Chloe and Me: Our Story
Copyright© 2026 by Unca D
Chapter 6
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6 - 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
I was sitting at my desk working out some travel plans when my phone signaled incoming from Chloe. “Hi,” I said, “what’s up?”
“I was wondering.” she replied, “if we could get together this weekend.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m flying out tomorrow for a meeting with a new client. They’re planning a new subdivision adjacent to some wetlands and I need to look it over. It’s kind of a rush job — that’s why I am working over the weekend. They need an assessment by next Wednesday.”
“Awww...” she replied. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”
“So was I. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“While I have you, I remember you saying you used soap suds. What do they do?”
“Soap suds give an enema a little kick. They are a mild irritant to the colon, so they can stimulate stronger peristalsis than the mechanical distension from water alone. They also lower the surface tension of the water and make it easier to soften what’s in there.”
“What kind of soap? she asked.
“A mild, pure soap,” I replied, “with no detergents, no additives. You can buy special enema soap that’s in liquid form. but I prefer good old Ivory. Once I get back, maybe we can get together and I can show you how to do a soaper, if that’s something you’d like to try.”
“I think I’d like that.”
“I’ll call as soon as I’m back in town. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I was back at my place late Monday night, so I decided to wait until morning to give Chloe a call. The job went about as to be expected. An environmental activist clued me in to an endangered garter snake in the area, so I sent an email to a herpetologist in my contacts to see what course of action was needed. Once my snake guy gets back to me I’ll put together an assessment and send it out.
The following morning I gave Chloe a ring. “Hi. I’m back in town,” I said.
“I missed you,” she replied.
“I missed you, too.”
“I don’t want to sound clingy, but you’re like a narcotic to me and I’m in withdrawal. To make matters worse, we’re super busy at the office. The market is shifting and the traders are restructuring their portfolios, so there’s a pile of new issues we have to evaluate. And, of course, the traders want it all done yesterday so they don’t miss a market opportunity. I’ll probably be working late all this week.”
“Can we get together on Friday?” I asked. “Maybe we can do something special.”
“Like what?”
“You said you like Thai. I know some good Thai dishes I can make for you. Why don’t you come to my place, say six-ish? It’ll give you an opportunity to see my crib.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “I accept. I can’t wait. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know where you live. Your card just has a phone number and a website.”
“I’ll text you the details. My place is a townhouse, and it’s in a nice part of town, so no worries there.”
“I’ll be counting the minutes,” she replied. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. Good-bye.”
I sat and pondered. Use your imagination stuck in my mind. I didn’t have a problem with dinner — I knew what I was going to fix. I didn’t have a problem with sex — for that, I had plenty of tricks up my sleeve. How to do something novel with an enema had me stumped.
I decided to go online to Amazon and see if there was anything new or interesting on their enema equipment pages. It was where I had scored the four-quart bag hanging in my bathroom. I started scrolling through the listings and something caught my eye. The more I thought about it, the more I thought this was IT. I placed the order — it was scheduled to be delivered in 2 days. Thinking about using it on Chloe’s smooth bottom and her pinkish-tan anus was giving me a stiffy. The only issue was, would Chloe allow me to use it on her?
Friday came. My snake report had been sent on time and there was nothing else pressing on my calendar, so I spent the morning getting the place looking as clean and sparkling as I could. I had procured all I needed for dinner, and the afternoon was spent in dinner prep. Now everything was sitting in the oven, keeping it warm enough until serving time.
Six o’clock came, then six-fifteen and Chloe hadn’t shown up. I was beginning to worry when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and let her in. She was wearing a denim skirt and floral blouse, and carrying a carry-on size suitcase.
“Have any trouble finding the place?” I asked.
“No, your directions were good. This is a very nice place — much nicer than mine.”
“It’s two bed, two and a half bath,” I replied. “One bedroom I’ve converted into an office where I do my work. I should give you a key, since you gave me a key to yours. I need to get one copied, first.” I took her bag and carried it upstairs to the bedroom.
“Dinner is ready.” I said upon returning, went into the kitchen and set the bowls out on the island. “Grab a plate. We’re serving this buffet-style.” I pointed to the dishes. “This is green papaya salad. Here we have chicken satay with two dipping sauces, and shrimp with vegetables in Thai red curry. And, of course, jasmine rice. Are you proficient with chopsticks?”
“Am I!” she replied. “I think I must have been Chinese in a prior life.”
“Help yourself. I have some Singha beer from Singapore.”
“It all looks delightful,” she said. “You’re no slouch in the kitchen.”
“Neither are you,” I replied, “after your coq au vin.”
We carried our plates to the table. “I know I said I would do some Thai for you. This is really from across Southeast Asia. The salad is from Vietnam, the beer from Singapore, the curry is Thai. I also have some Southern Indian sweets for dessert, and green tea from Japan.”
“It’s wonderful,” Chloe said. “I appreciate the effort you put into making this.” She took a bite from the salad. “This is really good. The spicing is perfect. What are these little round white things?”
“Those are green papaya seeds — they’re a decoration, but you can eat them.”
“Where do you get green papaya? The ones I’ve seen are orange with black seeds.”
“There’s an Asian grocery in the outskirts of town. I’ll take you there sometime.”
Chloe and I cleared the table. She approached me and put her arms around my shoulders and we kissed.
“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” she said.
“You’re very welcome. I don’t often have an excuse. It was my pleasure.”
“I think you mentioned something about soap suds.Is that still on our agenda?”
“It is, indeed,” I replied.
“I’ll go upstairs and get ready. I don’t mind telling you...” She placed her hand on her abdomen. “I’m in dire need. It’s been two weeks.”
“Relief is on it’s way. I’ll be up as soon as I get all this into the dishwasher.” I loaded up the machine, put in a detergent pod and set it in motion. Up the stairs I went, and into the primary bedroom. Chloe had changed into another peignoir set similar to the one she had worn earlier. This one was green and not quite as sheer. She had her suitcase open and I could see her red bag lying in it.
“As you see,” she said, “I came prepared.”
“I had something else in mind,” I replied and handed her what I had ordered earlier — a box containing a rectal bulb syringe. She opened the box, removed the object and turned it over in her fingers. The look on her face worried me. She stared at it for a long time. “It’s an enema bulb syringe,” I said.
“I know what it is,” she replied. “How did you know? How could you know?”
“Know what?”
She looked me in the face. “My earliest memory of my father administering an enema to me ... He used a syringe like this, except it was about half this size. I remember he had me lie across his lap, face down. I remember him putting the nozzle into me. He spoke to me with tenderness, explaining what he was doing — that it was good for me. He was giving my insides a gentle bath, he said. Then, he squeezed the bulb and I remember feeling the coolness deep inside me.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Three or four,” she replied, “after I was safely out of diapers.”
“Chloe — there is no way I could have known any of this. I was looking for something to make an enema more interesting for you. I had no idea it would bring up memories. If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to use this.”
“Those were fond memories for me,” she replied. “I really felt the love from my father. That probably was the event that imprinted on me my fondness for...”
“That event made you a klismaphile,” I remarked. “Have you ever gone for therapy?”
“No. It’s not something I wish to be cured of. Would you?”
“Not on your life,” I replied.
She handed the bulb to me. “I want you to use it,” she said.
“With the soap suds?” She nodded. “I want to make a minor modification to it.” I produced a fresh douche nozzle, still in its clear plastic wrapper. After removing the wrapper and wrenching the rectal tip from the bulb I worked the end of the douche nozzle into it. “Are you okay with this?”
“Yes, indeed,” she replied.
“Then, let’s make ready.”
I had brought a large bowl and a spoon up from the kitchen earlier, so I retrieved it from the closet and carried it to the ensuite. After running the water to a proper temperature, I dropped my trusty bar of Ivory soap into the bowl and ran water over it. With the spoon I stirred the water until it was nearly as cloudy as for my usual session.
“You’re not going to measure it?” she asked.
“The bulb holds six ounces. If you want to take three pints, that’s forty-eight ounces, or eight bulbsful. Since this is your first time with soap suds, I’m making it a mild solution. With the Ivory, it’s difficult to accurately measure how much soap is in the water, but I am making it milder than what I use. The soap will irritate your colon, and you will feel it. It should not cause you any serious discomfort, though. Understood?”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“You may have some mild cramping. You will feel better afterward, believe me.”
“When I had cramps from an enema, my dad would say, sometimes you need to feel worse before you feel better.”
I put more than enough water in the bowl, then reached in and retrieved the soap bar. “Did you bring any Vaseline?” I asked.
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