Chapter 5

I did some more work on my report, but my mind kept wandering, thinking about what might be in store this evening. I picked up her note and read it again: You might want to pack a bag. I wondered if maybe there was a double meaning to what she wrote. Maybe she was interested in the experience of administering an enema to someone else. The thought intrigued me, and also made me a bit apprehensive. The only ones I had received from a third party was at the chiro’s office. I was a little nervous about the thought that she would be doing the administering. On the other hand, I had said this is something that we can share, and sharing does go both ways.

I went into my bedroom, and from the closet took my duffel. From the bathroom I took down my enema bag. A thought crossed my mind — my usual routine was a soap suds cleanser enema, followed by a plain water rinse. Then, the main event — a high volume hot water follow-up. I also recalled how easily Chloe took the enema I administered to her, no doubt aided by her preliminary series she took earlier that afternoon. My schedule had been disrupted due to the prior weekend’s events. She was right about one thing — when you’re on a regular enema schedule and miss a session, you feel it — in your gut. I had a couple hours before heading over there. I made up my mind.

I made ready: I took my I.V. stand from the closet and set it near the bed. I also took a waterproof mat and spread that on the bed. Then, I went into the bathroom and took down my fountain syringe. Mine was different from the one Chloe used. Hers was the bog standard, drugstore combo syringe — the closed top, red bag variety that could double as a hot water bottle and held a couple quarts. I needed something more capacious — mine was made of translucent silicone and could hold nearly a gallon. The hose was also silicone and instead of a shut off clamp, it had a valve that permitted fine adjustment of the flow rate.

From a cabinet, I took the other necessaries: a quart pitcher, a tube of personal lube, a digital kitchen thermometer and a soap caddy containing a bar of Ivory soap. I ran the tap in the sink to warm it up. I like my first go to be a few degrees below body temp, around ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. Once it was up to temp I dropped the soap bar into the pitcher and ran water over it to fill it halfway. Then I swirled it to encourage some of the soap to dissolve. When I thought it was enough I topped it from the tap. This I dumped into the reservoir and repeated it for two quarts of the cloudy, frothy mix.

I attached the nozzle to the hose. The one I use is made of soft silicone, about the same dimensions as a standard douche nozzle, but with large discharge ports on its sides and tip. It delivers a strong flow.

I carried the full bag into the bedroom and hung it on the I.V. stand. I had the stand adjusted fairly high — when I take a soaper I like a strong flow for a quick fill before my colon realizes what’s happening.

I stripped down and lay nude on the waterproof mat — this is how I prefer to take these — and snapped open the cap on the tube of lube. I smeared some on the nozzle and worked some into my hole. I slid the nozzle in, lay on my left side and opened the valve.

The flow started and I felt familiar sensations: The filling of my rectum, the release of pressure as the enema moved further in, the series of pressure and release as the enema worked its way through the turns and kinks of my sigmoid. I practice slow, deep breathing and working my abdominal muscles to flex my colon and make it easier for the enema to flow in deeper.

Once I sensed fullness on my left side, I closed the valve and rolled onto my back, massaging my belly until the fullness subsided. Then, I opened the valve to let the rest of the enema fill me. Once the bag was empty I closed the valve and pulled out the nozzle.

Watching the clock on the nightstand I massaged my belly to work the soap suds into all the nooks and crannies. I hold one of these for ten minutes or so in order for the soap suds to do their work. By the end of ten minutes I felt a dull but mild ache in my belly.

I stood and headed to the loo and sat on the throne. Bearing down, I forced out long, strong and satisfying gushes. I could feel the fullness subside as well as the aching sensation. Once I was sure I was done, I cleaned myself off, and then started prep for enema number two. This one went pretty much the same way as the first one, the difference is being plain tap water instead of soap suds and more volume — five pints rather than 2 quarts.

When done, I carried the apparatus back into the bathroom and hung it on the shower curtain rod to let it drain. Then, I showered — my usual routine after a session, to give anything left in me a chance to drain out before engaging in any other activities. After drying off I got dressed — not being sure exactly what Chloe had in mind for dinner, I donned a pair of black twill pants and a checked, button-down collar shirt.

I put the enema bag and its accouterments into my duffel, along with a clean shirt, briefs, socks and my dopp kit containing my travel needs. I carried the bag to my car threw it into the back, seat, got behind the wheel and headed over to The Towers.

I parked in a visitor spot, grabbed my duffel and headed to the lobby. Using the pass card Chloe gave me to get inside I rode the elevator to her floor and used her key to let myself in.

“Hello,” I said, “I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome here,” she called out.