Chapter 5

I was folding the handle on the lawn mower before stowing it in the garden shed adjacent to the duplex's garage. Lize's blue Ford pulled into the driveway. I caught her eye and she waved.

She parked the car in the garage and opened the trunk. From it she lifted a pair of grocery bags.

I approached her, took one of the bags from her and followed her in to her unit. "I fixed the leak in the air conditioner," I said. "The drain line was plugged -- some mold or slime or something."

"Thank you. With this heat and humidity I need to run it. I can't believe you mowed the lawn in it. Look at you -- you're soaking wet!"

"It had to be done. I mopped perspiration from my forehead. "I'm going to take a shower, what with the smell of gas fumes and the cut grass. I'll stop over this evening and we can figure out dinner. Okay?"

"Okay." She gave me another wave.

I dried myself and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. My phone rang and I picked it up. "Hello?"

Hi, it's me, Ethan.

"Lize, what do you want?"

Can you come over?

"Now?"

Yeah, now. I have something to show you.

"I'll be right over."

The door's unlocked. Bye.

I hung up the phone, slipped my feet into a pair of sandals and walked across the porch to the other side of the duplex. "Lize -- is that air conditioner still leaking?"

"No," she called from the bedroom. Then she approached me wearing a green and blue tartan miniskirt, its hem cutting across the upper third of her thighs. She also wore white socks and a white, short-sleeved blouse. On her feet were a pair of black, low-heeled pumps and her wavy, blonde hair was held back with a wide, black headband. "Well?" She turned around to model her outfit. "Do you like it?"

"That outfit takes ten years off of you. You look like a high school senior."

"I was hoping it made me look like an eighth-grader."

"Eighth-graders don't have boobs like yours."

"Some of the girls in my eighth-grade class were pretty well endowed," she replied.

"Don't tell me that's an acceptable outfit for the bank."

"No, silly. I had the blouse. I bought the skirt today -- at the thrift store."

"The thrift store?"

"Yes. The new Goodwill store opened across the street from the grocery. I went in there on a lark and saw this. It cost me three bucks."

"Three bucks?"

"Yeah ... I was looking for a prom dress but didn't see anything appropriate."

"Prom dress?"

"I never went to prom ... never had a prom night. I thought maybe you and I..."

"No one invited you to prom? A stunner like you?"

"I really was rather shy," she said. "I wasn't comfortable around boys my age. I made myself unapproachable."

I nodded. "An ice princess. I know the type. BELIEVE me, I know the type. Did you meet Jimmy in high school or later?" I asked.

"Later."

"Was he older?"

Lize regarded me. "Don't press me about him, Ethan. I don't care to know anything about your previous love life. Please respect me on this."

"Fair enough."

"Jimmy was a mistake. A mistake I regret. Enough said."

"Understood. It's a dead topic, Lize." I looked into her eyes. "Okay?"

She smiled. "Okay."

I scanned her up and down. "You do look sensational. What about the socks? Did they come from the thrift store, too?"

"Oh, I had those. I wear them to work, with pants. Well -- do you like how I look in it?"

"You always look just beautiful, Lize."

"Do you want to know my inspiration?"

"What?" I asked.

She beckoned me to her computer and brought up an image of two young women. One was dressed in a white, 1950's era nursing uniform, wearing a cap and with a stethoscope around her neck. Face down across her lap, the other wore a shot skirt, blouse and ankle socks. Her skit was lifted to expose her naked buttocks. The one in the nurse's costume was inserting a bulb syringe into the other's bottom.

"Where did you find that?" I asked.

"Google Images," she replied. "I saw it and it made me want to try it."

"Is this what you want to try tonight?" I asked.

Lize shook her head. "Uhn-uhn. It's what I want to try right now. I can't wait 'til tonight. Besides -- I thought it might be better to get the enemas out of the way before dinner."

"They can go better on an empty stomach." I headed toward the closet where her enema gear was stowed.

Lize handed something to me. "I want to try using this."

I regarded a bulb syringe. "Where did you get that?"

"I ordered it online. It's a ten ounce syringe. I figured, for a one and a half quart enema, this would require five or so refills ... only two more than your pint enema."

"You've been planning this for a while..." My jaw dropped. "You ordered it from a competitor! I'm a little hurt, Lize. How could you?"

"He carries ten ounce bulbs and we don't," she replied. "We only carry six and eight ounce bulbs."

"I know..."

"Maybe we should start carrying these, too."

"Maybe..."

"They also carried a twenty-four ounce bulb but I thought that would be a bit awkward."

"A bit..." I turned the object over in my hands, grabbed the attached straight enema pipe and wrenched it from the bulb.

"What are you doing?" Lize asked.

I took the douche tip from Lize's kit and worked it into the opening on the bulb. "I'm exchanging the enema tip for the douche nozzle." I showed her the enema tip. "See? The tip is kind of sharp. Those edges can catch tissues in the anal canal and injure them. Even though the douche tip is bigger, it's smooth and round, and is less likely to do that."

"Oh..." she replied.

"The bulbs we sell have rounded tips without sharp edges. Maybe that's why we don't carry these."

"Maybe..."

I ran water in her kitchen sink to warm it. "Make it like the one you described."

"What did I describe?"

"You know -- a little on the cool side."

"Okay..." I adjusted the faucet and tested the water on my wrist. "Feel."

"Feels warm," she replied.

"Well -- something can feel warm to your skin but cool to your insides. You can sense water that's only a few degrees below body temperature as being cool. I think I'm going to dispense with the glycerin and give you a salt-and-soda enema."

"Why?"

"The cool water can be a bit cramping. No need to make it any more so than necessary. This solution is a bit hypertonic..."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the salt concentration is greater than in your bodily fluids. It'll make the enema mildly purgative." I filled the pitcher from the tap and added salt and baking soda, stirring it until the solution was clear. "I need a large, wide bowl," I said."

"What for?"

"To fill the bulb."

"Oh..." Lize removed a large, stainless steel mixing bowl from a cabinet.

I found a tray. "We also need some Vaseline. Refilling the bulb could wash away water soluble lube."

Lize produced a jar of petroleum jelly. I found a tray. Onto it I placed the bowl, Vaseline, the bulb syringe and my box of examination gloves. "I don't have a costume to complement yours," I remarked.

"That's okay." Lize carried the pitcher into the bedroom.

"I assume this is a make-good for the over-the-lap soapsuds fiasco?"

"Think what you like."

I set the tray on the bed and dumped the contents of the pitcher into the bowl. Then, I sat on the corner of her bed, spread a towel across my lap and patted my thigh.

Lize reached under her skirt and slipped her briefs down. She stepped from them and picked them up. "Kinda damp," she remarked. "Thinking about this is making me so horny..." She knelt near me and then, she lay across my thighs, her forearms resting on the floor. She crossed her wrists and rested her forehead on them, and she crossed her long, straight legs at her ankles, toes touching the floor. "Ready," she said.

I lifted her hem and caressed her bottom. "You have a mighty fine butt," I remarked. "I'm going to lube you -- to make sure this thing slides in easily." I slipped an exam glove onto my hand.

"Why do still use the rubber gloves?" she asked. "Don't we know each other well enough by now?"

"You mean, for me to go in bareback? The reason I use the glove is to prevent a sharp nail from injuring you."

"Oh..."

I dipped a finger into the jar of Vaseline. Retrieving a glob I coated the tip on the bulb with it. From the jar I retrieved another glob and with my left hand I spread her cheeks.

I gazed on her firm, pale buttocks, her left one streaked with a faint, blue vein; and I regarded her pinkish-brown pucker and the short, light brown hairs from the savanna of her pubic forest that extended into her crevasse. I smeared the petroleum jelly onto her and, rocking and rotating my fingertip, I worked my way into her opening, making sure her anal canal was thoroughly coated.

Squeezing the bulb I dipped the tip into the bowl and released it. As the bulb expanded it sucked up the enema solution. Pointing the tip to the ceiling I squeezed it again to expel the remaining air. When I saw drops of water form in the holes of the nozzle I submerged it in the bowl and released the bulb.

Now charged with a full load I touched the bulbous tip to her opening. "Relax," I said. Holding the hem of her skirt against the small of her back with my forearm I spread her cheeks. Gently rocking the syringe I eased the nozzle through her anal canal, angling the tip to conform to her anatomy, and pushed it deeply into her rectum. With a gentle but steady motion I squeezed the bulb, collapsing the material onto itself to discharge as much solution as I could into her.

"I feel it," Lize remarked. "It feels like a cool spray deep inside my bottom."

"You feel cold in your colon more distinctly than warmth," I replied. "That was number one. We have at least four more to go." Holding the bulb tight in my fist I slipped the nozzle from her bottom and immersed it into the bowl. Releasing it I watched as it expanded to its normal size and shape as it took on more solution. Again spreading her buttocks with my left hand I touched the tip to her orifice and eased it into her. Squeezing the bulb I delivered its load into her rectum.

"I like how this feels," she remarked. "The time it takes to refill the bulb gives the water a chance to flow further in. I can feel the coolness moving up inside."

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," I replied.

"I think I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?" I asked as I eased the nozzle into her and squirted another bulbful into her depths.

"Why I'm so comfortable with you. I have only vague recollections of my father. He was an airline flight attendant who was killed in a plane crash when I was about two. After that my mom moved back home with her dad. He was a widower himself. My mom tried her best to raise me as a single mother, but it was my grandfather who really took care of me. If he told me I needed an enema I would've accepted it from me without question."

"But, he never did."

"No," she replied, "he never did."

I filled the bulb again. "Looks like one more after this one," I remarked. "How are you doing?"

"Fine -- I'm starting to feel the fullness. No cramping."

I eased the nozzle into her rectum and pressed on the bulb. "So -- you imprinted on your grandfather."

"I did. I was kind of a sickly child. I had lots of sore throats and ear infections. I had to have tubes put into my ears. It was my grandfather who took care of me and comforted me when I was ill. He was so gentle and patient. I sense that from you, Ethan. I always was shy around guys my own age -- I still am."

"So, I'm like a grandfather to you?"

"You're about the age he was when I was little and so sickly."

I squeezed another bulbful into her. "There's a just a bit left in the bowl..." I sucked up as much of the solution as I could, given the shape of the nozzle and the curvature of the bowl. Again I touched the tip to her anus. "Relax," I said. "You're tensing up."

"I'm trying to hold it back."

"Does the enema feel like it wants out?"

"Not really. I just don't want to leak."

I pressed the rounded tip against her anus and rocked it back and forth while rotating my wrist. I watched it dilate her orifice and its outlet holes vanished into her pucker. Once I felt it clear of her anal canal I pointed it toward her spine, to align it with the orientation of her rectum, and pushed it all the way in. "If I give you some air on this one -- I apologize in advance..." Gently I squeezed the bulb, stopping when I sensed I was beginning to inject air, and then withdrew it. "Okay -- you're done. See if you can hold it for a while. I don't know if this solution will give you cramps or not."