Cindy and Me
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2015 by Unca D

Sex Story: Chapter 5 - This story is for hard-core enema enthusiasts only. Nick injured his knee and his prescribed pain medication has made him severely constipated. After exhausting the usual remedies, his nurse girlfriend Cindy suggests an enema. Reluctant but desperate, Nick agrees. The experience opens doors to new sexual discoveries; and he and Cindy find themselves bonded more strongly than ever, both physically and emotionally.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Anal Sex   Enema  

Cindy sat across from me at a table at The Reef. She was wearing her little, black dress and was wearing her wavy, red hair in a black headband.

She reached across the table and grasped my hand. "I don't know what to order," she said, reviewing the menu.

"Sky's the limit, Babe. If you feel like lobster -- order the lobster. Hell, if you want two of 'em, order two."

She smiled and made a little snort. "Right ... I'm looking at the game items on the menu. I'm not much of a gourmet, Nick. What's guinea fowl?"

"My grandfather had them on the farm. They're a bird, about the size of a turkey. He had them because they'd make a noise if a raccoon or coyote got into the barnyard."

"Oh ... Eww -- rabbit, duck, lamb..."

"What's the matter with those?"

"I couldn't eat bunny."

"I see. You can't eat a rabbit but you can a chicken."

"Rabbits are cute."

"You can't eat cute food?"

"No ... What's a capon?"

"A capon," I replied, "is a rooster that's been ... how to say it ... cut off from temptation."

Cindy's lips formed a knowing O. "Maybe I'll try that."

"I think I'll have the venison sauerbraten."

"I'm glad YOU can eat a deer."

"I'm sure it's a farm-raised deer."

"But, they're cute."

A middle-aged man approached our table. "Oh, hello Mr Kane," he said. "We haven't seen you here in a while."

"Lorenzo -- it has been a while." I beckoned him close. "I put a call in earlier..."

"I will check on it." Lorenzo spoke to another waiter and gave me the thumbs up.

"What's going on?" Cindy asked. "Do you have something planned?"

"I do..." I reached and squeezed her hand. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

"Yeah ... You didn't have much of an appetite."

"That was in April. Now it's October. The leaves have turned ... A lot's happened, hasn't it?"

"I'll say ... You got your knee fixed."

"I don't think I could've survived without your support, Cindy. Those were tough times for me. I don't know which was worse -- the physical therapy or quitting the oxycodone, cold turkey. Now I understand how folks get hooked on that stuff. It's a matter of sheer willpower to resist simply popping a pill and making the withdrawal symptoms go away."

"But, you made it. I'm proud of you, Nick."

I gazed into her green eyes. "What is it, Nick?"

"Do you know what really helped me get through it?"

"What?"

"Knowing your face would be the first thing I'd see every morning..."

Lorenzo approached with an ice bucket, the neck of a bottle protruding. He lifted the bottle and showed me the label. "Veuve Cliquot, as you ordered."

I looked up at Lorenzo. "Let's keep it on ice until the entrees arrive."

"Very good, Mr Kane." Are you ready to order?

"I think so. The lady will have the capon and I'll have the venison sauerbraten."

"Excellent choices." Lorenzo slipped his order book into his apron and headed toward the kitchen.


Cindy sat in the passenger seat as we headed back to my condo. "I'm having trouble believing tonight," she said.

"How so?"

"Dinner at The Reef -- with Champagne."

"It's a special weekend," I said. "It's the first in weeks in which your days off align with mine. I could never work your schedule. I can barely figure it out."

"It's really quite simple," she replied. "We alternate five day and four day weeks. Our days off rotate through the week. It's fair for everyone."

"It doesn't seem that simple. Last week you were off Sunday and Wednesday."

"Well ... We also trade shifts. That's how I could take off the day of your surgery."

"You need a nine-to-five job ... like mine."

"Any day now a first shift position will open up and I'll be first in line for it."

"It can't happen soon enough." I turned onto a county highway leading into town. "Do you know what else makes this weekend special?"

"What?"

"Yesterday you worked first shift due to that training assignment. It's almost like we have a three-day weekend."

"We used last night to our advantage ... didn't we?"

"I always like getting the treatment from Nurse Cindy. Especially when she wears that sexy little outfit. You know -- even though I'm off the oxy ... I still love how good I feel after the enemas you administer."

"I'm happy to hear that," she said.

"But, there's even something more that makes tonight so special."

"What's that?

"It was six months ago tonight that you gave me my first enema."

"Really? I hadn't been keeping track."

"I have. Do you know why?"

She shook her head. "Uhn-uhn. Why?"

"You said it would take six months for your appendectomy to heal enough for an enema. It's been six months. I think it's time."

She regarded me, slack-jawed. "I think you're right. It'll take forever to heal completely ... but it hasn't bothered me in weeks."

"It's time," I replied, "and I want to do the honors. Are you willing?"

Cindy bit her lip and her eyes widened. She nodded. "I am. Ready, willing and eager." She gripped my hand and caressed my forearm.

"Are you nervous?" I asked.

"I am ... Not really nervous but giddy with anticipation. You?"

"I am a little nervous. I'm afraid I'll screw up."

"You know the drill as well as I do by now," she replied.

"This is the first time I have ever administered an enema to another human being."

"It's been a while since anyone has administered one to me," she replied.

"When was the last time?"

"In nursing school -- we had to give each other enemas as part of the training."

"Oooh ... I hope it was a straight-A student who gave you yours."

"Book learning is no substitute for natural bedside manner," she said. "It wasn't the best experience I ever had."

"What went wrong?" I asked.

"Everything. My partner had never given nor received an enema in her life. She had trouble inserting the nozzle, had the water temperature too cool and the flow too fast. I had the worst cramps ever. My colon still shudders when I recall the incident."

"I shall endeavor to do better, then."

She lifted my hand and pressed the back of it to her lips. "I'm sure you will."

"I have an excellent tutor."

We reached my condo. I parked in my designated space and opened the front door. "Shall we make ready?" I asked.

We headed to the master bedroom. The sleigh bed from Cindy's apartment graced the chamber we now called ours. From the closet I retrieved Cindy's portable I.V. stand and a plastic case containing the clear, silicone rubber reservoir.

"I'm sorry I don't have a sexy male nurse outfit for tonight," I said as I carried a plastic tackle box into the bedroom. "I wouldn't know what that costume would look like."

She giggled. "Neither do I. I think you're sexy in your running shorts. You have nice legs, Nick."

I stripped off my shirt and changed into the shorts. "How's this?"

"Mmm..." Cindy approached me wearing her short, terrycloth robe and we embraced. We kissed and she ran her hands along my back.

I opened the box. It contained a myriad of enema nozzles -- hospital grade barium tips, plastic douche nozzles, the retention one as well as some I had purchased off the web. One was polished aluminum, its profile looking like an elongated ace-of-spades with a girth thicker than my thumb and a narrow waist.

"You've become quite a collector," Cindy remarked as she spread a towel on the bedspread and adjusted the height of the I.V. stand.

"What's your pleasure?" I asked, presenting her with the nozzle collection."

"Your choice," she replied. "You're the one in charge."

I picked a barium tip and affixed it to the clear hose. Then I carried the reservoir into the adjoining master bathroom. From a cabinet I took a bottle of liquid castile soap.

"How warm should I make it?" I asked as I opened the tap.

"Use your wrist," she replied. "If it feels too hot, it's too hot."

As the water ran to warm up I retrieved a plastic measuring pitcher from under the sink. "How much soap?" I asked.

"A teaspoon per quart is what I use," Cindy replied. She handed me a small measuring cup of the sort that accompanied a bottle of cough syrup.

"We'd better start you off easy -- three pints. We can work up to a larger ones." I measured one and a half teaspoons of soap into the little measure and adjusted the water temperature. After filling the pitcher to the quart-and-a-half mark I dumped in the soap and stirred the mixture. This went into the reservoir. Holding up the bag I aimed the nozzle into the pitcher and opened the clamp to flush air from the hose. The outflow went back into the bag.

"I think we're ready," I said and carried the apparatus into the bedroom.

Cindy slipped off robe and lay, nude on the towel. I hung the bag on the I.V. stand and slipped an exam glove onto my right hand.

My heart was pounding with anticipation of what I was about to do. I opened the tube of surgical lube and squeezed a blob onto my finger. Cindy had rolled onto her left side and drawn up her knees. With my left hand I spread her buttocks and regarded her pinkish-tan anus surrounded by a triangle of more deeply pigmented skin. As she was a natural redhead short, red hairs -- the savanna to her pubic jungle -- surrounded the area. Her little pucker was perfection -- crinkly, pigmented skin radiating from her small, circular orifice.

 
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