After having our first child, my wife became disinterested in sex. We were cuddly, and that was good enough for her. I tried being a "modern man" and sensitive, but I was getting very frustrated. In fairness, I have to say that we were each having a difficult time: the baby had a reaction every time she had cow's milk, including formula, so this caused my wife to breast feed for a long time. In turn, this caused hormonal changes in my wife so that sex was dry and unpleasant for her, and she found it generally difficult to get aroused. The baby had wild crazy colic, so my wife and I were spelling one another walking the baby.
One day my wife got a stinking cold, and I started getting the idea that what she needed was an enema. She is really turned off to anything about defecation (scat, doo-doo, number two, whatever euphemism you prefer), but I started getting fixated. Of course, now I realize that I was trying to substitute an old forgotten fixation for the present loss of a sex life. At the time, being younger and crazy horny, I wasn't thinking straight.
I learned once to appeal to her humor. I wish I had been smart enough to remember that humor did what other attempts at suasion wouldn't. It had to do with a joke we both knew. Briefly, an actor drops dead during a performance. The stage manager's announcement that the performance would have to be canceled was constantly interrupted by a woman's voice suggesting, "give him an enema." Exasperated, the stage manager said, "he's dead. What good would an enema do?" The woman responded, "it couldn't hurt!"
So, what I did was, while my wife was taking a shower, I found the syringe. I took just the hose and nozzle and slipped them in the crack in the shower curtain. Then, in a low voice, I started calling her name. She shrieked and giggled when she saw it, but started to argue. "It couldn't hurt," I insinuated at her every argument. She kept giggling. Eventually, she got out of the shower, dried herself, and jumped into the bed -- ass up. Her face was covered in the bedding.
Nervous and shaking I made up a solution. She heard the water running and surely figured it out, but she kept her face hidden and butt up -- neither agreeing nor disagreeing. This was consent with verbal assent. My first mistake was to put a bit of soap in the solution; I don't know how much. The problem was that my mom always used a huge amount of thick ivory soup, and I used soap on myself.
I had problems inserting -- I'd never done this to another person. Whatever questions about consent, she made it easier for my to place the nozzle, in spite of my fumbling. She complained some after I opened the snap, but took a fair amount of suds. When she wanted to get up, I clicked it off, and let her. She ran to the door of the bathroom. The mood was definitely flirty all through this, including her little trot to the john.
A different person emerged. I think the act of voiding scared her. I think the amount of "that stuff" that she made, and the smells, etc. turned her off. She was cold to me and announced that she never wanted anything to do with "that" again.
I was high and giddy all through this, and now I felt like a train wreck.
(To be continued when I get the time.)