pipe that came with it. Mine? Same thing. Yep, we both agreed it is easier to, “get a grip” on it and not have it slip out.

The white plastic clamp? Yep. Haven’t seen a metal one for years.

Lube? KY. Same here. I asked her if she ever tried KY Heat? “No. But I am going to. That sounds good.”

We were both a hell of a lot more at ease when she finally said, “Time to start it.”

I heard the distinctive click of her opening up the clamp and then her say in a low tone, “Oh yes.” And then a pretty deep sigh.

I was talking to an old friend who I had known for years as she was having an enema. I liked that a lot.

It was about ten seconds later when I heard her shut the clamp down three clicks. “Oh, hey, I do that, too.”

“Smart man,” I could almost see her wink and then her laugh. “Great minds think alike. I’m not going to rush this.”

She asked me how I did my enemas when I had the time. I told her I started out on my left side, yes she was on her left side, and did the clamp and flow about like she did. I went on to tell her that I would let about a fourth of the bag in, open the clamp all of the way, and then turn onto my stomach before clamping it down three clicks again.

“No shit?” she sounded surprised. “That’s what I do! Then do you roll onto your right side, you know, after you open up the clamp all of the way? Then onto your back? To finish off?”

“Sure do,” I chuckled with her. “We must have went to the same enema school.” We both were pretty impressed with that and remarked that we must think alike.

“One thing, though,” she said, “since I’ve got these bottoms down around my knees, I think when I get done with my right side I will roll back over on my tummy and maybe put my ass in the air to finish. I’m not sure I could maneuver my legs over the hose to finish on my back.”

“Why don’t you just take your sweat pants off?”

“I’ll do that for the next one. I didn’t know how this first one would go. Sometimes I have to make a run for it before I finish the bag. I’m doing great on this one.” Then she hesitated before sort of softly saying, “It must be the company.”

“I hope so. I really like this. Talking to you while you, uh,” I almost stammered.

“Have this enema?” she finished my sentence. Then her tone changed to appreciative, “I thought I’d be embarrassed with you knowing about my enemas and, now, me laying here, bare ass and with an enema tube in me.”

“Do you have a bush?”

That brought a laugh from her and then she riveted me with her answer, “Yes I do. The color of my eyebrows. Nice and thick. And – a little wet right now.”

“I’m a little hard right now.”

“I’m glad,” she softly said.

I heard the sound of her moving and asked her if she was rolling onto her stomach. Yes she was and I heard her open up the clamp all of the way and then the sounds of her breathing while she was moving. Then the sounds of her clamping down three clicks as she settled in for that part of her enema.

“I think face down is probably one of the positions I like best,” I told her. “Especially for the first enema.”

“Mine, too,” she told me, but her voice was a little breathy.

We talked a little more and she would ask me how often I took an enema and what I wore. I told her that with the wife and kids around it was all but impossible to manage more than a few enemas a year. But sometimes I could sneak in something like ten a year. It was just not nearly as much as I wanted to. As to what I wore, mostly just a t-shirt and that was all. I wasn’t able to take the cold like I used to. We both got a chuckle out of that.

Then I started noticing her breathing start to change as we talked. As the time wore on, I was beginning to do most of the talking. That was definitely not the woman I knew.

“You OK?”

“Yes,” she said with a little difficulty. “I’m doing just fine.” She had a strangely familiar, dream like tone in her voice.

“Have you changed onto your right side yet?”

“No,” and now she was really starting to have some deep breathing going on there.

“You going to change?”

She could barely say, “No.” It sounded like she was trying to stifle a cough or a sneeze.

I knew.

She knew I knew.

“Are you cumming?”

“Oh yes. Yes. Yes. Yesssssssssss.” And then the sound of her not trying to disguise her voice or anything. “Yesssss. Oh fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh damn!” And then the sound of her letting it just take her away.

She was cumming and I was hearing her every sound. Imagining her laying there, face down, with an enema tube in her ass, pressing her pussy against the bed, undulating and rubbing for all she was worth. Water flowing into her body, her pussy by now wet with her own cum and I was just there and feeling so, I don’t know what. But it felt good.

It was quite a few minutes before her breathing returned to normal and she got her voice back under control. She was looking for the ‘right thing’ to say. She didn’t have the words.

“You’re not sorry one bit. Neither am I,” I told her. “Let’s not start that shit and promise to level with each other.”

She had a throaty, determined or assured tone in her voice, if you will when she said, “Fuck no I’m not sorry. No way. This is the best enema I’ve ever had and I have soaked the bedspread when I came.”

I heard a sigh of relief on her end and then she told me, “I’m damn lucky I didn’t spin this enema bag off of the hook and really make a mess!” And we both laughed about that.

“Well, dude,” she was wrapping her enema up, “I’ve got to go get rid of this and maybe see about another one in a while. You going to be around for that one?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I was trying to figure out how to make it work. “You going to lose the sweat pants or the whole outfit?”

“Naked?” she was thinking. “The old man always knows that I have on at least a top most of the time when I’m in here, and besides it’s pretty chilly, so maybe just the top. No bra.”

“That sounds pretty nice to me,” I said as I thought about that. I was also thinking that there had to be a way to keep her company with her second enema. “Yeppers, that sounds really nice.”

“I’d like for you to be there,” she sounded pretty sincere, hopeful.

“I want to be there,” and I meant it. Then I sort of playfully added, “You going to have a little something to help you out?”

She didn’t miss a beat when she told me, “I’ve got a vibrator and a nice big enema nozzle for this second time. I only use it on special occasions and as wet as I got just now, oh hell yes I will be doing this enema up in style. Whether you’re here or not.”

“Text before and then call if the coast is clear?” I asked.

“That seemed to work,” she told me. Then she said, “Don’t do anything until we are on the phone and I’m doing that enema.”

No games there, I knew what she meant. She would be my “inspiration.”

Anything on that 2nd enema? It would be nice to know how this turned out .. 😃

I wasn’t actually able to not “do anything” before I left the office. She had really been the inspiration for one of the hardest “woodies” I had been able to get in quite a while. The drive back to the house would have been extremely long and I wasn’t about to try to find out if I was going to have privacy or not to take care of some business and talk to her while she did her enema. So, all puns intended, I took matters into my own hand and thought about my old friend lying on her bed with her sweat pants down around her knees with an enema tube in her ass and getting off. It didn’t take time and a lot of “pent up energy” was released in a very few strokes.

I can’t speak for a lot of guys, but when I shot my wad I have to say that it cleared my mind (thought I was going to say “head”) and I sat there thinking, “What the hell did she and I just do?” I had never thought about her sexually before but I really liked her a lot. She was a friend and married and had a couple kids and grandkids. And I just listened to her get half naked, take an enema, and get off. I was feeling a little guilty after “Woody” had his head cleared and yet it was something pretty wonderful, too. Whatever was going to happen or not happen from this point on, one thing was sure, we both knew a hell of a lot more about each other than we did just a few hours before. Would I regret it? Did she regret it?

I got to the house not too much later and it had been close to an hour since we had been on the phone after she finished her enema. I was thinking, based on my experience with enemas, that it would be closer to an hour or more before she was totally done processing that enema. So, give her a little time.

It looked like I would be able to at least talk to her on the phone without being overheard if she called and by now, almost two hours later, the word “if” was definitely my outlook for this to happen. She could have had company come over, her husband may have sniffed her out and was doing her or maybe, for once, keeping her company when she was doing an enema, or a host of other thoughts run through my head. One of those thoughts was that she had “cleared her mind” and came to her senses and backed off.

It was over two hours and closer to three and I figured that was that. I started to get ready to hit the sack when my phone received a text message with just, “need 2 talk – k 2 call ?”. It was her. I sent her a text saying it was OK.

My phone screen lit up and it was an incoming call from her. She asked, “Can you talk?”

“Sure,” I said knowing that it was going to be one of “those” kinds of talks.

Like I said before, she was not a woman who was ever really at a loss of words and she had some trouble trying to say whatever it was she was going to say. Finally she said, “How’re you feeling?”

“About like you are, I think.”

“That was something,” she said, “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“You feeling guilty?”

A pause, “No.” she hesitated. “It is just, so, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. I figured she was feeling a little embarrassed or something about my hearing her get off and maybe feeling a little exposed, too. So I told her, “I wasn’t able to hold off like I said I would.”

“No?”

“No. I took care of it and it was, to say the least, intense,” I told her. “This really blew my mind.”

“Oh hell,” she was glad the ice was breaking, “I know what you mean. I didn’t wait either. I went ahead and finished off what I had started and it was pretty intense. I really had to get after it and I must have needed it.” Then she chuckled.

“Did you, or did it clear away some cobwebs?”

“Sure did,” she nervously chuckled. Then there was a silence on her end of the line.

“Feeling guilty?” I asked.

“No, that’s not the word.”

“Do you want to let this go?” I asked not knowing what she was going to say. There was plenty of silence on the other end of the line.

“Not really,” she finally answered after I thought the line had gone dead. “I’ve never done this before – the enema or getting off when I talked on the phone. I just don’t know what to feel.”

She was asking me a question without actually asking the question out loud. She had been the one to do the enema and also let me in on her getting off, so, really it was my turn to be the one to “cowboy up” and lay it out there.

“For what it is worth,” I was finding some balls, “I loved the hell out of it! I don’t know what to think about all of it but, I sure as hell think that was the best and most honest I have ever been with anyone. There ain’t nobody who knows I like enemas. No one.”

“No shit?” she sounded relieved. “You don’t think I’m some kinda slut?”

“Hell no!” and I laughed and then she laughed. We were both kind of relieved and still we had no idea where or what this was going to be.

“Before we yak at each other some more and before I forget,” I interrupted, “did you do that other enema like you said you needed to do?”

“Oops, no,” she chuckled. “Between that other one and getting off with my battery operated boyfriend, BOB, I wasn’t quite through until just before I called you. Hoo boy! I needed that.”

“So,” my mind was going back to being one-tracked, “I can talk if you want to do that other enema tonight.”

“Do you have the time?”

“How about you take those sweat pants off and get that enema bag ready,” I told her sounding cocky.

“Yeah, well the bag is full and hanging from the hook, and,” she was saying as thought I heard fabric against skin like someone pulling down their sweat pants, “the sweat pants are off.”

Then my imagination began to fill in the blanks as she was talking to me while she was, I was visualizing, getting on the bed and getting ready remarking that she was getting old and not moving like she once could. But I was seeing her naked ass and bush in my mind as she was positioning herself under the bag.

“What are you wearing?” I dirty-old-man like asked.

“Buck nekkid from the waist down, an old T-shirt, no bra,” she described herself. “Oh and a pair of socks. My feet get cold.”

“Sounds like you are comfortable,” I observed.

“It is,” she told me and then matter of fact said, “the only problem is that the girls tend to follow gravity.”

“Uh?”

“My girls, boobs,” she laughed. “Gravity is doing a number on them. I would probably be better off getting a sport bra or something when I don’t want to wear one of those damn bras.”

We both chuckled about that and said that gravity was sure playing hell well us both.

“Do you want me to tell you when I am ready to stick it in,” she said when it sounded like she was in position.

“Oh yeah,” I told her, “I can hear you when you are moving around and I think I heard you when you were taking off your sweat pants. It’s kinda cool.”

“Really,” she said and sounded like she was pretty cool with that, “I wondered because I can hear you breath sometimes, too.”

“Yep. You probably heard me breathing pretty hard there a little while ago when you were doing your first enema.”

She laughed that laugh she does when she gets tickled, something I always liked about her, “I could sure tell I had you going and I didn’t stop to think that you could probably hear me, too!”

We both laughed at that and made remarks back and forth it was light-hearted and then the tone of her voice changed to a little more serious, “I’m going to stick it in now.”

“Ok,” I said pretty quietly. I was listening for all I was worth.

She said almost like she was thinking out loud as kind of a note to me, “Since you’re not here,” her breathing was a little more pronounced, “mmm, this is probably the best part – right here – putting it in – now – “ I listened to her go quiet except for the sounds of her breath and I heard her lightly swallow.

“In?”

She sighed a little, “Yes – it’s in. And it feels good. Real good.”

“Thanks, thanks for telling me how it feels,” I said like an awe-struck dip-shit. I bet she thinks I’m corny as hell there and I grimaced when I said that.

“Hey, no problem, I wanted to hear your breathing, too,” she softly said.

“You going to leave it there a little bit before you start?”

“A little, but not as long,” she was thinking, “I got started with this one a little later than I planned and so I can’t take as much time as I would. Getting myself off the first time and then doing it again after we got off of the phone took longer than I had thought. I wasn’t planning on taking a ride.”

“Also I was almost ready to chicken out doing this second one after the show I put on with the first one,” she continued. “I mean no one has ever been there when I got off doing my enema. Not even the old man.”

I could have said a lot of things or made some observations or maybe go into detail about how honored I felt that she would let me “be there” for her enema and her masturbation, but instead I hoped for the best when I said, “I’m glad you didn’t chicken out. I like the hell outta this!”

I heard her softly clear her throat and breath in a little, “Me too. Me too. This is – there is something – special about this.”

We were silent for just a few moments when she cleared her throat again and said, “Listen for the click. I’m going to open this puppy up.”

“Listening,” and I was. She breathed in a little more, swallowed, and then that unmistakable click.

“Alright, now,” she sounded like she was relaxing. “It’s show time!”

I was waiting to hear her close the clamp down three clicks and was about to ask her if she forgot when she said, “I’m going to let this one run. It’s getting late and I will have to get rid of this and go eat something good before I have to start on a clear liquid diet and drink that damn goat piss to clean me out.”

“You going to be changing positions?”

“Nah. That last one cleaned me out pretty good and it won’t be a problem taking all of this just laying on my left side,” she told me, “And sometimes I just like to take one pretty quick. I’ve got some more to do to get ready for the reaming day after tomorrow.”

“Won’t your enemas be enough to where you don’t have to drink that ‘goat piss’ or as much of it?”

“Fuck no,” she sounded disgusted, “ya really can’t get around it. No use bitching about it and so I just pour that down my throat trying not to taste that shit. I just do the enemas to have less to shit out. Believe me, if they would let me just do enemas I’d back up to a fire hydrant and flush it out that way!”

“I am imagining that,” I laughed. “I’d pay good money to see that!”

“No shit! I’d sell tickets!”

When we stopped chuckling about that and more or less composed ourselves, I had mentally calculated that she was pretty close to being done or was already done with the enema all but in her. I was all but sure.

“I wish this could be longer,” I said. I had been listening to her make little sounds as maybe some small cramps or something or the shifting of the water in her made from her enema her sigh here and there or make a contented sound.

“Yes, I was feeling that, too,” she said. “I could get used to this – big time.”

“Well, Woody is making a comeback.”

“Woody?”

“My other head,” I grinned when I said it.

“I’m getting wet, too, but – not enough time for me to do me like I like to do.”

“I know,” I sighed when I said it.

“Um, does it take you long?”

“You want to have me whip and ride?” I asked her thinking she was pretty much like I had always known or thought about her.

“Too weird?” she asked. “I’ve just – well – I want to know what you sound like?”

“The way I am right now it won’t take too long. Can you old your enema?”

“Oh hell yes! I’m a pro,” she was saying, “you don’t have too.”

Her voice trailed off when she heard me unzip my jeans and stand up and began pulling them down right along with my skivvies.

“Tell me what yer doing.”

“Did you hear me unzip? I’m pulling them down.” I described to her. “Hey! He’s alive!”

She chortled at that and I sat back down and took old Woody in my hand and started to perk him up as best I could. “Can you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do me a favor?” I asked her as I was getting Woody ready.

“Yes,” she was sounding throaty, “I can really hear. Wow!”

“Could you move your enema nozzle in your ass while I am jacking off?”

“I am,” she said. “Getting wet – wet – wet!”

“I won’t be able to do much talking when I get into it.”

“No problem – I can hear you perfectly,” she practically cooed.

I worked old Woody and was thinking about her half naked with an enema tube in her ass and thinking about being there with maybe her sucking my cock or something. I got more into it and losing myself in the moment and had no idea what I was sounding like to her. Maybe a freight train with asthma, I didn’t know. But I was letting her know what was going on by just doing it.

In between my throes of passion and just before I came, I thought I could hear her, too, and a few grunts and guttural tones come from her end of the line.

When I came, I really came. Twice within a couple of hours, for me was back to old form. Not as much as I shot the first time, but still pretty respectful. And then came the trying to get my breath back and desperately wanting to talk to her but not yet able.

I got pretty close back to normal breathing when I let out one last big breath, or sigh, and said, “You still there?”

“I’m fucking soaked!” she was half crying.

“Did your bag break,” I asked her with old Woody going back to his natural state and wondering if I was going to be able to track down all of his contribution to this little party and clean it up.

“No,” she said sounding like she was out of breath, too. “Listening to you got me hotter than hell and towards the end I was right there with you. I am still flowing!”

It was now time to wrap it up. And we knew it.

From finding out we both loved enemas to this final little bit of getting off with each other, was something we wanted to explore some more.

Would we be able to?

I loved the story ... 😃 Did you and she keep up the enemas and everything?

Hi, anitanne. Thanks for the reply. This is pretty much the story of how a friendship went from one thing to another. I hope you like it.

Any suggestions you might have would be welcome.

Hi, gibby. It is my first time writing. Thanks for the observation that it was a little slow in the start. I hope it picked up for you.

The story itself is really about two women I know. One of them I actually did have enemas with on the phone and the other was someone I worked with who had to have several colonoscopies because they found a polyp one time. She had come to me to maybe get a little reassurance or just wanted to tell a friend. Either way she is a heck of a lady and I was glad she felt comfortable talking to me about it. The one woman I did the phone enemas with isn't able to do them anymore because of privacy issues but we still keep in touch from time to time.

A very good story- the phone part sounded a little over the reality edge but once one accepted that the rest was great

Hi, morten. Thanks for the comment. When I was on the phone with her, my imagination was in overtime and filling in the blanks for me, big time! I'm glad you liked the story and took the time to comment. One of those K's for you.

Will you be writing more on this story line? 😃

Hi, Gibby. There is more to the story which took place over several years. The relationship became more intimate, not necessarily sexual intimacy, but there was definitely a bond there between us. A lot of life has gone on between then and now and every once in awhile I will get a text with just an "E" and sometimes I will send one to her and we try to do an enema or two.

I wouldn't mind writing more on what we had. It just depends. I see on a lot of these stories that three seems to be the magic number for stories in a series. Kind of like an enema series.

If you, or anyone, has any ideas or suggestions on how to make the story better or my writing better, I'd like to know.

Thanks,

Cedar

After she had done her second enema with me and we both got off together, she sent me a couple of texts during the next day while she was drinking that “goat piss” and running to the bathroom. She was able to do one more enema but I wasn’t able to keep her company and we both thought that was the pits. Then, nothing from her for the next couple of days. I had sent her a couple of texts wishing her luck and that I would be cheering for her.

Then about four days later I got a text from her. Her colonoscopy had gone well and they did not find any new polyps. She said that she had been catching up on housework and all of that crap that piles up when you have had to take time out of your schedule.

Then she sent a text, “Can you talk?”

“I’m still at the office,” I replied, “I can text, though, pretty much.”

“k,” she typed. “Thought so. Might e”

“Now?”

“yes,” came back from her.

“Nice,” I said with a smiley face. “Can you get on IM to chat?”

“will do,” she said.

That was the beginning of the both of us forging an intimate friendship that involved enemas. We both kept some pretty strange hours and so did both of our spouses. If we were alone in the house we could talk on the phone and do our enemas. I loved listening to her voice when we put the nozzles in and while the enema was going. We were more often doing enemas while on IM because it was easier than trying to type those damn phones and also there was more privacy in the IM’s.

We also became a lot more comfortable with each other and coming right out and saying “enema” instead of the tentative “E” or “e” or “Do you think you could?” It was becoming more and more common for both of us to be able to do enemas while in IM. When we talked on the phone, we tended to become sexually aroused and our enemas tended to really stoke us up and we would end up, “fucking each other” and that was good. The only thing with the phone calls was, of course, the privacy.

Doing enemas on the phone did end up with both of us fucking quite a few times. My enema bag is one of those hot water bottle types and pretty secure. However, hers, that she used the most, was an open top enema bag. One time when we were doing a phone enema, as we called them, we were getting it on pretty good. She hit her spot and I was getting mine when I heard a commotion on the other end of the line. Yep. She had put so much motion into her getting off that she somehow caused her enema bag to rotate off of the hook! Oh, yeah, that caused a bit of a mess for her and there was a lot of scrambling noises coming from her end of the line. Lots of cussing, too!

From then on, when we did phone enemas she would use a closed top bag. She was just glad that she wasn’t getting off when we were typing in IM because she would have messed up her lap top. It is something we laugh about to this day.

That was several years ago. Since then we have updated our technology and the web cam and a thing called “Skype” have come into existence. A couple of dinosaurs such as ourselves had a hell of a time trying to figure all this out. We tried just talking to each other on Skype and, while it was ok, it didn’t seem too promising. The webcam was another story. Especially in IM land.

She called me up one day and asked, “Do you want to do an enema tonight?”

Just like that, no hesitation or shyness, or any of that stuff we had experienced in the beginning. We were at the point where we were very comfortable with just coming right out and asking if we wanted to do enemas.

“Sure thing,” I replied. “I feel like doing one. What time?”

“The old man’s going to be out and I got a new iPad,” she said. “I want to try this out and see if this camera works.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me you got one of those iPads. How do you like it?” I asked her. I had got a new lap top that had a camera in the lid but I had not tried it.

“It’s pretty cool,” she said, “I’ve been wondering how it would work with phone calls on Skype or IM. Hell, I was wondering what it would be like if we both could make this work for our enemas.”

“Oh, yeah,” I thought out loud to her, “that is something I wondered about, too.”

“You know,” she was chuckling, “if we can get this to work with our enemas, we will probably end up fucking.”

“I can think of worse things,” I chucked right back. Woody was stirring by now. “You might want to use your closed top bag.”

“Way ahead of you,” she was laughing by now as she hung up after she said, “see you later.”

It worked out good. We got in touch with each other a little while later and I was so looking forward to seeing how this was going to work. I was only home for about five minutes and had just booted up my lap top when the IM window popped up. That first time I had no clue how I would do this but she was a little more tech savvy than I was. We were on IM when we were going to start out and she turned her camera on. I saw her grinning face and could hear her, too. I had no idea what the heck I was doing but she walked me through it with the on-line prompts and all of that tech crap. While I was clicking this and clicking that and doing this setting and doing that setting, I could see her the whole time. Every once in a while I could see her enema bag hanging from the ceiling hook just like I had imagined it before.

Then, a miracle! I got my webcam to work!

“Cool beans,” she smiled. I could actually see her smile. Amazing thing, this technology!

I was adjusting my lap top and trying to get situated and the camera movement was all over the place. Apparently she could see my enema bag hanging from its place and also that I hadn’t taken my pants off yet.

“Hey, dude,” she said in mock irritation, “you still have your pants on!”

“Well, I just got here and there you were, lady,” I retorted. “I wanted to see if I could get this thing up and running. You’re lucky I got the enema bag filled and hung up there. Besides, you have a T-shirt on.”

“Well, yeah,” she winked. “And that’s all.” And with that she was moving her iPad and I could see, for the first time ever, her nice bush and that she was naked from the waist down. She even held it around towards her backside and I got to look at her ass.

“Not bad,” I said. “Like your bush. I’ll like seeing your ass with that enema nozzle in it.”

“Your turn, buddy, drop ‘em,” she told me.

Well, drop them I did. Woody was right there and I was able to watch her face. I think she liked what she saw.

“Looks like your glad to see me,” she winked and laughed.

“Ya, think?” I kidded her.

It may be small beans for others, but for us two, it was a pretty significant time. We were checking each other out, two friends, who up until this time, had never seen each other’s private parts. Yes, we had fucked on the phone and over IM. Yes we do enemas and long ago lost our shyness about them with each other. Neither of us has cheated on our spouses and always wondered if we could ever meet each other and do enemas as “just friends” but looking at each other, even with the webcams, we just knew that it would lead to us actually fucking. What would that do to this friendship?

“You’ve got a nice looking cock,” she said. I could see that she was serious and it wasn’t exactly a light hearted moment for both of us. “Real nice cock. “

“I like your bush,” I said. “I can imagine me inside of you.”

“Me, too,” she said.

We looked at each other’s privates for a little while longer. No hurry to pan up or away but finally we did.

“If we were together,” I said out loud, “we would be fucking. Wouldn’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, with no trace of levity or kidding. Neither one of us wanted to cheat on our spouses and had always wondered, now we knew.

“Do you want to fuck first or do the enema?” I asked. Neither one of us blinked an eye or stammered shyly about that question. Just another sign of how far our friendship had progressed.

We were looking into each other’s eyes when I asked this and she was wondering that, too. “We are going to fuck,” she said thinking out loud, “but let’s have our enemas first. This is just too damn cool.”

We had three enemas that night and fucked each other in the process. We laughed, smiled, came, saw each other naked, saw each other cum. Watched each other’s enema bags slowly go flat as the water drained into us at about the same rate.

But now we knew, we answered that question we had both wondered about and asked ourselves, yes we would fuck if we were ever in the same room. Were we ready for that? Did we want to risk our marriages? Ready? Yes. Risk marriages? No.

The big questions have been answered. That is how it has been since then. We like that.

We see each other from time to time in town and at stores and we are no longer embarrassed or shy about giving each other a hug and a pat on the ass, if the coast is clear.

One thing we do know and are comfortable with, enemas between friends is something we want and want to keep. They are not something we want to risk losing.

What we really wanted.

After a couple of years of enemas over the phone or while chatting on the IM, we decided to take it one step further. We both saw this coming and were sure we could keep from complicating things between us and keep it as friends.

Truthfully, we were a lot more than just friends by just the mere fact that we were sharing enemas with each other. We talked about anything and everything. Established boundaries. Discussed what would and would not happen if we were ever to meet in person and share enemas.

The how-to and protocols. Both undress at the same time or only the taking the enema? Or, why not just one of us undressed at a time while the other gives the enema?

How could we make this work and not screw up a friendship? All the time we talked about this, we were chatting and having enemas with each other. Now it was time to fish or cut bait.

Can it be done?

It took some doing, but finally we were able to pick a place where we could meet and have some privacy as well as a place to have our enemas and release them. The only thing we didn't have was a lot of time. Her mother had recently passed away and she looked in on the house quite a bit to make sure there were no leaks, broken windows, or anyone messing around with it. The power and water were still on and she was getting it ready to rent out. There was a lot to be done to get it ready to be rented and some of her things to be packed. So that seemed to be a good place as any to meet.

Then there were the enema bags. They took up some room and would have to be cleaned afterwards and all of that jazz. Where to conceal them? How could we get them in and out of our places without getting asked, "What's that sack you're carrying?" A little paranoid, admittedly, but this was new territory for us.

"What do you think about an enema bulb?" she asked.

"Well, duh," I said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Probably because I can see that your dick is hard and there's not enough blood to run your other head," she snickered.

"Touche," I snickered back.

"Do you have one?" she asked me.

"No. Just my enema bag, the one you see every time we get together," I said as I pointed up to it hanging over my bed with the hose trailing down and ending up in my ass.

"I've got one. I haven't used it in a long time," she was thinking, "I can use that. We just need to get you one."

"I'm not sure I can just wander into a store and pick one of those up," I said as I was watching her type on her iPad. "I'd be too embarrassed."

She shot me one of those looks and said, "Haven't you heard of Amazon.com?" Then she chortled when I gave her another one of those 'well duh' looks. "We're going to have to take care of that hard-on for you so you can think."

In no time at all I was getting links to different styles and types of enema bulbs with all sorts of nozzles in all sorts of shapes and some with nozzles on them long enough to wash out the back of my throat after it was in my ass. I was beginning to see that there were a lot of different choices out there and that some of them showed that she and I weren't alone in liking enemas. Not one bit.

"What's yours look like?" I asked her.

"It's a Faultless with a screw in nozzle. I used to have a douche bag that screwed in to the end of the hose and it also fit on the bulb. I used it instead to that little bitty enema pipe that came with the bulb," she educated me.

She looked like she was thinking, "Maybe I can get you one like mine. A bag, too. We could leave it at mom's so if we ever get time to do enemas in person, together, we wouldn't have to worry about dragging them around. Could do bag enemas, too, if we wanted."

Then she said, "Well, if I do that and we keep it at mom's, then I guess we wouldn't need the bulb enemas." It didn't look like she was really liking the idea of not having bulb enemas to give to each other.

"No," I said, "I think I'd like getting a bulb enema from you. It's been ages since anyone has given me a bulb enema. About 55 years ago, to be exact."

Her face brightened at that and said, "Good! I was hoping you would say that. I'd really love to stick this in your ass."

"I'd like that, too," I said and was really becoming worried about there being enough blood for the head between my ears because my hard-on was now as hard as I've ever seen it. She saw it and gave me that evil laugh and a wink.

"There," she said, "they're on the way."

"On the way?" I was a little slow on knowing what she meant.

"The bags and the bulbs," she said. Then laughing she continued, "That Amazon Prime is a wonderful invention!"

"You ordered them already?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah," she winked and grinned, "nothing faster in the world than a woman with a credit card."

I had to agree with her on that one. I didn't even see her whip out her credit card and was about to show how dumb I was when I suddenly remembered about the one-click checkout thing Amazon has. I guess I had enough blood for two heads after all.

I then noticed that the expression on her face was changing as she rolled over onto her stomach with the enema tube still in her ass. Her enema, like mine, was all but in and we would have to go pretty soon. Literally.

I watched her as her hips began to press down towards the bed. She was always fascinating to watch. I loved to watch the hose in her ass start to sway more and more as she was getting into the moment. The sound was on for both of our web cams and she propped up her iPad so that she could look directly into it and also so that I could get a better view of her. Her lower lip started to quiver, just a little bit, not much, and her hand slipped down under her.

The expression on her face started to change as she was getting deeper and deeper into her lusty fog, as she called it. I was there stroking my cock, slowly, I wanted to wait for her to get up there and I knew I just basically had to breath on Old Woody and he would go off. The thing was to wait for her to get there before I got my own. I was thinking about how sometimes she would cum a couple of times before I finished up with her, when she really began to shake and bite her lower lip like she always did when she started to cum.

The hose in her ass was swaying a lot now as she worked her hand underneath her and she would look directly into the camera as she was cumming. Her eyes would roll up and she was really breathing and still trying to look into the camera. She was losing herself in the moment and she came again and I heard her groan and murmur and start to shake even more. I was about ready to get Woody to do his deed but she looked at me and said, "Not yet. Not yet. I want to see you cum. Wait."

The site of her cumming and cumming with her hands and fingers working feverishly was fantastic! From somewhere she took out a toy, a dildo, and she slipped into her pussy with no problem or lube that I could tell except from her own pussy. A couple more times and she clenched her fists rolled onto her side as the enema tube was really swaying. She would roll from her side, to her belly, and back to her side several times before she gave out what was probably one of the most guttural tones I have ever heard from a woman and then she put her face onto the bed and her body shook with what was probably her sobbing. I wasn't sure what was going on but there she was. Her enema bag dangling above her and as flat as a piece of paper. The hose was still in her ass and I wasn't sure where her dildo ended up but she had really outdone herself.

She lay that way for several minutes before she caught her breath. I was so damn hard and about ready to bust.

It looked like there were tears in her eyes and her voice was a little husky as she said, "Your turn."

"You're a tough act to follow," I said. I wasn't kidding either.

"Try," she said, looking at my cock through her web cam.

I bet it wasn't thirty seconds of stroking Woody before I shot one of the hardest cum wads I had ever done in my life! I have no idea how long it took me to get off but I had shot my load. I had no idea where it went and I sure as hell couldn't see a whole lot because I emptied every bit of lust out of my body from the tips of my toes to the tip of my nose. It was that intense! For all I knew I must have looked like a monkey fucking a foot ball or some body going into spasms and doing a spastic dance. I didn't know and when my fog started to clear I half expected her to be laughing her ass off at that spastic guy on the camera with a weird expression on his face.

I screwed up enough courage to finally look back at my lap top, no cum on the screen or keyboard, that was good news. Then I saw her face. She wasn't laughing She just gave me a smile, a warm smile.

"Loved it," she said. "I don't know where it went, but you really shot it out there." She continued to smile as I caught my breath.

I let out a last big breath and said, "I'm going to have to go find out where that went and do a little clean up."

She smiled back at me and said softly, "If I was there, you wouldn't have to worry about the clean up."

Before thinking about how crass it could possibly sound I asked, "Do you swallow?"

"Yes," she was serious, "if that's where you want to put it."

I didn't say anything. I just let that sink in.

"We'd better get going," she said. "I have to fix supper and go see some grand kids tonight."

"I'd better get going, too," I agreed. "We'll work out some details when those come in."

"I was about to say that," she grinned. "See you later."

Then we switched off our cams and I went hunting for that load I had shot into who-know-where?

Very nicely done! Thanks. More to come?

More please .... 😃

This is piece of classy porn. You write well and really get me going. Get together with her and tell us all about it. I love these stories when I can delve into my dirty mind.

Hi, larz. Yes there will be more to come. I'm working on it now and hope I can post it pretty soon. Thanks for the comment.

Hi, Gibby. Will do.

Hi, superego. Thank you for the compliment. I have been reading quite a bit on the different new stories here and checking out some blogs of people. I see a lot of good writing all around. I've also got some pretty good pointers from a couple of members and I really appreciate their comments and critiques.

There will be at least a couple more stories. They will be what I would love to have happen.

The next couple of days were busy for me. My mind kept going back to what she had said when I popped off and asked her if she swallowed and her saying, “Yes, if that’s where you want to put it.” I definitely wanted to put it in her mouth but I also wanted to put it in her ass. Either one would be something to look forward to if we ever got together. It was hard concentrating on work just thinking about it.

A couple of days later I got a text, just one letter, “E”, and nothing else. I sent her a text back that said, “yes.”

A quick phone call and we set it up to cam with each other later in the evening and then went on with our business. I couldn’t wait.

My enema bag was hanging from the little bungee cord from the ceiling, I was wearing a T-shirt and sweat pants, and my laptop was booted up and waiting. I didn’t have to wait long when I got the IM and the invitation to start sharing the web cam with her. A couple of clicks and her face popped up on my screen along with that little window that shows me what she is seeing on my side. I could see her enema bag hanging from her ceiling and her hose looped up with the nozzle hooked on the bag.

She hadn’t lain down yet and was walking around her bed and all she had on was a V-neck T-shirt and nothing else. The shirt was fairly long and I watched as she walked over to the edge of the bed and as she placed her iPad down and then reached up to make a final adjustment to her enema bag. As she reached up I saw her take a wider stance that gave me a fantastic view of her bush as she was fiddling with her bag. She was taking her time and giving me a show and knew my eyes were riveted on her nice hairy bush.

I heard her chuckle and ask, “See anything you like?”

“Hold that pose for about an hour and I will let you know,” I grinned back. She was what she described herself as being a little fluffy. Maybe so, I always thought, but she had a very nicely rounded ass and some breasts that looked like a guy could suck on for hours on end. Then there was that nice bush of hers shaped in an almost perfect triangle. I asked her if she had ever shaved it and she told me, “No. Real women have bushes.” She always winked when she said something sexy or sassy.

After she got through adjusting her bag and giving me a show, she lay down on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows and I tried my best to peer down the neck of her T-shirt. I love women’s breasts, almost as much as I love their asses, and hers were nicely shaped and belonged to a woman who had lived life and was pretty confident in herself. She must have one hell of a high resolution camera on her iPad or something because she could always tell where my gaze was. Or she could just count on where a man would be looking just because she knew men and what kind of leering perverts we all are. I think that is what she loves about us.

“Having trouble seeing my tits?” she asked.

“A little,” I snickered. “No bra, huh?”

“Nope,” she said, “thought I’d give the girls a break since they’ve been cooped up all day.”

“Damn nice of you to do that,” I said trying to be humorous. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “I’ve been looking forward to an enema all day long and was hoping you could join me.” She was looking at me now.

“You wearing sweat pants?” she asked sounding a little like, WTF?

“Yeah,” I said a little defensively. “Just waiting for you to saunter onto here.”

“Well,” she insisted, “take them off. I want to see your cock.”

“No problem,” and I stood up and took my sweat pants off in front of the web cam. They say that the camera puts ten pounds on you. I wondered if it added inches to dicks. It doesn’t work for dicks. But I could see her smile all the same. I always liked her smile. She smiles a lot. Unless you piss her off.

“How much time do you have?” she asked me. “The coast is clear on this end for quite a while.”

“Same here,” I told her. “No one is too close and I have a little breathing room.”

We both liked that. I saw her reaching for something just off camera and her looking that way. When she looked back towards the camera, she was holding a blue enema bulb in her hand and a big smile on her face.

“They came in,” she said happily. “I got a pink one for me along with a couple of combination sets, the Cleanstream three quart combination water bottle enema bag.”

“That was quick,” I told her smiling and looking at the blue enema bulb that she squeezed a couple of times while I was looking at it. She had put the enema pipe on it and I really like the look of it. “Is that the one that the douche pipe from the bag can screw into?”

“No, I don’t think they make those anymore,” she said a little regretfully. “I got the three quart enema bags. Hope you don’t mind.”

There was no need to act like three quarts was too much or whatever, we were both into enemas and past the games. “They look like they are good bags. How much do I owe you?” I asked her.

“Not money,” she said matter-of-factly, and she picked up the enema bulb and gave it a squeeze, “I want to give you enemas with this one right off the bat when we get together at mom’s house. Sound fair?”

I wanted that badly. I wanted to feel what it would be like to have her give me enemas with that bulb enema syringe so I said, “My ass is yours.”

“Speaking of ass,” she said, “Time to get these enemas going.”

We took turns while one of us put the enema tube in our ass and did our best to make it so each other could see it go in. Her iPad had a definite advantage, and therefore I benefitted, in that she could easily put it so that I got to see her part the cheeks of her ass and slip the nozzle into her. She had a cute butt. I could also see the slit of her pussy when she was working the nozzle around to put it into her and it was a nice site.

She finished putting it in and then rolled onto her belly and propped up her iPad and that was my signal to get my lap top situated to put my nozzle in me. I was sliding it on the bed down towards my feet so that I could swing my legs over the top of the screen and roll onto my side when she stopped me and said, “Hey, can you hold on a minute?”

“Sure,” I said a little puzzled.

“Can you leave your laptop by your thigh and lift your right leg up so that I can maybe look between your legs and see you from the front when you put the nozzle in your ass?” she was asking, “I want to see what it looks like from the front and with me being able to see your cock and watch the nozzle slide in, too.”

“No problem,” I said as I shifted and nudged the lap top around so she could see or have a good angle on my dick and between my legs when she told me to hold it there and go ahead with the nozzle.

I could see her face, sort of, as I reached around and started the nozzle into my ass. My dick was fairly hard and she could see my balls and also the crack of my ass as the white nozzle began to slide into me. That didn’t take long and I held that “pose” for quite a while as she got her eyes full.

“Mmm,” she sighed, “we’ve got to get things going so we can do this in person.”

“No shit,” I said as I moved the laptop back up so that I could look into the camera and see her face, too. “Let’s open them up and get down to business and get something going on making us get together for enemas.”

For a little bit after we started our enemas, we got into the flow of them and enjoyed that feeling we get from them. I could see that her nipples were hard from the way they poked out her T-shirt. There was a good bit of cleavage to be seen and I liked looking at them. I also kept glancing up at her enema bag and watched it slowly begin to flatten and more than once my eye would follow the enema tube down from the back and to where it disappeared from my view ending up in her butt. She would do the same.

It was a long slow enema that we took and we both got full about the same time. We lay there with the enema and our tubes in our ass and made plans about using her mom’s house for a place to give each other enemas and have enema with each other. We began working it out and thought maybe tomorrow night we might be able to get in a couple of hours, maybe. It wouldn’t be much we could do, but we could get something accomplished.

“We’ve talked about only one of us having our clothes off and getting an enema at a time,” she said, “Right?”

“That would be the safest way to do them,” I said, believing what I was saying. “We might not have a whole lot of time and may not be able to both give each other enemas,” I continued since we both would be working late and realistically have only an hour or so to get any in.”

“Yeah,” she was thinking, “I do have to meet with the old man and go over the taxes tomorrow night when he gets back from the big city. I don’t know how much time that would leave us both.”

“You really think we can swing this without ending up fucking each other?” I mused. “Realistically?”

“I think so,” she was saying, but not real sure of herself. “We would have to see where it takes us, don’t you think?”

“Yep,” I nodded. “So, if only one of us can get an enema, which one?”

“I’m game,” she volunteered. “Unless you want to be the first one.”

I thought that maybe this was her way of asking to give me an enema first and would I mind it. “I think maybe I need to get an enema from you first, uh, with the bulb, since you are footing the bill for the bulb and the two bags.”

All of the talk and planning saw the time fly by and it was getting late and someone might come looking for us in our homes.

“I’d better get rid of this,” she said. “I wish we had more time. I liked seeing your cock like that and the enema nozzle in behind when you put it in. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” and it was, “Glad to oblige.” And then she looked back over her shoulder quickly.

“Sounds like someone coming up the drive,” she said. “Not much time so I’d better mosey off to the bathroom and get rid of this.”

“I hear that,” I told her. “Any chance I could have you take that shirt off and turn around so I could see all of you and,” I didn’t get a chance to finish when she smiled at me and took her shirt off and did a slow turn around. I loved seeing her ass with the enema tube coming out of it and her pussy and those nice suckable tits of hers.

“How’s that?” she grinned at me and then smiled. Love that smile.

“Fantastic,” I said and meant it. “I’m going to take care of Woody and release this enema. So tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” she beamed, “I’ll bring the bag and bulbs and we can give you, at least, a bulb enema and see how we are set for time.”

“About six?” I asked.

“See you then,” she smiled.

I was nervous and at the same time thinking, “What am I doing?”

I was going to be doing what I have dreamed of for a long, long, time, getting a bulb enema from a friend.

Great story. Looking forward to more....

Hi, DAW. I will be adding some more and hopefully tonight. Thank you for the comment. It helps knowing if someone likes the story.

I like how this is going .. 😃 .. i will check back later to see what happens. Nice writing.

Cedar a wonderful story, very intimately written

Hi, ruintoe69. Thank you for the compliment. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

It was about four the next day, the day that she and I were going to meet at her mom's place and see if we had the nerve to actually give each other enemas. I had been thinking about it ever since we hung up the phone yesterday and every so often I would get a text from her saying, "22 hours" and another one giving the number of hours to go, and followed by another one. She was looking forward to it, too. I smiled at that thought.

Five o'clock rolled around and I shut down the office and locked the door. "Just enough time for a quick enema," I thought to myself. "Yep, a quick enema before the main event."

Little did I know that she had gone to her mom's house around three with the new three quart enema bags and the enema bulbs. She had a couple of other toys that she took with her and she didn't waste any time running herself a quick enema. She filled up one of the new three quart enema bags to the very top and dropped her slacks to the floor of the bathroom and stepped out of her panties. This was going to be a fast enema to clean her ass out so that she could get a longer, slower, enema from him when, if, he came over.

She cleaned it, assembled it, and then hung the enema bag on the towel rack and put some KY on the nozzle. It was a new one so she was checking to see that there were no burrs or sharp edges on it like they sometimes had when they were new. She was impressed with what she saw and what she felt as she put the KY all up and down the shaft and over the end of the douche pipe. Nice and smooth and no hint of any sharp edges. She did notice that the douche pipe seemed to be just a bit more flexible, not much, than the other douche pipes she had ever used. A little more bend to it and this was good.

"Well," she said when she finished putting the KY on the douche pipe, "I probably had better get this going so I will be ready for when he gets here." It was about ten after three when she glanced at her watch. With that she reached around behind, parted the cheeks of her ass with the one hand and then pressed the douche pipe up against her anus, bent forward a little, and then pressed into her and felt that familiar and, welcome, invasion of her rectum with this brand new douche pipe. As she slid it in she wondered how much different it would feel, if at all, when he was the one slipping it into her ass.

She then clicked the clamp all the way open and wasn't worried about pacing herself with this enema. She was going to let it go full-on and get as much in her as possible so she would be nice and clean for the main event in a couple of hours. She felt the tube bounce a little and then that initial sound of the water beginning to squirt up into her as it left the little holes in the douche pipe. The sound always reminded her of the sound a garden hose makes when it is turned on and when the water first starts coming our of the sprinkler on the far end. It was a distinct sound and she wondered if she would hear it in him when she started the enema he was going to be getting from her.

The towel rack was about a foot and a half above her hips as she stood there with the tube trailing down from the bottom of the enema bag and towards the floor and then in a gentle curve back up into her with the water making the trip from the bag on the towel rack and eventually up into the core of her being. She looked back over her shoulder at the full length mirror just opposite the towel closet and turned just a bit to see what her ass looked like. She still had a nice shape and her ass was nice and round and maybe a little more plump than she would have liked. The white tube that descended from the enema bag and into her ass was always something she liked to see.

She started feeling pressure build up in her lower abdomen and begin pressing down on her sphincter to where she was having to clench her butt-cheeks to keep from giving in to the urge to go. She decided to get down on her hands and knees and eventually she crossed her arms on the floor in front of her and rested her face cheek on her arm in the boobs-down-butt-up position. That relieved the pressure on her sphincter and she felt the water shift and surge deeper into her as she settled into position. It also made her pussy more accessible to her hand, if she wanted, and she did, and before she thought about it, her fingers found her clit and begin doing their magic. Her lips were swollen to begin with and her first orgasm hit with just a very few movements of her deft fingers. She didn't think she even got past the hood before she came. The second and third orgasms soon followed and she was stunned at just how fucking horny she was.

She uncurled her toes after that fourth wave washed over her and her mind cleared a little bit. She was breathing hard and her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt a lot of weight and pressure inside of her and she was having a little difficulty catching her breath and her fingers she had used to toy with her clit were wet. For a minute, as her thoughts cleared, she wondered if she had lost the pipe in her ass when she was cumming or if she had leaked some of the enema when she was getting herself off.

She checked and found that she did not leak any of her enema. It was her pussy nectar that was wet from when she came. She was relieved that she wouldn't have to clean up the bathroom floor for any of the three quarts of enema that may have either leaked from inside of her or the bag hanging about four and a half or five feet above her ass as she was on the floor on her hands and knees. That made her think to look to see how much water was left in the new three quart enema bag. So she turned her head to look back up toward the bag.

"Holy shit!" she said out loud. "I took the whole damn thing!" She pulled up her sleeve and looked at her watch and it was now 3:30 pm! "How the fuck did I take all of that in such short time?"

She was feeling all three quarts churning around inside of her as she sat back on her feet and as her pussy was still flowing. She chuckled and grinned at what she had just done and had to admit that she was pretty damned impressed with herself. Three quart enemas for her were pretty rare and never had she taken so much so fast. Her body was about to remind her that three quarts was the exception and not the rule and that she had better set her lily-white ass on the throne and let as much of this enema go as she could. Her body was insisting on this as a matter-of-fact!

Getting an enema in was easy she thought to herself, but getting it all out could take time. When she first sat down on the throne, the mere weight of the water down lower in her colon bore down and gravity took care of the torrent of water that passed out of her. It was a lot. It came out in almost a continuos stream once she opened up and just let it go. She felt like a balloon deflating at a pretty quick clip and it felt good. She knew that the initial outflow was mostly just the water that was in her lower colon and that the water that was higher up in her would take a little more time to move down and then out. Eventually, the initial flow and the follow up releases, became less and less and she would have to "walk it out" to get the rest of the enema to release.

By now it was a quarter to four and there was plenty of time to get the rest of it out. So she cleaned and dried off as best as she could and picked up her slacks and panties from the bathroom floor and hung them up on the hook on the back of the door. She kept her button-down long-sleeve shirt, turtleneck sweater, and bra on because it was chilly outside and the house hadn't warmed up a whole lot since she had got there. She wondered about meeting him at the door bottomless, like she was now, or should she keep to their agreement and make sure that only one of them could be naked at a time to lessen the chance of them fucking. She was married and had never fucked anyone else since she got married and neither of them wanted to run that risk. But, she was thinking, what if it was just oral or in my ass? Not my pussy? Would that be ok?

What was left of her enema churned around inside of her and she released it when the pressure built up. In between getting his new enema bag and enema bulb ready, she would make trips to the throne and let go a little bit more.

She went downstairs to the bathroom down there. Everything was working and she let go a little more of what was left of her enema. She felt that it was almost all out and now she was having to pee more and more because of what she had absorbed from that huge enema she had taken in a personal best record time. She wasn't quite sure exactly how much time she had taken to get all three quarts inside of her because she had been busy taking care of business and getting off in the process. She only knew that sometime between 3:15 pm and 3:30 pm she had taken an entire three quart enema.

There was a bedroom downstairs and she had put down some towels on it. Any enemas they would be giving each other would be done down here. There was a hook over the bed in the ceiling just about like the one at home. She had used it before for enemas when she was staying with her mom during the last few weeks and months before she passed. She didn't much like the thought of renting the house to someone else, a stranger, and hadn't been in a hurry to put it up for rent. She was about the only one to come over and she was the one who kept it clean and made sure everything was ok.

Another quick trip, the final one, to the throne and she felt that the enema was pretty much all out of her by now. It was almost 5:00 pm and things were ready downstairs. She had a couple of big bowls and pitchers that she would use for their bulb enemas when he got here. She looked for a couple of candles that her mom had. She found them in a cabinet on the far wall in the basement.

"These will do," she said and smiled to herself. "Oh? What's this?"

'This' was a drawer in that cabinet. She opened it up and saw that there were a couple of enema bags in the drawer and an assortment of douche and enema nozzles. Just about like the ones that she had. There were also a couple of vibrators, too, along with some assorted lubes, flavored, and supposedly having different types of stimulation properties. "Mom!" she chuckled to herself, "you sly old dog!" She was impressed. The old girl still had it going, apparently. Some of the battery powered dildos were still good to go and had plenty of juice left. She half was impressed and was half, 'ewww, Mom!' But overall she was all touched.

"I guess the apple did fall far from the tree," she smiled softly to herself. Then her phone vibrated and she looked down at it.

"Still on for six?" he asked.

"U bet," she typed back. "I'm here now - anytime." It was twenty after five.

"Just a bit more. Closing down office," he had typed.

She remembered her slacks and panties hanging on the hook of the bathroom door upstairs and started walking that way. She was still debating as to whether or not she should leave them off or put them back on when she got to the top of the stairs. "I'll think about it," she mused. "Won't be long now."

Wow! One of the best stories I've seen. This is developing in some very fun directions!