The bitches got away with it, of course. There was a lot of angry argument, but you could see that the parents couldn't really do anything except shout. Slowly the group dispersed, with threats of legal action and so on and finally the two culprits, white and shaken, drove off.
In all of the fuss, I hadn't actually seen Ann go away. I suddenly realized that I didn't even have her phone number, but by then it was too late - she was gone forever.
The cooks fed me for the last time - they weren't needed for the rest of the vacation - and they tried their best to comfort me in the only way they knew - lots of cream and sugary things. It helped a bit, but I sure felt lonely.
There was only one source of comfort available to me. Alone in the big, empty building that night I filled up the enema bag almost to bursting point. Then I curled up on my bed, slipped the nozzle into place and managed to adjust the clip to give a slow infusion of warm water.
It didn't cure everything, of course. I still mourned the loss of my second love. But the warmth sort of gave me a hug from the inside - it calmed me down and took my mind off my troubles. And, after I had expelled the liquid, I was just too exhausted to lie awake worrying - I fell asleep in moments.
I wasn't actually surprised when I got the news that Roy would not be returning after the vacation. It was probably for the best - he just couldn't have kept on battering his head against math without going completely crazy. It meant that I now had the bedroom to myself - nobody else had dropped out, so they couldn't double me up with anyone.
It wasn't so bad being on my own. I missed Roy's company, but I had been getting guilty feelings about our other activities anyway, and the awareness of lesbian sex had made me re-examine our rectal games in a new light, one that was rather uncomfortable for me to look at for long. And, of course, if I wedged the door tight shut, I could take an enema any time I liked.
My other problem was that they had not paid me for my vacation job. I was too shy to ask, and I had no immediate need for the money, but it was worrying that nobody had mentioned it.
I had been doing a lot of thinking about earning my living. I had set my sights on graduating when I was seventeen - sixteen was an impossible goal. Being realistic, there was no way I was going to be able to go to college straight off, but if I got a job where there were lots of tips, maybe I could save enough to go - or maybe go part-time. I had spent a lot of time in the library looking at the availability of scholarships, but it seemed that they were all for jocks or musicians - nothing for a kid who just wanted to learn.
It was getting perilously close to Christmas when George, the principal, caught up with me in a corridor.
"Andrew - I need to see you sometime. We've finally worked out how to pay you without attracting the attention of the Gestapo."
"Gestapo?"
"Also known as the IRS. Come to tea on Sunday - we'll talk about it them."
George and his wife Sylvia lived in a house in the grounds of the school, and it was not unusual for boys to be invited for tea, although it was a bit embarrassing - once the subject of your studies had been exhausted, there was nothing much to talk about except the weather. I duly turned up at four the following Sunday afternoon, and Sylvia greeted me with her usual enthusiasm.
"Come in, come in. George has been telling me all about the splendid job you did last summer. Sit down - he'll be with us in a moment. I'll make some tea, shall I?"
She left me sitting in their dining room. It was full of old fashioned furniture (I was far too young to regard antiques as valuable or desirable) and a multitude of plants and ornaments - if you hadn't known beforehand, it was ample confirmation that they had no children. I idly inspected the contents of a china cabinet, which held only five pieces, arrayed with military precision on the shelf. Strangely they were not evenly spaced - four, a space, then one.
"Here we are. I hope you like tea."
I didn't, but no way did I want to say so - Sylvia always looked so eager to entertain her visitors. George arrived with her, puffing on his pipe and trailing a blue, aromatic cloud behind him.
They had real china cups, a nightmare for adolescent hands which oscillated between a fear of crushing the fragile ceramic by gripping too tight and dropping it by not holding tight enough. I managed to drink a little of the tea, then carefully put the cup down and resolved to ignore it for the rest of the visit.
George got down to specifics. I didn't quite understand why he considered it such an achievement to have finally gotten my payment in cash, but it had obviously been important to him, so I nodded cheerfully and made admiring noises. Then he was shocked to find that I didn't have a bank account - the simple fact that people who have no money don't exactly need a place to keep it in seemed to confuse him. Anyway, he was going to take me to town during the next week and help me get an account. He held on to the pile of bills as well.
Sylvia had been listening to my story.
"And your mother, Andrew? Do they know where she is?"
"No."
She looked at her husband.
"Andrew must stay with us for Christmas, George."
I had never seen the principal look utterly shocked before.
"Are you sure, honey?"
"Of course I am. We can't have the poor boy tramping the streets, can we? It's all settled - he's staying with us."
I didn't object. Maybe it wouldn't be a whole heap of fun, but the alternatives were worse. It left me with a problem, though - it meant I had to buy them gifts.
I begged a ride to town with one of the cooks - I had become a sort of honorary domestic since my stint as janitor - and wandered around, looking for something to get them.
George was easiest, although I began to doubt that when I asked for a pipe and was confronted with a million meaningless questions. Finally I saw it.
"He smokes one like that."
"OK. You want that one?"
"I'm not sure. He's got one already."
The clerk gazed at me with pitying contempt.
"They burn away, you know. They're only made of wood. Most men like to have several pipes anyway - then they can leave them to sweeten."
"I'll take it. Can you gift wrap?"
Now for Sylvia. This was much harder. I hovered around perfume counters, then decided that, given the number of fragrances, the odds were heavily stacked against choosing the right one at random. Then I saw them. A set of porcelain figurines, exactly the same as the ones that were in her cabinet - only there were *six* of them! I winced at the cost, but she was sure to like to complete her set.
When school finished, I was installed in the guest bedroom in George and Sylvia's house, on a mattress over squeaky springs - it was obviously designed many years previously to make sure that male members of the family did not indulge in whatever they called jerking off in the last century. Still, the place was warm and coy, I was made welcome, and we used ordinary cups and plates instead of the death traps.
Christmas day dawned fine and crisp, and we all went to church. I managed to get through the service without too many mistakes simply by waiting and imitating what they did. Then back to a large breakfast - the ultimate luxury of steak and eggs.
Sylvia looked embarrassed as she held out a package to me.
"We don't go much on Christmas gifts here, but George and I reckoned you might find this useful."
It turned out to be a calculator - but what a calculator! It could do anything, even draw graphs and do integration. I handed them my gifts in return.
George was gruff - he always got that way when he was embarrassed - but he obviously liked the pipe. Then Sylvia unwrapped her figurine.
For one awful moment, I thought she had died. Her face turned chalk white and she just barely managed to put the thing down on the table before she staggered back into George's arms. Then she recovered a bit, and ran from the room. I stared at him.
"Did I do wrong? I'm sorry - I thought she would like to make up the set."
He put his arm around my shoulder.
"No, son, you didn't do wrong. Just brought back memories, that's all. Don't worry about it - she'll be fine in a while."
But I knew he wasn't telling the truth. Sylvia did return, her eyes red and moist, and she tried very hard, but the day was spoiled. I went to bed early, feeling sad and miserable that somehow I had spoiled everything and wondering just what the hell I had done.
I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, I had never been so miserable in my life. Everything I touched just turned to shit.
The door opened quietly.
"Andrew?"
I turned blearily to see Sylvia standing in the doorway, attired in a long night-gown.
"Andrew? Are you all right, honey?"
No words would come, I could only shake my head. She sat on the bed beside me.
"It's okay, honey. I just got a shock, that's all. I'm sorry."
That was the final straw. I was only fifteen, and I just couldn't take emotional tension on this scale. I felt ashamed, but I was powerless to stop myself from breaking down.
To my surprise, she lifted the sheets and slid in beside me, then held me close while I sobbed out my misery, clinging desperately to her.
"It's okay, Bobby. Momma's here. Everything will be fine."
I drew strength from her enfolding arms and gentle voice. Slowly I slipped into sleep.
I got up early the next morning and walked over to the main building. Most of the staff stayed resident over Christmas, and I needed the earthy reassurance of the head cook. She looked up as I slipped into the kitchen by the back door.
"Hello, Andy. Come for some decent food then?"
Then she saw my face and looked at me with an expression of concern.
"God in heaven. What's happened? Somebody died?"
She deftly produced a cup of sweet, hot milk and added some nutmeg to it.
"Tell me all about it."
I recounted the events of the previous day.
"....and then she went all funny. I thought she was going to collapse."
"Dear lord, you didn't give her that, did you?"
"Yes. I don't know what I did wrong."
She held my hands in hers over the table.
"Andrew, we were all surprised when she invited you for Christmas. She had a son of her own once - he would have been about your age now. Four years ago, he was killed by a drunken driver. "
"Oh Jesus..."
"That's not all. It was just before Christmas. He had sneaked out to go to town to buy her gift. Ever since then, they have just stayed inside their house until Christmas was over."
I groaned in despair as I realized why there was a gap in the line of figurines - and the awful thing that I had done.
"I didn't know! What have I done? What can I do?"
Then I remembered what she had said.
"This son - was he called Bobby?"
"I thought you didn't know about it?"
I told her what had happened. She thought hard.
"Go back there, Andy. I think maybe she needs you right now."
It was the hardest thing I ever did, but I managed to return to the house. George was in the kitchen, making toast and scrambled eggs. He looked questioningly at me.
"I just found out. It was a complete accident. I'm sorry."
He nodded.
"Why don't you take Sylvia's breakfast up to her? Maybe talk a while?"
Actually, we didn't need any words. I just put the tray down and we hugged each other until we both felt better. And when I went back downstairs I saw - six figurines in a line.
A mad idea came to me. I had no parents, they had no son. The solution was simple. I looked amongst my things until I found the card the social services lady had given me, and called her. She listened to my story and my idea.
"Andrew, you hardly know them. What makes you think you can take the place of their dead son?"
"I don't know if I can. I just need to know if it is possible."
"I don't think so. You mother..."
"My mother has run off. Can't I adopt new parents? What about that kid who divorced his parents?"
There was a long pause.
"I'm not at all sure if it's possible, and I'm pretty certain that it's a bad idea. But I'll ask our lawyer what she thinks. Don't say or do ANYTHING until we talk face to face!"
She arrived two days later, and took me for a ride in her car.
"Suppose I say it's impossible?"
"I've got money. I'll get my own lawyer."
She sighed.
"Okay. Here's what the lawyer says. It might be possible - we see a judge first, and if he says so, we serve papers on your mother at her last known address and put advertisements in a couple of national newspapers. If there's no reply after sixty days, you are classed as abandoned and you can be adopted. Now tell me, please, that you've changed your mind about this insane idea."
"What's your name?"
"Huh? Don't you know? It's Mary."
I think I embarrassed her. Social services ladies don't expect a hug and a kiss from their clients.
"Thanks, Mary. That's my best Christmas present of all."
Mary sat with me while I outlined my suggestion to George and Sylvia. She didn't have much choice in the matter - I told her in advance that I was going to ask them whether or not she approved. I finished my speech, and then sat in the total silence of the room, my heart pounding as I waited for the reaction.
It was like a scene from a bad movie. All tears and smiles. I hadn't misjudged - Sylvia took me over immediately and held my hand tightly while she demanded to see a judge right there and then.
George got me on my own later. He was more gruff than ever.
"I hope you know what you've started, Andrew, and I hope you aren't going to change your mind. I think it would kill Sylvia to lose a second boy."
I don't know what Mary's motives were. Maybe she was really caught up in the situation, maybe she wanted to get rid of an expensive burden on the county, perhaps she wanted the fame of a new legal precedent. Whatever it was, we got our first hearing just a week later, in front of an ordinary looking man in an ordinary room - not a courtroom. It didn't take long - he had a stack of papers in front of him, and he only really asked two questions - did they want to adopt me, and did I agree. Then he hit the desk with his gavel and said "So ordered". And that was it. Sixty days to wait.
When we got back, the cooks had done us proud - the biggest and best celebration meal ever was laid out in the principal's house waiting for us and tears flowed in abundance before they left us to eat it.
I was surprised when George offered me wine. After all, he did know my mom was an alcoholic. He just puffed on his new pipe and smiled at me.
"Ah, but if I forbade you to drink, then you would begin to resent it, wouldn't you? You have to make your own decisions - any time you want to split a bottle of beer with me, just let me know."
We seemed to eat for hours. George finished up slightly tipsy, nursing a glass of brandy in front of the fire - it was strange to see somebody drink slowly - mom had always just poured the stuff down her throat and then pulled a face. My stomach was starting to rebel against the twin insults of the long car journey and the rich food. I rubbed my aching stomach, wondering if I could somehow manage to get back to the dorm and relieve myself with a quick enema.
George rumbled with laughter. As I groaned and rubbed my stomach.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my lad. My wife has some real old fashioned methods of curing pains in the guts."
Sylvia sat up straight.
"GEORGE! Behave yourself."
It was no good - the devil was in him.
"Yes indeed. Just like her own mother. You know, when I was courting this girl, I never realized just why she had to stay in some nights. Not until her mother caught me in the same state as you and just about blew my butt off."
"George. Be quiet. That's nothing to do with Andrew."
He wasn't listening to her. He took another sip of his brandy.
"There I was, a fine young man of twenty two summers, a graduate summa cum laude from Harvard, but that made no difference to her mother. Out came her old faithful enema bag, down came my pants and up my ass went a couple of feet of rubber tubing. And no half measures for her - first a quart of soapsuds then, just when I thought it was safe to come out of the bathroom, she decided that I needed a rinse as well. I was just grateful that she spared me the ironing."
"George - not in front of Andrew, please. You'll frighten the poor boy."
"I think it would be a good idea."
My interjection produced instant silence. Then George guffawed.
"Be careful what you say, my boy. Sylvia is her mother's daughter."
Sylvia wrapped protective arms around me.
"George - I've told you to be quiet. If Andrew wants an enema, then he shall have one. Come with me, honey, and we'll soon get rid of that nasty pain in your tummy."
I didn't mind taking an enema from Sylvia. We had only really known each other for a couple of weeks, but I liked - maybe loved - and trusted her. She was certainly a devotee of the therapeutic advantages of inner cleanliness (as she called it) and while she mixed up the solution, she recounted her views on the subject.
"You know, I really don't understand these doctors nowadays. One minute they're telling you that you will get awful diseases if you don't wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, the next minute they're saying that you should just leave all of those germs and poisons inside of you! It stands to reason that your motions are full of the stuff that your body is rejecting, but evidently there's no rush to get rid of it. I wish they would make up their minds."
"My mother had no doubts about it at all. If you didn't get rid of those poisons, eventually they would get back inside your system. If I couldn't go of my own accord, she just gave me a helping hand, and if I got a headache she would flush me out real good - worked every time."
I wanted the answer to another question.
"Did she really give George an enema? When he was all grown up?"
Sylvia chuckled.
"You should have seen his face - it was a picture! He had been out on the town with his college friends, and he had a hangover. I thought he was going to pass out from sheer terror when she grabbed him and marched him to the bathroom - but you didn't say no to my mother when she was in that sort of mood! I think he swore off liquor for months after that episode! Anyway - this is all ready for you - let's go to your room, shall we?"
I got embarrassed then. My dick started to show an interest in the proceedings and I was suddenly shy about it. Sylvia had obviously inherited more than genetic material from her mother.
"Come on, Andrew. Sons don't ever get shy with their mothers - let's have you out of those clothes."
I was still a bit shy, but she had made her point. I peeled off my clothes and dived on to the towels she had lain on top of the bed - I wasn't that emancipated yet.
The enema was different. Previous ones had either been unemotional or highly sexually charged, but this one was delivered with affection. She arranged my limbs to facilitate access, all the time soothing and calming me with soft words. She was gentle - I hardly felt the tube slide home until it was inside me. It sent a different message too. Even though my erection was massive and instantaneous, I realized that she was loving me, not making love to me.
Even when I came, it made no difference. I was her boy, and it didn't
matter to her, whatever I did. I finished the involuntary movements of
orgasm, and then settled down to let her finish my enema, now absolutely
certain that I had made the right decision - and this time it wasn't all
going to blow up in my face.
George wasn't very happy about Sylvia's decision that I should move in with them right away, but eventually he acceded to her demands. The waiting was stressful beyond belief and I started to get bad dreams where my real mother would be there, waving a bottle of her "medicine" and then she would drag me away and pour the stuff down my throat.
But Sylvia was always there. I began to wonder if maybe she slept on the floor outside my room, because every time I woke up, sweating and scared witless, from one of those dreams she would appear and comfort me back to sleep. It wasn't until much later that I discovered that my yells and screams had been sufficient to awaken the dead.
Then it all happened during Easter recess. This time in a proper courtroom, with a lady working one of those funny machines and writing everything down. It didn't take very long - Mary had to swear to tell the truth, then she told the judge that there had been no reply to any of her searches. He made with his gavel and declared me to be an abandoned minor - it would have been terrifying for me, except that he winked at me when he said it.
Then Sylvia and George had to stand up, but they didn't need to swear on the book. The judge sounded fierce.
"....and you do realize that you take full responsibility, moral, physical and financial for this boy?"
Sylvia looked terrified, but she nodded.
"Oh yes, your honor. Everything is taken care of."
He looked at another piece of paper and nodded again.
"Yes - I see - very generous of you."
Finally it was my turn. I made them all laugh, because when the judge asked me if I agreed to be adopted, I said "Yes please" instead of just "Yes, your honor" like Mary had told me to do.
Then he banged the desk again, and it was all over. Everybody hugged and kissed each other, and even the judge came and slapped me on the back!
The big change on the journey home was that we could talk about the future. I explained my idea of getting a job and then working my way through college, but Sylvia was outraged that I even considered it.
"You're our son now. And you're going to college straight after you graduate from school."
I had never thought about them paying for college and it embarrassed me terribly to think how much money that would cost them. I said as much, and Sylvia gave me another hug - my ribs were getting quite sore by this stage.
"It's all taken care of, honey. We invested for our son's education long ago. It was a different son then, but Bobby would want you to have it."
Then we all cried for a while. Then we felt much better.
It still left me with the big question though. I had asked Mary what I should call them after I was adopted, and she said that it was something we should settle between ourselves - whatever we were comfortable with, and there was no need to rush into things. I kinda knew that they would never bring the subject up, and it felt too awkward for me to start a discussion about it. I took a deep breath.
"Mom, can we stop for a burger? I'm hungry."
Maybe I should have waited until the car was stationary. Still, the hedge wasn't all that bad after we pushed it back together.
The cooks had made a cake for me, with one candle. I said that it was really my zeroth birthday, the head cook told me not to be such a smartass, and we all had a piece of it. I was about to cut more slices, when mom looked at me with mock seriousness.
"You'd better save some of that for your guest."
"What guest?"
A pair of hands were suddenly clasped over my eyes.
"THIS GUEST. SURPRISE!!!!"
I squirmed out and turned round, to see who it was.
"Ann? What are you doing here? Where did you come from?"
Her parents were behind her. Her father explained.
"All we heard about when she got back home was this wonderful boy who had saved her from starvation. Just when she was getting over it, she saw a notice in a newspaper with your surname in it. In the end we gave up and called Sylvia and George, and they explained what was happening. Then little Miss Gratitude here demanded to come to the party - so here we are."
Ann was positively jumping up and down with excitement.
"And I can stay for a whole two weeks! Isn't that great?"
Her face suddenly showed doubt.
"That is...if you want me to."
There was a general "Aaahhh" from the assembly as she and I hugged each other and exchanged chaste kisses. I can recall thinking, as I saw the "Aren't they cute" expressions on the faces of the adults that they wouldn't think that if they had known about the last night of the summer school!
Then again, maybe they did. Or at least maybe they suspected. At fifteen, you think that adults, or at the very least parents and teachers, are dead from the neck up and the waist down. I suppose the two year old who plays peek-a-boo without realizing that it isn't sufficient just to hide your face and leaves its butt in plain view is in the same situation - the grown-ups just go along with the fiction.
Either way, Ann was left with us. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I indicated by the subtle process of trying to remove her clothing that I was in the mood for love. To my horror, she recoiled.
"Andrew - we can't. It's that time of the month. I'm sorry."
Just my luck. Just when my rampant hormones were approaching mach 1, she called a timeout. Actually, even through my frustration, I still felt sorry for her - she had not been exaggerating about fluid retention - her face was all puffy and she waddled rather than walked. And as for sex - no chance. She just wasn't in the mood. After three days I was chewing the woodwork.
Then she deflated overnight. One of the good things about living beside a school was that we could use the facilities - Ann had been eyeing the pool ever since she arrived, and dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn to go swimming.
It's great to have a big pool between two - we swam, dived and generally messed about until hunger pangs made themselves felt. We were toweling ourselves dry in the locker room when the door swung open and Barbara walked in, a towel over her arm, obviously about to swim.
Ann squealed with alarm and grabbed for a towel while Barbara just started to laugh at the sight of two naked bodies. It didn't worry me, of course - Barbara was a familiar and largely ignored visitor to the dorms in her role as housekeeper. She didn't seem to be annoyed - just amused.
"Hi. I'm Barbara - school nurse, laundry supervisor, boiler cleaner and anything else they can find for me to do. You must be the famous Ann."
Ann nodded shyly.
"Hello, nurse."
"Barbara, please. We don't go in for much formality here. Enjoy your swim?"
"Yes thank you."
"I haven't seen you here before. Has Andrew been hiding you away?"
Ann was clearly embarrassed. She reddened and shook her head. Barbara suddenly cottoned on.
"You can swim any time, you know. Don't listen to old wives tales."
"It's not that - I get fluid."
Barbara wrinkled her brow.
"You shouldn't - not at your age. Are you on the pill?"
Ann nodded. I kept real quiet - this was news, and welcome news at that.
"Well - see your doctor. Get it changed. There's no need to suffer, you know."
I thought she had forgotten about me, but she suddenly turned round.
"Actually, Andrew, I wanted to ask you about something. What are you doing this summer?"
"Nothing. I don't know."
"Well - I'm looking for volunteers. I work for a charity that runs summer camps for children - disabled children. We can always do with another counselor."
She looked at Ann.
"...or even two."
"I don't know what's happening this year. I'll have to ask my mother."
"I'm afraid we don't pay our counselors. But it's a chance to do some really worthwhile public service. Bed, board and a small allowance, and a month in the fresh air with ten to twelve year old children who wouldn't get a holiday at all without us."
We promised to think about it, then went back for breakfast. Ann was lively again and we had a great day - Sylvia gave us a ride into town and we did some shopping - I was not so concerned now about saving up my cash.
As evening drew in, Ann whispered in my ear.
"Have you still got that enema bag?"
I recalled what she had told me about the aftermath of her fluid retention. I did still have the bag - it was stashed in my room - but I had not needed to have recourse to it since I moved in.
"Ask Sylvia."
Ann frowned at me.
"I don't like to. It's a bit embarrassing."
I grinned at her, and took the bull by the horns.
"Mom - Ann wants to ask you something."
Ann blushed crimson, and managed to blurt out the nature of her problem. Dad came in part way through, got the picture, and announced that he was going to take a walk. A long walk.
Mom was sympathetic.
"Oh, my dear, I know just how you feel. Men have no idea what we girls go through. Let's get you cleared out right away, shall we?"
I let them go off, but the temptation was too strong to resist. I walked quietly upstairs, listening to their conversation.
"Here we are, honey. Nice and warm and soothing. Why don't you get undressed and lie down on the bed for me?"
I heard the noises of rustling cloth and zippers being undone, then the bed creaked.
"Does your mother do this for you at home?"
"Yes."
"I always think it's a really special time, don't you? It makes you feel very close. It's a time for mother and daughter to have a good long talk."
That settled it. No way was I going to let them do that - they would end up talking about me, and no matter how much you love your mother, there are things she really doesn't need to know. I coughed loudly as I walked towards the room, then popped my face around the doorframe and grinned at the scene.
"Hi, mom. Hi, Ann. How's it going?"
Ann was lying on the bed, wearing only her shirt and mom was standing behind her, a freshly lubricated rectal tube in her hand. Mom opened her moth like she was going to blast me, but shut it again as Ann raised herself on one arm and grinned at me.
"We're just about to start. Come and sit here where I can see you to talk to."
I would much rather have stayed where I was - the view was better - but I obediently sat on the other side of the bed. Ann got hold of my hand - her palms were hot and sweaty. That surprised me - I hadn't thought that she was scared.
Then mom bent forward and I managed somehow not to wince as Ann's grip on my hands tightened to the point of pain. It wasn't pain though - her face was contorted in an expression of complete ecstasy. Then she relaxed a bit, her eyes closed and her moth hung open with her tongue lying on her lower lip.
That's when it dawned on me. Enemas turned me on - I had known that for years - but somehow I had believed the fiction that in Ann's case it was all purely for medical reasons. I winced again as I saw the tube being inserted further and the vice-like grip reasserted itself - hell - she was getting even more excited than I did.
"Good girl. I've put it nice and deep. Is that how your mother does it?"
Ann swallowed and I concealed my smile as she made an abortive effort to speak. Finally she managed it.
"No. She just uses the plastic pipe that comes with the bag, and makes me bend over the commode."
Mom sniffed in disgust.
"That's no way to get your child to co-operate. If you want enemas to be accepted, they have to be pleasant or at the very least comfortable. I always looked forward to the next time my mother got the bag out of the cupboard."
"She gave a lot of enemas, then?"
"I wouldn't say a lot. Just when we needed them."
Then she stifled a giggle.
"Or at least when we said we needed them!"
My beliefs about the nature of adults were crumbling fast. I tensed as Ann gave a soft cry and squeezed my hand again, then realized that it wasn't pain. Her breathing became deeper and deeper, her body tensed up and then she emitted a long sigh and relaxed. For the first time I realized that girls could come - just like boys, but different.
Mom kept up a running commentary on the virtues of having clean bowels, and then it happened again - only this time Ann made a bigger noise. I was actually jealous - I certainly couldn't have come twice in quick succession, although, of course, girls obviously didn't have real orgasms - not like us boys.
Then Sylvia and Ann went off to the bathroom together. I've never figured out why females do that, let alone what they find to do for the immense length of time they spend in the place. I hear the door open - their conversation was still going on.
"....well, it's something every mother needs to know. I suppose it's all these small families they have nowadays - I got to know how to do it on my little brother - I was about twelve and he was five, and he didn't think anything about it. My mother showed me what to do, and after that I was fine."
I didn't quite catch on immediately.
"You two are closer than I realized - I think your mother must be a very sensible woman. It wasn't so easy when I was a girl, I can tell you!"
That made me groan - I didn't really want mom to be privy to all of the details of out private lives. Ann had probably told her the size of my dick!
"...so I'm sure he won't mind if you practice on him."
They entered the bedroom, and mom gave me an ingratiating smile.
"Honey, Ann doesn't know how to give an enema. It's a long while since you had one anyway, so how's about letting her learn how to do it on you?"
I was speechless. Ann was standing behind mom, her face split in a mischievous grin. Maybe it was just as well that the sheer effrontery deprived me of speech - I almost blurted out that, last summer, Ann had given me the largest and most sexy enema in the entire universe - and had thoroughly enjoyed doing it!
In fact, I wasn't all that happy with the idea. An enema from mom was pleasant, of course, and there was about an evens chance that I would come, but it was a sort of relaxed orgasm, a gentle pulsing that really wasn't all that sexual. But the single experience with Ann had reduced me to a squirming, gasping heap of spurting maleness - a very different process.
Not that I had any choice - I was outnumbered and outvoted. My function was to provide an instructional subject so that Ann could prepare for the distant day when she had kids of her own. Mind you, that was an interesting possibility - always assuming that they were *our* kids, mine and Ann's. I would deal with the boys, while she would gently syringe the girls - or maybe we would have family enemas, all round the fire just like Aunt Sandy had described.
"Come on, Andrew. I really want to find out about this."
My eyes came back into focus. Ann had put her panties back on, forming an incredibly erotic sliver of white below the hem of her shirt. Shit! I was rigid already, and we hadn't even started! This time, I kept my tee shirt on - it offered some concealment.
Mom gave instructions, while Ann set about administering my enema. She cheated!
It started with the simple process of inserting the tube. I knew that Ann could do it without difficulty, but she teased me with random stabs and poking around until I thought that I was going to pass out. She was doing it deliberately - on a couple of occasions when the thing managed to slide in, she rapidly took it back out and started again while I pulled the neck of my shirt into my mouth and desperately chewed at it to distract me from imminent explosion.
Every time she eased a little more of the tube into my asshole, she contrived to tickle that sensitive bit of skin between my legs with her fingers. She was really enjoying herself and, had mom not been there, I would have found it a very pleasant experience and let myself go.
Somehow I managed to contain myself. I ended up with balls that were
aching and a prick that felt as though the slightest movement would
break it in half. Still - I had my revenge later in the small hours when
Ann crept into my room....
The visit passed all too quickly and Ann departed for her home. Dad did a really nice thing, though. He wasn't a computer buff by any means, so it must have been quite an effort for him to find the gifts he gave us. Two small video cameras that sat on top of our computers and some nifty software that let us communicate with each other over the internet. The FCC would probably have objected to some of the images that we transmitted, though. And the fact that access was restricted to times when we had completed our assignments made sure that work was done in record time by both Ann and me.
Ann arrived some time before the camp was due to start and Barbara gave us a pep talk and an assignment.
"You have to remember that disabled children are not stupid - they just can't do some things that you do every day. So, Andrew, I want you to be disabled tomorrow so that you can get some idea of their problems. Tomorrow, you will lose the use of both arms, and Ann will take care of you."
Ann really entered into the spirit of things - and she was enjoying it. She awakened me, reminded me that I had no arms, and escorted me to the bathroom. I had my morning erection - normally I just waited a while and it deflated to let me take a piss, but that wasn't going to happen as long as Ann had hold of it. I explained the problem, and she got one of her devilish expressions on her face.
"There's another way to make it go down!"
She kept me facing the commode and stood behind me, her body pressed close to mine, and then jerked me off into the bowl. It felt strange - her arm was coming from the same place as mine, but I had no control over what it was doing - although it was pretty good, and it did have the required effect!
I passed on taking a shit. It would mean that she stood and watched and the wiped my ass afterwards, and that embarrassed me. So we showered together, then she dressed me, pulling a shirt over my arms so that they were trapped inside.
Breakfast was hilarious. Ann cut up my food and forked it into my mouth, but she couldn't quite get the hang of holding a cup for me to drink out of. The coffee kept coming in a rush, then it would start to choke me and eventually got sprayed out of my nose. Mom set her straight - she showed her how to hold the cup steady and let me push it down and sip from it.
After breakfast we went over to the school - Barbara had asked us to help her to pack things up for the camp. Her office was full of cardboard boxes and she was holding a sheaf of papers while she checked off the contents of the delivery. I had to sit on one side, feeling totally useless with my arms pinioned beneath my shirt while Ann was given the task of opening boxes and counting items. Barbara looked at me.
"Feeling superfluous?"
"Yeah. Can't I help?"
She ignored my offer.
"This is your first lesson in what it's like to be disabled, Andrew. You have to make a special effort to involve the campers within their physical limits, otherwise they will feel excluded and useless. You will get the use of your arms back tomorrow - most of them never will."
That gave me something to think about. Then Ann opened another box.
"Barbara? Are these what I think they are?"
She held up a plastic bag which contained a translucent bag of liquid and a coil of transparent plastic tubing about half an inch in diameter.
"That depends on what you think they are, Ann."
"Well...they look like they're for enemas."
Barbara nodded.
"That's exactly what they are. Some of the campers have spinal damage and they can't use their muscles to expel the contents of their rectums - they need regular enemas to avoid severe impaction."
Ann fingered the object through the plastic bag.
"Will we have to do that?"
Barbara smiled reassuringly.
"There are plenty of nurses to do that sort of thing. Of course we're always happy of help with routine things like that, but not if you're uncomfortable with the idea. Some of the campers relate better to the counselors than the nurses - they tend to equate us with shots and other painful things."
I could see it coming. Ann smiled sweetly at Barbara.
"Oh - it doesn't disgust me or anything like that - it's just that I'm not sure I could do it - I would be frightened."
"There's nothing to it."
"Maybe I should get some practice."
They both turned and looked at me. Barbara burst out laughing.
"Well - Andrew knows all about enemas, don't you Andrew?"
I was puzzled - had mom been talking to her. Barbara spoke to Ann.
"He borrowed an enema bag last summer and I reckon he's tried it out a few times by now. Am I right, Andrew?"
I felt stupid. She had noticed that it was gone, and drawn the correct conclusion - she must have known all along that I was taking enemas. Ann beamed at me.
"And he didn't do anything this morning - said he didn't need to go!"
I gave in without protest - I could see from their faces that they reckoned it would be fun, and so did I! Ann started to tear the pack open while Barbara ran hot water into the sink.
"Drop the whole thing in here, Ann, and let it get warmed up. Cold enemas can be very painful."
Ann did as she was instructed, then her brow furrowed.
"How do nurses learn things? I mean like giving shots and so on?"
Barbara chuckled.
"They practice on each other, of course. At one stage I must have had a dozen enemas in a couple of days, and later I couldn't sit down for a week with all of the bruises that I got from practice injections. It certainly taught you how to be gentle!"
Ann hauled the warm bag from the sink and dried it off with some tissue, then Barbara produced on of those poles that they use to hold things.
"Okay, honey. You just go ahead - I'll set you right if you need it."
Ann undid my jeans, then pulled them down, followed by my shorts while I desperately tried to keep my balance - it really is awkward when you can't use your arms. Then the pair of them arranged me on the couch while I desperately tried no to roll off the other side.
"There's a pack of gel in there - use it to lubricate the tube. Now plastic tube is a lot more rigid than rubber, so you have to be very careful not to push too hard - aim for his belly button and slide it gently into place."
"Like this?"
It was real strange - the tube seemed almost like a solid rod. I could feel it push into position, hitting the place that Ray and I had explored with each other and making me groan as the electric thrill radiated from the spot and had the usual effect. Barbara was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing.
"That's one of the reasons why they usually prefer male nurses to treat men when it comes to enemas. Still, you two shouldn't find it embarrassing, should you?"
Ann giggled, acknowledging that Barbara was right. Then I felt the liquid start to run into me, and yelled as it produced a cramp.
"Slow it down, honey. That's a wide bore tube - you have to regulate the flow quite carefully."
I managed to hold back my desire to shoot my load all over the couch. When Ann had finished, the pair of them helped me to my feet - Barbara just ignored the fact that the front of my shirt was pushed well out by my erection. Ann escorted me to the bathroom.
To my amazement, she knelt down in front of me while I blasted the contents of my bowels into the bowl, gently caressing my erection. Then she seemed to summon up her courage and before I realized what she intended to do, she took the end of my dick in her mouth and briefly sucked it. She didn't keep it in for long - but I came buckets as she finished me off with her fingers.
I was quite looking forward to the following day when it was Ann's turn to be disabled. I woke her up and she gave me a drowsy hug and kiss.
"Hey - you aren't allowed to do that. You're paralyzed!"
She grinned mischievously.
"Oh - it's not my arms. It's my legs."
People are incredibly heavy when they want to be. I somehow staggered downstairs without killing either of us, and when we had finished breakfast I managed to carry her on my back to the school buildings while she concentrated on making herself as limp and uncooperative as she could. I finally staggered into Barbara's office, sweating and panting with effort.
Ann had miscalculated, though. I remembered what Barbara had said the previous day.
"Barbara, what did you say about people with spinal injuries?"
"That they had difficulty going to the bathroom?"
"Yeah. And what did you say we had to do about it?"
Barbara turned purple in the face with the effort to contain her mirth, but eventually it burst forth as prolonged laughter that had tears running down her cheeks. I joined in, of course, while Ann sat in chagrin as it dawned on her that she had not been quite as clever as she thought.
I must admit that it gave me a degree of unholy satisfaction to make Ann
stay in character and take her enema. It was just a pity that Barbara
was there to supervise - it sure cramped my style! I just wanted to jump
on Ann and screw her rigid as I peeled her flimsy panties off and
revealed her bush and asshole, but that wasn't something I could do with
an audience. Still - we both made up for lost time that night....
We arrived at the camp the following week, sharing Barbara's car with immense mounds of boxes and packages. That's when I suddenly realized that, apart from me, the counselors were all girls! I was starting to panic when another car drew up and disgorged a boy and girl, both about my age. I hurried across to welcome them - at least I would have one male friend there.
He was called Neville, the driver was his mother, and the girl, Karen, and he were members of the same church youth group. Neville was tall, thin and nervous looking and his mother seemed to be a pretty forceful woman - I listened with some embarrassment as she reeled off a list of dos and don'ts, including the necessity for washing his neck and changing his underwear on a regular basis. Karen was pretty well his opposite - once the car had departed she rapidly established friendly relations all round while Neville shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and spoke only in monosyllables. Just what I needed - a Momma's boy!
He and I were assigned to the cabin which would accommodate the oldest boys - the twelve year olds - and Barbara treated me to a huge wink as she made up the trio of counselors with Ann. As the only two boys, Neville and I had a small cabin all to ourselves and that night my worst fears were confirmed. He was the wimp to end all wimps. This kid was unbelievable.
The first thing he did was to get some string, sling it the length of a bunk, then hang his clothes on it - he had even brought a supply of wire hangers with him. He made a neat pile of his underwear - the kid actually wore Y-fronts! - his mother must have bought them from a shop for old guys, because no kid that I knew would have been seen dead in them. And he had striped cotton pyjamas - the sort with a cord round the waist that you have to tie.
He made himself a sort of screen with his stuff and got undressed behind it. When we were both in bed, I tried to have a conversation with him - until I discovered that he was limited to the subjects of school and religion, and his ambition was to become a pastor.
In one last, desperate attempt to find something we might have in common, I mentioned that the girl he had arrived with was quite a looker. I should have kept my mouth firmly shut, because what I got in return was the fact that she was responsible for dragging him to this place and that sex outside marriage was wrong - he intended to remain a virgin until his wedding night. The way he was going, that seemed to be very much on the cards!
It drove a stake through the heart of my plans to invite Ann to visit with me - on a more or less permanent basis. This guy was a squealer if ever there was one - he would see it as his duty to preserve us from sin.
The campers arrived the following day and it was quite a shock to my system. I had never been very comfortable with the disabled and, although the camp only took kids who were capable of taking a lot of responsibility for themselves, I found the sight of missing limbs and kids in wheelchairs profoundly disturbing. The doctor who was camp director had given us all a pep talk the previous night and told us that we must never help any camper unless we were asked, and also that they were not in the least delicate. Even so it amazed me when one car drew up and a legless boy somersaulted out of it and then ran around on his arms - he was halfway up a tree before his father caught him and lifted the laughing kid down again. Barbara was watching my reaction and chuckled.
"That's Billy - he's quite a character. He was born with no legs and he refuses to have artificial ones - as you can see, he manages very well without them."
We helped them settle in and I was both surprised and relieved to find out how fast I got used to kids with missing limbs. I was helped by the fact that they were just a bunch of excited twelve year old boys, normal in all other respects, as we discovered when Billy used his low- level situation to make sure that he got a good look up Ann's skirt. The only real concession to their disabled status was that the cabin was fitted out with beds rather than bunks, and the toilets were in extra-large enclosures to accommodate wheelchairs.
The day went well - our main task was to watch for danger and to push wheelchairs around when the kids got too tired to heave themselves over the rough terrain.
The sky fell on poor Neville at bedtime. We had a couple of kids with Down's syndrome, and Barbara had explained that while they grew physically like any other kid, their minds stayed about five years old. We discovered what that meant when one of them just sat playing with his erection, oblivious of the giggles of the other boys.
I must say that Ann was brilliant. She didn't make a fuss at all - just gently took his hand away from his dick, then tucked it into his pyjamas and had him tucked up in bed and kissed goodnight before he knew what was happening. Then she glared at the gigglers in best schoolmarm fashion until they blushed and got into bed themselves. When I looked round, Neville had vanished.
I didn't see him again until I went to bed. He was sitting straight up, reading some sort of religious book.
"What's wrong, Neville? Why did you rush off?"
He gave me a withering look.
"Did you see what that boy was doing? And then Ann just got hold of his thing!"
"So? She put him to bed. What's wrong with that?"
"It's a sin."
"Don't be stupid - he was just playing with himself. He wasn't even really jerking off. And Ann just distracted him - that's what Barbara said we should do."
"It's still a sin."
"For pity's sake - jerking off isn't a sin. Everybody does it."
"I don't."
I just stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. After my stays in children's homes and boarding school, jerking off was a simple fact of life, a universal ersatz sex until we could get access to the real thing.
"You *never* did it? Not even once?"
He sniffed his contempt for lesser mortals.
"Of course not. The pastor had a talk with me when I was about ten and explained all about the sin of Onan. I just don't ever think about it."
You couldn't talk to somebody as out of touch with the world as that.
Things went from bad to worse as far as Neville was concerned. Our cabin was small, and it didn't have the usual rows of toilet stalls, just an ordinary bathroom. I woke up late with my usual erection and an all-consuming need to pee - so great that I had to squeeze the end to stop myself from leaking as I ran into the bathroom. I could not have timed it worse - Neville was in mid-shit, his PJ trousers and Y-fronts round his ankles, and as far as he could see some sort of sex maniac had rushed into the room, prick at the ready. He just kinda screamed, jumped up and rushed past me, hauling up his pants as he fled from the room. By the time my bladder was empty, he had dressed and left the cabin and for the rest of the day I just caught glimpses of him in the distance.
Ann was curious, of course. She almost wet herself when I told her what had happened, and that attracted the interest of Karen. She listened to Ann's repeat of the story, but she didn't laugh, just looked kinda sad.
"That's Neville. He didn't really want to come here, but I kept going on at him until he did. I hoped that he might relax a bit once he was away from that awful mother of his, but he's just as bad as ever. The trouble is, I think I'm in love with him."
Ann hugged her tight.
"Maybe he'll change - he's only been here a couple of days, after all."
I could detect no change for the next couple of days. Neville still had a hunted look about him and he kept very much out of my way - he waited until late at night before he came into the cabin and went to bed, and he rushed out as soon as he woke up in the morning.
He was obviously too shy or scared or both to take a shower - he got more and more scruffy and smelly, and as far as I could tell he never used the toilet either - he disappeared into the bushes from time to time but he certainly never used the bathroom in our cabin.
On day four of the camp, Barbara had a word with Ann and me.
"Billy has to have an enema tonight. He wasn't just born without legs - some of his muscles are missing as well and he can't empty his bowels properly."
Ann frowned.
"You want us to do it?"
"Let's leave it up to Billy. He's used to having enemas - give him the choice of who does it. Just call me if he prefers a nurse."
Neville and I were helping the kids to get ready for bed when Ann walked in with one of the disposable enema bags in her hand. Its appearance was greeted with a set of ribald cheers and whistles from the kids - they obviously all knew exactly what it was. Everybody except Neville, who just looked puzzled at the reception Ann was getting.
Billy pointed at himself, and Ann nodded. He grinned and set out towards the bathroom, humping himself along on his hands. I dragged Neville along with us - I had a definite feeling that this was going to need more than one person.
Ann was waiting for us when we arrived.
"Okay, Billy. Who do you want to do it?"
He was quite emphatic. He pointed at me.
"Andrew!"
I would rather he had chosen Ann, but if he preferred another boy to do it I was prepared to oblige. He shucked himself out of his sewn-up PJ pants and lay face down on the floor, his small stumps wiggling as he shifted into a comfortable position. Ann held the bag while I lubricated the tube and then sat down beside Billy and reached for his butt cheeks.
That's when Neville lost it. He made a gagging noise and ran for the door, straight down the center of the lines of beds and outside. I stood undecided - Billy was surprisingly heavy for his age, and I wondered if Ann and I could manage to lift him. Ann obviously had the same thought.
"You get started - I'll fetch Karen to help."
I decided to wait - it didn't take long before they both arrived at a trot. Karen saw what was happening and vainly tried to conceal a giggle.
"An enema? You're giving an enema?"
I adopted my best adult tones.
"Of course. Billy needs regular enemas."
He grinned at all of us, not in the least inhibited by having an audience.
"I asked for Andrew to do it. It's usually my mother - but I'm growing up now."
I gave up on his logic and spread some more lubricant on the tube. Billy was certainly used to having his innards washed - his asshole opened up of its own accord and swallowed the tube without any difficulty. Karen watched as I slowly injected the liquid.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
I didn't intend to reveal my erotic adventures.
"Oh - Barbara taught us before we came here."
"US? She taught both of you? How did she teach you?"
Neither Ann nor I said anything - we waited for Karen to work it out.
"She taught you on each other? You gave each other enemas?"
We both nodded, while Billy rolled around on the floor, cackling with amusement at the thought of a big boy and a big girl doing it to each other, and in the process revealing that he certainly *was* growing up.
When the enema was finished, I left it to the girls to help Billy to the commode and then to wash and powder his butt. Billy got a cheer when we returned to the cabin - I had a distinct feeling that we would be doing more trade in the near future.
Karen stayed while we got the kids to bed, then walked a while with us. Ann was much less inhibited than me.
"You ever had an enema, Karen?"
Karen looked a bit surprised, but answered anyway.
"Well - when I was a kid. But everybody gets a few when they're little, don't they?"
I snorted.
"I bet Neville didn't. I thought he was going to throw up! He probably needs one right now - he hasn't been near the bathroom since I walked in on him! And a shower wouldn't do him any harm either - you can't imagine what it's like sharing a room with him."
We parted company, and I went to our cabin and found Neville busy packing his belongings.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm going to call my mother and get her to come and take me home. And don't swear at me."
"For Christ's sake, Neville, what's eating you now?"
"What you did to that boy. I'm going to tell my mother about it - you'll probably get thrown out of the camp when she tells the director. Maybe even go to jail."
"Huh? He *had* to have an enema. He needs them on a regular basis."
"What did you call it?"
"An enema. E-N-E-M-A. It makes you empty your bowels. Billy can't do that properly by himself, so he needs help."
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and looked alarmed as Ann and Karen crashed into the room, with a suspicious looking plastic bag.
"Hey - girls can't come in here."
"Shut up, Neville. And SIT DOWN!"
Boy - was that kid ever programmed! As soon as Karen rapped out the command, his legs folded up and he slammed down on to his bed. She put her hands on her hips.
"Neville - you are a disgrace! You stink! When did you last take a shower?"
He looked down at the floor.
"LOOK AT ME! I asked you a question! Now what's the answer?"
Neville mumbled something incoherent. Karen wasn't listening anyway.
"You're going to get cleaned up RIGHT NOW!"
"No!"
"If you don't, I'm calling your mother. We'll see what she has to say about the state you've let yourself get into."
Neville looked at her with an expression of desperation.
"No. Please don't do that. She'll go crazy. She'll kill me!"
"It's your choice. You get cleaned up or I call her."
"Okay. I'll take a shower."
"Not so fast. When did you last take a shit?"
I winced. So *that* was what they had in mind. Neville didn't say anything - he just turned almost brick red and looked away from them.
"Just as I thought."
She turned to Ann.
"I think an enema is indicated, don't you?"
Poor Neville was gibbering in panic.
"No. Not that. Please - I don't need an enema. I can go if I want to."
"Okay. So go. But don't flush afterwards - we want to see that you actually went."
Neville scooted into the bathroom, then emerged with the sound of water rushing into the cistern.
"I went."
I thought that Karen was going to kill him. So did he. She advanced towards him, seething with rage.
"LIAR! Look me in the eyes and tell me you went."
I was embarrassed. The poor kid burst into tears.
"All right. I couldn't go. But I'm not having one of those enemas things."
"Let's call your mother and see what she says, shall we?"
I thought he was going to piss his pants with fear. He was caught between two terrors - it was just a question of which scared him least. Karen decided for him anyway.
"Come with us. Right now."
She reached out and grabbed him by the ear. He whimpered but did not resist as she guided him into the bathroom, followed by Ann with her plastic bag. I casually wandered along and leaned in the doorway - this was going to be interesting!
The girls had gotten a lot of practice at undressing kids over the previous days. Neville didn't have a chance - four arms stripped him to the buff, leaving him desperately trying to cover himself with his hands. That was his problem now - if he tried to resist, he had to uncover his dick!
Karen reached for an enema kit and snapped the cover off the tube, then spread the glistening gel over the transparent plastic.
"Kneel down!"
It was just too easy - she gave him a push, he tried to keep his hands in position, he stumbled on to his knees and started to topple forward, then had to throw out his arms to save himself. Karen smiled in satisfaction.
"Just hold it there, Neville. This won't take long and you will feel *much* better afterwards."
The poor kid emitted a wail of sheer misery as Karen parted his cheeks, pulled a face at the stink, then slid the tube deep inside of him. Now he had another problem. He supported himself with one arm while he used his other hand to cover up his erection.
Ann whispered in Karen's ear, then took over the enema bag. Karen knelt beside Neville and stroked his back while she made soothing noises and gently slid her arm around his waist. His anguished cries reached a crescendo as I watched her hand reach for his erection.
And then they stopped. I felt a stirring in my own pants as her fingers fluttered deftly around his dick - she had obviously done this before! His head came up and I could see the tendons in his neck straining as his mouth opened and a set of moans of pure pleasure were forced from it. It only took a few moments before his entire body convulsed and made up for years of abstinence by ejaculating an incredible volume of white fluid. Karen wiped her hand on his butt, a smile of pure satisfaction on her face.
Ann was looking pleased as well - they had obviously cooked this up beforehand. She slid another couple of inches of the tube into Neville's asshole and Karen's hand slid into position again - he lasted a bit longer second time!
I felt a pang of jealousy when Ann eventually extracted the tube. Both girls helped him on to the commode, and they both stroked and soothed him into emptying his bowels. His face bore a strange expression - a mixture of wonderment and I suppose annoyance that he had spent the past few years in ignorance.
Karen wasted no time afterwards. She turned on the shower.
"Now we need to get you nice and clean."
I wondered if he was going to die - he certainly staggered a bit as Karen undressed and joined him in the shower.
I turned to see Ann uncapping another bag.
"I want my boy nice and clean too...."
That was a strange enema. It felt good, of course, but the noises from the shower, moans and groans as they couple washed each other, added something special - Ann didn't even need to touch me to produce my orgasm!
There was something tender afterwards. There was, of course, no question that the girls were going to stay the night, but I hadn't been certain of what Karen planned. She knew exactly what she was going to do - she was aiming to get his cherry, and she succeeded in spectacular fashion.
The rest of the month was incredible. I suppose the adults must have
known what we were up to, but there were no adverse comments, just the
odd smile and wink. Neville grew up incredibly - he seemed taller, his
hunted look was gone and he joined in with everything. The final crunch
came when his mother arrived to collect him - he was sixteen and had his
drivers' permit, and it was worth a lot to see his mother's face when he
insisted on driving. Somehow I didn't think she was going to be able to
get him back under her thumb.
Well, that's my life up to now. Ann is back home, and we are looking forward to college. If all goes to plan, we will be starting pre-med in the autumn. Together.
Maybe I will keep a diary.
