Chloe and Me: Our Story
Copyright© 2026 by Unca D
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A story from the Klisma Files: An enema lover romance. Two klismaphiles meet in a chance encounter, discover their shared love of enemas and fall in love. [7 chapters]
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Anal Sex Enema Oral Sex
Daylight woke me. Chloe was asleep, still clinging to me. I stroked her cheek and she opened her eyes. “Good morning,” I said.
“Mmm ... good morning.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Deliciously.”
I rolled onto my back and she snuggled against me. I kissed the top of her head.
“About last night,” she said.
“What about it?”
“I used to think that no man could give me a better orgasm than I could give myself. I have never come as long and as hard as you made me last night. How ... where did you learn to do that?”
“I’ll bet that you’re the sort of girl who dated the jocks and not the nerds. You look like the sort who would.”
“I dated some team captains.”
“Nerds make better lovers,” I continued. “All jocks think about is sports. All we nerds think about is sex. We study it the way jocks study playbooks. Everything I did was intentional — to build your arousal toward a powerful orgasm.”
“It was the best sex I can remember. However there is one thing, and I don’t want you to think I’m being critical or complaining. Last night you gave me nothing to criticize or complain about.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“For future reference — I come faster if you’re also rubbing my G-spot.”
“So noted ... for future reference.”
“You definitely are not like any guy I’ve known.”
“I’m not like any guy I’ve known, either. Are you hungry?” I asked.
“As a matter of fact I am. I usually don’t eat breakfast, but today I think I’d like some. Unfortunately I don’t have any breakfast food.”
“I think I’ll take a shower.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ll go first. While you’re taking yours I’ll run over to the market and get something for breakfast — if you’ll let me borrow your keys.”
“Sounds good.” I climbed out of her bed. “Last night I set out a towel for you — the blue one.”
“You think ahead.”
“I’m detail-oriented.”
I showered, returned to the bedroom with the towel around my waist and put on the clothes I wore yesterday. “I wish I had brought a bag,” I said.
“Here — a key to the apartment and passcard for the front door.”
“I’ll be back.” I kissed her lips.
I pulled out of the apartment parking and headed to the grocery. I wanted to kick myself for letting it happen. Not that it wasn’t good — Chloe was a delightful girl. It’s just ... I didn’t want an entanglement right now — not so soon after. I should’ve known better — I can’t have sex with someone unless I care for her, so conversely if I have sex with her it means I’ve started caring for her. The vibes I got from Chloe said the feeling was mutual.
As I strolled the aisles in the grocery I weighed whether I should try to cool it now or see what turns it took. Maybe it would be best to hit the brakes, before the feelings started taking root for good. I didn’t want to get hurt again, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt her.
I let myself back into the building with the passcard and into her apartment with her key. I set down my purchases — some Canadian bacon, eggs, English muffins, black olives — onto her kitchen counter. The other item I bought — a big box of trash bags — I left in my car.
I could hear the shower running, then I heard it cut out. I rapped on the bathroom door. “Chloe ... I’m back.”
“Okay ... I put coffee on.”
“I can smell it.”
I made myself at home in her kitchen, boiling water to poach eggs, toasting the muffins and whipping up the sauce. She came out of the bathroom in a mid-thigh-length and three-quarter-sleeved robe of sheer black. Her hair was in a towel.
“Did you make that, too?”
“Yes — it’s my favorite morning-after robe.”
“Did you make that thong you had on last night?”
“No, I didn’t make that.”
She poured two cups of coffee and I set a plate before her. “Ooo ... Eggs Benedict!” she exclaimed.
“Enjoy.”
She picked up her coffee cup and warmed her hands on it. “I had a really good time last night,” she said. “The companionship, the pizza, the wine, the conversation, the sex — it was all first-rate.”
“I had a great time, too.”
“We should do it again, some time,” she replied.
“I’d really like to.” So much for hitting the brakes.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I really liked it that you made sure I was satisfied before you took your pleasure.”
“My motto is, ladies first.”
“Well, it meant a lot to me.”
“Do you have plans today?” I asked. “I can drive you.”
“I need to get some things done around here,” she replied.
“Chloe — this place is immaculate. What needs doing?”
She smiled. “I do have things I need to do today. Really...” She took a bite. “The eggs are wonderful. Did you make the sauce from scratch?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“I’m impressed.”
“It’s easy — equal parts mayo and yogurt, a squeeze of lemon and a dash of mustard ... instant Hollandaise from scratch.”
“It’s wonderful,” she replied and pressed her hand against her stomach, “very satisfying the morning after.”
I helped her clean up her kitchen, then I checked on her battery.
“How’s it doing?” she asked.
I pointed to the ammeter on the charger. “It’s still taking a charge. I think we should let it cook a while longer. I have some errands to do, too. Suppose I come back later and put it back into your car then?”
“Okay — I won’t go far.”
“I’ll give you a call.” I picked up my keys. “Well — see you later, I guess.”
I kissed her forehead. She hooked her arm around my neck and gave me a big snog on the lips.
I headed back to my place with the box of trash bags and surveyed the mess. No time like the present, I figured. I shook open a trash bag and started filling it
By late afternoon I had filled my garage with trash bags to go to the curb during the week and had run the vacuum around the place. It was starting to look less like a disaster area. I picked up the phone and dialed Chloe’s number.
“Hi, it’s me. Okay if I come by and do your battery?”
“Sure,” she replied.
“Care for some dinner?”
“I already ate. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll grab something on my way.”
I arrived at The Towers lot sucking down the last of a milkshake and tossed the empty onto the floor of the passenger side. Then I grabbed my toolbox and headed for the lobby door. Chloe buzzed me in and I headed for her place.
I carried the battery to her car, set it in place and reconnected the cables. Then I gave Chloe the sign and she turned her key. The car roared to life.
“Kill it,” I said. “Remember — only drive it to the shop.”
“Got it.”
I stashed the bucket and charger in my car. “I’ll be on my way — as soon as I wash my hands.”
“Come on up.”
She let me into her apartment and I headed for her bathroom. As I washed my hands I saw something hanging from the towel rod — a red, combo fountain syringe, the kind that doubles as a hot-water bottle. I was sure it hadn’t been there earlier when I took my shower. It’s the sort of thing I would’ve noticed.
I thought maybe Chloe used it to douche, but when I examined it I saw it had the enema tip attached to the hose.
I stepped from the bathroom. “Chloe,” I said, “do you take enemas?”
She took a step back and her face turned white. “N-n-no ... w-what makes you...”
“The fountain syringe hanging from the towel bar. I know it wasn’t there this morning.”
“Oh, my God...” Her face turned from white to deep red. “I must’ve forgotten to put it away...” Chloe sat down hard onto her sofa. The color was draining from her face again.
“Chloe, are you all right?”
“I feel faint...”
“Put your head between your knees.” I stroked her back. “Are you all right, now?”
“I think so.” She started to sit up.
“Stay there for a while.”
She rested for a while as I caressed her back, then she sat up and pressed her hand to her chest. “I thought I was having a heart attack. I told myself if anyone ever found out I’d die of embarrassment. I seriously thought it was happening.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so humiliated. You must think I’m some weirdo.”
“I do not. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
“Oh, God...” She started sobbing.
“It’s okay, Chloe,” I said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I have an apparatus just like it hanging from the shower rod at my house.”
She looked at me from behind her hands. “You do? You take enemas, too?”
“Yeah — they’re great. I love ‘em.” Color started returning to her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She sat staring at her feet. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want some time to think about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you say anything but ‘I don’t know?’”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should go. Why don’t we plan on getting together during the week, after you’ve had a chance to calm down and think about it? I’ll call you and we can meet somewhere after dinner — or, right here — and talk.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll be on my way, then. I’ll call ... See you later, Chloe.”
I headed toward the door and unfastened the deadbolt. “Wait,” she called. “Don’t go.” I bolted the door again and sat on a chair across from her. “I’ll tell you the whole story. My parents were a couple of hippies — into alternative lifestyles. Hence the Dune stuff.”
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