enema | Cousins Growing Up

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Cousins Growing Up

A true story from the childhood of Christine Trexler

During the summer of 1970 my parents, my father's two brothers and their families all got together and rented a large house on a lake for the month of August. Among us five cousins, my bother, Robbie was the youngest while my Aunt Beth's boys, Jack and Phil were the oldest. My cousin, Deb, who had always been my good friend as well, and I were within weeks of being the same ageóI had turned 11 in July and her birthday would be in September.

My mom, whose name is Carolyn, and Aunt Amy were 34 and 32, respectively, while my Aunt Beth was 38. They'd known each other from the days when they dated their husbands and over the years had become steadfast friends.

The lake was wonderful because we'd all go swimming and roughhousing in the water every day. When the boys made things too boisterous for us, Deb and I were allowed to go looking for blueberries to get away. Even now whenever I look back on those times I wish that my own daughter could have had such an opportunity. Times were simpler then and kids were pretty much allowed to be kids if they wanted to be.

This is now a continuation of the story, "Aunt Amy," and told from the perspective of my cousin Debbie and me.

"Debbie! Can you come up here for a minute?" called Aunt Amy from the door.

"Sure, Mom!" she replied not knowing the exact reason, but doing what her mom wanted and heading for the steps that led from the lake's edge to the porch.

Debbie and I had been sitting on the edge of the dock just kicking our feet in the water and laughing at the antics of our cousins, Jack and Phil, who were horsing around out a few yards in the water. I guess as 11 year old girls we were prone at that age to be naturally giddy.

When Debbie got up to leave she said, "Let me see what Mommie wants. I'll be right back. Maybe we can go looking for berries. I'm tired of watching the boys."

"OK, I'll go to the garage and get the berry pails," I remembered saying.

But Debbie didn't come right back and after a good long wait I thought Iíd go up to the house and see if she was all right. I walked up the steps, opened the screen door to the porch and looked around. Debbie wasn't in sight. One entrance from the porch went directly to a great room with a fireplace where we'd sit and roast marshmallows later at night before heading off to bed. Debbie wasn't here either, but that is when I heard voices from the direction of the kitchen. As I headed that way, I soon could make out the voices of not only Debbie, but Aunt Beth, Aunt Amy and Mom. They were coming, not from the kitchen, but from the adjacent bathroom. The door wasn't shut all the way so I poked my head in and was surprised to see all of them standing there except Debbie. She was sitting on the toilet and from the expression on her face it looked like she had been crying.

I guess I'd made some kind of noise because they all looked in my direction. That's when I noticed that Aunt Beth was holding kind of a blue version of my mom's enema bag and I started to figure out what had been keeping Debbie from returning down at the lake. Clearly, my cousin had just been given an enema.

"Debbie, are you OK?"

"Oh, Chrissy, I don't know," she said sobbing a bit and then expelling more enema.

"She's fine, Chrissy. It was just that she needed a little help going to the bathroom. That's all!" said Mom. "And your Aunt Beth and I decided to help Aunt Amy. Debbie hadn't had an enema before. It's her first time!"

"It's not so bad, Debbie. Mommy gives me them, too, sometimes."

"Why don't you let Debbie finish. She'll be right down by the lake in a few minutes," said Aunt Amy. I kind of figured that I was being told to leave, so I did.

But while that was Debbie's first enema, it wasn't the end of the topic during that summer. As I said, as kids who were having such a good time on vacation, it wasn't uncommon for us to not make the time to go. It must have been about a week or so later when Debbie and I were out picking berries that the subject came up once more.

"Chrissy, remember last week when I got an enema and you saw me in the bathroom? You said you got them sometimes, too. And you said you didn't hate them?"

"Yea, Mom has always given me enemas."

"Did you ever give yourself one?"

"No. Mom has always given them to me. Why?"

"I was just thinking that now I know what it's like to get one, what it must be like to give one to someone. That's all."

"I guess it can't be very hard to do," I said and then I had what I thought was an inspiring idea. "You wouldn't want to try would you? Mom went with your mom and Aunt Beth into town for groceries. They shouldn't be back anytime soon."

Without saying a word, the decision had been made. We made our way back to the lake house and when we got up on the porch we could see that the rowboat was gone meaning that our cousins were out exploring. Robbie, my brother, was no where is sight and knowing how he liked to hang around Mom probably meant that he'd gone into town with her and my aunts. We wasted no time going to the bathroom and began looking around for some ideas of how we were going to do this. Ivory soap was in the dish on the bathtub, but we didn't see an enema bag anywhere. "What are we going to do?" asked Debbie. "I don't see my mom's bag anywhere. It has to be with her stuff in the bedroom."

"Wait! There's Mom's stuff," I said pointing to what was known as a train case at the time and was a piece of luggage that women traditionally carried all of their female necessities. I went over, opened it and there plain as day was a small zippered case. Opening it I found a neatly folded white rubber bag, length of white hose with a snap closure and a large black nozzle attached. The whole thing had a very strong smell that reminded me of wintergreen Lifesavers. After taking everything out, I also saw a nozzle that looked like the one that we kept on the enema bag at home. "Here's something we can use," I said holding it up for Debbie to see.

"It looks just like Mom's, except it's white instead of blue. Let's try it out."

Not knowing what the larger nozzle was for, or even caring for that matter, we replaced it with the rectal one and proceeded to prepare an enema. We filled the bag about half way with a warm, mildly soapy solution and then needed to reach a decision, namely who was going to get it. Neither of us had ever given one before although I'd received many. On the other hand, Debbie had only ever received one that she could remember and that was just last week. The final decision was based on the fact that while she had made a BM yesterday morning and I hadn't since the day before that, that I probably needed one most.

As pre-adolescent girls we'd only known to receive enemas lying over our mother's laps so Debbie sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, took the nozzle in hand and beckoned for me to lie over her knees. I stepped out of my bathing suit and was soon positioned in that familiar 'bottom up' position.. We'd known enough to put Vaseline on the nozzle and moments later Debbie slid it into my heinie and released the clamp. "This is amazing," I thought to myself. "I'm getting an enema from my cousin."

Now at this point I should say that we didn't know exactly when Mom and my aunts had left to go shopping nor had we hadn't kept track of the time. The enema had no sooner started flowing into my bottom when we heard the screen door leading to the porch slam. "Oh my gosh, I wonder who that is?" asked Debbie.

"It's either Jack and Phil or everyone's back from shopping already." Either way here I was lying over my cousin's lap with an enema tube up my bottom. "What are we going to do?" I thought to myself. Before I could even think of anything, the door swung open and there stood Aunt Beth.

"Just what are you girls doing?" she asked as her eyes went wide at the scene.

"I hadn't gone for a couple of days and Debbie said she remembered from last week how to help," I said quite embarrassed on the one hand and proud of my ability to give such a quick and inspired answer on the other.

"Oh, you poor thing. You could have waited until we got home to help you." said Aunt Beth as my mom also appeared in the doorway. "We'd have given you an enema if you'd asked."

"Chrissy, are you OK, Sweetie?" asked Mom. Before I could even answer, Aunt Beth told Mom that I hadn't gone for a few days and that Debbie was helping me. By this time; however, I'd taken some of enema in the bag and really had to go. Debbie took the nozzle out of me and got out of the way. I quickly sat down on the toilet and got rid of that first novice enema. I guess it worked OK, but now we'd gotten my mom and my two aunt's involved in what they believed was my 'problem.'

Mom said, "Debbie, thanks for trying to help Chrissy, but just to be sure she's OK, I'll fix her another enema." This she proceeded to do and as soon as I got off the toilet I found myself over her knees with the nozzle being reinserted in my heinie getting a second enema. Having had two warm, soapy enemas within an hour, I was going to be well cleaned out. But just when we thought we were almost done, Aunt Amy said to Debbie, "And when was the last time you went, young lady?"

"Yesterday morning, I think, Mom."

"You think? That means that you're really not sure. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt for you to get a little cleaning out, too. I know you only had an enema last week, but you haven't been eating all the right things since we've been on vacation."

As I sat on the toilet expelling the last of my enema, Aunt Amy went to her bedroom, retrieved her folding syringe, and proceeded to make Debbie's enema. After cleaning myself up and putting my bathing suit back on, I decided to hang around to watch. Soon Debbie was positioned over Aunt Amy's lap, the nozzle inserted into her bottom, the hose snapped open and the warm, soapy contents of the bag began to fill her insides.

I guess it showed that we were growing up. Neither of us had fussed in the least and while we weren't really fond of enemas at that young age, the idea of getting one was all of a sudden revealing a certain latent enjoyment that we could not yet explain. As it turned out those were some of the last enemas either of us received from our mothers and a little over a year later both Debbie and I started puberty. Nevertheless, the two of us always remembered that August afternoon when we thought we'd give it a try on our own. We're now both grown up, married and mothers in our own right. What's even more important is that our children also receive an occasional enema when they need one, but I'm pretty sure that the second cousins won't attempt what their moms tried that day.

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