Chapter 4

I taped shut the last box and attached the address labels. Then, I carried them up from the basement and loaded them into the trunk of the Oldsmobile. I should sell this and buy a truck, I thought. Hopping behind the wheel I drove to the local UPS depot and unloaded the boxes onto the receiving dock.

Back home I glanced at the clock display on my microwave oven. Five, I thought. Lize would be along shortly. I sat and waited. Five-thirty came and went. Then six o'clock.

I was about to call her cell when I remembered. She has some after-work meeting at the bank -- I remember, now. Geez, Ethan -- a mind is a terrible thing to lose...

I found a frozen entree in my freezer -- Salisbury steak. I warmed up my oven, removed the wrapper and slipped the foil tray in to heat. Popping open a bottle of beer, I sat at the kitchen table.

Around eight-thirty I heard the garage door open. Looking out my window I saw Lize's blue Ford pull into her side of the garage. The door rolled down. Home, safe and sound, I thought.

I stripped to my briefs and readied myself for bed. I heard my phone ring.

"Hello?"

Ethan -- it's Lize.

"I recognized you."

Do you want to come over?

"I was just getting ready for bed."

Really? At eight-thirty?

"Nothing else to do."

Come over. Maybe we can come up with something to do.

"Can I bring anything?" I asked.

Mmm ... I think I have everything we need.

"Then, I'll see you shortly."

I left the front door open. Please bolt it behind you.

"Got it."

I set down the handset, slipped into my jeans and pulled on a tee shirt. Then, picking up my keys I headed to the other unit in the duplex. I let myself in through the screen door, then closed and bolted the front door.

Lize approached me in a white satin, floor-length robe. Her full lips turned up in a smile upon seeing me. "I take it you have something in mind," I said.

"Oh, Ethan ... I had this after-hours meeting..."

"Have you had dinner?"

"Yes, they fed us. Ethan -- I couldn't keep my mind on it. It kept wandering to last Saturday night ... what we did together."

"Any particular thing we did?" I asked.

"All of it. I especially kept thinking about your story of watching your aunt give your cousin the enema." She walked toward the kitchen. I saw the fountain syringe lying on the counter. Lize held up a bar of Ivory soap.

"You want to try a soapsuds enema?" Lize bit her lip and nodded. "I'll go get some liquid castile."

"No -- I want it to be like you described."

"You're sure? Running water over bar soap isn't a very precise way to measure it. It might be too strong for you -- especially since you've never had soapsuds and don't know how you'll react to it."

"It worked for your cousin."

"Besides -- there's no guarantee that today's Ivory is the same as the Ivory of yore..." I took the bar from her and read the ingredients. "I don't see anything here that would be dangerous..."

"So ... can we?"

"Okay -- it's your enema..." I turned on the tap to warm the water, unwrapped the bar of soap and set it in the pitcher; then, I turned on the tap full and let the warm water flow over it. Suds began overflowing into the sink and I scooped them away. "The smell of Ivory soap really brings me back," I remarked. I scooped away more suds. "I had my share of Ivory soapsuds squirted into my butt," I added and poured the water into the enema bag, holding back the bar of soap so the water once again flowed over it. I screwed on the cap and attached the hose. Holding up the bag I flushed air from the hose.

I turned to face Lize. "You said your cousin was in her nightgown," she said. "Did it look anything like this?" She untied her robe and slipped it off. Underneath she wore a sheer black babydoll and matching briefs. The bodice closed with a single tie. It was open in front and the material was no more substantial than a whisper.

"Not in the least," I replied.

She modeled her gown for me. "You like?"

"That leaves little to the imagination."

"Should I wear something else?"

I chortled. "I don't have a very vivid imagination. You look sensational, Lize."

She led me into her bathroom. I saw the tube of surgical jelly on the corner of the sink. "I want you to give it to me over your lap."

I chuckled. "Lize -- you're a little tall for that. That procedure is pretty much reserved for children."

"I still want to try it that way."

"Why do you want that?"

"I just want to experience it -- is that wrong?"

"Oh, no ... not at all." I looked around. "The bathroom's too confining and there's no place to hang the bag."

"Oh..."

"Where's the stand?"

"In the bedroom," she replied and picked up the tube of lube.

"Do you have some Vaseline?" I asked.

"Yes..."

"We'll use that for an authentic experience." I snatched a hand towel from a rod and headed into her bedroom. Lize followed carrying a pot of petroleum jelly. I hung the bag on the stand and surveyed the premises. "Let's try the corner of the bed," I suggested, sat and patted my lap. "See if you can get comfortable lying across my knees."

Lize knelt and rested her hips on my knees. "This isn't so bad," she remarked.

"Okay, then." I adjusted the height of the bag on the stand. "This is about as high as it goes ... I'm surprised you want to do this. You must never have been taken over a knee for a spanking."

"I was never spanked in my life," she replied. "Of course, I was a good little girl."

"I'm sure you were." I spread the towel across my thighs. "Okay, little girl -- you're about to get an old-fashioned enema. Off with the undies." Lize slid the sheer, matching briefs down her legs and stepped from them. "Over here." I patted my thigh.

She knelt again with her hips across my thighs. Lize lay her forearms on the floor, crossed her wrists and rested her forehead on them. Her long, slender legs were stretched out, ankles crossed and her toes touching the floor. "I'm okay," she said.

"Actually, this isn't a bad position for receiving an enema," I explained as I lifted the hem of her gown out of the way. "It angles your colon downhill." I caressed her buttocks. "It's good for the person administering it, too -- excellent access to your bottom. And, you have an excellent bottom. Did I ever tell you that?"

"I think you have."

I opened the jar of Vaseline, dipped in my finger and liberally coated the enema tip with it. With my left hand I spread Lize's buttocks to expose her anus. "You have a pretty little pucker, too. I'm going to grease it with this. That's how Aunt Ethel did Christine's..." Taking the nozzle in my right hand I used it to apply the Vaseline to her orifice. Gently rocking and rotating the tip I eased it past her anal canal and into her rectum. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," she replied.

Pressing my palm against her buttocks with the hose between my middle and ring fingers I held the nozzle in place. "It think," I said, "that you should take a soapsuds enema as fast as possible."

"Why?" I heard Lize's voice coming from the floor.

"To get it all in before your colon realizes what hit it. Soapsuds induce motility in your colon. You don't want to be fighting that to get an enema in. I'm going to start the flow. Use your breathing to control any cramping. Ready?"

"Ready."

With my left hand I snapped open the hose clamp. Within seconds Lize was taking long, deliberate breaths. "I feel pressure," she cried. "Can you stop it for a minute?"

"Try panting like a dog -- use your diaphragm."

Lize panted and I felt her belly moving. Her breathing slowed. "That's better," she said. "It felt like a dam burst. Now I can feel it flowing further in."

Lize's breathing alternated from shallow panting to long, deep breaths. I watched the bag deflate, its emptying gurgle dampened by the sudsy foam in the hose. "You're done," I announced as I closed the clamp and slipped the nozzle out of her bottom.

"That was pretty quick. Now what?"

"Well ... Aunt Ethel made Christine hold them for fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes? I guess I can lie here for fifteen minutes."

"You think so? How are you feeling?"

"Not too bloated. I have a different sensation from last time ... kind of a dull, indistinct ache ... like mild nausea but down low."

"You're beginning to feel the soap."

"Now it feels kind of like a case of Montezuma's Revenge coming on." She grunted. "I'm starting to have cramps, Ethan."

"Keep holding it back," I replied.

She groaned. "Another one ... strong one. I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable. When can I go?"

"You wanted the soapsuds enema experience," I replied. "This is part of it."

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed and grunted. "I don't think I can hold it! Ethan!" She groaned again. "Ethan -- I don't want to have an accident!"

"I'll help you." I folded the hand towel into layers. With my right hand I pressed the fabric against her anus and with my left I pinched together her buttocks.

"Ahh ... owwww..." Lize whimpered and a loud gurgle came from her belly. She panted, drew in a breath and grunted. "Mmmmpgh ... I'm getting a stomach-ache. How much longer?"

"It's been three minutes," I replied, checking my watch.

"Three? Only three?"

"When you're holding a soapsuds enema each minute feels like ten."

"Mmmmpph," she gasped and a loud groan came from her abdomen. "Ethan! I can't hold it any longer!"

"After the this cramp passes, get up and go," I said.

"Thank you..." Lize grunted and grimaced. Then she eased from my lap, stood and dashed into the bathroom, throwing open the toilet lid and slamming the door in a single motion.

I took the bag from the stand, carried it to the kitchen and began rinsing it thoroughly. "Ohhh!" I heard her groan from behind the bathroom door. "Ohhh! Oh, man ... oh, God ... mmmmph..."

I rapped on the door. "How are you doing in there? Everything coming out okay?"

"Shut up!" she yelled and then grunted and groaned more.

I made two quarts of a salt solution and filled the bag with it. This I carried it into her bedroom, hung it on the stand and adjusted the height. Taking a bath towel from her closet I spread it on the bed. With some matches from her nightstand I lit a pillar candle and turned off the lights.

I sat on her sofa. Shortly I heard the toilet flush. Lize emerged from the bathroom with a lock of her hair wet with perspiration and stuck to her forehead. She approached me, lips pursed and fists clenched. "You look like you had a workout," I remarked.

"This was not funny!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me it would be like this?"

"I tried to," I replied. "I tried to caution you. I tried to direct your thinking..."

"Was this what your cousin experienced?"

"I remember hearing her grunting and moaning. You have to realize, Lize -- neither my mom nor my aunt were trained nurses. They learned to give enemas from their mother -- my grandmother -- and she wasn't a trained nurse, either. Whenever I make a soapsuds enema I use liquid castile, and I use it because I can measure it precisely and control the strength. You can't control what you can't measure, Lize. That's advice that applies to all aspects of life. Come on -- I'll give you a rinse."

"No thank you."

"A rinse enema is kind of optional with glycerin," I replied. "With soapsuds it's obligatory. Soap can cause chemical colitis. If you think you were uncomfortable before ... well, you don't want to experience that."

"Right now my colon still feels rather indignant," she replied.

"It'll feel better after a rinse."

"Fine." She followed me into the bedroom and regarded the candle burning. "Forget it, Ethan. There's going to be no romantic evening tonight!"

"I just wanted it to be soothing. If you're interested in trying different positions you might want to try taking this one on your tummy." I positioned a pillow on the towel. "Slip this under your hips. It'll keep pressure off your belly."

Lize lay on her stomach with the pillow under her hips. I slipped an exam glove onto my right hand. "Lize -- I apologize. I should've been more forceful in dissuading you."

"It felt like you were trying to teach me a lesson," she said with a pout. "We'll see who knows more about enemas."