1951

by Tom
 
 A lot of things happened to me in 1951. I turned fourteen, for one thing. And sweets stopped being rationed - an amazing thing for a boy who had grown up in wartime England where confectionery was pretty low down in the list of priorities. My new status was confirmed by long pants - and the ability to look down on classmates who were still in grey shorts.

Not that we had suffered much in the war. Mummy was a teacher in a girls boarding school - a converted mansion way out in the country, and we lived in what had been the gatehouse. Daddy hadn't been in the army - he wouldn't tell me what he had done in the war - but now he was back teaching mathematics at the university. It was a good life, even if I did have to get the bus and travel ten miles to my school.

I changed physically too. I scared myself witless when some sticky stuff appeared when I enjoyed one of my frequent wanks - it took some discreet enquiries amongst the boys at school to find out what had happened.

Then there were the changes in my brain. I wasn't allowed to go into the school grounds but my

bedroom overlooked their playing fields. Thirteen years of indifference suddenly changed to acute interest and I spent happy hours with my small, dim telescope, rewarded with the occasional heart-stopping erotic glimpse of navy-blue serge knickers.

My relationship with dad changed too, mainly because he caught me with the telescope. At least my fly was buttoned - a few more minutes and things might have been very different. As it was, I turned round and started to blush when he opened my bedroom door. His deep voice was like doom.

"You dirty little bugger!"

I dropped the telescope and started to stammer - I really thought he was going to punish me severely. He had a funny, quirky smile on his face, though.

"So what's so interesting? Give me that telescope."

Then, to my amazement he knelt down at the window and focused it on the game of lacrosse and watched for quite a while. Then he handed it back to me.

"Not a word to your mother, eh? Women don't really understand about knickers."

Then he punched me affectionately and ruffled my hair before he left the room, leaving me speechless. I don't think I ever loved that guy more than I did at that moment, although it took a while before it sunk in that our relationship had changed forever - I was his son now, not his little boy, and he understood what was happening to me. Maybe he had a word with mum too - because next time she came to my room she knocked on the door and actually asked if she could come in!

The most momentous event was my first kiss. It was a put-up job, of course, a dare rather than a love affair, culminating in a brief, emotionless and sexless meeting of mouths behind the bike sheds at school. Still - it was a lot more than most of the other boys had got!

It was even more momentous than I had imagined at the time, because a couple of weeks later I came down with an awful sore throat, swollen glands and a fever. I felt truly dreadful, so much so that mum called the doctor, a man whose bedside manner had been developed by five years in the army into total brusqueness. He examined my throat, ignored my yell of pain when he dug his fingers into the glands on my neck, then felt my stomach. Then he just grunted.

"Glandular fever. No treatment. Bed rest and a light diet. Nobody ever died of it."

That might have been true, but it didn't stop me feeling that I was dying. I was weak as a kitten and I just had no energy for anything - even going to the bathroom was a major effort. My illness caused problems for my parents because both of them had full-time jobs. Dad refused to have anything to do with nursing me because his department was near the end of building some sort of calculating machine that would do sums at high speed - for all the use that would be to anybody!

That just left mummy. And, being a mother, she came up with a solution.

"Johnny - I've made arrangements with the school."

"You can stay home?"

"Well... Not exactly. I'm going to take you up there each morning and leave you in the sickbay.

Matron says she'll be happy to look after you during the day."

I couldn't believe anybody could be so unfeeling. She actually wanted me to walk up the drive in my pyjamas, slippers and a bathrobe! Even when I pulled my trousers over my pyjamas and put on a pullover, I still felt as though every eye in the world was focused on me as I scowled my way into the school and along polished wooden floors smelling of lavender to a dark oak door marked "Sanatorium". It was opened by a woman in a white dress who seemed to be totally indifferent to my humiliation.

"So this is your little boy, is it? Come in, Johnny - you'll be quite comfortable here."

Mum departed, leaving me in a small room fitted out with four metal- framed beds. To my horror, one of them was occupied. By a girl! Matron saw my glance of horror.

"This is Mary. Mary - say hello to Johnny."

"Hello."

"Mary has glandular fever too. You haven't been kissing her on the sly, have you?"

"NO! Of course not!"

She laughed.

"I'm only teasing. Now let's get you into bed."

She grabbed my pullover and hauled it over my head, then she started to unfasten my trousers. I backed away in horror, trying to dislodge her fingers, until I came into contact with the bed.

Matron stopped and fixed me with a steely gaze.

"For heaven's sake, boy, surely you're not such a baby that you're frightened of showing your pyjamas in public?"

It was a test of wills - and she won easily. I concentrated on holding my pyjama pants while she undid my trousers and pulled them down my legs. Finally I was reduced to complete and total embarrassment as I stood in my striped winceyette pyjamas in front of the girl. It was silly - I was covered - but it still made me feel naked.

Matron smiled then.

"There - that's not too bad is it? Pop yourself into bed while I get ready for you."

She vanished through an internal door, leaving me wondering what she meant. I found out when she opened the door again and beckoned me into the room. It was a typical medical room, fitted with scales and ruler for measuring pupils, an eye chart on the wall and one of those screens with a metal frame and a curtain stretched tight inside it.

There was also a stool beside the couch, bearing a white enamelled jug shaped like a cone. Resting on the top was what looked like a red rubber ball. The whole place stank of soap - not toilet soap, but soap soap, smelling just of itself.

"Come here."

I walked over to where she was standing beside the couch. Then I doubled up in shock as she suddenly pulled at the string of my pyjamas and the bow vanished. Within an instant she had hauled my pants down blow my knees and turned me round to face the couch.

"Rest your chest on the couch, Johnny."

I had no idea what was going on. She had seized control and I was suddenly at her mercy. I didn't even think of disobeying - in any case her hand pushed me into position.

Then came the unexpected, the unbelievable sensation of something being pushed up my bum. I had no idea what was going on until I suddenly felt something warm entering me - good god, she was pumping water in!

I didn't dare move. In fact, the sheer shock of what she was doing to me deprived me of the power of movement. I just held on to that couch for dear life while several slow, powerful, warm gushes of liquid were injected.

Then, at last, just as the stuff was starting to produce a violent stimulus and I was beginning to wonder if it would ever stop, she pulled out the nozzle and steered me through a door in the corner while I hauled my pants part way up to permit my legs to move at all.

"You can go to the toilet now."

I had no bloody option! There was a sudden squirt of hot liquid, then my whole insides gathered force and squeezed. I had no idea how much stuff there had been inside of me, but by the time the internal convulsions subsided, the toilet bowl was half full.

Matron seemed really pleased when she inspected what I had produced.

"My, my. You really did need that, didn't you? Better out than in, I always say - you'll feel much better now."

She didn't even let me clean myself up. She produced a flannel and actually washed my bum with it before she handed me a towel and let me dry myself. When I had my pyjamas done up again, she ushered me out of the torture chamber and back into the main room.

The first thing I saw was that Mary was apparently having a fit - shaking and rolling around on her bed. Then I realised that she was in fits of laughter. My humiliation was complete.

Matron frowned at Mary until her giggles subsided, then went back into the medical room. I lay down and turned my back to the girl and contemplated killing myself as she started to giggle again.

"Right, young madam, your turn now."

That got my attention all right! And Mary's too - she sat up in bed and stared at matron with an expression of horror on her face.

"But, matron..."

"Come along - let's have no nonsense from you. In here."

I don't think that I had ever seen a girl in pyjamas before. They revealed - or more accurately hinted at - a different shape. The seat of her pants was baggy and, for some reason that I couldn't understand, extremely erotic as she walked slowly into the treatment room.

The door closed firmly behind them and left me alone to come to terms with what had happened. My arsehole felt sore and I could still sort of feel the thing sticking in it. My stomach felt hollow and empty - and I did feel a bit better. It took me a few minutes to realise that my fatigue had meant that I had simply never felt like going to the toilet for the past couple of days - no wonder there had been a load inside of me. I felt somewhat sorry for the girl, but she had really asked for it by laughing at me - and it would do her good as well.

Mary seemed to be in the room for ages and ages before she finally emerged, walking stiffly with her eyes fixed straight ahead. Her dignity was somewhat reduced by the fact that she was holding her backside with one hand and her face was a puce colour as she passed my bed with no sign that she recognised my existence. I did feel sorry for her at that point as she climbed into bed, turned her back to me and faced the wall.

It wasn't really fair on her - she was only a girl after all and everybody knew that girls couldn't take it. They burst into tears at the slightest incident and while we played rugby or went on cross country runs in the freezing rain they learned to cook and sew. Useful for their future life, but not exactly needing any courage.

My opinion was confirmed as her body started to shake and I heard muffled sounds coming from her bed. Then she suddenly sat up and I realised that she was laughing again - peals of laughter until tears ran down her cheeks. She dried her face on the sheet and turned to face me.

"Oh lord! I just can't believe this!"

I gazed blankly at her. This just confirmed my belief that girls were completely illogical and emotional. She finally managed to speak again.

"I mean, I knew that matron would give me an enema - she always does - but I didn't think there would be a boy here getting the same thing."

That was a new word.

"Enema? Is that what it's called?"

She looked at me with an expression of disbelief.

"You didn't know? Haven't you ever had one before?"

"Of course not."

"But you must have. Everybody gets enemas."

"I don't."

Mirth bubbled up inside her and burst out again.

"It must have come as quite a shock then!"

I was getting used to her by now. She might be a girl, but she was also the same age as me and that provided a bond, however tenuous.

"It certainly did. I didn't know what was happening to me."

"Well, you'll know next time!"

That struck me as being vaguely ominous. I resolved to make sure that I didn't need another one - it was the daily dump from now on!

Mum collected me and took me home after school. She looked me over once we were in the house.

"You look better, Johnny."

"I feel a bit better."

She looked again. I hated it when she did that because she could just about read my mind.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. I couldn't meet her gaze and, as I looked away I knew that the game was up.

"Johnny...?"

"She made me have an enema."

I watched her face change from serious concern to amusement. Then the laughter exploded from her.

"Oh, you poor boy! An enema? Really?"

"Yes. She just took me into a room and gave me one."

Mum seemed highly amused.

"Well - you were bound to get one sooner or later, I suppose. Nobody goes without one for ever."

A horrible suspicion was forming in my brain.

"Mary said that everybody who goes to the sanatorium gets an enema from matron? Did you know I would get one?"

"Mary? Who is Mary then?"

"She's in the san with glandular fever as well. Answer my question - did you know?"

"Is this girl pretty then?"

"MUM! Don't keep changing the subject. Did you know I would get an enema?"

She sighed.

"You needed one. I told matron that your bowels hadn't moved for three days and she said that she would see to it. The answer is yes."

"Why didn't you TELL me?"

Mom sighed again.

"It was hard enough to get you to go there at all. If you'd known what was waiting for you then wild horses wouldn't have dragged you up that drive, would they?"

"I suppose not. What would you have done then?"

"I would have had to give you that enema myself - and you would have liked that even less than if matron did it, wouldn't you?"

I didn't need to answer that - the shock must have showed clearly on my face. Mum hugged me and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

"So it was all for the best really, wasn't it? You're not a child any more and I think we would both

have been very embarrassed if I had needed to do it."

I had to agree with that! However bad it was to get an enema from matron, I would have died from shame if mum had done it to me.

I went back to the sanatorium the following morning feeling pretty secure because I had made quite certain that my bowels moved before I left home. I got into bed without any embarrassment - I had got used to the idea that it was okay for my pyjamas to be on view. Mary was eating her breakfast from a tray - she pushed it away and pulled a face. I could understand why - it consisted of a fried egg on a slice of fried bread garnished with soggy fried bacon.

"I can't eat this!"

"Is that what you usually have for breakfast?"

"Sometimes we get kippers."

I hated kippers. I hated the smell of them, the sight of them and the taste of them. Suddenly I could actually smell the wretched things, my stomach heaved and I rushed through the treatment room and made it to the toilet just in time. I threw up my breakfast, last night's supper and I just kept on retching. Suddenly Mary rushed in and knelt beside me - her breakfast joined mine and started me off again.

Matron arrived as we were weakly climbing upright. The problem was obvious - the whole place reeked of vomit.

"Wash your mouths out with clean water, then back to bed with you."

I don't think either of us had any idea what Matron was going to do. I certainly felt too miserable with the state of my stomach and the awful after-taste in my mouth to do anything more than lie back and massage my stomach muscles to ease the effects of their violent activity.

"Johnny. Come in here please."

I knew it was going to be another enema. I just didn't know that there was more than one kind. As soon as I went into the room, I saw a white enamelled metal cab standing on a shelf above the couch and a long dark red length of rubber tubing attached to it. It was obvious where the tube was going to go, but I couldn't quite work out the rest of it. Determined to show that a boy could take it, I walked over to the couch, dropped my pants and bent over.

"No dear, take your pyjama trousers right off."

I didn't much like that idea - I had gotten pretty sensitive about females of any age seeing my development in front, but she had me trapped and I certainly wasn't going to get into an argument that I would end up losing anyway. I felt awkward and embarrassed and I kept my back towards her as I shuffled my feel out of my pants and prepared to bend over again.

"Not like that, Johnny. Get up on the couch and lie on your side for Matron."

That was shit! But I did as she said and allowed her to fold up my legs with the top one almost to my chest and the lower on bent less than that. It forced me into a twisted position with my chest on the couch and the feeling of cool air informing me that she now had wide-open access to my bum hole.

"You're full of poisons, Johnny, so I'm going to get rid of them for you."

I twisted round so that I could see her face.

"How?"

The answer crashed in on me when I saw what she had in her hand. This tube didn't have a nozzle - just a rounded end - and I guessed why immediately. I turned back to the couch and stared at the leather while I braced myself for what was coming my way.

"Don't worry, this isn't painful. Just a really good wash out to get rid of toxins."

I suppose she must have had a lot of practice, because the tube was up my bum before I even realised it was on the way. I didn't like it at all - the liquid produced vague pains inside of me almost as though it was trying to drill its way out, my balls felt tender and my willy felt heavy, like

I needed to pee. The enema seemed to last for hours and I felt increasingly restless as it proceeded. I couldn't work it out - it was as though I needed to do something - but I had no idea what it was.

Finally I breathed a sigh of relief as matron extracted the tube and released me for the dash to the toilet. Whatever else, it had sure taken my mind off feeling sick!

Poor Mary was looking scared when I finally limped from the room.

"You were a long time, Johnny."

I nodded.

"She gave me it lying down and she took ages."

Mary grimaced.

"Oh. One of those..."

"MARY. Come in now!"

Mary threw back the sheets and wearily trudged towards the treatment room. I felt a pang of sympathy for her - they shouldn't give an enema like that to a dog, let alone a boy or girl. I still felt restless - my mind kept going back to what matron had done to me - and I sat down in the chair beside my bed while I tried to work out why I felt so odd. Then there was an ominous rumbling inside of me, a loud gurgling, followed by the certainty that if I didn't get to a toilet really soon then I was going to do it in my pants. I jumped up and ran to the room, then hammered at the door.

"I need the toilet! NOW!"

"WAIT."

There was a rattling noise and then matron called out again.

"All right - you can come in now."

I opened the door to find that she had positioned the screen around the couch to conceal Mary from view. I didn't pay that much attention - my mind was centred on the toilet and my desperate efforts to retain the liquid were beginning to fail. I ran in, closed the door and sat down, then a jet of liquid shot out. It was like diarrhoea squared - it left me gasping, sore but relieved.

I cautiously opened the door. The screen was still in place, but the curtain did not quite fill the aperture and through the narrow gap I got a glimpse of a slim, white backside penetrated by an orange-red length of rubber tube.

I was thunderstruck, rooted to the spot. For a boy whose previous most erotic experience was a momentary glimpse of navy-blue school knickers at a distance of a hundred yards, the sight was overwhelmingly sexual. I paused there for as long as I dared while my willy stood to attention and my heart pounded fit to burst. Then I took flight, holding me erection inside the fly of my pyjama pants, closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall until my head ceased to spin.

I had no option. Sheer animal passion had me firmly in its grip. I grabbed a towel and held it in front of me with one hand while I wanked myself off with the other. My climax came almost immediately and several days accumulation of stuff shot out of me in the most powerful and prolonged ejaculation of all time.

I had to lie down after that! I climbed into my bed, lay on my back and closed my eyes, then visualised that wonderful sight of Mary's naked bum. My own hole could remember the feeling of accommodating the enema tube and that added sensation to vision. I heard myself groan as I reached for the towel and repeated the wank, prolonging it while I put myself in matron's position and inserted the tube myself into the uncertain area between those pale, feminine cheeks.

I drifted off to sleep after that - I woke at lunchtime to a mercifully bland collation of chicken and vegetables that sat easily on my stomach. Mary asked for a chess set and proved to be at least as good as me - I had to try my hardest to win one out of three games. Maybe I would have won them all except for the fact that she was sitting on the other side of the board and taking almost all of my attention. She really was rather pretty, her hair was loose, her robe reminded me of what was underneath it and I had to use the toilet again a couple of times during the afternoon when the vision of her bum and that tube swam into my mental view.

The rest of the week was uneventful in terms of matron. We were allowed out of bed and she provided several board games for us to play. By Friday, I was deeply in love - and my time was running out. After lunch, matron took our temperatures and pulses and went through a scary ritual involving our tongues and eyes before nodding to herself.

"I think you two are fit to be discharged. You'll need another week off school, but you're both on the mend."

I felt disappointed. This meant the end of seeing Mary - the girls were kept firmly inside the school and its grounds. I tried to look feeble.

"I still feel a bit poorly, matron."

To my surprise, Mary chimed in.

"So do I."

Matron smiled. An uncomfortable, ominous smile from my point of view.

"Well then, we'll just have to see about that, won't we."

She disappeared into the medical room and Mary and I looked at each other. She grimaced.

"Oh Lord! I think we're in for another enema."

I nodded. I couldn't speak. The memory of the previous session combined with my new easy friendship for Mary and produced an immediate hard on. I quickly gathered my dressing gown around me to conceal the bulge and prayed for release.

Matron surfaced and beckoned to me.

"Come along, Johnny. Soon have you feeling better."

I now had a major problem. Inspiration dawned.

"Ladies first."

Matron shrugged.

"Whatever you like. Mary - come in please."

That left me the opportunity to relieve myself into the towel. I wanked in the corner of the room, out of line of sight of the windows and sighed with relief as I deflated afterwards. Disaster was avoided.

Mary surfaced after half an hour and I took her place in the room. The couch was still warm from her body - I could feel exactly where her torso and limbs had lain and smell her odour close to my nose. Disaster, so narrowly averted, returned with a vengeance and I felt my willy growing, pushing against the cool leather of the couch.

"Here we are, Johnny. A nice warm enema for my favourite boy."

It was agony! I strained to control myself as she slid the tube into my bum and the desire to spurt all over the couch became close to irresistible. Somehow I managed to hold myself back, but the slow infusion of liquid took me closer and closer to abject disgrace.

Then I heard Mary hammering at the door and realised that she too had got a second lot of liquid to dispose of. Matron rattled the screen into position and continued with my enema as Mary hurried into the small toilet cubicle.

I heard it flush and then the door opened. I heard Mary stop and suddenly it dawned on me that she was in the very same location where I had paused - and she was probably looking through the same aperture that had started the whole thing off with me. She was looking at my bare bum, at the tube inside me - and she wasn't making any move to get out of the room.

The funny thing was that I didn't feel embarrassed or humiliated. Quite the opposite - it made me feel incredibly sexy to know that a girl was looking. Matron turned round towards the screen.

"Mary - is there anything wrong?"

I raised my head as well and I could see her face - her eyes anyway - glued to the aperture.

"I thought I might need the toilet again."

"Nonsense. Off you go."

It was all too much. I felt the unmistakable signs of an impending climax. As Mary left the room, I gathered myself up, pulled the tube out of my bottom and leapt for the toilet. The screen fell with a clatter and matron yelled as the rest of the enema solution sprayed from the end of the tube.

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it as I came without even touching myself. I hastened to sit on the toilet and release the enema before matron entered. She looked concerned.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I got this huge pain. I just had to go to the toilet."

She looked slightly abashed.

"It was my fault, I'm afraid. I wasn't paying attention - I was more concerned with Mary."

I breathed easier.

"Oh, that's all right. I feel fine now."

When I had finally drained the last instalment of liquid from my innards, I returned to the san.

Now I was embarrassed. The sexiness had worn off and just left me with the realisation that she had seen my bum in a rather intimate activity. To make it worse, she grinned cheekily at me, which annoyed me considerably. I glowered at her.

"You were looking at me. That's not nice."

I expected her to be ashamed, but she just stuck out her chin defiantly.

"Why not? You looked at me. So it's only right if I look at you."

Then she giggled.

"Besides - you've got a really nice bottom. It was worth a look."

I felt stunned. Girls just didn't talk like that. As she just sat and grinned, I began to understand that she wasn't like the timid and giggly creatures at the grammar school - she had a sort of superiority that made me feel abashed. It wasn't right, but I didn't see what I could do about it.

So I sulked.

Fat lot of good that did! She just laughed at me.

"Who's a little baby boy then? Who's got a nice little botty boo?"

"Shut up!"

"No! You would think you had the only bum in the world. It's not copyright, you know.

Everybody's got one."

"You're disgusting."

She just laughed. Then, to my absolute horror, she picked up the towel between two fingers and held it well away from her body while she carried it to the hamper for soiled linen. I couldn't say anything, of course, because that might have given the game away, but she left me wondering.

She couldn't know about that. Could she?

Back home, life was suddenly dull. I missed her, not least because I had nobody to play games with. I walked over the fields to call on my best friend, George - I wanted news from school and I needed to get out of the house anyway. I listened to the gossip from school, then I broached the subject of what had happened to me - Mary seemed to think it was an everyday occurrence.

"Hey, George, guess what happened to me. That matron took me into a room, stuck a tube up my bum and pumped me full of soapy water!"

He just shrugged.

"Yeah. You got an enema. So?"

"So I never had one before then."

This time his face showed astonishment.

"You must have. Everybody gets them."

So she was right!

"You never told me you had them!"

He shrugged again.

"Why should I? I don't tell you if mum gives me some cough medicine or something like that. I didn't know you had never had one."

I could still hardly believe it.

"I wouldn't let my mother stick something up my bum!"

He seemed rather pleased with himself.

"Oh, she doesn't - not any more..."

I felt relieved, but he wasn't finished.

"...I got a bit embarrassed last year and I said that I didn't like her doing it. So she showed me how, and now I do it myself."

"You're kidding!"

"No - honest. When she thinks I need an enema, Mum makes up the soapy water - she says that I would probably make it too strong or too hot - then I take it into the bathroom and syringe myself."

My face must have betrayed my doubt because he dragged me into the bathroom and opened the cupboard underneath the sink to reveal one of those bulb pumps lying curled up in a white enamelled bowl and a jug of the same material beside it.

"See - she leaves it in here for me to use."

I gingerly picked the syringe up. It felt strange, warm to the touch with the tubes at the ends bouncing as I lifted it. Sure enough - it was the genuine article, right down to the shaped black nozzle. My hand didn't want to release it but I forced my fingers to open and dropped it back in the bowl where it rolled round as though it were a living creature and the black nozzle tinkled against the metal.

"What about Pete and Sally? Do they do it themselves?"

They were George's kid brother and sister. Pete was twelve, in the second form at grammar school while Sally was ten and still in the juniors. George shook his head in satisfaction.

"Of course not. Pete wants to, but mum says that I was thirteen when I started to do it myself, so he has to wait until then. Sally doesn't care - she just lets mum do it."

Pete was well grown for his age and I had a shrewd suspicion why he didn't like his mother taking his pants down.

"Poor Pete!"

George laughed.

"I suppose so, but he certainly likes his enemas. When mum and dad are out he sneaks into the bathroom and squirts himself full of water."

You have to remember that this was England, 1951, a full decade before the "Swinging Sixties" finally acknowledged the existence of sex and made it respectable. As a fourteen year old boy (teenagers hadn't been invented either), I was classed as a child, an innocent to be protected from any contact with information, let alone pictures or films - television had just started and was confined to operatic arias and news broadcasts.

Nothing was ever said at school, of course. We existed in a Victorian atmosphere where the most advanced publications were the National Geographic - although the library stuck tape over the unsuitable illustrations, you could still buy the uncensored version and pass it round the school. There was also "Health and Efficiency" - suitably airbrushed to the extent that I actually

believed that women's fronts were totally flat and featureless. In terms of literature there was "Rovering to Success" by Lord Baden-Powell, with coy drawings of stags in rut, emphasis on the absolute necessity of the "daily rear" and coded warnings of the dire results of "self-pollution" without explaining what it was. For a while I really believed, due to a dictionary definition of "pollution" that it was either farting or messing your pants.

We all knew what wanking was, and we all felt suitably guilty about it. To accuse another boy of the practice was a deadly insult, an invitation to a playground fight and, more often than not an encounter with the headmaster's cane. I didn't think of this when I spoke.

"What about you, George? I bet you sneak the odd enema too!"

He went beetroot red and changed the subject pretty fast. Still - now I knew, didn't I?

Finally I made a suggestion to mum, who occasionally entertained selected girls to Sunday lunch.

"Mum, why don't you invite Mary this Sunday?"

She looked at me in mock surprise.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Mum, please."

Oh god - she was in a teasing mood.

"Is this the start of a great romance then?"

"Forget it. I don't care."

She grinned and ruffled my hair - something else I had started to hate.

"All right. I'll invite her and a couple of her friends."

For once, dad was home - and not best pleased to have guests. He grumbled but when they arrived he was pretty nice to them. I enjoyed myself - I had acquired a certain notoriety from my stay in the sanatorium and the girls were in good form. Afterwards, dad was excited.

"You didn't tell me the girl was Mary Telford!"

Mum and I both looked blank. Dad got exasperated.

"Do you know who her grandfather is? Sir Joe Telford, no less!"

"Who?"

"The man who owns all those shops! He's filthy rich and we've been trying to interest him in installing one of our new designs."

My brain had started to hurt.

"DAD! What are you talking about?"

"A computer."

"A WHAT?"

"Computer. A machine that does hundreds of sums every second. We need somebody to take the first step and install one so that everybody can see what a difference it will make. Just think - you could work out all of the wages in less than an hour!"

"So what?"

"So you make more money and become even filthier richer, my boy. I wish I could meet him."

"Mary said he's coming to see her tomorrow."

Frankly, I was disgusted with dad. He got his way and Sir Joe took tea with us while dad just went on and on and on about his bloody computer. The odd thing was that Sir Joe listened to him with interest and ended up by promising to visit the university so that he could actually see the machine in operation. Eventually the great man came over to me and looked me up and down.

"So you have the same bug as that granddaughter of mine, eh?"

I was struck dumb by his sheer force of personality. Mary punched Sir Joe.

"Leave him alone, gramps. He's shy and you're embarrassing him."

He snorted and I wilted under his gaze.

"He's just as pale and weak as you are. Maybe more so."

"I told YOU that, gramps."

Sir Joe snorted again and turned to my parents.

"Fact is, I'm sending my granddaughter out to my place in Spain to get some sun and fresh air. I told her that the boy wouldn't want to go anywhere as silly as that, but she insists that I invite him too. He won't want to go, of course."

This time Mary actually kicked him.

"GRAMPS. Stop teasing - he doesn't know if you're serious or not."

I opened my mouth to accept the invitation - but mum got in first.

"It's very kind of you, Sir Joe, but we couldn't possibly impose on you to that extent. Thank you all the same."

Sir Joe leaned forward and spoke confidentially - but made sure that I could hear.

"Fact is, this little minx seems to have taken a shine to the boy. Can't think why - but she has.

Now she says she won't go unless he goes too. So how about it? It would be much appreciated if you would give your consent."

Dad cleared his throat.

"Darling, it's so kind of Sir Joe, and we don't want to upset young Mary, do we?"

I held my breath as mum softened. I knew why dad was being so nice and so did she, but I didn't much care. Finally she spoke.

"Well.... I suppose so. We'll pay his fare, of course, and if you give us an idea of his board we'll happily recompense you."

"Wouldn't hear of it m'dear. I'll take it out of Mary's inheritance, eh?"

Mum looked shocked, apparently impervious to his grin and wink.

"Oh no... I couldn't possibly allow you to do that!"

"Only joking, m'dear. He's my guest and I'll look after everything."

Mum still looked doubtful, but I reckon dad would have given his consent if Sir Joe had intended to hang, draw and quarter me. So it was settled.

Then I had to get a passport. The photograph shows me as a sort of vacant, grinning idiot - a fairly accurate depiction of my mood. I had never been anywhere on holiday and nobody I knew had ever been abroad to a real foreign country. All I knew about Spain was that they grew oranges there - a fruit still scarce and expensive enough for one to be shared by a whole family.

Orange juice was obtainable only for babies - it wasn't on general sale even then.

My cup ran over when I discovered that we were going to Spain in an aeroplane! Even dad had never been in a plane. Nobody in the whole town had ever been in one apart from those in the RAF. And the plane - it was absolutely immense - big enough to hold thirty people! The other shock was that Mary was wearing trousers - this was almost unheard of and women were refused entry to restaurants and theatres if they turned up in trousers. Mary seemed totally indifferent to the stares she received while I positively drooled over how daring and sexy she was.

I was surprised when Sir Joe, who drove us to the aerodrome, didn't get on the plane. We were going to travel all that way on our own! We collected our packs of sandwiches and took our seats. Then the engines fired up - both of them - with flames coming out of the exhaust pipes.

The whole plane vibrated and rattled, then it started to move and rose smoothly into the air. I couldn't believe it - we were a mile above the ground, roaring south to Sunny Spain!

I wasn't so impressed when we landed. It smelled of garlic and oil and fish and sweat. I didn't much like the look of the lady who collected us either - Donna Maria. She was big and smelly and wore a thick black dress even in the sunshine and the car was ancient. It wheezed and rattled along until we came to the house - a large white building just beside the sea.

It soon became obvious that Donna Maria had a suspicious mind. Mary had a room on the ground floor, overlooking the garden, while I was led to the very back of the house and up two flights of stairs to my room by a maid called Christina. I quite liked her - she was fairly young and she laughed a lot. I hung up my clothes and changed into a shirt and khaki shorts, then I went down to explore Spain. They had palm trees! And oranges!

I slept right through under the influence of the journey and the excitement. I was awakened by the clattering of the shutters and the sudden blinding light as Christina threw them wide open.

She left my room, then returned with a small stepladder which she opened and stood by my bed.

My bafflement was resolved when she went out again and fetched a familiar apparatus - a stone jar connected to a rubber tube.

"What are you doing?"

She flashed a smile at me.

"Donna Maria she had the cablegram from England. It say you have to have this."

I groaned out loud. Matron could still influence events even at a distance of a thousand miles!

For a moment it I considered refusing, then I looked into Christina's deep brown eyes and changed my mind. This was a girl, not an old stick like matron or Donna Maria and my heart started to pound as the implications dawned on me.

"Oh. All right then."

I undid the cord in my pyjamas and rolled on to my side. I heard Christina giggle, then she stuck the nozzle up my bum like she was harpooning a whale! The sensation paralysed me - all I could do was to make a sort of strangled noise as my whole psyche was invaded with the sweet sensation. I think it was at that point that I stopped pretending that an enema was a sexual experience - I breathed deeply and settled down to enjoy it, except that in my mind it was Mary who was applying the tube to my bum while I savoured her most intimate attentions and wondered what her tits looked like.

It didn't last nearly long enough - Christina just poured the warm liquid in without the delicious pauses that matron had used to let me become accustomed to the volume. Still - it was pretty good and when it was finished I leapt out of bed, headed for the bathroom and wanked myself into near insensibility.

Mary was unhappy at breakfast - she just picked at her food. I didn't care to ask what the problem was - I had learned, without really knowing the cause, that girls had off-days when they bit your head off for no reason at all. She saved her tears for when we got outside the house.

"That bitch!"

"Who?"

"Donna Maria, of course."

I tried to sound nonchalant.

"Oh - you got an enema from her, did you?"

Suddenly she was in my arms and sobbing.

"It wasn't just an enema. I got it in both places. She used some awful red stuff and it's still stinging like blazes."

"Both places?"

"You know - my bum and the other place. My baby-passage."

She placed her hand to her crotch and indicated with her finger while she winced at the pain.

God - I was just SO embarrassed! I was dimly aware of the place in question - it was where you stuck your willy - but to hear a girl even admit to its existence shocked me to the core.

"Mary - why don't we go for a swim? The water might soothe you."

She sniffed, nodded and ran towards her room. I did the same, put on my swimming trunks and rushed back out in time to see Mary wearing her costume and plunging into the sea. I joined her and we waded out until the water was halfway up our chests. Mary sighed.

"That's wonderful! Is anybody looking?"

I glanced round at the house.

"No. Why?"

"Stand behind me so that they can't see what I'm doing."

I was mystified, but I did as she said. Then she stooped and pulled at her costume and I realised that she had loosened it so that the water could get right to the spot. She remained stooping slightly, her back to me, her hands moving as she fanned the water over herself.

"Oh... that's wonderful....so cooling..."

I couldn't see anything, of course - not only was her back to me but she was almost completely under the water - but just the thought was enough to kindle the fires inside of me. I reckoned that I didn't really understand Mary at all - maybe posh girls were less shy than the ones that I knew at school.

"OH! Oooh!"

Her body was shaking and her arm was moving faster.

"Are you all right, Mary?"

She didn't answer. She just kept on moving for a while then she let out a huge sigh. Then we waded back to the beach and reached for our towels. I repeated my question.

"Are you all right?"

She looked curiously satisfied. She nodded.

"Yes. I knew boys did it, but I didn't know it worked for girls too."

"What are you talking about?"

"Playing with yourself - like you did in the san under the sheets."

"OH NO! You knew?"

She shrugged.

"I've always known that. The gardener's boy does it all of the time - I can see him from my bedroom at home, hiding in the bushes and rubbing himself. I just didn't know girls could do it as well."

I leapt up and headed for the sea before I disgraced myself. Mary ran after me and we plunged into the waves and swam for a while - until my willy deflated, in fact!

Finally we sat in the sea and let the waves break over our bodies. Mary looked me straight in the eye and my heart almost stopped.

"You can do it if you like."

I got a mouthful of sea water as my jaw dropped with the shock. When I had finished spluttering, Mary was still laughing.

"Anyway - I'm going to do it again. It was wonderful."

We waded back out for the sake of modesty and gazed out across the Mediterranean Sea as we separately but together satisfied our animal desires.

Mary seemed to undergo a complete change after that. We changed back into our clothes for lunch. Donna Maria stood and supervised while Christina spooned some sort of stew on to plates. Mary stared at it and then beckoned to Donna Maria.

"This is not fit to eat. How dare you put rubbish like this in front of me?"

I tried to become both microscopic and invisible as I waited for the world to end. Donna Maria walked over and looked at the plate.

"Is good food. You eat."

I instinctively grabbed a spoon but Mary struck my hand aside.

"Don't eat it. Donna Maria - what meat is this?"

"Beef. Best beef."

Mary picked up a piece on her spoon. It was pretty gristly stuff, but it looked fine to me. She held it out.

"I have no doubt that the bill will say best beef - but that isn't what you have served. No doubt the butcher and you will pocket the difference."

"Senorita Mary... I swear..."

"Take this away and bring something edible. I have a good mind to cable Sir Joe immediately."

That was when I first realised what it meant to be a servant. Donna Maria actually curtsied to Mary, gathered up the plates and scuttled away with an expression of fear on her face. I really didn't like Mary at that moment, but she was completely unaware how I felt.

"They're all the same, you know. You have to watch them like hawks or they'll rob you blind."

"But what was wrong with it?"

She gazed at me like I was an infant.

"It was horsemeat! She took me for a fool, and I won't put up with that - she would have got the money to pay for beef and served us up with the remains of some donkey that died of old age!"

I felt acid rise up in my throat at the thought of eating a horse. Donna Maria fetched a ham salad that met with Mary's approval and apologised continuously until Mary dismissed her with a wave of her hand. I realised that the woman was actually afraid of losing her job - that was real power!

I thought it was pretty cowardly of her until I remembered how dad had behaved with Sir Joe. It was all down to money, wasn't it?

Mary certainly seemed to have changed her personality, or maybe she was just as obsessed as I had been when I discovered that my willy wasn't just for seeing who could pee highest up the wall. She wasn't blatant about it - she just kept disappearing and then returning with a smile on her face.

Dinner was positively sumptuous and Mary seemed pleased with it, although I found it difficult to eat the meat. It was all red and bloody - raw in fact - and I just could not bring myself to do more than swallow it quickly. I mean, proper meat is grey , not red.

I woke early the following morning in a state of considerable tension, wondering if Christina would appear with the perfect start to my day. I was rewarded eventually by the sound of footsteps and the rattle of the ladder, but I decided to pretend that I was asleep, just to see what would happen.

I lay immobile as she approached the bed.

"Senor Juan?"

I did not move a muscle. Then I tensed as I felt the sheet being drawn down. Her hands fumbled at my waist and I prayed that she did not notice as I moved slightly to enable her to pull my pants down. It was an eerie feeling to lie their with my eyes closed, knowing that a woman - girl - was seeing my erect willy. I heard a soft giggle.

"Senor Don Juan!"

Then came the faintest, most delicate touch on the most delicate part of my anatomy.

"Senor?"

I did not move. She giggled again and then her fingers touched me harder and I felt the skin being pulled back... and forward...

I had my limits. As she wanked me I could no longer pretend to be unconscious. She had no shame at all - she just grinned at me and kept on with what she was doing until I could hold it no longer and succumbed to the joys of the first climax that I had not procured myself. It was an exhausting orgasm - eventually I just lay there, breathing slowly, waiting for my heart to slow down and my head to stop pounding.

"Is good."

She seemed satisfied - I, of course, was much more than merely satisfied! Then she reached for the tube.

"Now the other end."

I didn't understand at first as she folded my legs back against my chest. Then I yelled with surprise and delight as she fed the tube into my bum and then folded my legs down again. I had never imagined that you could get an enema lying flat on your back!

The sensation was different. I tried to curl up, but Christina gently forced my legs down again, then she started to rub my stomach. The twin sensations were irresistible and my willy found a new lease of life, stood up and paid attention. Christina raised her eyebrows.

"Ole!"

I groaned with sheer sensual pleasure as the warm liquid slowly forced itself deeper and deeper into my body. Then Christina suddenly stooped down and my heart just about stopped as her hands went inside of her dress and then descended to push her knockers down to the floor.

I wondered if I had died during the night as she hiked her skirt up to her waist, climbed on to the bed and straddled me. She was hairy - I never knew that happened to girls - and she exuded an odour that drove me mad with desire.

Then it happened. Her body descended onto mine and my willy was forced into a warm, moist tube of flesh. I was doing it! Really doing it! My bowels were distended with liquid which was sending out signals of pleasure while the flesh enfolding me started to move up and down, adding a second, different, layer of ecstasy. My body knew what to do - even on my back it started to love of its own accord, thrusting and bucking while the nozzle in my bum moved simultaneously.

Perhaps it was just as well that she had already wanked me off becaue I wanted to come but I just couldn't - not for what felt like an eternity of twin pleasures. It happened eventually - I saw flashes of light before my eyes and it was just as well that my room was isolated, otherwise the whole house would have heard the noises which forced themselves from my throat.

I still don't know for certain why she did it, but I suspect that she was subject to pretty strict chaperoning when she was near any boy her own age. I was there, I was available and I certainly was lucky!

I took a long, hot bath to recover, then I went down to breakfast with a spring in my step. I smiled happily at Christina who was serving at table and Mary must have sensed something, because she abruptly turned to Donna Maria.

"I think it's insulting to banish Senor John to the back of the house. Have his things moved to the room next to mine."

"But, senorita..."

"Just do it. And no more enemas for him either. This has all gone quite far enough - we aren't invalids."

Donna Maria opened her mouth, closed it again and then nodded.

"As the senorita desires."

And that was that. No more Christina. No more delicious penetrations, either giving or receiving. Shit! In fact, the rest of the holiday was pretty good and most of the time I was just too busy or too tired to think of sex.

The end of my stay made me pretty sad. My final night there, I sat in my room, my bags packed, remembering the good things and wondering if and when I would see Mary again. That brought back a memory of Christina - and that triggered the inevitable erection. I hastily stuffed it back into my pyjama pants as the door to my room opened, then I felt real awkward as Mary just breezed in. I turned my back and pretended to be interested in the view. It didn't fool her.

"You were doing it! You've been doing it every night. I heard you."

"So what?"

"So show me. I've never seen it close up and after today I don't suppose I ever will."

"What about the gardener's boy?"

"He goes in the bushes. I sometimes see him jumping about, but not the actual details. Come on - show me."

My willy deflated like a punctured balloon.

"I can't. It's stopped working."

"Show me."

I didn't mind that too much - maybe it would get her off my back. I didn't exactly show her - I just pulled the front of my pants tight and prodded the obviously floppy thing underneath.

"See - it doesn't want to!"

"Take your pyjamas off."

"Steady on, Mary!"

"Don't you understand? I'm going to be in that bloody nunnery for years. I'll never get another chance. Half the girls have got brothers and I'm sick of their superior airs just because they've seen something that I haven't."

I sighed and decided to treat it as an educational experience. I still felt stupid when I was standng there in my birthday suit while she looked me over - it was like one of those stupid school medicals where a naked line of boys had to shuffle past a nurse who weighed and measured us and a bored chain-smoking doctor who made sure that you had the right number of everything from a distance of several feet.

I sighed - it really was getting boring.

"See - it isn't in the mood."

Then my jaw dropped. Mary bent down and in one smooth movement pulled her nightdress over her head and let it drop on the floor. I could not tear my eyes away from the sight - it was a first for me too - and my willy immediately shot upright and demanded attention. Mary grinned.

"NOW it's working. Get on with it."

No way could I not do it! She watched dispassionately as I wanked myself to an almost immediate climax, then looked at the drops of stuff on the floor.

"So that's it?"

"Yes."

I reached for my pyjamas, but she held up a hand.

"I'm going to give you an enema now. You need one before you go back home."

She put her nightdress back on and fetched the stuff - she had left it just outside the door.

"You know what to do."

Another offer that I could not resist. I lay on the bed and waited with bated breath while she fussed around with the tube. She made a real pig's ear of getting it in - she had no idea at all - and her fumbling and probing drove me almost insane with the sheer sensuality of the contacts before she finally got it in place. She was better at regulating the flow - I suppose she had had enough enemas herself to understand that you didn't just let the stuff gush into the victim's bottom.

It must have been the fact that I had just had a wank. I wanted to come, but I just couldn't. My balls felt like they had swollen to the size of apples, my willy was sending pleading messages to the rest of my body and I felt as though I were going mad. I simply couldn't take it any more - I grabbed myself and used my hand to take me into a dry but prolonged set of convulsions.

Mary sniffed and pulled the nozzle out.

"Well!"

I didn't reply. I had to get to the bathroom. Fast!

When I finished, Mary had vanished - so I went to her room and peered in. She was sitting up in bed, looking like nothing had happened.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering - do you need an enema too?"

"Good heavens, Johnny. Boys don't give enemas - that's why nurses are all women. Off you go now - get a good night's sleep."

I was dismissed. I hated her at that moment.

Still, I managed a sort of revenge when we got back home. Matron collected us from the station in the school car. She asked how we were feeling and if we had been good children. That was my cue.

"Well - I took my enemas. But Mary said she didn't want one."

Matron stiffened visibly.

"Is that so? Well, young lady, we'll just have to make up for lost time, won't we?"

Mary might have been a queen with the servants, but she just shrank back into her seat at those words. I grinned and she looked like she wanted to kill me - but her fate was sealed.

I got the usual things when I finally got home. How much I had grown and what a wonderful tan I had acquired. And how I could go back to school. Dad was happy though - Sir Joe had given the University a contract to build a prototype computer, so dad was getting promoted. Professor

dad, eh?

I didn't tell the boys at school about what had happened in Spain. They wouldn't have believed me and they would have blabbed all over the place about what I had said anyway. I gave George a knife made out of real Toledo steel - that really made him happy.

I was soon back in the routine of school, my days filled with getting up early, schoolwork, homework and bed. No time to think, let alone do anything. I left it about a month for Mary to cool down before I suggested to mum that she should invite her round. Mum seemed curiously reticent.

"I'm afraid I can't, Johnny."

"Why not?"

"Mary isn't at the school any more."

"Why?"

Mum shook her head.

"She misbehaved rather badly. In fact, three girls were expelled."

"What did they do?"

I didn't get an answer. So I could make a fair guess.

At school, George was finding maths pretty difficult. We were doing quadratic equations in algebra and he just didn't seem to be able to get the hang of them. He even managed to get nought out of ten for his homework - and that meant a bad report card to take home. Next day he looked really miserable.

"Mum says I have to stay home until I get a better report. Everybody else is going to town on Saturday to do their Christmas shopping, but I have to stay in and work at my algebra."

"George - they're easy."

"Not for me. I just don't understand how any sum can have two different answers. It's just not possible."

Things were getting pretty serious for George. We had exams coming up and he wasn't a genius at the best of times - he could end up being thrown out of the top stream and cast out with the Neanderthal types that lurked in the technical class.

"George, do you think your mum would let me come round on Saturday? We could work together and I could try to explain things to you."

"Would you? Hey - you're a pal. I'll ask her."

Next day he told me that it would be all right - as long as we actually worked. So I turned up on Saturday morning and got the lecture about sticking to algebra and not just chatting. Pete and Sally were pretty well pleased at the fact that George was being punished while they were going to town. George's mum lined them up.

"Right. Have you got everything? Peter - pull those socks up."

He bent down and hauled at the top of his long grey school socks.

"Mum? Can't I have long pants?"

"You're only twelve, Peter."

"But MUM! All the other boys have got them."

"That's just not true and you know it. One boy is not all."

"They're all getting them for Christmas."

"No they aren't. I think short trousers look much smarter on a boy - and they don't have knees to wear out."

"Mum. It's cold in short pants. Please can I have longs?"

She sniffed.

"We'll see. Perhaps if you come top of the class in your Christmas exams."

"If I come in the top ten?"

"Well..."

They swept out as they heard the bus coming. George was seething with rage.

"He'll get them - I know he will. I didn't get long pants until last summer - I was fourteen then.

He always gets everything younger than I did! It's not fair."

I didn't actually see what all of the fuss was about, but I agreed with George anyway - it wasn't worth arguing over. He fetched his school bag and extracted the algebra book and a pile of blank paper and put them on the kitchen table.

"All right. Let's get started - mum says that I have to show her how much I did - that's what the paper is for."

By lunchtime, I wanted to strangle him and he looked like he was going to cry. Then he suddenly threw the book across the room and put his head in his hands.

"I'm never going to understand those bloody things. They just don't make sense."

"Calm down, George."

"How can I calm down? I'm all worked up and I can't think straight."

Suddenly I remembered the thing in the enamel basin.

"George, why don't you take a nice warm enema. That will calm you down."

He stared at me.

"I couldn't do that."

"Why not? You told me you did it quite often."

"Yes, but... I mean, only when there's nobody around."

"I won't tell. Come on - it will do you good."

I grabbed him by the arm and steered him upstairs to the bathroom, then I opened the cupboard and removed the equipment. George stood and watched as I filled up the jug to the brim with warm water. Then I faced him.

"Come on - enema time."

George was bright red and I could see the bulge in his pants. My own bum was twitching by this stage - the sight, smell and feel of the equipment had awakened my own desire. George squirmed.

"All right. You go out and then I'll do it."

My willy forced itself upright inside my underpants. One result of my stay in the sanatorium and my trip to Spain was that I was much less embarrassed about sex nowadays. I made my decision.

"I think I could do with one as well."

I thought George was going to faint as I took my clothes off, particularly when he saw my erection - his eyes just about stood out on stalks. I gestured towards him.

"You too."

He seemed to gain in confidence then - he was still a bit bashful when he dropped his pants, but he finally mastered his shyness, stood up and faced me in the same state as myself. I picked up the syringe and squeezed it like matron had done until all of the air was out while I watched George's face turn doubtful. Frankly, I wanted to know what it was like to give somebody an enema and I reckoned that I preferred being given one to doing it myself.

"Right, George. I'll do you and then you can do me. It will be easier that way."

He just stood there, staring at me while I wondered if I had gone too far. Then he nodded and knelt down on the floor with his bum in the air and his chest resting on the floor. That rather took me aback - then I understood. What a novel idea! My hand shook as I greased the nozzle - its shape reminded me of how it felt and I felt a hunger for it. But George was first.

The sight of his actual hole surprised me. It was the first I had seen close up and it seemed to be ridiculously small - mine surely was bigger than that! I took care as I gently teased the tip of the black nozzle into the brown iris of his bum. He groaned and I echoed it silently as I anticipated the pleasure to come.

I gave the rubber bulb an experimental squeeze - it was surprisingly difficult to squeeze it slowly and steadily. I knew that I had done it right when George moaned and started to breathe heavily.

I didn't know how much to give!

"George - sing out when you've had enough."

He made a sort of grunt that I took to mean that he understood, so I allowed the bulb to fill up again and then gave it another slow, steady compression. The muscles at the back of his legs went all tight and he raised his head a little way before letting it fall back.

He called a halt after I had injected about three times as much as I thought he would need. Then he waddled to the toilet and just let everything go. WOW!

I filled the jug again while he was producing a series of small and apparently rather pleasant splashes. I waited until he had wiped himself, then I knelt down myself. I was surprised to feel the nozzle just slide into me and I wondered just how he was so skilled. Lots of practice on himself, probably. This time it wasn't the surprise of matron's initial enema - I knew what was coming and I appreciated every nuance of stimulation provided by the series of slow swirlings of water inside me. It tickled and tantalized, it stimulated and soothed.

I couldn't wait any longer. I didn't care what he thought of me. I slid my had underneath my body and started to massage my erection, slowly and gently so as to prolong the intense pleasure. Then I felt the tube shaking and I looked back to find George doing the same to himself. I synchronized my movements with his and surprised myself by imagining that it was his hand on me rather than mine. WOW again!

It was probably because George was totally relaxed after the enema, because when we started on quadratics again, he suddenly whooped.

"I understand! It IS easy!"

I still made him do a whole page of examples, though.

I perked up when I heard the sounds of the family returning. George's mum had promised to bring fish and chips home with her - I could smell the vinegar and taste the salt long before she reached the house. George and I rushed to unwrap our portions - it was apparently all right in his house to eat straight from the newspaper and to use your fingers. Pete was obviously in a bad mood though because he refused his portion - I mean, I would have to be dead before I didn't want fish and chips!

His mum sighed.

"Really, Peter, I'm getting tired of this. Eat your food."

"Don't want it."

She stood up.

"I think maybe you should say a few prayers - that might put you in a better frame of mind."

"Aw, no. Just leave me alone."

"Prayers, Peter. Right now."

"No."

"YES."

She grabbed him by the neck and just about threw him through the doorway - I heard a receding litany of complaints from him and the sound of a hand being applied to the seat of his pants to speed his progress. Finally it all went quiet and I turned to George.

"I didn't know you were religious."

He ejected a fine cloud of batter as he burst into laughter.

"It's mum's code! I mean, what do you do when you say your prayers?"

"You kneel down. OH! You mean...?"

He nodded.

"Mum doesn't want to say 'enema' in front of guests, so she says something like 'Don't forget to say your prayers tonight' - that means you're going to get an enema at bedtime after the visitors have left."

"So he's getting..."

His eyes flicked to little Sally.

"He's saying his prayers and mummy is helping him."

"I wonder if he will go to heaven..."

That creased him up with laughter when he got my meaning.

"I hope not. He'd be dead if he did, wouldn't he?"

"You don't have to die."

"You do if your mum is watching."

It was obviously a quick enema - Pete was back with us in about ten minutes and glad that his food had been kept warm for him. He wolfed it down and then burped in appreciation - the change in him was really rather remarkable. His mum beamed happily at him.

"See, Peter, it's always good to say your prayers."

"I could say them myself, you know."

It was real difficult not to burst out laughing at his plaintive complaint!

Anyway, the year was drawing to its close and my birthday was approaching. Like I said - a lot of things happened in 1951!

Translator's note:

"Bum" in England is not a taboo word - it is slightly naughty, but used freely by all ages and both genders - it is perfectly acceptable on radio or TV, but often raises a small laugh.

It has many meanings, including the US sense, but only as a verb - 'to bum something' means to beg or scrounge it.

It's precise meaning depends on context and tone. A male might admire a passing female and comment that she has a "nice bum".

It can be used in the general sense of the rear of the anatomy - "bums on seats" is a common expression for the size of an audience.

When accompanied by a specification of direction, usually "up", it means "anus" - as in "he stuck it up my bum". A "sore bum" also refers to the anus.

It can also mean "buttocks" as in "he kicked my bum".

For the keen etymological student - in Ireland the word "arse" is equivalent to the English "bum".

In England, "arse" is considered coarse, vulgar and not suited to polite or mixed company. As a passing thought - this may explain some of the misunderstandings that have arisen between the two countries...

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- Tom -