For several weeks during the summer, I would spend time with my aunt and
uncle and their adopted daughter, Diane.
Diane was several years older than me and we didn't get along particularly
well. I guess she resented someone on her turf and the fact I was blood
relation while she was adopted.  I always tried to be her friend and not to
cause trouble.

  As the guest, I received the guest bedroom to sleep in. It had a double
bed and a walnut headboard. The end tables and walls were covered with old
pictures. These were of relatives, many  I didn't know and had no
recollection of.  I liked this bedroom because it was nicer than anything I
had ever sleep in before and the fact that it had a grown up feel. This
bedroom shared a bathroom with the master bedroom where my aunt and uncle
slept.

  My aunt was a health nut before it became fashionable. She cooked all of
her vegetables fresh and served her family wholesome meals. I remember her
deserts were made from fresh fruits and they didn't taste 'icky' sweet and
sugary and I always looked forward to mealtime.

  Auntie believed in taking care of the body through diet, exercise and
personal cleanliness. Some would say she went to extremes. She outlived her
husband and is still alive today and in good health. She must be doing
something right.

  Part of the family's regiment of health was the cleansing of the colon. I
remember her telling me that all disease begins in the colon. She had
designated Wednesday evenings as "personal cleansing night".

  As her young guest I had the dubious privilege of participating in this
Wednesday night ritual. I remember her asking me if my mother gave me
enema's. I was embarrassed in fact that she would even ask me such a
question. I knew that whatever answer I would give would have the same
results. My 'shoot from the hip' answer of course was "no, never"!

"Well then its about time you did, young man. You'll feel much better and
your color will come back".  I had no idea what my color had to do with it
but to my horror and delight, I was scheduled to have my cleansing enema and
bath the same night as my cousin.

  I couldn't help remembering my treatment at the hands of Dr. Clepser's
beautiful nurse. The thought of reliving this experience again filled me
with visceral and emotional flashbacks.

  No one ran around naked in their home but the human body was not though of
as dirty and naughty. On more than one occasion I accidentally walked in on
someone that was using the pottie. Nothing was said, just a simple "excuse
me" and a quick exit. No one ever bothered to lock any doors. The "hook 
eye" lock was high on the inside of the bathroom door
and was out of reach for any child. Auntie didn't want any of us to lock the
door anyway,  just in case she had to check on what was going on. The creaky
floor boards gave one plenty of warning if someone was about to enter and
plenty of time
to shout out that it was occupied. I learned this trick quickly, but cousin
Diane was adept at tip toeing carefully when she approached the bathroom and
in a dramatic entrance would say, "Oh, I didn't know you were in there!" To
embarrass me further she would add, "pewwwie, how about a courtesy flush".

  To my delighted consternation,  my dear cousin and I  were to have our
cleansing enemas at the same time. Much to my disappointment, it only
happened one time but the memory of it is as clear today as it was forty
years ago.

  My aunt allowed me to sit on the edge of the bath tub while cousin Diane
was being prepared for her "internal cleansing bath". I remember my cousin
protesting the fact that a boy was in the room but my aunt disregarded her
plea's for privacy.

  Watching my older cousin disrobe was almost to much for my adolescent
heart. She faced away from me and removed her blouse. Her shoulders and back
were bare. She was to young for a bra and at that age didn't have much to
put in one anyway. Even at that young impressionable age, it was still
sexually exciting, though I didn't even understand the mechanics of the
sexual union. I sat of the edge of the old claw footed tub, transfixed by
her lovely posterior.


                                  [Image]

  Next she unsnapped and lowed her trousers. Her mother helped her step out
of them. She had on white panties and there were pink little kittens on
them. Her bottom was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. To this day I
still have a fixation over
a lovely female tushie.

  As she stood there, she said only one thing, a very long plaintive
"mother". This was her last protest.

  My aunt put her thumbs in the elastic band of my cousins panties and
gently slid them off her hips and down to the floor.

  There was one point of levity during this whole matter. When my cousin
stepped out of her panties I almost slid backwards into to tub. I caught
myself and it was obvious to everyone that I was embarrassed by this turn of
events.

  My aunt didn't have to tell my cousin what to do next. She lowered herself
down on to all fours.  She then lowered her head down onto her folded arms.
My heart was beating it my throat. My cousins smooth rounded bottom was high
in the air and the pouting prepubescent of her femininity was a glory to
behold.

  My aunt had a red rubber open top fountain syringe hanging from the shower
curtain rod with a long nylon stocking. In a nearby pitcher of hot water
floated a bar of ivory soap. She removed the bar of soap and poured the
contents of the pitcher into to the bag hanging from the shower rod. The
pitcher was empty but the bag was not. Another partial pitcher was added to
the bag until it forced the surface bubbles over the top, down the side of
the bag and into the tub.

  My aunt then proceeded to lubricate the black curved enema pipe and my
cousins bottom. She deftly inserted the enema nozzle about three fourth's of
the way in and released the silver metal clamp on the hose.

  I watched in amazement the collapsing of the enema bag with not one
protest from my cousin. About half the bag was now empty and my aunt closed
the hose with a "snap" of the clamp. "How are *we* doing sweetheart, should
we finish" asked my aunt.     "Fine...I think,...okay, Okay,........ no, NO!  I GOTTA GO!"  Diane
finally wailed.

  "Just hold it a little longer dear and let it work," said my aunt.

  By now both me and my cousin were squirming. She...writhing on her hands
and knees and me with a death grip on the sides of the bathtub.

In a minute or two the pangs subsided enough and Auntie released the clamp
of the enema bag. Cousin Diane's tummy was round with the enema solution by
the time she finished the entire bag. Auntie snapped the clamp closed and
pulled the curved black enema pipe from Diane's bottom. A few rivulets of
water trickled from where the nozzle had been and ran down the inside of
Diane's thigh.

  "Go fetch your cousins slippers in her bedroom, would you please?" asked
my aunt.   I didn't want to miss the grand finale so I hurried into the
bedroom as fast a I could run.   I frantically looked everywhere for
anything that even resembled slippers.

  I came back to the bathroom empty handed and much to my disappointment the
bathroom door was shut. I was to embarrassed to just walk in knowing that my
cousin was on the potty relieving herself of the contents of the bag.

   "I can't find her slippers," was my tale of woe. "That's ok honey, I'll
find them in a minute" replied Auntie. The toilet flushed and I could hear
the bathtub being filled. I knew that my aunt was going to give my cousin
her bath. I wanted to watch my cousin get her bath but it wasn't to be.

  In a short time my aunt called to me to come into the bathroom.   My
cousin was gone. She had gone through the other door that led to my aunt and
uncles bedroom.

  My aunt cheerfully asked me if I was ready for my enema and I said with
great anticipation, "I think so."  "Well, get out of those cloths and kneel
down on this clean towel so I can get you ready." "When we're through I have
a treat for you in the kitchen."

  There was something about being under the control of  my aunt that held
great appeal to me. With my heart beating wildly, I complied to her demands.
I began to sense the same adolescent sexual feelings that I experienced with
Dr. Clepser's nurse. I felt vulnerable as I looked at the edge of the towel
and the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor.

In a moment her firm hands were separating the cheeks of my bottom and I
felt a delicious coolness from the lubricant on the tip of Aunties finger.
The deep slippery probing of my rectum set off a visceral bomb shell of
emotions and feelings within me. Exquisite pleasure would only describe the
feeling. I wanted to thrust my hips back and impale myself deeper on her
finger but was paralyzed to do so.

Auntie withdrew her finger and wiped it clean on some toilet paper. The red
enema bag, still wet from Diane's enema session, hung limply from the shower
curtain. Auntie set the pitcher in the sink and turned the water on and
dropped the soft bar of Ivory soap into it. More hot water was added to the
pitcher and a large spoon was used to stir the contents. Holding the mouth
of the enema bag open with one hand and the handle of the pitcher with the
other, Auntie carefully filled the bag until the pitcher was empty. I was
certain that she wouldn't fill the enema bag to the top like she did with my
cousin. After all, I was smaller than she and not accustomed to this
routine. My heart leapt within me as she returned to the sink with the empty
container. More hot water. She filled the now almost full bag now to over
flowing. Soapy bubbles ran down her left arm as she was holding the mouth of
the enema bag open.

"I haven't cleaned the pipe that I used on your cousin, so I use this short
colon tube with you, honey" said Auntie in a 'matter of fact' voice.

A thin red and black cardboard box was removed from beneath the sink. Within
this box was an assortment of black enema pipes and one brownish-pink rubber
hose about the size of an adults small finger. (I know this because I opened
it and fondled the contents every time I visited from that time on)  It was
no more than a foot long and had one open 'eye' in the end.

 Auntie screwed on a small enema tip to the black threaded adapter and slid
the colon tube onto it.

"This colon tube will go a little deeper that the douche nozzle that I used
on your cousin" said my aunt casually. "We want the best results the first
time".

  The same white lubricant that Auntie used to lube my hole, she used on the
colon tube. I could tell it was slippery because she seemed to have
difficulty holding it against my rectum. Instinctively I tried to prevent
the colon tube from entering but that was futile. I felt its rubbery head
pass the opening and begin to snake deeper into my bowels.

Auntie opened the clamp and I felt a flood of warm...almost hot soapy water
course though my bowels She continued to push the colon tube deeper and I
could feel the turns and bends it was making within me. I then sensed the
colon tube was all the way in because there was no more pushing from Auntie.

 I felt suddenly very hot and very full. I pleafully asked that she stop the
enema and to let me sit on the toilet to relieve myself.  It wasn't going to
happen. Spasms of pleasure and pain rolled over me in waves. With each
'click' of the clamp I thought my ordeal was over with.  Auntie kept
assuring me that I was fine and that there was only a little more enema to
go. After what seemed an eternity, the colon tube began sliding out from
within my bowels.

I didn't even ask to get up off the bathroom floor and sit on the pot. I
knew that if I didn't there would be a terrible accident.
It was more difficult to stand than I had imagined. Everything within me
tried to keep the contents of my bowels under control until I could navigate
the five feet to the toilet.

  After voiding in the potty my aunt helped me into the bath tub and then
she bathed me. After my bath she toweled me off and helped me put on my
pajama's. True to her word, she took me into the kitchen for some home baked
cookies and a tall glass of cold milk.
Dear Auntie...if you only knew. Perhaps she did. I'd like to think so.

True story....

 --

 rubrduck@gte.net

Your E-Mail E-pal   "Rubber Duckie"
A stranger..nah..just as friend you haven't met yet.
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