"I Promise I'll be a Good Boy."
The doorbell rang at 8:10 PM, politely late for our agreed upon 8:00 PM get together. When I opened the door, I was struck by how handsome Greg was in person. He stood about 5’10” tall with muscular shoulders and a fit, though not overly athletic build. He has on a maroon Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirt, un-tucked, that perfectly matched his madras shorts. He sported a navy baseball cap; its moose logo matched the one on his shirt. His cleanly cut brown hair just barely showed.
“Come on in, it’s nice to finally meet,” I said as we shook hands. Greg had clearly been raised to be polite. My mind quickly fantasized, with such squeaky clean looks, I wondered why he needed an enema to get cleaned out. As he passed me, I caught a whiff of his sporty, clean cologne; it was enticing.
I showed Greg into my living room. I lived in an apartment building that overlooked the city. The view from the living room was always a centerpiece of discussion. “You really have a great view” Greg said going over to the window and looking out.
“Yeah, this is a great apartment,” I responded. Greg and I had met on-line through an enema chat group. We had exchanged a number of e-mails, so we knew some about each other. He had grown up in the middle of the state, went to a state university, and then decided to come to the city to further his education. “How’s your week gone?” I asked him.
“It’s gone well. I had a big project that I handed in, so I’m feeling more relaxed.”
“That’s good.”
In our e-mails, we had talked about how we both got started with enemas. For me, I was given them weekly as a child because it was the healthy thing to do. When I entered puberty, somehow they stopped. I think my growing erections made my parents uncomfortable continuing to give them to me. I however, continued and frequently masturbated with the nozzle letting the enema water fill my gut. I would wait until the last drop entered me before jerking off to a wonderfully fulfilling orgasm. I was hooked on enemas and frequently enjoyed them.
Greg had shared with me that he had been given enemas as a boy whenever he had a high fever. He never got all that many, but they were memorable. One time, when he was an adolescent, his mother, perhaps out of frustration with his adolescent acting-out gave him an enema, “to teach him a lesson.” He had shared with me that his mother was particularly strict and it was clear that Greg was expected to be a good boy at all times. The risk of disobeying was a spanking with the wooden paddle, or in that one case, a ‘punishment enema.’
“Would you like something to drink? I have soda, beer or wine.”
“Sure, a soda would be great.” I went into the kitchen and got us both a soda.
When I returned, Greg was sitting on the sofa, his hat now tipped up exposing more of his boyish, clean shaven face. He took a sip of his soda. We talked about his school, living situation and my work. There was genuineness from both of our parts, yet also some tension. We both knew the reason for our getting together was not just to share conversation and a soda.
“So, when was your last enema?” I asked, figuring it was time to get to the ‘elephant in the room.’
“Last week” he said. “I was busy this week, and besides I was looking forward to our getting together.” This would be Greg’s first man-to man enema. He had shared that he had given himself a lot of enemas in private and was interested in exploring the scene, but was clearly anxious. It took us a while to help him feel comfortable in meeting, but it was clear to me that he wanted another guy to take him over his lap and give him an enema.
“Have you tried soap yet?” We had talked about different solutions, positions, nozzles, etc. Greg’s enemas as a child were always plain water. I told him how an Ivory soap enema can really cleans one out. He seemed interested in exploring the scene.
“No, not yet. Maybe that’s something we could try together,” he said with a bit of a request in his tone.
“Sure,” I was only happy to oblige. I could hardly contain myself sitting across from this fine strapping young man of about 23 years old. As squeaky clean and naive as he appeared, I sensed that he also had a degree of maturity, and intelligence which had gotten him into graduate school in a large city.
“Well, should we get started?” I asked, feeling very motivated, if not sexually starting to get aroused.
“OK.” He enthusiastically responded.
“Come on in.” I said getting up and heading to the bathroom. “What do you think about trying the soapsuds enema first? It’s a good way to get cleaned out.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
I showed Greg into the bedroom. How about strippin’ down to our underwear?” I asked.
“Sure” he said going over the chair in the corner. He took his hat off and put it on the chair and reached his hands behind his neck and grabbed the collar of his polo shirt. His biceps and triceps tightened demonstrating his manly strength. The shirt raised up giving a peak at the small of his back. The anticipation was mounting. Sequentially he pulled the shirt up and almost like the curtain at a theatre he exposed his back bit by bit. He had his back to me at first, then after tossing the shirt on the chair; he turned around and faced me. What a stunning young man. He had clean cut sandy brown hair, a boyishly handsome face, and nicely muscled chest and abdomen. His belly gave the suggestion of a developing six-pack. It wasn’t the body-builder type, rather he had the physique of an athletically active free-spirited young man. He sat down and leaned over to untie his sneakers, then pushed them off his feet revealing white sport socks. He stood and unbuckled the belt of his preppy shorts, undid the button, and let them slip down to his ankles, revealing his squeaky clean tighty-whities. As I looked, the outline of an erecting penis was easily seen.
I, too, had been getting undressed, but the scene was far less interesting. We were both in our underwear. For me this is the preamble to the enema, almost there, but not yet. The only thing separating the anus from the enema nozzle is those white jockey shorts. My penis was getting bigger because I knew what was to follow. I reached down and adjusted it in my shorts.
“Come into the bathroom and I’ll show you how to make a soapsuds enema.” Greg followed me into the bathroom. I was lucky to have a nice sized bathroom. The vanity had some drawer and cabinets that allowed me to store my enema equipment.
I pulled a plastic pitcher from underneath the sink and turned on the hot water faucet to let the water get warm. I opened one of the drawers and pulled out a bar of Ivory soap. The bar was about half-way used from my previous enemas. Soapy enemas were a favorite of mine; what a great way to get cleaned out.
“Do you want to choose the bag and nozzle?” I asked opening another drawer exposing my collection of bags and nozzles. His eyes widened, like a kid in a candy shop.
“How about this one?” he asked picking up my amber, translucent, 3 quart collapsible bag.
“That’s my favorite. How about a nozzle? I like this one.” I said pointing to the green bulbous barium enema nozzle. “It’s bigger than the usual douche tip so it feels good, but it’s not too big.”
“OK.” I wanted to push him a little, but not scare him off, though from our correspondence, he was a true enema aficionado, just without man-to man experience.
“I think the water’s warm now, so let me show you how I make a soapsuds enema." Greg looked on in earnest. “Usually, I fill the pitcher half full of pretty hot water to help the soap dissolve.” I put the pitcher under the faucet and filled it half-way. The steam was evident as was the warmth that emanated from the spigot. “Do you want to put the bar of soap in?” I asked, getting him involved in making his enema.
“Sure.” He reached for the bar of Ivory and put it in the water. “Oh, that’s hot.”
“We’ll add some cooler water to adjust the temperature once the soap dissolves.” I said, having prepared many a soapsuds enema in the past. The water then began to get milky.
“I usually rub the soap around in my hand to help it dissolve.” I grabbed the soap and turned it around and around in the water. “You try.”
Greg put his hand in the pitcher, grabbed the bar of soap and turned it around as I had done. “Wow, that’s pretty slippery. How much soap do you put in? He asked.
“Well, it depends how soapy you want your enema. Some people like them really soapy. They like getting cramps and really cleaning out. Others like it milder. Since this is your first soapsuds enema, maybe we’ll go light.”
“Yeah, maybe, though it sounds like you can really clean out with a soapsuds enema, maybe for my second enema.” Wow, I though to myself. How lucky to be able to give this kid one enema. He’s already on number two.
At that point, I couldn’t help but noting that my pants were getting tighter. Any talk of enema always produced an erection. Preparing and anticipating the enema have always been a big turn on for me. So you can only imagine how I was standing next to this young buck who was ready to submit to his first man-to man enema.
“O.K, so now that the water is soapy, let’s fill it up with more water.” I turned the faucet on gain and adjusted the water o it was warm, then took the bar of soap out and put the pitcher under the faucet filling it up to the two liter mark. The soapy water sudsed up filling the top of the pitcher. I set the pitcher down and turned the water off. I could smell the sweet smell of the Ivory soap coming from the warm vapor of the soapy water. “Let’s fill up the bag.” I picked up the bag and closed the metal clamp. “Can you hold the bag for me?” I asked Greg. There was a real partnership going on. To some extent, I felt like the big brother showing my kid brother the ropes or maybe it was the fraternity senior teaching the freshman. In any case, I had an excited and engaged buddy. Greg quickly reached up and held the bag while I poured the soapy water into in. We could see the water causing the bag to balloon out and the liquid level rise through the semi-translucent amber colored rubber. The milky water made the bag mow opaque. The soapsuds almost reached the top of the bag. Once filled, I took the bag from Greg and hung it on the shower curtain rod.
“So what position do you want to take you enema in?” I asked looking straight into his boyish blue eyes.
“Can I take it over your lap?” he responded somewhat sheepishly.
“Like your mother used to give them to you” I followed having remembered our conversations about his past experiences growing up.
“Yeah, there is something about that position that is a real turn on for me. Sometimes, when I give myself enemas, I will lie over a towel on a chair to recreate it.”
“Not a problem. I’m happy to give you your enema however you’d like. Let’s go into the bedroom then. Can you take the towel?” I handed Greg one of my fluffy plush, terrycloth towel and picked up the full, bloated bag from the shower curtain rod and wrapped the tubing up and we walked back to the bedroom. I had set up my bedroom for giving enemas in a number of positions, all of which I have tried in the past. On one wall was a hook, especially for the over-the-knee enemas. I hung the bag there and draped the hose over it too. The nozzle sat on its end poised to deliver the bags contents, almost like the head of a snake.
I pulled the straight back chair over near the enema bag and also positioned a trash can and box of Kleenex nearby. I took the towel from Greg and put it on the chair. He stood there somewhat dumbfounded and hesitant, not knowing exactly what to do. I gladly provided direction.
“O.K. lets get those underpants off.” Greg obediently put his hand inside the elastic waistband of his white jockey shorts and pushed them down. Once over his hips, they smoothly dropped to his ankles. He stepped out of them, picked them up and put them on the nearby bed. He grabbed his now almost fully erect penis and gave it a few strokes, helping it stand at attention.
“It looks like someone wants an enema?” I said coyly with a smile.
“Yeah.” He said. “Whenever I think about enemas or get one ready to give myself, I get hard.” We both knew what lied ahead; our anxious anticipation was palpable.
“Are you going to be a good boy and take the whole bag?” I asked with a smile. Greg had shared with me that growing up his enemas didn’t always go smoothly. As a boy, at times, he would protest his enemas. It was always to no avail though, as he always got the enema whether he wanted it or not. When his protestations were more indignant, he not only got the enema, but he also got a bare ass spanking to teach him a lesson. He and I had talked about spanking as part of enema play, though neither of us had a lot of experience with it. When we had talked before our meeting, we had flirted with each other about what would happen if one of us protested taking an enema. I wondered if Greg was going to get his tail warmed by me tonight.
“I promise, I take it like a big boy.”
“That’s what I ant to hear.” I picked up the towel, sat on the chair and spread the towel over my lap. The jar of Vaseline and Kleenex box were on the adjacent table. “O.K hand me the nozzle.” Greg reached up and picked up the nozzle and handed it to me. “Now come on over my lap.”
Greg moved closer and leaned over me. He rested his pelvis on the towel with his head and arms reaching the floor and legs stretching so his feet were on the floor on the other side of me. I adjusted my legs a bit and Greg went forward moving his ass up higher, his head and arms closer to the ground and only his toes barely touching the floor. His anus was ready and able to receive the nozzle for his enema. I aimed the nozzle at the trashcan and opened the clamp to bleed the air out.
I then opened the Vaseline jar and took a generous dollop on my finger and spread it evenly on the tip and shaft of the nozzle. Then, holding it in one hand, I gently spread Greg’s ass cheeks exposing his pretty little squeaky clean rosebud. I also caught a sweet waft of his manly anus. “I’m going to insert the nozzle; are you ready?”
“Yeah.” His voice uttered from near the floor.
With that, I gently touched his anus with the tip to put some Vaseline across it, and then pushed the tip against it. There was some resistance, but with continued gentle force it yielded swallowing up the bulbous enema tip leaving only the greasy shaft exposed. I gently pushed the tip in a bit then pulled back to feel the resistance of the internal bulb against Greg’s sphincter. It was well seated.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
I grabbed hold of the metallic clamp and released it. Our shared silence was broken by the dull metallic click that enema lovers have come to know as the start of an enema. It was followed after a pregnant pause by the sound of the soapy water flowing through the hose and into Greg.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah, it feels warm.”
“OK, it’s going to get you nice and clean inside.” I held the nozzle with my one hand and ran my hand down his back to his neck and shoulders. “At a boy, you’re doing a great job.” I knew with time, Greg would probably need more encouragement as the soapsuds went deeper to clean him out. I gently pushed the nozzle in and pulled it back. I could see him tighten his sphincter grabbing onto the nozzle.
The water continued to flow, the level in the bag falling below the half-way mark. Greg seemed to become a little more uncomfortable, wiggling more. “Are you feeling full?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I’m OK.”
“Try to take some breathes through you mouth.” I encouraged. Again, I rubbed his shoulders. He was handsome lying over my lap. I thought back to when I was a boy lying over my mother’s lap taking my enema. I would look up at the bang on the shower curtain watching it slowly collapse wishing it would end, feeling full, and worried I wouldn’t be able to hold it.”
I could tell that Greg was getting full. He impressed me as the type of boy who would endure no matter how hard it got. Just like a good boy. He wanted to be a man and was going to take his enema without a whimper.
“I think I’m full, I don’t think I can take any more,” he said in a shy voice hesitantly.
“Let me stop the flow and let you get used to it.” I said shutting the clamp. “I really want you to try to take the whole bag so you get cleaned out. Let’s rest, then see if you can finish it. There’s not much left.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Hang in there, you’re a big boy and I think you’ll be able to do it.” I massaged his back and legs, and gave a gentle pull on the nozzle embedded in his anus. He tightened his sphincter. “At-a-boy.” I said, “Just take some breathes in and out.”
I waited a little. “O.K, I’m going to re-start the flow. Let’s finish the bag so you can then expel it.”
“OK,” I opened the clamp ad let the water flow. I could tell he was working to be compliant. “You’re doing great, just a little more and you’ll be done.” I kept rubbing his bag and legs, punctuating it with moving the nozzle gently in and out of his rectum. The enema bag, seemingly oblivious to Greg’s struggle, kept delivering its soapy content, filling his boy becoming man colon.
It wasn’t long before the bag was flat and had delivered the full soapsuds enema. I think Greg was happy to see that as he turned his head looking up at the bag hanging well above his exposed back side.
“Oh, I’m really full, I have to go.”
“Not so quick,” I slowed him down, “try to hold it as long as you can so it can have a chance to work.”
“I really have to go.” Greg’s requests were now having a begging or pleading element to them.
“You can hold it. You don’t want me to have to spank you do you?” My question was more rhetorical, though, I guess I was hoping he would say, yes.
It wasn’t long until I knew that he really had to go expel the enema. Gently, I withdrew the nozzle from his anus. He gingerly got up, and half bent over walked on his tippy toes into the bathroom. Almost immediately I heard him expelling the hot soapy water. The flow was interrupted by the contents of his colon. He was being cleaned out all right.
I stood up and took the enema bag and nozzle back into the bathroom where Greg was expelling his enema. He sat with his forearms on his knees, slightly hunched over and his head held down. As I walked in he lifted his lead and looked at me. “Sounds like you cleaning out?”
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever felt an enema expel like this.” He paused and bore down leading to a gush of water and a few more plops.
“It will clean you out all right.” I hung the flat enema bag on the shower curtain rod next to Greg on the toilet. I ran my hand through his hair quickly. “So you like the enema huh?”
“I love enemas. It was so great lying over you and having you give me my enema.” I knew we would have time to talk more about his first man-to man enema. He continued to expel his enema, at times, grimacing his face, bearing down leading to a gush with a few plops. He rubbed his belly almost massaging the enema water out.
“I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.” I said letting him finish up before we rested.
I went into the bedroom and spread a large beach towel on the bed and laid down. It wasn’t long until Greg came in. He had a subtle grin on his face. His naked body was very attractive. He seemed somewhat gleeful. “Come on over.” I said to him. He came over and flopped on the bed next to me on his back. He drew his knees up and rested his feet on the bed, relieving the stress on his belly. I gently reached over and rubbed it, “So you’re cleaned out huh?”
“Yeah, I really let out a lot. It feels so empty and clean down below.”
I let my hand slowly move down to his groin. His penis was now flaccid, but my gentle touching caused it to start to harden. I grabbed it by the shaft and started to stroke it. Greg seemed content to let me stroke him and slowly let his legs down spreading them a bit as he did. He closed his eyes and let himself think pleasant thoughts.
“Would you like a back rub?” I asked him.
“Sure” he responded enthusiastically.
“Turn over,” I instructed him. I reached for the massage lotion from the bedside table and poured some into my hands rubbing them together to take the chill out. Greg got comfortable grabbing the pillow with his arms. I gently began to rub his muscular shoulders, working my way down his back. He seemed to really enjoy my touches. I continued to work my way down his back to his buttocks and thighs. Occasionally, I could hear a purr or a moan. It always made me feel good to pleasure a young muscular man like Greg. He was responsive and clearly enjoyed it. I continued to work my way up and down, then out to his muscular arms.
At one point while I was working on his shoulders, he opened his eyes and looked at me, “Brendan” he asked somewhat sheepishly.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Would you give me another enema?”