I aways had a sixth sense when it came to likely targets for a rectotemp and enema peeping site but of all the rooming houses I lived in over my student years after getting out of the army in '61 the one off the Marquette Interchange was the best as well as the longest going. The instant my butt scoping eye lit on Hedwig Boehmert's immense bucket ball size rump cheeks undulating underneath her skin tight crimson satin skirt I knew I had to follow her. Turned out she was the wife of this old retired merchant seaman who rented rooms off the Interchange as I found out following her at a less than discreet distance with a sizzling hot granite hard overload in my crotch.
Hedwig kissed her husband on the steps leading up to their duplex next door to the middle duplex of three in a row on the block where I took the third floor rear bedroom that very same day. She laid her hands each one provocatively over each of her big buttocks and bent over as he brushed them away and put his own down there and winked at me while groaning,
"Ah, life is good, kid. Life is good."
Hedwig was a recent bride and at least twenty years younger than Bud "Swede" Olsen. He must have seen me coming behind her judging from the knowing glances he gave me between none too subtle stares at her big swaying backside. He sucked on his toothpick as he asked,
"Looking for a room, kid?"
Hedwig disappeared up the steps with her bag of pork chops and lefse, the rotund cheeks of her deep cleft bulbous rear end flexing and contracting in turn before she turned and stared coyly at me before closing the glass fronted door behind her.
Mr. Olsen led me behind him up the rickety stairs of the middle duplex to the third floor in the rear. He opened the door and I looked around the room. I took a look outside the window across the bed. The sheer white cotton curtain was wafting gently in a balmy breeze of the mid May afternoon. What I saw made me crane my neck for a better look. In the same split second I felt my crotch throb with a steady quiver. My knees grew weak and I held onto the end of the bedstead to avoid collapsing.
There in the middle of the window on its smooth disc butt end with its shiny black hard rubber nozzle sticking straight up in the air was an old 1935 model B.F. Goodrich red rub oval enema syringe. I got red in the face to the tips of my ears and the sweat started beading out of my forehead. My eyes stared so you'd think they were going to pop out of my head.
Old Mr. Olsen let out a raucous guffaw and shook with laughter as he pointed to the syringe and, calming himself after a fit of glee, said in a barely audible whisper,
"Look at it. Look at it. That's my wife's bedroom. The … the thing you see there, that's what she gets every night."
He started giggling uncontrollably again and finally said,
"I'm showing you the best goddam room in the house. Now do you want it or not?"
…
I was laying on the bed in a stupor over the shock of what I saw on the window sill and imagining that syringe going up Hedwig Olsen's ass. My eyes were transfixed on the red bulb and the shiny black nozzle and I laid across the bed with pillow under my chin and another one under my crotch. My cock felt like a molten ingot of iron and I slowly rubbed against the pillow til I shot a big load of steaming scum into my BVD's. After about ten minutes my heart stopped beating like a trip hammer and I fell into a deathlike sleep.
…
I awoke to the sight of a bright yellow rectangle framed by the vertical sides of the window across the passageway between the two houses. The syringe was still there but there was a figure on the bed behind it. I tore off my pants and ripped the dry fun caked BVD's off. I grabbed three or four wash clothes and stuffed them into the crotch of my cum stained BVD's and hopped back face down on the pillow, clutching the other one underneath my chin. The curtains were still wafting gently in the breeze but by now I could make out the
shape of a woman laying on the bed. It was Mrs. Olsen. Her head was on a pillow and she was on her left side on a couple other pillows with her legs drawn up and her ass was framed dead center behind the syringe in the window. She had bare feet but was fully clothed. She was staring at me with a lewd grin on her face and was grinning but blushing beet red at the same time. Old Olsen was sitting halfway hidden in a straight back chair to the left. I couldn't see his face but his right hand was stuffed deep in his pocket. After a while he leaned forward with a weird toothy grin on his face and wild eyes as he pointed with his thumb to his wife's propped up ass. He turned toward the door way and cupped his hand next to is mouth and in a suppressed yell said into the hallway to someone downstairs,
"Come on up. She's ready. He's watching."
A man about his age with a doctor's white coat buttoned on the side with a strap collar up to his chin walked in holding his doctor's bag which he set down on the bedside table. He was wearing thick lensed glasses and had a Don Ameche moustache and he bent down and grinned at me out the window as he pointed to Mrs. Olsen's enormous rear end undulating gently under her frilly white lace dress and the pink panties underneath. He soon disappeared to return with a tray holding a two quart chemist's flask of steaming water with a cake of Fels Naphtha melting at the bottom and a stirrer laying against the rim. He set the tray down on the bedside table.
Old Mr. Olsen was sitting on the edge of the bed by now and tenderly kissing his wife and whispering into her ear as he brushed her hair wary from her face and pointed to me through the window. He took care from time to time to set her face in my direct line of view and as if translating words he would occasionally raise his voice so I could hear him as he said,
"Look it, darling. … I brought you a nice young student to watch. … He's going to watch you get it, sweetheart. … He's going to watch you get it and he's going to love it, girl. … But not half as much as you're going to love him watching, right? … Oh, for sure! Not just half as much!"
Dr. Manning let out a shrill giggle and pointed to Mrs. Olsen's big ass sticking up on the pillow and said,
"Get it ready, Bud. Show him how you do it."
Bud Olsen started delicately lifting up his wife's dress behind and right there in between the fluttering curtains of the window I saw his red face with its broad toothy grin next to his wife's big ass filling her pink panties like a gale force wind in two enormous sails. His groping hands cupped each big cheek in each palm and gently pinched them while setting his hands aside from time to time and lifting her up from underneath to show me the lush curvatures of her pink white lace ruffled panties stuffed into her deep cleft arse cheeks. After a dozen or more delicious minutes when I almost lost hit and had to stop humping the pillow underneath me he grabbed ahold of the waistband of her panties and slowly hauled them down to half staff. They just fucking popped out of the panties inch by inch til he got them down to the backs of her knees and I saw this big plump cheeked alabaster smooth gardenia white deep cleft ass with the immaculate pink tight squeezed ass hole winking at me from between the curtains. I was laying on my side to keep from shooting but suddenly huge gob of scalding hot scum shot into my BVD's for a good three minutes.
…
I was aroused from a deathlike sleep after what could have been ten minutes or an hour by the sound of raucous applause coming from the Olsen's window which was precisely framed in my own about four or five yards across the passageway between the houses. Bud Olsen was trying to get my attention by pointing lasciviously at his wife's but naked buttocks which were arched up on pillows in between her tucked up dress behind and hauled down pink white laced ruffled panties underneath. Sticking out of her ass was the butt end tip of a thermometer and all around her immaculate pink asshole the Vaseline glistened like a round greasy halo. Dr. Manning was taking care to lean well to the left of my field of vision as he sat on the edge of the bed and, rolling his sleeves farther up on his hairy arms, slowly inserted and extracted the thermometer in a twisting motion over and over again while Hedwig Olsen moaned,
"Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Y-You d-do it s-s-sooo good, Doctor! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Y-You d-do it s-s-sooo good!"
I could tell that there was someone outside of my ken to the left side of the room and old Olsen was crooking his finger in that direction to summon someone in. In come two young fuckers I recognize from the line of the football team and they slap high fives and chest butt each other while looking over out the window at me and winking and pointing to Mrs. Olsen's big bare being thermometer fucked by Doc. Manning.
Olsen tells them to stand to the side so as not obstruct my few and Doc Manning slowly pulls the thermometer out of Hedwig Olsen's ass and reads it, wipes it with a pinch of cotton and hands it to one of the studs. He bends over and plants a loud smacking wet kiss on each of her big rump cheeks in turn and delicately parts the deep cleavage of her buns with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. Then he slowly inserts the thermometer while she howls,
"Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Y-You boys are s-sooo h-h-handsome and … and n-n-n-naughty! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … Ugggggghhhhhh! … Ooooooohhhhhh! … A-And you d-d-do it s-soooo g-gooood! … J-J-Just l-like the D-D-Doctor!" … Ooooooohhhhhh! … I … j-just I-l-l-love how y-you d-do it! … And you l-l-laugh s-so n-n-nice!"
I'm shooting again in no time and the fucker hands the thermometer back to the doctor who hands it on to the other fucker. After another nice ten minute thermometer fucking he in turn hands it over to the doctor who picks up the beautiful old B.F. Goodrich red rubber bulb enema syringe and, gently squeezing the smooth disc butt end with his thumb, shows it to Hedwig while sending a jet of cool Vaseline scented air hissing into her nostrils.