Paul sat quietly, fighting down a rising wave of panic. It was real
late, well past his normal bedtime, and he was waiting for his aunt
Joan, uncle Bob and cousin Sue to arrive.
Until now, their annual visitation for summer vacation had been welcome.
His mom hardly got any time off from her job, and the arrival of the
relatives always presaged a month of fun and food - he got to go
everywhere with them, and mom really needed the money - not only did
they pay for their keep, but they bought him new things as well.
The only downside was that Aunt Joan always took over. She had been a
sergeant in the army before she married Uncle Bob, and she ran
everything almost on military lines. Paul was slightly in awe of her
lack of fear for anyone or anything and the way in which she just
squashed people who got in her way, from cops down to kids. She was good
fun, though, and she let him do things that would have his mother
chewing the ends of her hair in worry.
That wasn't the main problem. Paul was now twelve, and he had changed a
lot in the past year. He had known all about making babies for years,
but it had always seemed to be just one more inexplicable thing that
adults did, totally irrelevant to him. Everything had become different
one fine day when he was lying on his stomach on the grass, and had
looked up to see three girls sitting nearby, hugging their knees as they
spoke to each other, displaying thin strips of white cotton panties
between their legs. Sure, he had seen girls underpants before, but this
time it was special. What lay underneath those panties suddenly became
very relevant, and the rush of emotion had made him feel dizzy and
sweaty, conscious of his hard willy poking into the ground.
Suddenly crafty, Paul had averted his gaze, watching out of the corner
of his eyes. His body had revealed another unsuspected ability - his
hips suddenly seemed to have a mind of their own, grinding his erection
against his undershorts producing a strange, exciting sensation. Then it
had happened - a set of spasms, a feeling of intense pleasure, a
dampness in the front of his pants and a sudden, blinding rearrangement
of half-understood snippets of information into a crystal clear
understanding of SEX.
His body had become a source of both pleasure and shame. Suddenly, now
that he realized just exactly what his willy was for, he needed to
conceal it from the female world and from his mom in particular. No
longer was she accorded access to the bathroom when he was in the tub
and he cringed to think that only a few short months ago he would yell
for her to wield a towel when soap got in his eyes and that she had even
seen the first wisps of hair that had begun to sprout on his tummy.
Now Cousin Sue was arriving. For the past ten years or so, she had
shared his room during the vacation without either of them being in the
least concerned about the arrangement, but things were no longer as they
had been. Heck, she was only a kid - only eleven - and not fit company
for a soon-to-be teenager. Worse, she was a girl, and his precarious
adolescent dignity could not cope with that sort of invasion - even mom
now had to knock and wait for him to give permission for her to enter
his room. He groaned inside - pyjamas had been abandoned during the year
because no self respecting young man could sleep in anything other than
his shorts - and they were something that no female was permitted to
view apart from the unfortunate necessity of laundry work.
Paul cleared his throat.
He cringed again. That sort of language was barely appropriate even when
just the two of them were alone. He gritted his teeth and continued.
"I was just thinking that it would be a good thing if Sue shared with
Aunt Joan.... or maybe with you?"
His mother laughed.
"Don't be so silly, Paul. You always share with Sue."
"I don't want to."
"Well, that's just tough luck, young man, because that's the way it's
going to be, and what's more, you're not going to spoil everyone's
vacation with your silly delusions of being an adult. Children do what
they are told, not what they want."
That hated word. Child.
"I'm not a child. I'm a young adult."
"You're a child just as long as you live under my roof. And don't think
you're too big to go over my knee either."
"But I'm too old to share with a girl!"
There was a pause and then his mother chuckled.
"Oh. Now I see. Well, you'll soon get over your shyness - I don't
understand it anyway. After all I changed your diapers when you were a
baby and you've got nothing that I haven't seen hundreds of times. Now,
I don't want to hear any more about this - and you will behave yourself
when our guests arrive, otherwise, young adult or not, your pants will
come down for the spanking of your life."
Paul heard the iron in her voice, and the thought of a public bare-assed
spanking was sufficient to quell any more public protest. He pouted as
much as he dared, but held his peace.
It was after midnight when the party arrived, led by Aunt Joan who added
fuel to the flames of embarrassment by picking Paul up effortlessly and
planting a smacking kiss on his burning cheek. He looked round to see
Uncle Bob struggling under a mound of suitcases, then was afflicted with
total paralysis at the sight of Cousin Sue. Heck, she was only eleven,
but she had obviously been doing some growing on her own account. Her
tee shirt contained two unmistakable bulges, and her hips seemed to have
grown out of proportion to the rest of her body and were filling a pair
of brief denim shorts almost to bursting point. Even her face had
changed - it seemed much more grown up.
Her behavior, however, had not altered. She squealed in the same old way
as she flung herself on his mother and hugged and kissed. Paul retreated
as Sue released her grip and turned towards him and aborted the usual
rush by holding out his hand to be shaken. Sue looked at him, obviously
puzzled, then dutifully shook his hand. Just before she grabbed him and
wrestled him to the floor in an exuberant display of affection.
Paul struggled to get free, conscious that her body felt different from
last year. Then, she had been skinny and bony, just like a boy, but now
she was sort of soft. Paul wriggled away from her, his face showing his
confusion, his cheeks scarlet with embarrassment.
The kids were fed warm milk and cookies while Aunt Joan unpacked Sue's
pyjamas, then they were unceremoniously ordered to bed, with
admonishments of going straight to sleep and not talking all night.
Paul felt trapped as the door closed. Here he was, in the company of a
girl, even if she was his cousin, and the appalling necessity of
removing his clothes. He turned away from her, rapidly removed
everything but his shorts and dived into his bed. Only then did he dare
look at her.
Sue seemed puzzled.
"What happened to your pyjamas? Surely you aren't going to sleep in your
"I don't wear pyjamas anymore. And my underwear isn't sweaty."
Sue sniffed in disgust and pulled off her shirt, revealing that she now
wore a bra. As she unbuttoned her shorts, Paul could bear it no longer.
He turned his face to the wall and pulled up the sheets. This was just
too embarrassing to watch.
It seemed only moments before he became conscious of sudden light and a
looming presence in the room.
"Good morning, sleepyheads. It's ten o'clock, time to be up and doing.
Aunt Trish has gone to work hours ago."
Paul blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and then immediately averted
them from the awful sight of Aunt Joan in bra and pants, her robe
unfastened, apparently totally unconcerned at her near-naked state. She
was rummaging in one of the suitcases.
"Ah, here it is. Time for children to be nice and clean for their
Paul's stomach knotted into a single, hard, sick-making lump as Aunt
Joan's hand emerged holding the red bag. Somehow he had forgotten all
about her jolly little habit of making sure that children were in prime
condition for the rigors of their vacation.
In previous years he had looked forward in a strange way to having his
asshole invaded by a plastic tube and the subsequent injection of warm
suds. It gave him a sort of sharp feeling as the tube slipped easily
into him, followed by a warm fuzzy glow as he experienced the unique
sensation of his rectum distending under the slow inexorable flow of
Aunt Joan was obviously looking for something else. She uttered a
forbidden word, then remarked mainly to herself that they would just
have to make do.
"Come on, out of bed. Get things ready while I fill the bag up."
She swept out of the room, and Sue climbed out of bed with alacrity and
then tugged at Paul's pillows.
"Hurry up. You know she gets all annoyed if she has to wait."
Paul unwillingly detached himself from the sheets into which he had
rolled, conscious that he needed to pee. Nowadays, his willy had a
dreadful habit of standing to attention to provide him with that
information, and today was no exception. He grasped the front of his
shorts and fled to the toilet, his nose catching the first wisps of
steamy, soapy smell as he entered the bathroom. He pushed past Aunt
Joan, and turned his back on her as he concentrated, producing first a
dribble then an incredibly satisfying torrent, sighing with pleasure as
his bladder deflated.
He returned to the room to find that Sue had already placed the pillows,
building the wedge shape that Aunt Joan used. Paul had never quite
worked out why she did it that way - on the few childhood occasions that
he had received an enema from his mom, she had simply bent him over the
tub and run in the liquid.
"Right, children, let's get this done. You first, Paul."
He stood there, hands grasping frantically at his shorts as though that
would save him from her ministrations. Joan noticed for the first time
that he was wearing his undershorts, and looked around, puzzled.
"No. Not any more."
"And you sleep in your underwear? That's not very hygienic, is it? Well,
get them off and adopt the position."
"I don't want an enema."
Her tone said it all. Joan paid scarce heed to what they wanted. Paul
tried the other tack.
"I don't need an enema. I'm not stuffed."
"So? That's only one reason for needing an enema. The other one is that
they keep you nice and healthy."
Paul sighed. Nothing for it but a straight refusal.
"I won't take it. I'm too old for enemas."
Joan looked at him in that way, and her words came out in that tone.
"I don't intend to argue with you, young man. Just step out of your
skivvies right now, before I lose my temper with you."
Young adult or not, Paul was just twelve, and quite unable to resist the
firm voice of authority. To his chagrin, he felt tears come unbidden to
his eyes as he slid down the shorts and stepped out of them, keeping his
body bent in a vain attempt at concealment. There was no option. He
climbed on to the bed and sat on the apex of the wedge shape of pillows
that Sue had built, then lay backwards draped down the sloping fabric,
his stomach the highest point of his body. Aunt Joan always gave enemas
in that position, with the recipient's legs bent backwards.
Paul wretchedly clasped his hands over his nakedness as Aunt Joan
greased the nozzle. His eyes widened in horror. Instead of the slim
white two-inch pipe, this one was at least twice the length, thicker and
with the end bulging out to three smooth plastic lobes. Concealment
forgotten, he raised himself on one arm and stared at the device.
"Oh, it's just a different sort of nozzle. Don't worry - it will go in
quite easily. Sue?"
Paul lay back in misery as Sue performed her usual duty of holding his
knees high and wide. This had always been a deliciously naughty thing to
do, and in the past he had gotten a sort of funny feeling, knowing that
she could see everything he possessed. Now all he felt was a burning
shame as he was laid bare before two sets of female eyes.
Aunt Joan wrinkled her nose.
"When did you last take a bath, young man?"
To his utter horror she bent down and picked up his shorts, then sniffed
them before letting them fall to the floor in disgust.
"I'm surprised at you - and your mother. Don't you know that when you
start to grow hair down there then you have to wash more frequently? I
can see that you are going to need a few hygiene lessons!"
Paul felt his legs shaking, and then realized that Sue was laughing
silently at him. She added fuel to the flames by sniffing loudly and
emitting strangled noises of disgust. Paul gazed, hypnotized, at the
huge nozzle as Aunt Joan dipped it in a pot of grease.
"Now just relax. This won't hurt at all."
But it did hurt. Paul writhed in agony as his asshole knotted itself in
an attempt to repel the threatening object. He felt it withdrawn, then
sort of rubbed around, gently trying to insinuate itself into his
orifice, but to no avail. Aunt Joan tutted.
"I'm sure I don't know what is the matter with you nowadays. You always
used to enjoy your enemas."
Paul blushed again. This was on a par with naked baby pictures being
displayed for visitors. Sue giggled and chimed in.
"Last year he pretended he was stuffed, just so he could get another
Paul's misery was complete. What she had said was true, confessed in a
sniggering bedtime conversation just before they had left for home. For
ages afterwards, he had missed the strangely pleasurable sensation of
the enema, and by the time Christmas had arrived he tried the trick
again on his mother.
That was when he had suddenly become self conscious. He had sat on the
stool in the bathroom while mom went through the ritual of preparing the
solution and filling the bag, and then had suddenly realized that, as
usual, his willy was standing to attention in anticipation of the
delicious experience. Suddenly, he had been overcome by intense feelings
of shame and bashfulness as she told him to drop his pants and bend over
the tub for his enema.
There had been no escape, of course. He had not even tried to back out -
there was no way mom would have accepted that. He could still remember
the feeling of horror and reticence as he had exposed his butt to her
for the mercifully brief ritual. That was the first time he had really
jacked off, as well. Mom had withdrawn the tip and left him to get on
with the expulsion of the liquid. Paul had held it in as long as he
could, frantically rubbing himself as the urge grew to expel the liquid,
letting everything go as he came to an intense orgasm.
Paul was roughly dragged back to the present as Aunt Joan handed the tip
to Sue and then dipped her finger deep into the grease. His over-riding
emotion was one of bewilderment as Aunt Sue reached towards him and then
began to gently rub the lubricant around his anus, speaking in a
soothing tone of voice as she told him to relax, that everything was
going to be fine. He felt a resurgence of emotion as he did relax and
began to enjoy the feeling of the gentle stimulation of his orifice.
Then, to his dismay, he became aware of a tightness of skin as his penis
slowly inflated, the tip detaching itself from his belly, pulling
against the sweat film that was holding it to his skin. He began to
panic, twisting his body in an attempt to get away from the awful
situation. He felt a sudden sting in his butt as Aunt Joan slapped him.
"Just hold still, young man, and stop being such a coward. It's
perfectly normal for that to happen - there's no need to be coy about
Paul twisted his head round. Sue was looking at his erection with a
fascinated expression on her face, her mouth slightly open, the tip of
her tongue moistening her lips. He felt exposed, vulnerable and deeply
ashamed that his most private of functions was being revealed to a girl
- worse, a girl who was younger than him.
Then his entire body stiffened in terror as the finger changed direction
and slowly, deliberately slipped right up inside of him. It had never
crossed his young mind that anybody could do that, that anybody would do
that. His back arched as every muscle in his body contracted, his eyes
filming over as his heart pounded and strangled grunts issued from his
"What a good boy."
He relaxed as the finger was removed, his asshole still sort of feeling
it, then clenched his jaw as he saw her dip her finger in the grease
again. It wasn't over.
The second insertion was much less traumatic, though. Things were pretty
well lubricated and there was little resistance as the finger slid home,
producing an intensified version of the same feeling as was produced by
an enema tip. He felt her knuckles digging into his skin, and realized
that the whole length of her finger was inside him. He could feel it
sort of wiggling about, pushing against tender tissue, evoking an
entirely new depth of stimulation as she moved it in and out a couple of
"That seems to have calmed you down. Now let's get this enema done - we
haven't got all day, you know."
The large nozzle slipped easily in and Aunt Joan did not stop until
almost its whole length had been inserted.
"Just hold on to this, Sue."
Sue sat on the bed, and rested his legs on her shoulders as she held the
tip firmly in place while Aunt Joan undid the clip on the rubber tubing.
Paul gasped as the liquid hit him with a rush, producing first that
strange, intense feeling, then causing a violent cramp. He writhed in
agony as Aunt Joan quickly shut off the flow.
"Sorry about that, Paul. I forgot that it would go faster through that
nozzle. Just hold on - the cramping will soon stop."
She was correct. The cramping did subside, to be replaced with an
indescribable feeling as she resumed a slower rate of flow. Paul felt
split into two parts, one of which luxuriated in the enema, the other
cringing at the way in which Sue was just sitting there, watching the
At long last, the nozzle was tweaked out and Paul scuttled to the
bathroom, followed, to his horror, by Aunt Joan. He hopped from foot to
foot, his erection waving wildly, unwilling to let her see him using the
toilet, as she turned on the taps and began to fill the tub. He felt a
wetness as his anus began to give up the unequal struggle, and had no
option but to squat and empty his bowels. Aunt Joan nodded approvingly.
"Good boy - it helps if you hold it in. Now hop in the tub."
"I can wash myself!"
"Oh no you can't - you're filthy down there. You'll end up with some
sort of skin disease if you don't wash properly, so I am going to make
sure that you get clean and stay clean. Hop in, now, and bend over for
Tears were coming again as Paul was forced to submit to a thorough
washing of his hindquarters. Soap was rubbed in, massaged with her
fingers, then rinsed off again. His erection was painful by now, his
balls demanding to release their load, but Aunt Joan paid no heed.
"Stand up and turn round."
Oh God. Paul squirmed in agony as his balls were soaped and rinsed, then
stood aghast as his aunt soaped her hands and reached for his penis. It
was just too much. He could not prevent the release of a strangled gasp
as she firmly massaged the organ with soapy hands and the unstoppable
process began. He sobbed as he felt the release of the sticky white
fluid into the general mass of foam.
Paul gratefully subsided into the warm water as Aunt Joan finally left
the room, permitting him to start to rebuild his demolished ego. He
grabbed a towel as Sue rushed in and made for the toilet and beat a
hasty retreat to the accompaniment of her gush of liquid.
And this was only the first day of his vacation....
Paul dried himself quickly, making sure that he selected fresh underwear
and hurried towards the smell of food. Sue and Aunt Joan joined him
after a while, and Paul felt his embarrassment slowly ebbing away as
things returned to normal. Aunt Joan announced that they were going to
the beach - like many kids who live near the sea, Paul tended to ignore
its presence most of the time. She picked up the capacious bag that she
always carried and told Paul to collect his swimming things. When he
returned with the Speedos that he normally wore, she started to rummage
in the bag.
"I think you need some anti-perspirant before we go out in that heat. We
don't want you getting all sweaty again, do we?"
Paul readily agreed, and removed his shirt when requested, then closed
his eyes and wrinkled his nose as Aunt Joan sprayed his armpits
liberally with the aerosol. The hissing stopped and he was just starting
to relax, when he felt her hand at his waist. It was too late to stop
her - before he could react she had pulled the front of his pants
forward and sprayed a liberal amount of the stuff on to his freshly
washed and sensitive genitals.
It stung like hell, and Paul leapt up and down in agony, flapping the
front of his pants to direct cooling air to the region while Aunt Joan
and Sue howled with laughter.
"It isn't funny. It stings!"
Even the taciturn Uncle Bob had a grin on his face as he removed his
"Better get used to it, Paul. It won't be the last pain in that area
caused by some woman or other."
His wife silenced him with a glare, then ushered the kids to the car.
Uncle Bob wasn't going, of course - all he wanted from a holiday was to
be left in peace to continue with his famous book - the one he had been
writing for as long as anyone could remember.
They drove to Aunt Joan's favorite spot - a small, deserted sandy bay.
Sue and Paul both groaned as they saw it - their idea of a good time
involved more than sea and sand. Aunt Joan settled down on a large towel
under her immense sunshade, and reached into her bag.
Paul watched as she pulled out his Speedos and then his eyes alighted on
the rounded end of the enema bulb that she always seemed to carry with
her as part of her general first aid kit for kids.
His first experience of that particular item was indelibly engraved on
Paul's mind. He must have been about six or seven and they were on one
of those terminally boring car trips - he had long forgotten the
destination. To add to his misery, Paul had gotten car sick, and long
streaks of puke now decorated the side of the car below the window he
had used. Aunt Joan had stopped at the next gas station and marched him
into the ladies washroom and run hot water into one of the basins, to
the evident interest of the two ladies who were already in there.
"He's just car sick - I reckon all he needs is an enema and then he will
be right as rain."
That was when she had produced the red rubber bulb with the pencil sized
white tube protruding from the end, and squeezed it several times in the
"Right, young man, let's have you in here."
Still mystified, Paul had allowed her to usher him into one of the
toilet stalls. She had turned him to face the bowl, then pulled down his
elasticated pants and bent him over the bowl. She had not even closed
the door - as Paul had turned to see what was happening, he had realized
that the other two ladies were watching intently.
Then he had yelped in sheer surprise as Aunt Joan had unceremoniously
inserted the nozzle and squeezed the bulb, sending what seemed to be an
immense hot surge of liquid into his butt, making him howl with shock
and mortification at being so publicly and unceremoniously treated.
It got worse. He had received four injections in total, and each time
Aunt Joan had walked across the room to refill the syringe, leaving him
even more exposed, his tension mounting each time he heard her footsteps
growing closer, his butthole getting increasingly sore from the repeated
At least she had closed the door when he actually went to the toilet,
straining to expel the cheap, corrosive washroom soap. When he
eventually emerged, it was to find a girl - a big girl, probably ten
years old - in the next stall, groaning and complaining as her mother
wielded the borrowed syringe whilst a boy of about the same age
nervously grasped himself through the front of his pants as he waited
Paul realized for the first time that the two mothers and Aunt Joan had
actually been enjoying the whole thing. Truth to tell, he had enjoyed it
as well, once his turn was over. Sue must only have been about four, and
of no interest to him at that time - they went in the tub together and
there were no secrets from each other. The big girl was sort of
different - as she bent forward her pee thing seemed much bigger and
fatter than Sue's, and her little hole looked like it was opening all by
He recalled how surprised he had been when it had come to the turn of
the boy, and his willy had been revealed as surprisingly large and
standing up all by itself - his mom had gotten annoyed at the fact that
he was sort of playing with it and slapped it quite hard, producing
floods of tears, before she settled down to the task of filling him with
bulb after bulb of suds - Aunt Joan had eventually intervened to make
her stop, and his mom had done so with some reluctance, saying that he
deserved it for being such a dirty little boy.
The enema had certainly cured his car sickness, but had left him with a
soreness that had steadily increased as his butt sweated on the car
seat. Too young to know when to let things alone, Paul had grumbled with
increasing volume until Aunt Joan had suddenly pulled into a side road
and produced the enema syringe again.
"All right, if you're sore, I'll rinse you out."
He vividly remembered looking around, seeing no building anywhere and
wondering just where they would go. The answer was simple - she had
opened the passenger door, bent him over the seat and repeated the
syringing, using a bottle of cool drinking water that gave him his first
experience of the power of a cold liquid to turn his bowels into painful
knots. He had even been forced to squat in the limited cover afforded by
the open door to void the liquid, tears running down his face as he
strained to expel every last drop.
"Well, boy, are you swimming or not?"
Paul wrenched himself from his memories and took the brief red garment
from her, suddenly realizing his awful predicament. Thinking about some
of his experiences had unaccountably gone directly to his willy, and a
bulge in the front of his shorts was close to revealing his excited
state. He turned his back and changed as fast as he could, then ran for
the water, but not before he had seen Sue's eyes fastened directly on
the cylindrical bulge.
The day was as boring as Paul had feared. Lunch consisted of a slightly
gritty salad, they swam and built a sandcastle while Aunt Joan got on
with her knitting.
Bedtime presented Paul with a new problem. Aunt Joan was quite firm.
"Put those dirty underclothes straight in the wash. Wear your pyjamas
like a Christian should."
He looked down and mumbled.
"I don't have any pyjamas. I don't wear them any more."
She was suitably shocked. Wearing the right garments in bed was as
important in her mind as dressing properly for school or church.
"Then you will just have to sleep in the buff tonight. Tomorrow I'll get
you some pyjamas."
She swept out of the room. Paul could not bring himself to strip naked
in front of his cousin, even though she had already seen exactly what he
had to offer. He slid between the sheets in his shorts, wriggled out of
them, and then handed them to Sue so that she could put them in the
The sheets were cool and somewhat sensuous as Paul lay thinking about
his experiences. He turned his head towards Sue.
"I wish Aunt Joan would let up on the enemas. Don't you hate them as
Her reply was in tones of astonishment.
"Of course not. It's a mother's job to tend to children. Anyway, I quite
like enemas - they make me feel good. When I have children, I'm going to
make sure they all have one enema every week."
"I'm not a child any more."
"Of course you are, just like me. You don't get to be an adult until
you're eighteen at least."
There was a silence, then Sue spoke again.
"Mind you, I don't think I will get married and have kids anyway."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Well, I just couldn't let.... You know - what adults have to do to make
a baby - I just couldn't let anyone do that to me. It's disgusting, and
I bet it hurts."
"Of course it doesn't hurt - it's natural."
"So's dying, and I don't want to do that either."
Paul gave up. But there was one piece of information that he needed.
"You know that rubber ball thing that Aunt Joan used to carry around in
her bag? Does she still have it?"
There was an embarrassed sort of giggle from the other bed. Paul felt a
tug on the sheets as his prick came back to the position of attention.
He massaged it gently as Sue replied.
"Oh, yes. Do you remember when we were little and she made you have it
in the restroom?"
Paul managed a strangled grunt. He had forgotten that Sue must have been
there. His cousin continued.
"And the time we ate too much at the picnic place? When she took us into
the bushes and squirted us?"
Paul did remember. He increased the intensity and frequency of his
self-massage. Sue's next question threw him.
"Paul? Do you like it when you get an enema? I mean, really like it?"
"Er.... sort of... It feels..."
"...all funny inside?"
That did it. Paul held his breath to conceal the fact that his prick was
jumping around like crazy. He came back to earth and hastily rubbed the
small quantity of liquid into his tummy - it would shower off in the
morning. Sue heaved a sigh of relief.
"My best friend said I was a sicko when I told her that mom was always
giving me enemas, and that they were real nice. I'm not sick, am I?"
"Of course not."
"Good. I wish she didn't do it so often, though...."
Sleep washed over both of them, each experiencing a different kind of
Paul rose bright and early the following morning so that he could use
the bathroom before Sue awoke - he could not work out exactly what the
reason was, but he just did not want to see her naked, even though part
of him was urging that he should do just that. Maybe he did not trust
himself to remain as a cousin should - maybe his prick would betray him
if they were naked together.
He had learned his lesson from the previous day - this time he wore his
Speedos under his shorts - that would save the awkwardness of changing
into them when they hit the beach.
They got a surprise when the car drew up in the bay - for the first time
ever, they were not alone. Another lady was there, and a boy and girl.
Aunt Joan just made straight for them and started talking, while the
four kids eyed each other.
It turned out that the people had rented a nearby house for the summer.
The mother seemed OK, and it rapidly transpired that Aunt Joan outranked
her - she had only made corporal.
The boy was called Jim, and was twelve, just like Paul, and seemed to be
a nice guy. The girl was another matter.
She was called Sandy, she was fourteen, starting highschool after the
summer, and she looked at the other three with the total disdain that a
two-year age gap can produce. Actually, Paul reckoned she was pretty
stunning - her one-piece swimsuit revealed a good figure, with the sort
of boobs that featured regularly in his fevered fantasies. Her hair was
cropped short, almost boyish, and bounced around as she tossed her head
in disgust at the company which had been inflicted on her.
Sandy did not want to swim, she did not want to play ball, she did not
even want to talk to the other three. Jim grimaced as they ran towards
"Sandy's been that since we arrived. She has a boyfriend at home, and
she is really mad at mom for dragging her on vacation. Don't even try to
talk to her - she'll just bite your head off."
Paul discovered that for himself. Sandy caught him glancing at her boobs.
"Piss off you little dwarf. Why don't you just go and play with
yourself? I can lend you a magnifying glass and tweezers if that helps."
Paul felt himself blushing. It was bad enough to get caught out, but the
insult to his manhood was hard to bear. He had a wild desire to wave his
prick at her just to prove that it wasn't small.
lunchtime came, and the two women had amalgamated supplies and laid out
quite an attractive picnic on a large towel. Sandy just had to make her
"I don't want any of your damn food. I'm not hungry, and I don't want to
eat. It's all rubbish anyway."
Paul felt his stomach contract in sheer panic as the girl grabbed the
towel and threw the food into the sand. Her mother screamed at her in
rage, but Sandy just stood there with an expression of triumph. Paul and
Sue's attention was riveted on Aunt Joan. Her lips had compressed into a
thin line that boded ill for the girl.
The two adults went into a whispered conference, and Paul felt his heart
beat faster as Aunt Joan opened her bag and the two women looked at its
contents. He had a good idea what they were discussing.
There was a high pitched scream as Aunt Joan took a handful of the back
of Sandy's swimsuit and lifted the girl bodily from the ground. Paul and
Jim stood open-mouthed at the sight of its crotch disappearing into
Sandy's flesh, leaving a hair covered lip on either side.
"You three go off and play. Sandy's mother and I have something in mind
to improve her appetite."
They scurried away, then turned to see the beach umbrella laid on its
side with its point towards them and Sandy frog-marched behind it, then
Aunt Joan's arm grab her bag. Jim was scared and fascinated.
"What do you think they are going to do to her? Might she get spanked?"
"Nothing as nice as that. I reckon she's going to get an enema."
"An enema? What's that?"
"It's when they stick a tube up your asshole and pump you full of water.
Aunt Joan is very fond of giving them to kids that lose their appetite."
They watched the unfolding of the drama. Sandy's mom got hold of the
straps of her swimsuit, and the girl rapidly concealed herself behind
the sunshade, but they could see that her mother was pulling the garment
down to Sandy's knees.
The dome of the umbrella was not large enough for total concealment -
Sandy screamed and yelled as she ended up on all fours, her head craned
round as she looked to see what was happening. Paul grunted as he saw
Aunt Joan pouring water into a bowl.
"Yep. It's an enema. Certain sure."
A piercing scream of utter outrage echoed round the bay as Aunt Joan
bent down behind the umbrella and Sandy's head jerked right back as
though someone had pulled a string. Jim's eyes were wide, fastened on
his sister's head, the only visible part of her body.
"Is that it? Are they finished?"
Paul hardly needed to answer as another yell emerged from Sandy.
"That's two. I wonder when they will stop?"
There was a pause after five howls, and Paul began to relax. Sandy also
subsided enough to look around - and then saw the two boys staring at
"Mom. They're looking at me! Tell them to go away.... yeowwwww...."
This time it was Aunt Joan who was standing and supervising while
Sandy's mother wielded the bulb. By the count of ten the yell had
changed from outrage and threats to tears and begging. At last the two
adults stood up, followed by a high velocity teenage girl, her swimsuit
held frantically and inadequately over her well developed breasts as she
raced to find some privacy before the inevitable gush erupted from her
rear. Paul and Jim rolled about in hilarious laughter, kicking their
legs in the air and hooting in derision until the thoroughly humiliated
girl found some scrub which provided a modicum of concealment, lowered
her swimsuit and squatted before emitting a gout of water and the rest
of the contents of her rectum. Sue was outraged.
"It's not funny, you know. Think how Sandy must feel."
Jim brushed away the tears of laughter.
"That's why it's so funny. She deserves everything she gets for ruining
our lunch. She's been a total pain for weeks now - I never thought she
would get her comeuppance. Your mother is marvelous!"
The three kids were set to clearing up the mess, eventually joined by a
tearful and contrite Sandy, displaying evidence in the form of a large
wet patch that her attempts to hold in the enema had not been totally
successful. To their intense disappointment, the two boys were made to
sit facing the sea while Sandy's mom and Aunt Joan cleaned her up. Paul
was tempted to peek, but he had a shrewd suspicion that such behavior
would attract another session with the enema syringe - only this time he
would be on the receiving end. The two boys had to be content with
ribald laughter and stage whisper suggestions that Sandy needed to be
back in diapers.
The girl's misery was then compounded by her mother.
"Well, there's no lunch here. Why don't we go into town and grab a
burger or two. Sandy's paying - out of her allowance."
The burgers tasted marvelous as the boys discovered that vengeance makes
the best sauce of all. They broke down into additional hilarity as Sandy
was forced to depart for the toilet a couple of times as further
installments of liquid appeared from unknown crevices in her intestines.
Jim beamed with satisfaction as he asked for, and was granted, a second
burger - courtesy of his big sister.
As the time drew on and Aunt Joan packed up to leave, Jim had a bright
idea - he wanted to be out of Sandy's way that night, just in case she
found some way of getting even.
"Mom. Can I sleep in the tent tonight?"
"If you like, dear."
"Can Paul come too?"
So the two boys found themselves erecting a small tent in the twilight,
still occasionally guffawing at the memory of the afternoon. Suddenly
Jim looked at the house and whispered to Paul to be quiet.
"Sandy's going to bed - there's a light in her room."
"Let's spy on her."
"That's disgusting. She's your sister."
"So? She's a girl as well. It's educational - we need to know about
girls, otherwise how will we ever know what to do?"
They looked at each other and sniggered. Paul withdrew his objections.
"Well, seeing as it's educational, I suppose it's really just like
school. Let's go!"
They tiptoed across the lawn in bare feet, holding their breath in
anticipation as they maneuvered to a position where they could look in
the window. Sandy still looked miserable, and they heard the faint sound
of a complaining call for her mother because her butt was all sore.
The boys looked at each other. Pay dirt. This was better than they could
have hoped for. Sandy's mother entered the room, holding a large tube of
cream, and then, wonder of wonders, the girl removed every stitch of her
clothing. Paul caught his breath at the sight - her tits were even
bigger and better shaped than he had imagined - then moaned softly as he
looked down at the triangle of blonde hair between the girl's legs.
The two boys hugged each other in unholy glee as Sandy stood with her
legs well apart and then bent forward, squealing and then subsiding as
her mother applied the cream to the inflamed areas where the liquid had
produced the start of a rash.
Paul felt an unaccountable increase in tension from Jim as Sandy was
left alone in her room. He watched, uncomprehending, as the girl, her
hand moving slowly and deliberately between her legs, lay back on her
bed and started to rub the cream in. So why was Jim getting so worked up?
Then Sandy suddenly reached over, and an instant later the room was
plunged into darkness. The two boys scurried back to their tent, both
holding the front of their pants to lessen the effects of friction. Paul
was embarrassed - he had a hard on, and was uncertain. Jim switched on
the battery lamp, and then, to Paul's astonishment, simply threw off his
clothes and massaged his erection.
"Wasn't that GREAT! I've spied before, but I never saw everything until
Encouraged by the other boy's lack of inhibitions, Paul shyly stripped
as well. They eyed each other in the age-old competition, then decided
on a draw. Jim was still jubilant.
"Did you see that! Just before she put the light out."
"Huh? See what? She was just rubbing the cream in."
"Like fuck! She was rubbing herself off."
He saw the blank look on Paul's face.
"Don't you know about it? Like when we jerk off? Girls do it as well."
Paul groaned as realization dawned. Of course they would! If only he had
known at the time. Jim switched off the light and the two boys lay side
by side, each gently stroking himself, prolonging the wonderful feeling.
Paul stiffened in surprise as he felt a hand on his stomach, prising his
own hand away from his erection and replacing it.
"You do it for me and I'll do it for you."
His initial reservations were swept away by the amazing feeling that a
different hand produced. This was jerking off - squared - and it felt
just too good to have any doubts about. He felt around until his hand
was filled with the hot, rigid rod of Jim's prick, and they began to
slowly, then frantically, pump away with total abandon.
Things settled down over the next few days. Back home, most of the
shyness evaporated from Paul as he grew more used to sharing with Sue,
although he still felt compelled to avert his eyes when she undressed.
He gave a few wry smiles - if he told the boys at school that he had
shared a room with a girl, even if she was his cousin, and never even
peeked, they would either think he was lying or accuse him of being gay!
Still, he had the memory of Sandy - and that was sufficient for an
infinite number of sexual fantasies.
Jim invited him to sleep in the tent again, and Paul spent the afternoon
filled with glorious anticipation of yet another unauthorized view of
the Sandy. It was not to be - as soon as the boys saw the light in her
window, it was immediately followed by lowering of the blind. The two
boys retired to their tent, both highly aroused, and it seemed quite
natural to strip off and get down to some serious friction on each other.
Their activities were rudely interrupted - the tent flap was wrenched
open, and they found themselves squinting into the beam of a high
powered lamp. Two erections, hastily concealed by the nearest piece of
clothing, withered as they heard Sandy's voice.
"I thought you two little perverts would be up to something like this! I
heard something outside my window the other night and I reckoned that
you would be back. Just wait until I tell mom!"
Panic stricken, the two boys begged and pleaded with her. Sandy just
stood there, a malicious grin on her face, as she savored the first
installment of her revenge. Finally, she seemed to relent a little.
"Well, you two saw me naked, so it's only fair if I have a good look at
you. Come on, out of the tent."
Each boy still clutched a pair of shorts to his stomach as they
reluctantly obeyed and were herded towards a secluded corner, jumping
and yelping at intervals as Sandy stabbed at their naked butts with the
cold metal of the flashlight. Finally they stood side by side facing
her, clinging desperately to the shorts.
Paul and Jim looked at each other as though seeking some miracle, then
simultaneously dropped the garments to the ground. Paul felt horribly
exposed as the beam of the flashlight wandered over his chest, then
moved down and settled on his genitals as he shivered in the cool night
"Well, I don't think much of that. It's tiny."
He looked down and saw his shriveled organ, then watched as the
illumination shifted to Jim, who was in a similar condition of flaccid
misery. Paul endured the scornful comments - this couldn't go on all
night, could it?
"OK. Do it."
"What you were doing in the tent. Playing with yourselves."
Paul and Jim looked at each other in horror.
"No way. No fucking way."
"All right. Let's go inside shall we? I'm sure mom will be interested in
what you were doing - you'll get grounded forever."
Slowly, unwillingly, each boy reached down and started to rub, with
absolutely no result. The two organs remained shriveled and limp. Paul
heard an agonized voice from Jim.
"I can't do it. It won't work. Not like this."
"Yes you can."
There were tears in his voice as he wailed in despair.
"We can't. Not here... not now."
The boys stood in mute misery in the beam of light. It wobbled for a
while, then suddenly swung round to illuminate Sandy's bare breasts. The
entire universe contracted to those twin, pert organs, each capped by a
nipple that seemed to be sort of standing out as Sandy caressed them
with one hand. The situation was forgotten as their mouth gaped open,
and their pricks showed appreciation of the view. Sandy chuckled.
"I though that might do it. Now let me see some action."
Paul felt the light settle back on his erection. This was terrible, but
he had no choice, did he? He could hardly even begin to imagine what his
mother's reaction would be if Sandy spilled the beans.
It seemed to take hours to jerk off. His prick became numb, then tender
as he desperately pumped away as ordered.
The ejaculation, when it eventually came, was both feeble and painful.
He released his grasp with a sigh of relief, licking the salty tears
from around his mouth. To his left he heard strangled grunts and
whimpers as Jim also came to a miserable orgasm.
"Very good. Sore?"
The two boys fell for it, nodding their heads in unison. Paul felt cold
all over as the beam of the flashlight rotated and settled on a tube of
cream. THE tube of cream.
He writhed and yelped as Sandy applied a thick coat of the white goo to
his prick and balls with unnecessary vigor, then watched Jim in similar
agony as she repeated the process with him.
"That makes us even, I think!"
They limped sadly back to the tent and cleaned themselves up, neither
daring to speak for fear that he might burst into tears if he tried.
Revenge might be sweet - but only if you were handing it out.
Strangely, the session seemed to have a positive effect on their
relationship. Nobody mentioned it, but somehow it had brought them
closer, broken down barriers, so that all four of them began to play
Sandy's mother looked grim after she took the call.
"Sandy, Jim. Your Aunt Mary is ill. I have to go to her right now."
Sandy brightened. She would get to see her boyfriend now.
"So we go home?"
"No. You're too young to travel alone, and I can't just let you fend for
yourselves - anyway, I would only worry what you were up to. No - we'll
stay in a motel."
The kids groaned. There was nothing worse than a motel - they were
always miles from anywhere and full of only two kinds of people - grumpy
old women and guilty-looking couples, neither of which was a bundle of
It was Aunt Joan who proposed the solution.
"You've rented the house for a month, so why don't I move in with my
pair, then I can look after all four of them? If worst comes to worst,
I'll take yours back home with me until you make arrangements for them."
Sandy and Jim assented readily to the plan. They were accustomed to Aunt
Joan, each would have a companion, and anyway, anything was better than
living in a motel. Extra beds were made up, and Aunt Joan arrived with
her bag as usual.
Paul had seen the loop of red tubing that was protruding from the top of
the bag. Vacation with Aunt Joan involved three routine enemas - one on
arrival, one on the middle Saturday of her visit, and one just before
she left - and this was Saturday! He saw Jim's brow wrinkle in
puzzlement, and explained the situation.
"It's enemas tonight."
"No way. I'm not taking an enema - and definitely not from her. She can
just fuck off. I won't let her do it."
Paul felt himself staring to panic.
"NO. You'll end up getting it no matter what you do. Just let her do it.
It doesn't hurt."
"It hurt when she gave one to Sandy!"
"Look - a regular enema doesn't hurt at all, but if you get her riled
she'll make sure it hurts - just like she did with Sandy."
Jim looked doubtful.
"It must hurt. Getting loads of soapy water up your ass is bound to
Paul felt himself blush. He didn't even like admitting this to himself.
"Listen - if you just lay back and relax, an enema doesn't hurt at all.
In fact, it feels ....."
"It's hard to explain. It feels nice. Sort of like sex, but different.
Jim looked doubtful, but, remembering Sandy's howls of pain, he decided
that maybe it was better to submit when his turn came round.
The message didn't get to Sandy. The girls were marched to their room,
then the boys heard her angry voice, rising to a terrified pitch as the
tears started to flow.
"NO. Not another one. Not likely."
Paul and Jim giggled - this was almost as good as the time on the beach.
Then they jumped to their feet in surprise.
"BOYS. Get in here right now."
They rushed into the room, skidded to a halt, and then saw Sandy backed
into a corner, her face purple and streaked with tears as she
frantically raised her hands to fend off Aunt Joan, who glanced round at
them before turning her attention back to the terrified girl.
"OK, young madam. You can have it one of two ways. Either you get those
pants off and lie on the bed, or I'll take them off for you and the boys
will help - won't you, boys?"
The enormity of the threat silenced the girl for a moment, then she
shook her head.
"You wouldn't dare!"
Then the girl screeched in an agony of frustration and humiliation as
she suddenly realized that Aunt Joan was several times stronger than she
was - and twice as fast. The boys backed off as Sandy was
unceremoniously dumped on to the bed and her shorts and panties pulled
down and over her struggling feet.
"Keep still or..."
"BOYS. Grab a leg each."
Sandy howled in impotent rage as the boys pulled her legs high and wide,
lifting her butt off the bed and allowing Aunt Joan to insert two
pillows beneath. Sandy's head was against the wall, her body bent into
an arc by the pillows. She found that she could not move beyond a few
small wriggles, which rapidly ceased as Aunt Joan gestured to the boys
to pull harder on Sandy's legs.
They gazed in total fascination. Sandy had what seemed to be an enormous
amount of hair down below, but there was structure within it, two flesh
lips, parted by the position of her legs, revealing a strange wiggly
bit, and a deep orifice which gaped open at them. This was the secret
place - the place where pricks went - the part of a woman that neither
had really expected to make even a visual acquaintance with for several
years. And further back, her asshole, round, crinkly and brown, itself
partly opened up. Paul felt incapable of breathing, his heart pounding,
his temples throbbing, all of his body apparently on fire, his prick
thrusting at his undershorts, ignored in the sexual tension of the
They felt Sandy give up the struggle. Her body was tense, a steady
pressure on her captive legs as she sobbed in despair. Paul fully
expected the enema tip to be thrust deep into that little asshole, and
he could almost hear the agonized entreaties of the girl as Aunt Joan
held the bag high. He blinked in surprise when Aunt Joan's voice
softened as she spread cream on her hand and started to apply it to
"Now, just relax. This enema won't hurt a bit, I promise you. Relax..."
The fingers moved slowly back and forth, and Paul was astonished to feel
the tension on Sandy's legs slowly decrease as more and more cream was
applied and the fingers pushed more firmly.
Then, suddenly, Sandy stiffened as though an electric current had run
through her, and emitted a sort of gasping moan as one finger pushed a
little harder and slid smoothly into her anus. Paul gulped - the sight
was just about the sexiest thing he had ever seen as he tried to imagine
himself as Aunt Joan. His prick was so tender that he felt himself on
the point of coming, and looked away rapidly, fixing his gaze on a
distinctly un-erotic wall poster of a whale instead.
He looked back in time to see more cream being applied to the enema tip,
and realized that Aunt Joan had bought a new one - that didn't have a
plastic tip at all, just a blunt ended rubber tube with a small hole in
He felt, rather than heard, the effect of its insertion on the girl. She
seemed to move towards the intruding object, almost as though she were
trying to suck it inside her. Paul gripped the leg more firmly as he
felt it tremble from the intensity of the stimulation.
Aunt Joan made a real production of the enema. She took it slow,
stopping the flow as soon as Sandy showed the slightest sort of
discomfort, rubbing her stomach to disperse the liquid, slipping the
tube further in by small increments.
Paul's initial sexual excitement abated and was replaced by something
closer to curiosity as he struggled to understand what was happening to
the girl. She seemed to have peed herself a little - the hair around her
slit was wet - and a strange, musky scent rose from her body She wasn't
struggling any more, but her legs pushed rhythmically against him in a
slow gentle movement which became faster and more urgent as the enema
neared its conclusion.
Finally, Sandy was released and staggered on uncertain legs towards the
bathroom. Aunt Joan looked around and beamed.
"All right. Who's next?
Her eyes settled on Sue whose attempts at invisibility had not met with
much success. The young girl stood up slowly, her eyes on Jim, obviously
uncomfortable with the presence of a strange boy.
"Come on, dear. We haven't got all evening. Get your clothes off."
Just for a moment it looked as if Sue might object, but her mother's
control was just too strong. He shoulders sagged as she undressed and
stood, stooping and embarrassed, before slowly climbing on to the bed
and settling herself with her butt on the pillows, her legs drawn well
back, her face burning as she saw the interest of both boys.
Paul's bashfulness evaporated - maybe it was because Jim was there as
well - and he allowed himself to look at his young cousin. Under her
clothes, she was nothing like Sandy. Her breasts were just conical
lumps, and only a few straggly wisps of hair decorated the front of her
slit - even the lips were thin and undeveloped compared to the older
girl. Paul held Sue's legs as Aunt Joan applied another coating of
grease to the tube, then slid it smoothly into the girls open orifice.
The enema was different in other ways. Sue didn't object - she just lay
passively as the water was run in. In fact, from Paul's point of view
the whole thing was distinctly anti-climactic, just a little girl having
her bowels flushed like the hundreds of other times it had happened to
her. Paul was quite surprised to see that Jim had gotten quite excited -
he had moved behind Aunt Joan, and was holding the bulge in the front of
his pants, his hand almost absent-mindedly squeezing it slowly and
gently as his eyes gazed steadily at the scene.
It was soon over - Sue scampered off to the bathroom, followed by Aunt
Joan bearing the empty bag. Jim found his voice at last.
"Should we go to our room? I don't want anyone watching me."
Paul shook his head sadly.
"Just wait here. Aunt Joan will have decided already, and there's no
point in arguing with her."
Then, suddenly, the room was full again. The two girls were scrambling
into their clothes and Aunt Joan was hanging up the bag. Sue left to
make some coffee, and Jim suddenly found himself in the center of
"Your turn, young man. You've seen what to do."
Jim was shattered. Sandy was just standing there, with the sort of grin
on her face that you got when you came out of the dentist's office and
saw other kids waiting to go in.
"Tell Sandy to go away. I don't want my sister to watch."
Jim flinched as he found himself the recipient of several megawatts of
"Don't be so stupid. How on earth could you possibly be shy with your
sister, or anyone else in your family? Now just let us get on with it."
Jim sighed, then reluctantly stepped out of his pants and took his
position on the bed. He cast Paul an appealing glance which the boy
correctly interpreted as a request to act as support. He held Jim's legs
back as Aunt Joan spread grease on the tubing.
"Is this the first time you have had an enema?"
When Jim nodded, she handed the tube to Sandy.
"Just hold this for me, dear."
Jim groaned in absolute misery as he saw Aunt Joan spread a large lump
of grease on her index finger, terrified at what she was about to do. He
flinched at the contact of the cold lubricant and then felt her finger
start to gently rub the grease around his asshole.
Then, suddenly, Jim realized the reason for Sandy's behavior and what
Paul had said about the feelings he got. His asshole suddenly seemed to
have a mind of its own as it puckered tight under the stimulus, and a
strange, wonderful feeling started to grow. It was as though something
was thrusting rapidly away from that area, grounding all over his body.
He heard grunting, and it took a moment before he realized that he was
the source of the noise. His embarrassment was forgotten, and he hardly
even realized that his penis was erect. Jim just wanted this feeling to
go on for ever.
Then the finger paused for an instant, exactly in the center of his anus
and Jim wondered for a moment if his heart would stand the strain, then
slowly it wormed its way inside him, wriggling as it went in order to
spread the lubricant. Something seemed to burst, and then he was thrust
back to reality with the realization that there was a white fluid
pulsing from him.
Paul had watched the process with increasing concern and mounting
embarrassment - not for himself, but for his friend who was grunting and
jerking and eventually coming - right there in front of him. He felt Jim
relax, hardly able to react even when the tube was inserted, just lying
there, breathing heavily with a rapturous grin on his face.
Finally it was Paul's turn. He lay on his back and raised his legs, then
stiffened with alarm when he heard his aunt's voice.
"Why don't you do this one, Sandy. It won't be all that long before you
have children of your own, and you really need to know about this sort
Paul managed to hold himself steady. At least it was only the tube, not
a finger. He could not have borne that, not from a girl just a couple of
years older than he was. He hardly even felt the injection, so great
were the feelings of shame and embarrassment, let alone get a hard on.
He just lay still, gritted his teeth and waited for release.
When they went to the beach on the following day, Paul did not quite
know what to expect from Sandy. At the very least, he reckoned that she
would be pretty scornful, at worst she might make real fun of him in
front of everyone.
To his surprise, Sandy was actually quite friendly, the events of the
previous day seemingly forgotten. At least that was what he though,
until the two of them were in the sea up to their chests, and he felt
her hand groping at the front of his Speedos, feeling his prick. She
giggled as it responded to her hand, and squeezed harder, chuckling to
herself as she saw the shocked expression on his face.
It didn't end there. The next time, her hand actually slipped inside the
garment and made direct contact, administering a few rubs until he
desperately ducked under the water and swam away, praying that nobody
had noticed, staying in the water until the erection had subsided.
He could not even tell Jim what had happened. It seemed wrong to let him
know that his sister was feeling up his friend. It even cast a pall over
their jacking off at bedtime as they swapped erotic fantasies, working
each other up to a frenzy as they verbally embroidered ideas. Paul felt
guilty - the girl in his mind was not some anonymous fantasy female. It
was Jim's sister. Fantasy was fine, but when reality intruded into a
twelve year old mind it gave an uncomfortable feeling.
Sandy and Aunt Joan were getting on really well, boring the boys with
their grown-up talk. Their ears pricked up, however, when the talk
turned to enemas and Aunt Joan expounded at length on their therapeutic
"Everyone should take routine enemas - they help to keep you healthy.
And the occasional high enema or colonic does nothing but good."
The boys' eyes widened as Aunt Joan described what these treatments
involved. Paul shuddered at the thought of several feet of wide-bore
tubing being pushed deep into his body, and the process of alternate
filling and emptying through an inch thick tube that was involved in
taking a colonic seemed positively barbaric. Sandy lapped it all up,
asking detailed questions, her eyes shining at the thought of the
It was a few days later that the three young ones were sent ahead to the
"Off you go - Sandy and I have some things to do. No swimming until I
They thought nothing of it, until Sandy and Aunt Joan arrived an hour
later. The boys could see that something had happened - both of them
looked immensely pleased with themselves. Paul lagged behind with Sandy
as they walked back for lunch.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Come on, I know something was going on. Why were you looking so happy?"
Sandy stopped. The rest of the group was out of sight.
"If you tell my brother, I'll castrate you."
"Tell him WHAT?"
"I was curious about what Aunt Joan was talking about - you know, high
Paul was aghast. Surely not.
"Yes. I wanted her to give me one. It was awesome - like nothing you
could imagine. And afterwards, I felt wonderful - I never realized what
it was like to have every bit of waste matter flushed out of my body.
Aunt Joan liked..."
She stopped suddenly. An awful suspicion crashed into Paul's mind.
"You didn't? Did you?"
Sandy was now crimson, but she could not stop now - otherwise the boy
would blab to everyone.
"It seemed only fair. Aunt Joan asked me if I would give her one as
well... so I did. It was easy."
Paul stopped dead and then sat down beside the path, his brain reeling
under the overload that the thought of Aunt Joan baring her butt to
anyone was imposing on his credulity. She was an adult, not some kid to
have someone stick a tube up her asshole. But he had to know more about
what a high enema involved.
"Sandy. What exactly did she do?"
Girl and boy sat together as Sandy outlined the procedure. Paul was
surprised to find that she had lain on her side - it seemed a strange
position to him.
"Then she greased my butt and the whole of the tube. I thought I was
going to die when I saw how long it was, but she didn't put it all in at
once - just a little at a time while the water ran in."
Paul heard Sandy's voice become strangely husky as she talked about the
enema, then, to his amazement, Sandy stood up and pulled him away from
the path into some bushes and pulled his pants straight down to his
ankles, giggling happily as she saw his erect organ. He felt himself
becoming detached from the earthly plane as she hiked up her skirt and
removed her panties, then wrestled him to the ground.
She seemed like a wild creature as she grabbed at him while he lay
petrified on the ground. She grabbed his hand and thrust it towards her
"Do it. Oh, for God's sake do it. I feel so randy."
Paul had no idea of exactly what he was supposed to do, and simply
thrust a finger deep inside the girl.
"No. Not like that. Here...."
She placed her hand over his and guided his finger to a small, hard
lump, then moved it around to show him what to do. Paul was in heaven as
she pumped at his penis - this was incomparably more sensual than any
previous experience. The her hand stopped moving as Sandy tensed,
arching her back as incoherent words spilled from her mouth while she
flung herself around in spasms of ecstasy. Paul realized that his
fingers were all wet - and there was that smell again. He blushed as he
suddenly realized what had happened.
That session was never repeated - indeed it formed a barrier between boy
and girl, each ashamed of their loss of control, each avoiding contact
with the other.
After a week, Sandy's mom arrived back, and announced that her sister
was well again, and that they should start packing. Paul was puzzled,
then suddenly realized that the following Wednesday was the last day of
the month. He felt sad at the thought of his new friend departing so
suddenly and permanently.
Jim felt the same, and nagged at his mother.
"Mom, can Paul come to stay with us? Please? Pretty please."
And so it happened. Paul waved a happy farewell to his mother and Aunt
Joan as the car drew away. He whispered to Jim.
"Well, that got me out of an enema, anyway."
The two boys chuckled happily, unaware of the conversation of the
previous night when Aunt Joan had expounded at length on the benefits of
"It's particularly useful for teenage boys, you know. They get so
stupidly sensitive about their bodies - an enema a month makes sure that
you get to inspect them and make sure that everything is fine in that
region. Besides, it preserves the parent/child bonding and gives you the
opportunity to keep close to them."
And, in the trunk, nestled the new purchases.......