(From My Enema Story)
By Alex Andrews
(Note: The events in this story are true, though some fill has been added to give it content. The names have been changed. WARNING! This story contains very graphic language of a sexual nature involving two very young boys, and deals with the subject of enemas. If you find this topic uncomfortable or offensive, do not read beyond this point! Thank you.)
Part One: My cousin Scott
The memories of giving enemas to my friend, Jonathan, were still fresh in my memory when Scott came to visit. Scott was my young cousin from my stepfather’s side of the family. Scott’s parents were planning to go on their second honeymoon and had called to see if my folks would take Scott in for a week or so. Mom said it was okay, so they dropped Scott off before heading to the Caribbean for their vacation.
Scott was a good-looking kid, slim, with thick, straight, brown hair and brown eyes. He was no Jonathan by any means, but he was cute. He was also very quiet and obedient, not outgoing and reckless like Jonathan. We shared the same bedroom. I had a bunk bed in my room, so I let Scotty have the top bunk since I usually slept in the bottom one. My older brother used to sleep in the top bunk before he got his own room.
Jonathan’s family had moved out of the city a few weeks earlier, and
I often found myself masturbating, thinking about him. I know that if he
hadn’t moved, he would have been over and probably would have played the
enema game again. I had really been looking forward to more of those games,
and was really disappointed when he moved out. So, most of the time, my
mind was on Jonathan and not Scotty.
Part Two: Scotty gets an enema…from mom!
I had not really given any thought to Scotty getting an enema, and certainly not giving him one. But my mom surprised me one day, about four days after Scotty’s arrival. I noticed he seemed awfully quiet and listless, and figured it was because he didn’t get to go on vacation with his parents. My aunt had called to check on things, and I overheard part of the conversation as I walked in from outside after visiting a friend. As I was walking past the phone stand, I heard mom tell my aunt that she had given Scotty an enema that afternoon with the infant syringe because she thought he was sick. I didn’t dare stand there and listen in, so I kept walking toward the stairway leading upstairs to my room, the words, “I gave Scotty an enema…” still ringing in my ears!
When I got upstairs, Scotty was lying down on the lower bunk bed, and I was surprised to see that he was fully clothed. I guess half expected to see him in pajamas, naked or something. I remember he had a slightly flush face, which easily showed on his pale face. I asked him how he was doing, and he just said, “Okay.”
“Sorry I’m on your bed. I’ll get up,” he said with kind of a dejected look on his face. He sat up on the edge of the bed. “Oh, that’s okay,” I remember telling him. I sat down next to him.
“I heard mom tell your mother that she gave you an enema,” I blurted out. I felt like kicking myself for having opened my big mouth. Scott looked at me, then looked down at the floor and said, “Yeah.”
“Did she give it to you in here?” I asked, finding this line of questioning very hard to resist.
“No, in the bathroom,” he said, standing up.
“I’ve gotta go again,” he said quietly, heading out of the bedroom. That was as far as the conversation went, but it was enough. Later that night, I dreamed of Scotty getting the enema from my mom. It really made me wonder because I’ve never heard of mom giving anybody an enema. I’m sure she did, but not me, even when I was sick! Anyway, it gave me an erection thinking about her giving him an enema. I almost wished she would give me one, but I didn’t dare ask, especially now that I get a hard-on every time I hear the word “enema” let alone receive one. The sad part is, she would have if I had asked.
Part Three: Home alone with Scott
The more I thought of Scott, the more I realized how good-looking he was. I had been so engrossed in my memories of Jonathan, that I had not really noticed Scott that much. It wasn’t until I overheard the phone conversation that my focus shifted and I began to imagine him getting that enema. I really wanted to know the details, and every time I thought about it, I would get an erection.
The next day, mom announced she had a lot of errands to run and wanted to know if Scott and I wanted to go with her. It was a nice summer day, and I had planned to go on a bike ride with a friend that morning, so I declined. Scott said he really didn’t want to go anywhere, either. That killed my plans! It meant I would have to stay and watch Scott if mom let him stay home. She did.
My stepfather and older brother were at work, and with mom running errands all morning, it meant just Scott and I would be at home. We were sitting outside on the back porch steps. “Want to play catch or something?” I remember asking him. “Nah,” he said. So I said, “Okay,” and started bouncing the ball off the side of the house, catching it in my mitt. Scott just sat there watching me. After a while, he got up and went back into the house. I was tired of playing ball by myself, so I went in shortly after he did.
I found Scotty lying on his stomach on the living room couch. “Want to watch TV?” I asked. “Nope!” he said.
“Are you okay?” I said. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m okay, I guess,” he replied, sighing. I turned and went to the bathroom to pee. When I zipped up my pants, instead of leaving the bathroom, I went over to the cabinet at the end of the tub. I knew where mom kept the enema bulb because I had used it on myself a few times. Opening the door, I reached up to the top shelf and felt for the small cardboard box that held the bulb. Locating the box, I took it down, opened it, and removed the bulb and the nozzle. It was one of those old-fashion red infant syringes that only held about two and a half or three ounces of water. It had a black infant rectal nozzle, like the one that went to the bag. The bulb was still wet inside, so I knew indeed, that it had been used on Scott. I got an immediate erection.
Part Four: The conversation
I put the bulb and nozzle back in the box, then put it away in the cabinet, and went back into the living room. Scotty was still lying on the couch. “What do you want to do?” I asked. “If you keep moping around like this, mom may give you another enema when she gets home.”
“I don’t care,” was his reply. I had taken that as a cue to get more details about his enema.
“When she gave you the enema, did she do it on the floor?”
“No, on her lap,” he said.
“Did you like it?” I think I held my breath, figuring he would say “no.”
“It was okay,” he said. “It didn’t hurt or anything.”
“How many times did she stick it in?”
“Why?” he said turning toward me with a quizzical look on his face.
“Just curious,” was all I remember saying.
“A couple, I guess,” he said.
“Maybe that’s why you don’t feel good.”
“Because she didn’t give you enough if she only stuck it in a couple of times.”
“It was enough to make me go.”
I didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I just stood there, off to one side, aware of a swelling in my pants. Then I said, “Maybe you need another one, with more water.”
“Maybe, but your mother isn’t here.”
“Why wait,” I said, hoping that my voice wasn’t cracking like it did with Jonathan when I gave him his enemas. “I know how to give enemas.” What I heard next almost shocked me.
“Okay,” he said.
Part Five: Another enema for Scotty
Scotty sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Now?” he asked. “Yep,” I said. My voice cracked. We headed for the bathroom. After closing the door and locking it, which I did out of habit when I had my enemas because I was always afraid someone would come home early and walk into the bathroom and catch me at it.
I went to the cabinet and took down the box with the infant bulb in it. I also remember taking down the box from the top of the cabinet that contained the different nozzles that went to the enema bag. Looking at Scott, I felt he was big enough to take the adult nozzle rather that the one for infants.
The sink was right next to the toilet, so I would use that for the water. I reached into the cabinet again and took out the cleanser that was used to clean the tub and sink. I gave the sink bowl a good scrubbing out, then rinsed it out good so it would be nice and clean. Scott didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me. I put the rubber stopper in the sink drain, and began filling it up with warm water. It was a fairly deep sink so it would hold a lot. Then I put a bar of Ivory soap in it.
I went over to the medicine cabinet and got out the small jar of Vaseline and set it on the side of the sink. I opened the box that had the nozzles in it and removed the adult nozzle. Then I took the enema bulb out of the box. “What are you doing with that?” Scott asked, when he saw the larger nozzle in my hand. “Isn’t this the one mom used?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I dunno.” “Well, this is the one I’m going to use,” I said, and began pushing the connector end of the nozzle in to the small bulb. I remember the nozzle looking over-sized for the bulb. I set the bulb down next to the Vaseline and reached for a towel from the towel bar. I put the toilet lid down and sat down and placed the towel over my lap. Then I took the bar of soap that was floating in the water and began moving it around to get the water soapy. I looked at Scott, who was still just standing there, and said, “I’m ready.”
Scott took a few steps toward me and, without saying anything, reached down and started undoing his belt buckle. Then he unsnapped the front of his trousers, slowly unzipped them, then let them fall to his ankles. Then he reached for his white briefs and pushed them all the way down. He was wearing a pullover shirt that didn’t quite cover his genitals. I had never seen Scott naked before. He had rather large testicles that hung way down. And, like everyone else I knew at the time, he was circumcised. He didn’t get an erection, so his short, little penis was limp.
“Lay down on my lap like you did with mom,” I told him, “then put your hands on the edge of the tub.” He crawled on to my lap and, after some struggling and adjusting, was finally in position, with his bottom in the middle of my lap. His legs stuck outward, knees bent, his feet pointing toward the ceiling. He balanced himself with his hands on the edge of the tub, which was on the other side of the toilet.
I pulled his shirt halfway up his back and stared at his bare bottom. He had a very nice set of buns. They looked a lot like Jonathan’s, well rounded, smooth, very white, and, of course, smaller. I took my fingers and spread them apart to reveal a small, pink anus. Then I let go of his buttocks and reached for the enema bulb.
I placed the nozzle into the water now cloudy with soap. I squeezed the air out of the bulb then let it draw water in. I had also learned over the past few years, how to get all of the air out of the bulb and nozzle. I inverted the bulb so that the nozzle was pointed straight up, then squeezed it slowly until some water began to squirt out the end. I immediately placed the nozzle back into the water and released the pressure on the bulb. It was now full of water, right to the nozzle opening.
I set the bulb down, then opened the jar of Vaseline. I took some of the Vaseline on my finger, picked up the bulb, and smeared the greasy stuff on the end of the nozzle. Scotty was very quiet the whole time and didn’t move. With my left fingers and thumb, I again spread Scott’s buttocks apart to reveal his pink hole. I placed the nozzle on his anus, which, like Jonathan’s, instinctively tightened up. I gently applied pressure until the nozzle began to slide in. Scotty let out a soft grunt as the nozzle entered him. “Don’t move,” I told him. I inserted the nozzle about half way, then squeezed it gently, forcing the warm, soapy water into his rectum. When I had squeezed the bulb as far as it would go, I gently pulled the nozzle from Scotty’s hole, then stuck the nozzle back into the water in the sink and released the bulb so it would refill. “Scott, I am refilling the bulb,” I told him. “Try to take as many of these as you can, ok?” He didn’t say a word. In fact, Scotty was quiet during the entire time I was giving him his enema.
After the bulb was full again, I spread Scott’s buttocks to re-insert the nozzle. This time, I pushed it all the way in. Scott still didn’t move, but just laid there quietly while I squeezed more enema solution into him. I pulled the nozzle out and refilled the bulb, then re-inserted it again. I don’t remember exactly how many times I refilled the bulb, but I do know it was a lot. I would guess, considering Scott’s size and the size of the bulb, that I must have stuck it in him at least twelve or thirteen times. The sink was almost empty when Scott finally said,” I can’t hold anymore.”
“Let’s try to get one more in, okay?” I said. Without waiting for a reply, I inserted the nozzle into his now very tight anus and squeezed one more time, then I put the syringe in the sink. I took a piece of toilet tissue and pressed hard against his anus. I could feel it quivering. “Try to hold it for a minute or two,” I told him. After less than a minute, he said, “I gotta go, now!” “Okay,” I said, and, after wiping off the Vaseline, let him slide off of my lap. His shirt was still pulled up and I could see his genitals more clearly. He still did not have an erection, but his tummy was sticking way out from the enema he was holding. I, of course, did have an erection.
I stood up and lifted the toilet seat. He sat down, and a second later, I heard a short squirt, then another, and finally, he let go with a gush, along with telltale signs of larger feces hitting the toilet water. I stood at the sink next to him, cleaning up the equipment and listening to him empty his bowels. I remembered Jonathan expelling his enemas, the same gushing, plopping, and all that. Then I heard another squirt and looked down to see Scott holding his little penis down, peeing. All the while I was cleaning up and putting things away, I could hear occasional gushing and squirting, along with a few farts. Scott didn’t smile or laugh about it the way Jonathan did. But, unlike Jonathan, Scotty did experience cramps from the soapy enema, and sometimes whined a little while holding his stomach. The cramping episode would soon be followed by another squirt or gush from his bottom.
“You want me to wipe you?” I asked him, when it seemed he was finished. “No, I can do it myself,” he said. He was still on the toilet when I left the bathroom. I took some tissue with me and went upstairs to my room. There was a small door that led from my room to a small attic area. I went in there, closed the door, pulled down my pants and underwear, and quickly masturbated, cumming onto the wad of tissue I held in my hand. When I finished, I went back into the bedroom just in time to hear the toilet flush downstairs. (Author’s note: That little attic became one of my favorite places to hide when I wanted to masturbate, especially at night, though my favorite time to masturbate was when taking or expelling an enema.)
Part Six: Scotty goes home
I went back down to the bathroom after Scott had left, and flushed the wad of cum-soaked tissue down the toilet, then went into the living room where Scott was sitting on the couch. “Feel better now?” I asked. “Yeah, he said.” He looked at me and smiled, the first time I had seen him smile the whole time he was with us. Then, he went over and flipped on the television set and we watched it until mom got home. “Do me a favor,” he said, before mom walked in. “Don’t tell your mom about giving me an enema, okay?” “Okay,” I said. It had just dawn on me that HE could have told my mom, and the thought horrified me for a second or so before I realized that it was HIS suggestion that nothing be said. I was relieved!
Scotty’s parents came for him the next day. I had seen Scotty a number of times over the years since then, at family get-togethers and all, but the subject of enemas didn’t came up again. It was simply as if it never happened. I thought about Scotty’s enema for awhile, then gradually went back to remembering Jonathan. I probably didn’t realize it then, but I’m willing to bet now, that I was experiencing my first “puppy love.” And Jonathan was the target of that affection. Now he was gone, probably for good.
I had reached a point that I wasn’t just dreaming about giving other boys enemas; I longed to be given enemas by someone else. I sometimes thought about the enemas Aunt Edna gave me when I was very young, but those memories were beginning to get old and tiresome. Sometimes I thought about mom giving them to me but then I would get turned off. My thoughts were mostly about other guys, usually older guys, giving them to me. Over the next few years, whenever I gave myself an enema, I would think of an older boy giving them to me the way I gave them to Jonathan.
The day finally came when I did get enemas from someone else: two older men. It would turn out to be much different than what I had dreamed of, and it was a frightening, unpleasant experience for a young teenaged boy. For many years after, I wouldn’t let myself think about it. It wasn’t until recently that I gave that experience a lot of thought, and now I find it arousing instead of shameful. I’m ready to reveal it in detail…in the next chapter.
- Alex Andrews -