enema | Aunt Joan

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Aunt Joan

Paul sat quietly, fighting down a rising wave of panic. It was real late, well past his normal bedtime, and he was waiting for his aunt Joan, uncle Bob and cousin Sue to arrive.

Until now, their annual visitation for summer vacation had been welcome. His mom hardly got any time off from her job, and the arrival of the relatives always presaged a month of fun and food - he got to go everywhere with them, and mom really needed the money - not only did they pay for their keep, but they bought him new things as well.

The only downside was that Aunt Joan always took over. She had been a sergeant in the army before she married Uncle Bob, and she ran everything almost on military lines. Paul was slightly in awe of her lack of fear for anyone or anything and the way in which she just squashed people who got in her way, from cops down to kids. She was good fun, though, and she let him do things that would have his mother chewing the ends of her hair in worry.

That wasn't the main problem. Paul was now twelve, and he had changed a lot in the past year. He had known all about making babies for years, but it had always seemed to be just one more inexplicable thing that adults did, totally irrelevant to him. Everything had become different one fine day when he was lying on his stomach on the grass, and had looked up to see three girls sitting nearby, hugging their knees as they spoke to each other, displaying thin strips of white cotton panties between their legs. Sure, he had seen girls underpants before, but this time it was special. What lay underneath those panties suddenly became very relevant, and the rush of emotion had made him feel dizzy and sweaty, conscious of his hard willy poking into the ground.

Suddenly crafty, Paul had averted his gaze, watching out of the corner of his eyes. His body had revealed another unsuspected ability - his hips suddenly seemed to have a mind of their own, grinding his erection against his undershorts producing a strange, exciting sensation. Then it had happened - a set of spasms, a feeling of intense pleasure, a dampness in the front of his pants and a sudden, blinding rearrangement of half-understood snippets of information into a crystal clear understanding of SEX.

His body had become a source of both pleasure and shame. Suddenly, now that he realized just exactly what his willy was for, he needed to conceal it from the female world and from his mom in particular. No longer was she accorded access to the bathroom when he was in the tub and he cringed to think that only a few short months ago he would yell for her to wield a towel when soap got in his eyes and that she had even seen the first wisps of hair that had begun to sprout on his tummy.

Now Cousin Sue was arriving. For the past ten years or so, she had shared his room during the vacation without either of them being in the least concerned about the arrangement, but things were no longer as they had been. Heck, she was only a kid - only eleven - and not fit company for a soon-to-be teenager. Worse, she was a girl, and his precarious adolescent dignity could not cope with that sort of invasion - even mom now had to knock and wait for him to give permission for her to enter his room. He groaned inside - pyjamas had been abandoned during the year because no self respecting young man could sleep in anything other than his shorts - and they were something that no female was permitted to view apart from the unfortunate necessity of laundry work.

Paul cleared his throat.

"Mom?"

"Yes darling."

He cringed again. That sort of language was barely appropriate even when just the two of them were alone. He gritted his teeth and continued.

"I was just thinking that it would be a good thing if Sue shared with Aunt Joan.... or maybe with you?"

His mother laughed.

"Don't be so silly, Paul. You always share with Sue."

"I don't want to."

"Well, that's just tough luck, young man, because that's the way it's going to be, and what's more, you're not going to spoil everyone's vacation with your silly delusions of being an adult. Children do what they are told, not what they want."

That hated word. Child.

"I'm not a child. I'm a young adult."

"You're a child just as long as you live under my roof. And don't think you're too big to go over my knee either."

"But I'm too old to share with a girl!"

There was a pause and then his mother chuckled.

"Oh. Now I see. Well, you'll soon get over your shyness - I don't understand it anyway. After all I changed your diapers when you were a baby and you've got nothing that I haven't seen hundreds of times. Now, I don't want to hear any more about this - and you will behave yourself when our guests arrive, otherwise, young adult or not, your pants will come down for the spanking of your life."

Paul heard the iron in her voice, and the thought of a public bare-assed spanking was sufficient to quell any more public protest. He pouted as much as he dared, but held his peace.

It was after midnight when the party arrived, led by Aunt Joan who added fuel to the flames of embarrassment by picking Paul up effortlessly and planting a smacking kiss on his burning cheek. He looked round to see Uncle Bob struggling under a mound of suitcases, then was afflicted with total paralysis at the sight of Cousin Sue. Heck, she was only eleven, but she had obviously been doing some growing on her own account. Her tee shirt contained two unmistakable bulges, and her hips seemed to have grown out of proportion to the rest of her body and were filling a pair of brief denim shorts almost to bursting point. Even her face had changed - it seemed much more grown up.

Her behavior, however, had not altered. She squealed in the same old way as she flung herself on his mother and hugged and kissed. Paul retreated as Sue released her grip and turned towards him and aborted the usual rush by holding out his hand to be shaken. Sue looked at him, obviously puzzled, then dutifully shook his hand. Just before she grabbed him and wrestled him to the floor in an exuberant display of affection.

Paul struggled to get free, conscious that her body felt different from last year. Then, she had been skinny and bony, just like a boy, but now she was sort of soft. Paul wriggled away from her, his face showing his confusion, his cheeks scarlet with embarrassment.

The kids were fed warm milk and cookies while Aunt Joan unpacked Sue's pyjamas, then they were unceremoniously ordered to bed, with admonishments of going straight to sleep and not talking all night.

Paul felt trapped as the door closed. Here he was, in the company of a girl, even if she was his cousin, and the appalling necessity of removing his clothes. He turned away from her, rapidly removed everything but his shorts and dived into his bed. Only then did he dare look at her.

Sue seemed puzzled.

"What happened to your pyjamas? Surely you aren't going to sleep in your sweaty underwear?"

"I don't wear pyjamas anymore. And my underwear isn't sweaty."

Sue sniffed in disgust and pulled off her shirt, revealing that she now wore a bra. As she unbuttoned her shorts, Paul could bear it no longer. He turned his face to the wall and pulled up the sheets. This was just too embarrassing to watch.

It seemed only moments before he became conscious of sudden light and a looming presence in the room.

"Good morning, sleepyheads. It's ten o'clock, time to be up and doing. Aunt Trish has gone to work hours ago."

Paul blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and then immediately averted them from the awful sight of Aunt Joan in bra and pants, her robe unfastened, apparently totally unconcerned at her near-naked state. She was rummaging in one of the suitcases.

"Ah, here it is. Time for children to be nice and clean for their vacation."

Paul's stomach knotted into a single, hard, sick-making lump as Aunt Joan's hand emerged holding the red bag. Somehow he had forgotten all about her jolly little habit of making sure that children were in prime condition for the rigors of their vacation.

In previous years he had looked forward in a strange way to having his asshole invaded by a plastic tube and the subsequent injection of warm suds. It gave him a sort of sharp feeling as the tube slipped easily into him, followed by a warm fuzzy glow as he experienced the unique sensation of his rectum distending under the slow inexorable flow of liquid.

Aunt Joan was obviously looking for something else. She uttered a forbidden word, then remarked mainly to herself that they would just have to make do.

"Come on, out of bed. Get things ready while I fill the bag up."

She swept out of the room, and Sue climbed out of bed with alacrity and then tugged at Paul's pillows.

"Hurry up. You know she gets all annoyed if she has to wait."

Paul unwillingly detached himself from the sheets into which he had rolled, conscious that he needed to pee. Nowadays, his willy had a dreadful habit of standing to attention to provide him with that information, and today was no exception. He grasped the front of his shorts and fled to the toilet, his nose catching the first wisps of steamy, soapy smell as he entered the bathroom. He pushed past Aunt Joan, and turned his back on her as he concentrated, producing first a dribble then an incredibly satisfying torrent, sighing with pleasure as his bladder deflated.

He returned to the room to find that Sue had already placed the pillows, building the wedge shape that Aunt Joan used. Paul had never quite worked out why she did it that way - on the few childhood occasions that he had received an enema from his mom, she had simply bent him over the tub and run in the liquid.

"Right, children, let's get this done. You first, Paul."

He stood there, hands grasping frantically at his shorts as though that would save him from her ministrations. Joan noticed for the first time that he was wearing his undershorts, and looked around, puzzled.

"No pyjamas?"

"No. Not any more."

"And you sleep in your underwear? That's not very hygienic, is it? Well, get them off and adopt the position."

"I don't want an enema."

"So?"

Her tone said it all. Joan paid scarce heed to what they wanted. Paul tried the other tack.

"I don't need an enema. I'm not stuffed."

"So? That's only one reason for needing an enema. The other one is that they keep you nice and healthy."

Paul sighed. Nothing for it but a straight refusal.

"I won't take it. I'm too old for enemas."

Joan looked at him in that way, and her words came out in that tone.

"I don't intend to argue with you, young man. Just step out of your skivvies right now, before I lose my temper with you."

Young adult or not, Paul was just twelve, and quite unable to resist the firm voice of authority. To his chagrin, he felt tears come unbidden to his eyes as he slid down the shorts and stepped out of them, keeping his body bent in a vain attempt at concealment. There was no option. He climbed on to the bed and sat on the apex of the wedge shape of pillows that Sue had built, then lay backwards draped down the sloping fabric, his stomach the highest point of his body. Aunt Joan always gave enemas in that position, with the recipient's legs bent backwards.

Paul wretchedly clasped his hands over his nakedness as Aunt Joan greased the nozzle. His eyes widened in horror. Instead of the slim white two-inch pipe, this one was at least twice the length, thicker and with the end bulging out to three smooth plastic lobes. Concealment forgotten, he raised himself on one arm and stared at the device.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's just a different sort of nozzle. Don't worry - it will go in quite easily. Sue?"

Paul lay back in misery as Sue performed her usual duty of holding his knees high and wide. This had always been a deliciously naughty thing to do, and in the past he had gotten a sort of funny feeling, knowing that she could see everything he possessed. Now all he felt was a burning shame as he was laid bare before two sets of female eyes.

Aunt Joan wrinkled her nose.

"When did you last take a bath, young man?"

To his utter horror she bent down and picked up his shorts, then sniffed them before letting them fall to the floor in disgust.

"I'm surprised at you - and your mother. Don't you know that when you start to grow hair down there then you have to wash more frequently? I can see that you are going to need a few hygiene lessons!"

Paul felt his legs shaking, and then realized that Sue was laughing silently at him. She added fuel to the flames by sniffing loudly and emitting strangled noises of disgust. Paul gazed, hypnotized, at the huge nozzle as Aunt Joan dipped it in a pot of grease.

"Now just relax. This won't hurt at all."

But it did hurt. Paul writhed in agony as his asshole knotted itself in an attempt to repel the threatening object. He felt it withdrawn, then sort of rubbed around, gently trying to insinuate itself into his orifice, but to no avail. Aunt Joan tutted.

"I'm sure I don't know what is the matter with you nowadays. You always used to enjoy your enemas."

Paul blushed again. This was on a par with naked baby pictures being displayed for visitors. Sue giggled and chimed in.

"Last year he pretended he was stuffed, just so he could get another one."

Paul's misery was complete. What she had said was true, confessed in a sniggering bedtime conversation just before they had left for home. For ages afterwards, he had missed the strangely pleasurable sensation of the enema, and by the time Christmas had arrived he tried the trick again on his mother.

That was when he had suddenly become self conscious. He had sat on the stool in the bathroom while mom went through the ritual of preparing the solution and filling the bag, and then had suddenly realized that, as usual, his willy was standing to attention in anticipation of the delicious experience. Suddenly, he had been overcome by intense feelings of shame and bashfulness as she told him to drop his pants and bend over the tub for his enema.

There had been no escape, of course. He had not even tried to back out - there was no way mom would have accepted that. He could still remember the feeling of horror and reticence as he had exposed his butt to her for the mercifully brief ritual. That was the first time he had really jacked off, as well. Mom had withdrawn the tip and left him to get on with the expulsion of the liquid. Paul had held it in as long as he could, frantically rubbing himself as the urge grew to expel the liquid, letting everything go as he came to an intense orgasm.

Paul was roughly dragged back to the present as Aunt Joan handed the tip to Sue and then dipped her finger deep into the grease. His over-riding emotion was one of bewilderment as Aunt Sue reached towards him and then began to gently rub the lubricant around his anus, speaking in a soothing tone of voice as she told him to relax, that everything was going to be fine. He felt a resurgence of emotion as he did relax and began to enjoy the feeling of the gentle stimulation of his orifice.

Then, to his dismay, he became aware of a tightness of skin as his penis slowly inflated, the tip detaching itself from his belly, pulling against the sweat film that was holding it to his skin. He began to panic, twisting his body in an attempt to get away from the awful situation. He felt a sudden sting in his butt as Aunt Joan slapped him.

"Just hold still, young man, and stop being such a coward. It's perfectly normal for that to happen - there's no need to be coy about it."

Paul twisted his head round. Sue was looking at his erection with a fascinated expression on her face, her mouth slightly open, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. He felt exposed, vulnerable and deeply ashamed that his most private of functions was being revealed to a girl - worse, a girl who was younger than him.

Then his entire body stiffened in terror as the finger changed direction and slowly, deliberately slipped right up inside of him. It had never crossed his young mind that anybody could do that, that anybody would do that. His back arched as every muscle in his body contracted, his eyes filming over as his heart pounded and strangled grunts issued from his throat.

"What a good boy."

He relaxed as the finger was removed, his asshole still sort of feeling it, then clenched his jaw as he saw her dip her finger in the grease again. It wasn't over.

The second insertion was much less traumatic, though. Things were pretty well lubricated and there was little resistance as the finger slid home, producing an intensified version of the same feeling as was produced by an enema tip. He felt her knuckles digging into his skin, and realized that the whole length of her finger was inside him. He could feel it sort of wiggling about, pushing against tender tissue, evoking an entirely new depth of stimulation as she moved it in and out a couple of times.

"That seems to have calmed you down. Now let's get this enema done - we haven't got all day, you know."

The large nozzle slipped easily in and Aunt Joan did not stop until almost its whole length had been inserted.

"Just hold on to this, Sue."

Sue sat on the bed, and rested his legs on her shoulders as she held the tip firmly in place while Aunt Joan undid the clip on the rubber tubing. Paul gasped as the liquid hit him with a rush, producing first that strange, intense feeling, then causing a violent cramp. He writhed in agony as Aunt Joan quickly shut off the flow.

"Sorry about that, Paul. I forgot that it would go faster through that nozzle. Just hold on - the cramping will soon stop."

She was correct. The cramping did subside, to be replaced with an indescribable feeling as she resumed a slower rate of flow. Paul felt split into two parts, one of which luxuriated in the enema, the other cringing at the way in which Sue was just sitting there, watching the whole thing.

At long last, the nozzle was tweaked out and Paul scuttled to the bathroom, followed, to his horror, by Aunt Joan. He hopped from foot to foot, his erection waving wildly, unwilling to let her see him using the toilet, as she turned on the taps and began to fill the tub. He felt a wetness as his anus began to give up the unequal struggle, and had no option but to squat and empty his bowels. Aunt Joan nodded approvingly.

"Good boy - it helps if you hold it in. Now hop in the tub."

"I can wash myself!"

"Oh no you can't - you're filthy down there. You'll end up with some sort of skin disease if you don't wash properly, so I am going to make sure that you get clean and stay clean. Hop in, now, and bend over for me."

Tears were coming again as Paul was forced to submit to a thorough washing of his hindquarters. Soap was rubbed in, massaged with her fingers, then rinsed off again. His erection was painful by now, his balls demanding to release their load, but Aunt Joan paid no heed.

"Stand up and turn round."

Oh God. Paul squirmed in agony as his balls were soaped and rinsed, then stood aghast as his aunt soaped her hands and reached for his penis. It was just too much. He could not prevent the release of a strangled gasp as she firmly massaged the organ with soapy hands and the unstoppable process began. He sobbed as he felt the release of the sticky white fluid into the general mass of foam.

Paul gratefully subsided into the warm water as Aunt Joan finally left the room, permitting him to start to rebuild his demolished ego. He grabbed a towel as Sue rushed in and made for the toilet and beat a hasty retreat to the accompaniment of her gush of liquid.

And this was only the first day of his vacation....

Chapter 2

Paul dried himself quickly, making sure that he selected fresh underwear and hurried towards the smell of food. Sue and Aunt Joan joined him after a while, and Paul felt his embarrassment slowly ebbing away as things returned to normal. Aunt Joan announced that they were going to the beach - like many kids who live near the sea, Paul tended to ignore its presence most of the time. She picked up the capacious bag that she always carried and told Paul to collect his swimming things. When he returned with the Speedos that he normally wore, she started to rummage in the bag.

"I think you need some anti-perspirant before we go out in that heat. We don't want you getting all sweaty again, do we?"

Paul readily agreed, and removed his shirt when requested, then closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose as Aunt Joan sprayed his armpits liberally with the aerosol. The hissing stopped and he was just starting to relax, when he felt her hand at his waist. It was too late to stop her - before he could react she had pulled the front of his pants forward and sprayed a liberal amount of the stuff on to his freshly washed and sensitive genitals.

It stung like hell, and Paul leapt up and down in agony, flapping the front of his pants to direct cooling air to the region while Aunt Joan and Sue howled with laughter.

"It isn't funny. It stings!"

Even the taciturn Uncle Bob had a grin on his face as he removed his pipe.

"Better get used to it, Paul. It won't be the last pain in that area caused by some woman or other."

His wife silenced him with a glare, then ushered the kids to the car. Uncle Bob wasn't going, of course - all he wanted from a holiday was to be left in peace to continue with his famous book - the one he had been writing for as long as anyone could remember.

They drove to Aunt Joan's favorite spot - a small, deserted sandy bay. Sue and Paul both groaned as they saw it - their idea of a good time involved more than sea and sand. Aunt Joan settled down on a large towel under her immense sunshade, and reached into her bag.

Paul watched as she pulled out his Speedos and then his eyes alighted on the rounded end of the enema bulb that she always seemed to carry with her as part of her general first aid kit for kids.

His first experience of that particular item was indelibly engraved on Paul's mind. He must have been about six or seven and they were on one of those terminally boring car trips - he had long forgotten the destination. To add to his misery, Paul had gotten car sick, and long streaks of puke now decorated the side of the car below the window he had used. Aunt Joan had stopped at the next gas station and marched him into the ladies washroom and run hot water into one of the basins, to the evident interest of the two ladies who were already in there.

"He's just car sick - I reckon all he needs is an enema and then he will be right as rain."

That was when she had produced the red rubber bulb with the pencil sized white tube protruding from the end, and squeezed it several times in the soapy water.

"Right, young man, let's have you in here."

Still mystified, Paul had allowed her to usher him into one of the toilet stalls. She had turned him to face the bowl, then pulled down his elasticated pants and bent him over the bowl. She had not even closed the door - as Paul had turned to see what was happening, he had realized that the other two ladies were watching intently.

Then he had yelped in sheer surprise as Aunt Joan had unceremoniously inserted the nozzle and squeezed the bulb, sending what seemed to be an immense hot surge of liquid into his butt, making him howl with shock and mortification at being so publicly and unceremoniously treated.

It got worse. He had received four injections in total, and each time Aunt Joan had walked across the room to refill the syringe, leaving him even more exposed, his tension mounting each time he heard her footsteps growing closer, his butthole getting increasingly sore from the repeated insertions.

At least she had closed the door when he actually went to the toilet, straining to expel the cheap, corrosive washroom soap. When he eventually emerged, it was to find a girl - a big girl, probably ten years old - in the next stall, groaning and complaining as her mother wielded the borrowed syringe whilst a boy of about the same age nervously grasped himself through the front of his pants as he waited his turn.

Paul realized for the first time that the two mothers and Aunt Joan had actually been enjoying the whole thing. Truth to tell, he had enjoyed it as well, once his turn was over. Sue must only have been about four, and of no interest to him at that time - they went in the tub together and there were no secrets from each other. The big girl was sort of different - as she bent forward her pee thing seemed much bigger and fatter than Sue's, and her little hole looked like it was opening all by itself.

He recalled how surprised he had been when it had come to the turn of the boy, and his willy had been revealed as surprisingly large and standing up all by itself - his mom had gotten annoyed at the fact that he was sort of playing with it and slapped it quite hard, producing floods of tears, before she settled down to the task of filling him with bulb after bulb of suds - Aunt Joan had eventually intervened to make her stop, and his mom had done so with some reluctance, saying that he deserved it for being such a dirty little boy.

The enema had certainly cured his car sickness, but had left him with a soreness that had steadily increased as his butt sweated on the car seat. Too young to know when to let things alone, Paul had grumbled with increasing volume until Aunt Joan had suddenly pulled into a side road and produced the enema syringe again.

"All right, if you're sore, I'll rinse you out."

He vividly remembered looking around, seeing no building anywhere and wondering just where they would go. The answer was simple - she had opened the passenger door, bent him over the seat and repeated the syringing, using a bottle of cool drinking water that gave him his first experience of the power of a cold liquid to turn his bowels into painful knots. He had even been forced to squat in the limited cover afforded by the open door to void the liquid, tears running down his face as he strained to expel every last drop.

"Well, boy, are you swimming or not?"

Paul wrenched himself from his memories and took the brief red garment from her, suddenly realizing his awful predicament. Thinking about some of his experiences had unaccountably gone directly to his willy, and a bulge in the front of his shorts was close to revealing his excited state. He turned his back and changed as fast as he could, then ran for the water, but not before he had seen Sue's eyes fastened directly on the cylindrical bulge.

The day was as boring as Paul had feared. Lunch consisted of a slightly gritty salad, they swam and built a sandcastle while Aunt Joan got on with her knitting.

Bedtime presented Paul with a new problem. Aunt Joan was quite firm.

"Put those dirty underclothes straight in the wash. Wear your pyjamas like a Christian should."

He looked down and mumbled.

"I don't have any pyjamas. I don't wear them any more."

She was suitably shocked. Wearing the right garments in bed was as important in her mind as dressing properly for school or church.

"Then you will just have to sleep in the buff tonight. Tomorrow I'll get you some pyjamas."

She swept out of the room. Paul could not bring himself to strip naked in front of his cousin, even though she had already seen exactly what he had to offer. He slid between the sheets in his shorts, wriggled out of them, and then handed them to Sue so that she could put them in the basket.

The sheets were cool and somewhat sensuous as Paul lay thinking about his experiences. He turned his head towards Sue.

"I wish Aunt Joan would let up on the enemas. Don't you hate them as well?"

Her reply was in tones of astonishment.

"Of course not. It's a mother's job to tend to children. Anyway, I quite like enemas - they make me feel good. When I have children, I'm going to make sure they all have one enema every week."

"I'm not a child any more."

"Of course you are, just like me. You don't get to be an adult until you're eighteen at least."

There was a silence, then Sue spoke again.

"Mind you, I don't think I will get married and have kids anyway."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Well, I just couldn't let.... You know - what adults have to do to make a baby - I just couldn't let anyone do that to me. It's disgusting, and I bet it hurts."

"Of course it doesn't hurt - it's natural."

"So's dying, and I don't want to do that either."

Paul gave up. But there was one piece of information that he needed.

"You know that rubber ball thing that Aunt Joan used to carry around in her bag? Does she still have it?"

There was an embarrassed sort of giggle from the other bed. Paul felt a tug on the sheets as his prick came back to the position of attention. He massaged it gently as Sue replied.

"Oh, yes. Do you remember when we were little and she made you have it in the restroom?"

Paul managed a strangled grunt. He had forgotten that Sue must have been there. His cousin continued.

"And the time we ate too much at the picnic place? When she took us into the bushes and squirted us?"

Paul did remember. He increased the intensity and frequency of his self-massage. Sue's next question threw him.

"Paul? Do you like it when you get an enema? I mean, really like it?"

"Er.... sort of... It feels..."

"...all funny inside?"

That did it. Paul held his breath to conceal the fact that his prick was jumping around like crazy. He came back to earth and hastily rubbed the small quantity of liquid into his tummy - it would shower off in the morning. Sue heaved a sigh of relief.

"My best friend said I was a sicko when I told her that mom was always giving me enemas, and that they were real nice. I'm not sick, am I?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I wish she didn't do it so often, though...."

Sleep washed over both of them, each experiencing a different kind of relief.

Chapter 3

Paul rose bright and early the following morning so that he could use the bathroom before Sue awoke - he could not work out exactly what the reason was, but he just did not want to see her naked, even though part of him was urging that he should do just that. Maybe he did not trust himself to remain as a cousin should - maybe his prick would betray him if they were naked together.

He had learned his lesson from the previous day - this time he wore his Speedos under his shorts - that would save the awkwardness of changing into them when they hit the beach.

They got a surprise when the car drew up in the bay - for the first time ever, they were not alone. Another lady was there, and a boy and girl. Aunt Joan just made straight for them and started talking, while the four kids eyed each other.

It turned out that the people had rented a nearby house for the summer. The mother seemed OK, and it rapidly transpired that Aunt Joan outranked her - she had only made corporal.

The boy was called Jim, and was twelve, just like Paul, and seemed to be a nice guy. The girl was another matter.

She was called Sandy, she was fourteen, starting highschool after the summer, and she looked at the other three with the total disdain that a two-year age gap can produce. Actually, Paul reckoned she was pretty stunning - her one-piece swimsuit revealed a good figure, with the sort of boobs that featured regularly in his fevered fantasies. Her hair was cropped short, almost boyish, and bounced around as she tossed her head in disgust at the company which had been inflicted on her.

Sandy did not want to swim, she did not want to play ball, she did not even want to talk to the other three. Jim grimaced as they ran towards the sea.

"Sandy's been that since we arrived. She has a boyfriend at home, and she is really mad at mom for dragging her on vacation. Don't even try to talk to her - she'll just bite your head off."

Paul discovered that for himself. Sandy caught him glancing at her boobs.

"Piss off you little dwarf. Why don't you just go and play with yourself? I can lend you a magnifying glass and tweezers if that helps."

Paul felt himself blushing. It was bad enough to get caught out, but the insult to his manhood was hard to bear. He had a wild desire to wave his prick at her just to prove that it wasn't small.

lunchtime came, and the two women had amalgamated supplies and laid out quite an attractive picnic on a large towel. Sandy just had to make her point.

"I don't want any of your damn food. I'm not hungry, and I don't want to eat. It's all rubbish anyway."

Paul felt his stomach contract in sheer panic as the girl grabbed the towel and threw the food into the sand. Her mother screamed at her in rage, but Sandy just stood there with an expression of triumph. Paul and Sue's attention was riveted on Aunt Joan. Her lips had compressed into a thin line that boded ill for the girl.

The two adults went into a whispered conference, and Paul felt his heart beat faster as Aunt Joan opened her bag and the two women looked at its contents. He had a good idea what they were discussing.

There was a high pitched scream as Aunt Joan took a handful of the back of Sandy's swimsuit and lifted the girl bodily from the ground. Paul and Jim stood open-mouthed at the sight of its crotch disappearing into Sandy's flesh, leaving a hair covered lip on either side.

"You three go off and play. Sandy's mother and I have something in mind to improve her appetite."

They scurried away, then turned to see the beach umbrella laid on its side with its point towards them and Sandy frog-marched behind it, then Aunt Joan's arm grab her bag. Jim was scared and fascinated.

"What do you think they are going to do to her? Might she get spanked?"

Paul chuckled.

"Nothing as nice as that. I reckon she's going to get an enema."

"An enema? What's that?"

"It's when they stick a tube up your asshole and pump you full of water. Aunt Joan is very fond of giving them to kids that lose their appetite."

They watched the unfolding of the drama. Sandy's mom got hold of the straps of her swimsuit, and the girl rapidly concealed herself behind the sunshade, but they could see that her mother was pulling the garment down to Sandy's knees.

The dome of the umbrella was not large enough for total concealment - Sandy screamed and yelled as she ended up on all fours, her head craned round as she looked to see what was happening. Paul grunted as he saw Aunt Joan pouring water into a bowl.

"Yep. It's an enema. Certain sure."

A piercing scream of utter outrage echoed round the bay as Aunt Joan bent down behind the umbrella and Sandy's head jerked right back as though someone had pulled a string. Jim's eyes were wide, fastened on his sister's head, the only visible part of her body.

"Is that it? Are they finished?"

Paul hardly needed to answer as another yell emerged from Sandy.

"That's two. I wonder when they will stop?"

There was a pause after five howls, and Paul began to relax. Sandy also subsided enough to look around - and then saw the two boys staring at her.

"Mom. They're looking at me! Tell them to go away.... yeowwwww...."

This time it was Aunt Joan who was standing and supervising while Sandy's mother wielded the bulb. By the count of ten the yell had changed from outrage and threats to tears and begging. At last the two adults stood up, followed by a high velocity teenage girl, her swimsuit held frantically and inadequately over her well developed breasts as she raced to find some privacy before the inevitable gush erupted from her rear. Paul and Jim rolled about in hilarious laughter, kicking their legs in the air and hooting in derision until the thoroughly humiliated girl found some scrub which provided a modicum of concealment, lowered her swimsuit and squatted before emitting a gout of water and the rest of the contents of her rectum. Sue was outraged.

"It's not funny, you know. Think how Sandy must feel."

Jim brushed away the tears of laughter.

"That's why it's so funny. She deserves everything she gets for ruining our lunch. She's been a total pain for weeks now - I never thought she would get her comeuppance. Your mother is marvelous!"

The three kids were set to clearing up the mess, eventually joined by a tearful and contrite Sandy, displaying evidence in the form of a large wet patch that her attempts to hold in the enema had not been totally successful. To their intense disappointment, the two boys were made to sit facing the sea while Sandy's mom and Aunt Joan cleaned her up. Paul was tempted to peek, but he had a shrewd suspicion that such behavior would attract another session with the enema syringe - only this time he would be on the receiving end. The two boys had to be content with ribald laughter and stage whisper suggestions that Sandy needed to be back in diapers.

The girl's misery was then compounded by her mother.

"Well, there's no lunch here. Why don't we go into town and grab a burger or two. Sandy's paying - out of her allowance."

The burgers tasted marvelous as the boys discovered that vengeance makes the best sauce of all. They broke down into additional hilarity as Sandy was forced to depart for the toilet a couple of times as further installments of liquid appeared from unknown crevices in her intestines. Jim beamed with satisfaction as he asked for, and was granted, a second burger - courtesy of his big sister.

As the time drew on and Aunt Joan packed up to leave, Jim had a bright idea - he wanted to be out of Sandy's way that night, just in case she found some way of getting even.

"Mom. Can I sleep in the tent tonight?"

"If you like, dear."

"Can Paul come too?"

So the two boys found themselves erecting a small tent in the twilight, still occasionally guffawing at the memory of the afternoon. Suddenly Jim looked at the house and whispered to Paul to be quiet.

"Sandy's going to bed - there's a light in her room."

"So?"

"Let's spy on her."

"That's disgusting. She's your sister."

"So? She's a girl as well. It's educational - we need to know about girls, otherwise how will we ever know what to do?"

They looked at each other and sniggered. Paul withdrew his objections.

"Well, seeing as it's educational, I suppose it's really just like school. Let's go!"

They tiptoed across the lawn in bare feet, holding their breath in anticipation as they maneuvered to a position where they could look in the window. Sandy still looked miserable, and they heard the faint sound of a complaining call for her mother because her butt was all sore.

The boys looked at each other. Pay dirt. This was better than they could have hoped for. Sandy's mother entered the room, holding a large tube of cream, and then, wonder of wonders, the girl removed every stitch of her clothing. Paul caught his breath at the sight - her tits were even bigger and better shaped than he had imagined - then moaned softly as he looked down at the triangle of blonde hair between the girl's legs.

The two boys hugged each other in unholy glee as Sandy stood with her legs well apart and then bent forward, squealing and then subsiding as her mother applied the cream to the inflamed areas where the liquid had produced the start of a rash.

Paul felt an unaccountable increase in tension from Jim as Sandy was left alone in her room. He watched, uncomprehending, as the girl, her hand moving slowly and deliberately between her legs, lay back on her bed and started to rub the cream in. So why was Jim getting so worked up?

Then Sandy suddenly reached over, and an instant later the room was plunged into darkness. The two boys scurried back to their tent, both holding the front of their pants to lessen the effects of friction. Paul was embarrassed - he had a hard on, and was uncertain. Jim switched on the battery lamp, and then, to Paul's astonishment, simply threw off his clothes and massaged his erection.

"Wasn't that GREAT! I've spied before, but I never saw everything until now!"

Encouraged by the other boy's lack of inhibitions, Paul shyly stripped as well. They eyed each other in the age-old competition, then decided on a draw. Jim was still jubilant.

"Did you see that! Just before she put the light out."

"Huh? See what? She was just rubbing the cream in."

"Like fuck! She was rubbing herself off."

He saw the blank look on Paul's face.

"Don't you know about it? Like when we jerk off? Girls do it as well."

Paul groaned as realization dawned. Of course they would! If only he had known at the time. Jim switched off the light and the two boys lay side by side, each gently stroking himself, prolonging the wonderful feeling.

Paul stiffened in surprise as he felt a hand on his stomach, prising his own hand away from his erection and replacing it.

"You do it for me and I'll do it for you."

His initial reservations were swept away by the amazing feeling that a different hand produced. This was jerking off - squared - and it felt just too good to have any doubts about. He felt around until his hand was filled with the hot, rigid rod of Jim's prick, and they began to slowly, then frantically, pump away with total abandon.

Chapter 4

Things settled down over the next few days. Back home, most of the shyness evaporated from Paul as he grew more used to sharing with Sue, although he still felt compelled to avert his eyes when she undressed. He gave a few wry smiles - if he told the boys at school that he had shared a room with a girl, even if she was his cousin, and never even peeked, they would either think he was lying or accuse him of being gay! Still, he had the memory of Sandy - and that was sufficient for an infinite number of sexual fantasies.

Jim invited him to sleep in the tent again, and Paul spent the afternoon filled with glorious anticipation of yet another unauthorized view of the Sandy. It was not to be - as soon as the boys saw the light in her window, it was immediately followed by lowering of the blind. The two boys retired to their tent, both highly aroused, and it seemed quite natural to strip off and get down to some serious friction on each other.

Their activities were rudely interrupted - the tent flap was wrenched open, and they found themselves squinting into the beam of a high powered lamp. Two erections, hastily concealed by the nearest piece of clothing, withered as they heard Sandy's voice.

"I thought you two little perverts would be up to something like this! I heard something outside my window the other night and I reckoned that you would be back. Just wait until I tell mom!"

Panic stricken, the two boys begged and pleaded with her. Sandy just stood there, a malicious grin on her face, as she savored the first installment of her revenge. Finally, she seemed to relent a little.

"Well, you two saw me naked, so it's only fair if I have a good look at you. Come on, out of the tent."

Each boy still clutched a pair of shorts to his stomach as they reluctantly obeyed and were herded towards a secluded corner, jumping and yelping at intervals as Sandy stabbed at their naked butts with the cold metal of the flashlight. Finally they stood side by side facing her, clinging desperately to the shorts.

"Drop 'em"

Paul and Jim looked at each other as though seeking some miracle, then simultaneously dropped the garments to the ground. Paul felt horribly exposed as the beam of the flashlight wandered over his chest, then moved down and settled on his genitals as he shivered in the cool night air.

"Well, I don't think much of that. It's tiny."

He looked down and saw his shriveled organ, then watched as the illumination shifted to Jim, who was in a similar condition of flaccid misery. Paul endured the scornful comments - this couldn't go on all night, could it?

"OK. Do it."

"Do what?"

"What you were doing in the tent. Playing with yourselves."

Paul and Jim looked at each other in horror.

"No way. No fucking way."

"All right. Let's go inside shall we? I'm sure mom will be interested in what you were doing - you'll get grounded forever."

Slowly, unwillingly, each boy reached down and started to rub, with absolutely no result. The two organs remained shriveled and limp. Paul heard an agonized voice from Jim.

"I can't do it. It won't work. Not like this."

"Yes you can."

There were tears in his voice as he wailed in despair.

"We can't. Not here... not now."

The boys stood in mute misery in the beam of light. It wobbled for a while, then suddenly swung round to illuminate Sandy's bare breasts. The entire universe contracted to those twin, pert organs, each capped by a nipple that seemed to be sort of standing out as Sandy caressed them with one hand. The situation was forgotten as their mouth gaped open, and their pricks showed appreciation of the view. Sandy chuckled.

"I though that might do it. Now let me see some action."

Paul felt the light settle back on his erection. This was terrible, but he had no choice, did he? He could hardly even begin to imagine what his mother's reaction would be if Sandy spilled the beans.

It seemed to take hours to jerk off. His prick became numb, then tender as he desperately pumped away as ordered.

The ejaculation, when it eventually came, was both feeble and painful. He released his grasp with a sigh of relief, licking the salty tears from around his mouth. To his left he heard strangled grunts and whimpers as Jim also came to a miserable orgasm.

"Very good. Sore?"

The two boys fell for it, nodding their heads in unison. Paul felt cold all over as the beam of the flashlight rotated and settled on a tube of cream. THE tube of cream.

He writhed and yelped as Sandy applied a thick coat of the white goo to his prick and balls with unnecessary vigor, then watched Jim in similar agony as she repeated the process with him.

"That makes us even, I think!"

They limped sadly back to the tent and cleaned themselves up, neither daring to speak for fear that he might burst into tears if he tried. Revenge might be sweet - but only if you were handing it out.

Strangely, the session seemed to have a positive effect on their relationship. Nobody mentioned it, but somehow it had brought them closer, broken down barriers, so that all four of them began to play happily together.

Sandy's mother looked grim after she took the call.

"Sandy, Jim. Your Aunt Mary is ill. I have to go to her right now."

Sandy brightened. She would get to see her boyfriend now.

"So we go home?"

"No. You're too young to travel alone, and I can't just let you fend for yourselves - anyway, I would only worry what you were up to. No - we'll stay in a motel."

The kids groaned. There was nothing worse than a motel - they were always miles from anywhere and full of only two kinds of people - grumpy old women and guilty-looking couples, neither of which was a bundle of fun.

It was Aunt Joan who proposed the solution.

"You've rented the house for a month, so why don't I move in with my pair, then I can look after all four of them? If worst comes to worst, I'll take yours back home with me until you make arrangements for them."

Sandy and Jim assented readily to the plan. They were accustomed to Aunt Joan, each would have a companion, and anyway, anything was better than living in a motel. Extra beds were made up, and Aunt Joan arrived with her bag as usual.

"Uh-uh."

Paul had seen the loop of red tubing that was protruding from the top of the bag. Vacation with Aunt Joan involved three routine enemas - one on arrival, one on the middle Saturday of her visit, and one just before she left - and this was Saturday! He saw Jim's brow wrinkle in puzzlement, and explained the situation.

"It's enemas tonight."

Jim panicked.

"No way. I'm not taking an enema - and definitely not from her. She can just fuck off. I won't let her do it."

Paul felt himself staring to panic.

"NO. You'll end up getting it no matter what you do. Just let her do it. It doesn't hurt."

"It hurt when she gave one to Sandy!"

"Look - a regular enema doesn't hurt at all, but if you get her riled she'll make sure it hurts - just like she did with Sandy."

Jim looked doubtful.

"It must hurt. Getting loads of soapy water up your ass is bound to hurt."

Paul felt himself blush. He didn't even like admitting this to himself.

"Listen - if you just lay back and relax, an enema doesn't hurt at all. In fact, it feels ....."

"Feels what?"

"It's hard to explain. It feels nice. Sort of like sex, but different. Honest."

Jim looked doubtful, but, remembering Sandy's howls of pain, he decided that maybe it was better to submit when his turn came round.

The message didn't get to Sandy. The girls were marched to their room, then the boys heard her angry voice, rising to a terrified pitch as the tears started to flow.

"NO. Not another one. Not likely."

Paul and Jim giggled - this was almost as good as the time on the beach. Then they jumped to their feet in surprise.

"BOYS. Get in here right now."

They rushed into the room, skidded to a halt, and then saw Sandy backed into a corner, her face purple and streaked with tears as she frantically raised her hands to fend off Aunt Joan, who glanced round at them before turning her attention back to the terrified girl.

"OK, young madam. You can have it one of two ways. Either you get those pants off and lie on the bed, or I'll take them off for you and the boys will help - won't you, boys?"

The enormity of the threat silenced the girl for a moment, then she shook her head.

"You wouldn't dare!"

Then the girl screeched in an agony of frustration and humiliation as she suddenly realized that Aunt Joan was several times stronger than she was - and twice as fast. The boys backed off as Sandy was unceremoniously dumped on to the bed and her shorts and panties pulled down and over her struggling feet.

"Keep still or..."

"No way...."

"BOYS. Grab a leg each."

Sandy howled in impotent rage as the boys pulled her legs high and wide, lifting her butt off the bed and allowing Aunt Joan to insert two pillows beneath. Sandy's head was against the wall, her body bent into an arc by the pillows. She found that she could not move beyond a few small wriggles, which rapidly ceased as Aunt Joan gestured to the boys to pull harder on Sandy's legs.

They gazed in total fascination. Sandy had what seemed to be an enormous amount of hair down below, but there was structure within it, two flesh lips, parted by the position of her legs, revealing a strange wiggly bit, and a deep orifice which gaped open at them. This was the secret place - the place where pricks went - the part of a woman that neither had really expected to make even a visual acquaintance with for several years. And further back, her asshole, round, crinkly and brown, itself partly opened up. Paul felt incapable of breathing, his heart pounding, his temples throbbing, all of his body apparently on fire, his prick thrusting at his undershorts, ignored in the sexual tension of the moment.

They felt Sandy give up the struggle. Her body was tense, a steady pressure on her captive legs as she sobbed in despair. Paul fully expected the enema tip to be thrust deep into that little asshole, and he could almost hear the agonized entreaties of the girl as Aunt Joan held the bag high. He blinked in surprise when Aunt Joan's voice softened as she spread cream on her hand and started to apply it to Sandy's ass.

"Now, just relax. This enema won't hurt a bit, I promise you. Relax..."

The fingers moved slowly back and forth, and Paul was astonished to feel the tension on Sandy's legs slowly decrease as more and more cream was applied and the fingers pushed more firmly.

Then, suddenly, Sandy stiffened as though an electric current had run through her, and emitted a sort of gasping moan as one finger pushed a little harder and slid smoothly into her anus. Paul gulped - the sight was just about the sexiest thing he had ever seen as he tried to imagine himself as Aunt Joan. His prick was so tender that he felt himself on the point of coming, and looked away rapidly, fixing his gaze on a distinctly un-erotic wall poster of a whale instead.

He looked back in time to see more cream being applied to the enema tip, and realized that Aunt Joan had bought a new one - that didn't have a plastic tip at all, just a blunt ended rubber tube with a small hole in it.

He felt, rather than heard, the effect of its insertion on the girl. She seemed to move towards the intruding object, almost as though she were trying to suck it inside her. Paul gripped the leg more firmly as he felt it tremble from the intensity of the stimulation.

Aunt Joan made a real production of the enema. She took it slow, stopping the flow as soon as Sandy showed the slightest sort of discomfort, rubbing her stomach to disperse the liquid, slipping the tube further in by small increments.

Paul's initial sexual excitement abated and was replaced by something closer to curiosity as he struggled to understand what was happening to the girl. She seemed to have peed herself a little - the hair around her slit was wet - and a strange, musky scent rose from her body She wasn't struggling any more, but her legs pushed rhythmically against him in a slow gentle movement which became faster and more urgent as the enema neared its conclusion.

Finally, Sandy was released and staggered on uncertain legs towards the bathroom. Aunt Joan looked around and beamed.

"All right. Who's next?

Her eyes settled on Sue whose attempts at invisibility had not met with much success. The young girl stood up slowly, her eyes on Jim, obviously uncomfortable with the presence of a strange boy.

"Come on, dear. We haven't got all evening. Get your clothes off."

Just for a moment it looked as if Sue might object, but her mother's control was just too strong. He shoulders sagged as she undressed and stood, stooping and embarrassed, before slowly climbing on to the bed and settling herself with her butt on the pillows, her legs drawn well back, her face burning as she saw the interest of both boys.

Paul's bashfulness evaporated - maybe it was because Jim was there as well - and he allowed himself to look at his young cousin. Under her clothes, she was nothing like Sandy. Her breasts were just conical lumps, and only a few straggly wisps of hair decorated the front of her slit - even the lips were thin and undeveloped compared to the older girl. Paul held Sue's legs as Aunt Joan applied another coating of grease to the tube, then slid it smoothly into the girls open orifice.

The enema was different in other ways. Sue didn't object - she just lay passively as the water was run in. In fact, from Paul's point of view the whole thing was distinctly anti-climactic, just a little girl having her bowels flushed like the hundreds of other times it had happened to her. Paul was quite surprised to see that Jim had gotten quite excited - he had moved behind Aunt Joan, and was holding the bulge in the front of his pants, his hand almost absent-mindedly squeezing it slowly and gently as his eyes gazed steadily at the scene.

It was soon over - Sue scampered off to the bathroom, followed by Aunt Joan bearing the empty bag. Jim found his voice at last.

"Should we go to our room? I don't want anyone watching me."

Paul shook his head sadly.

"Just wait here. Aunt Joan will have decided already, and there's no point in arguing with her."

Then, suddenly, the room was full again. The two girls were scrambling into their clothes and Aunt Joan was hanging up the bag. Sue left to make some coffee, and Jim suddenly found himself in the center of attention.

"Your turn, young man. You've seen what to do."

Jim was shattered. Sandy was just standing there, with the sort of grin on her face that you got when you came out of the dentist's office and saw other kids waiting to go in.

"Tell Sandy to go away. I don't want my sister to watch."

Jim flinched as he found himself the recipient of several megawatts of withering scorn.

"Don't be so stupid. How on earth could you possibly be shy with your sister, or anyone else in your family? Now just let us get on with it."

Jim sighed, then reluctantly stepped out of his pants and took his position on the bed. He cast Paul an appealing glance which the boy correctly interpreted as a request to act as support. He held Jim's legs back as Aunt Joan spread grease on the tubing.

"Is this the first time you have had an enema?"

When Jim nodded, she handed the tube to Sandy.

"Just hold this for me, dear."

Jim groaned in absolute misery as he saw Aunt Joan spread a large lump of grease on her index finger, terrified at what she was about to do. He flinched at the contact of the cold lubricant and then felt her finger start to gently rub the grease around his asshole.

Then, suddenly, Jim realized the reason for Sandy's behavior and what Paul had said about the feelings he got. His asshole suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own as it puckered tight under the stimulus, and a strange, wonderful feeling started to grow. It was as though something was thrusting rapidly away from that area, grounding all over his body. He heard grunting, and it took a moment before he realized that he was the source of the noise. His embarrassment was forgotten, and he hardly even realized that his penis was erect. Jim just wanted this feeling to go on for ever.

Then the finger paused for an instant, exactly in the center of his anus and Jim wondered for a moment if his heart would stand the strain, then slowly it wormed its way inside him, wriggling as it went in order to spread the lubricant. Something seemed to burst, and then he was thrust back to reality with the realization that there was a white fluid pulsing from him.

Paul had watched the process with increasing concern and mounting embarrassment - not for himself, but for his friend who was grunting and jerking and eventually coming - right there in front of him. He felt Jim relax, hardly able to react even when the tube was inserted, just lying there, breathing heavily with a rapturous grin on his face.

Finally it was Paul's turn. He lay on his back and raised his legs, then stiffened with alarm when he heard his aunt's voice.

"Why don't you do this one, Sandy. It won't be all that long before you have children of your own, and you really need to know about this sort of thing."

Paul managed to hold himself steady. At least it was only the tube, not a finger. He could not have borne that, not from a girl just a couple of years older than he was. He hardly even felt the injection, so great were the feelings of shame and embarrassment, let alone get a hard on. He just lay still, gritted his teeth and waited for release.

When they went to the beach on the following day, Paul did not quite know what to expect from Sandy. At the very least, he reckoned that she would be pretty scornful, at worst she might make real fun of him in front of everyone.

To his surprise, Sandy was actually quite friendly, the events of the previous day seemingly forgotten. At least that was what he though, until the two of them were in the sea up to their chests, and he felt her hand groping at the front of his Speedos, feeling his prick. She giggled as it responded to her hand, and squeezed harder, chuckling to herself as she saw the shocked expression on his face.

It didn't end there. The next time, her hand actually slipped inside the garment and made direct contact, administering a few rubs until he desperately ducked under the water and swam away, praying that nobody had noticed, staying in the water until the erection had subsided.

He could not even tell Jim what had happened. It seemed wrong to let him know that his sister was feeling up his friend. It even cast a pall over their jacking off at bedtime as they swapped erotic fantasies, working each other up to a frenzy as they verbally embroidered ideas. Paul felt guilty - the girl in his mind was not some anonymous fantasy female. It was Jim's sister. Fantasy was fine, but when reality intruded into a twelve year old mind it gave an uncomfortable feeling.

Sandy and Aunt Joan were getting on really well, boring the boys with their grown-up talk. Their ears pricked up, however, when the talk turned to enemas and Aunt Joan expounded at length on their therapeutic benefits.

"Everyone should take routine enemas - they help to keep you healthy. And the occasional high enema or colonic does nothing but good."

The boys' eyes widened as Aunt Joan described what these treatments involved. Paul shuddered at the thought of several feet of wide-bore tubing being pushed deep into his body, and the process of alternate filling and emptying through an inch thick tube that was involved in taking a colonic seemed positively barbaric. Sandy lapped it all up, asking detailed questions, her eyes shining at the thought of the process.

It was a few days later that the three young ones were sent ahead to the beach.

"Off you go - Sandy and I have some things to do. No swimming until I arrive."

They thought nothing of it, until Sandy and Aunt Joan arrived an hour later. The boys could see that something had happened - both of them looked immensely pleased with themselves. Paul lagged behind with Sandy as they walked back for lunch.

"What happened?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, I know something was going on. Why were you looking so happy?"

Sandy stopped. The rest of the group was out of sight.

"If you tell my brother, I'll castrate you."

"Tell him WHAT?"

Sandy blushed.

"I was curious about what Aunt Joan was talking about - you know, high enemas."

Paul was aghast. Surely not.

"Did she?"

"Yes. I wanted her to give me one. It was awesome - like nothing you could imagine. And afterwards, I felt wonderful - I never realized what it was like to have every bit of waste matter flushed out of my body. Aunt Joan liked..."

She stopped suddenly. An awful suspicion crashed into Paul's mind.

"You didn't? Did you?"

Sandy was now crimson, but she could not stop now - otherwise the boy would blab to everyone.

"It seemed only fair. Aunt Joan asked me if I would give her one as well... so I did. It was easy."

Paul stopped dead and then sat down beside the path, his brain reeling under the overload that the thought of Aunt Joan baring her butt to anyone was imposing on his credulity. She was an adult, not some kid to have someone stick a tube up her asshole. But he had to know more about what a high enema involved.

"Sandy. What exactly did she do?"

Girl and boy sat together as Sandy outlined the procedure. Paul was surprised to find that she had lain on her side - it seemed a strange position to him.

"Then she greased my butt and the whole of the tube. I thought I was going to die when I saw how long it was, but she didn't put it all in at once - just a little at a time while the water ran in."

Paul heard Sandy's voice become strangely husky as she talked about the enema, then, to his amazement, Sandy stood up and pulled him away from the path into some bushes and pulled his pants straight down to his ankles, giggling happily as she saw his erect organ. He felt himself becoming detached from the earthly plane as she hiked up her skirt and removed her panties, then wrestled him to the ground.

She seemed like a wild creature as she grabbed at him while he lay petrified on the ground. She grabbed his hand and thrust it towards her pubic area.

"Do it. Oh, for God's sake do it. I feel so randy."

Paul had no idea of exactly what he was supposed to do, and simply thrust a finger deep inside the girl.

"No. Not like that. Here...."

She placed her hand over his and guided his finger to a small, hard lump, then moved it around to show him what to do. Paul was in heaven as she pumped at his penis - this was incomparably more sensual than any previous experience. The her hand stopped moving as Sandy tensed, arching her back as incoherent words spilled from her mouth while she flung herself around in spasms of ecstasy. Paul realized that his fingers were all wet - and there was that smell again. He blushed as he suddenly realized what had happened.

That session was never repeated - indeed it formed a barrier between boy and girl, each ashamed of their loss of control, each avoiding contact with the other.

After a week, Sandy's mom arrived back, and announced that her sister was well again, and that they should start packing. Paul was puzzled, then suddenly realized that the following Wednesday was the last day of the month. He felt sad at the thought of his new friend departing so suddenly and permanently.

Jim felt the same, and nagged at his mother.

"Mom, can Paul come to stay with us? Please? Pretty please."

And so it happened. Paul waved a happy farewell to his mother and Aunt Joan as the car drew away. He whispered to Jim.

"Well, that got me out of an enema, anyway."

The two boys chuckled happily, unaware of the conversation of the previous night when Aunt Joan had expounded at length on the benefits of frequent enemas.

"It's particularly useful for teenage boys, you know. They get so stupidly sensitive about their bodies - an enema a month makes sure that you get to inspect them and make sure that everything is fine in that region. Besides, it preserves the parent/child bonding and gives you the opportunity to keep close to them."

And, in the trunk, nestled the new purchases.......

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