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October 16, 2007

Enema Loving Chick

Filed under: hardcore, medical sex, enema, medical stuff, shaved pussy — Administrator @ 6:01 am

Dear Jim

Thank you for sending the wonderful letter last week. It made me
very wet and want to give myself a big enema, which I did.

I waited until my husband had gone to bed; he is not into enemas.
Then I went into the other bathroom and got ready. I planed on
giving myself three enemas. The first was to be a plain warm
water one to really clean me out, but I went ahead and got the
other two ready, because I like to give them fast.

I have several bags. I choose for the first a clear bag and tube
that holds 3.3 quarts. I used a regular nozzle, 1/2 ” by 6″.
Lubed it up with KY jelly and slowly pushed it up my tight anus.
Released the clamp. The feeling as I lay back in the tub was
wonderful. I played with my pussy and breasts while I filled up.
I also “fucked” my ass with the nozzle a bit. It didn’t take long
to fill up because I hadn’t been to the bathroom in
several days. After the bag was empty; I held it for as long as
I could, then I “shot” the water and shit right out of my ass all
over the tub. (We have a big sunken tub with mirrors; so, as you
can imagine, the sight was wonderful. I also most came, but NOT
yet.

The second bag was the standard red enema bag, which earlier I
had filled with my hot piss. I kept it warm by keeping it in the
sink filled with hot water. I filled the bag over the evening
quite easily as I was drinking beer. The bag was holding about 2
quarts when I attached a German double bardex nozzle to it. Each
“ball” of the bardex blows up to about four inches in diameter.
You can guess that the feeling is one feeling very full!!! As I
was much cleaner, I filled up quickly with my own hot pee.
Again, I held it for as long as I could before I took the bag off
of the tube and pushed the pee enema out. I held the tube over
each breast and my pussy as the enema flowed out covering me in
my own piss. Again, I almost came–but not yet.

The third bag was a “pumpkin” bag filled with warm mineral oil.
I attached the hose to the bardex nozzle still in my ass. I
filled up even faster this time. I must have taken almost a
gallon of the stuff; the preasure was wild. So was my urge to to
cum, but I held off. I then got into a position of being on my
back with my knees next to my ears. I’m quite double jointed–
after years of practice. This puts my pussy and ass right over
my head. I slowly released the air in the bardex and removed it.
Holding my ass closed very tightly, I got ready for what was to
come. Finally, the enema shot out of me and all over me; I then
began to pee–I came at once. Recovering a bit, I rubbed the
mineral oil into my piss soaked body all the while fingering my
pussy and ass. I lost count of the number of times I came.

I finally “woke-up” later, showered and went to bed. My husband
sleeply said, “Have a nice bath, honey.” Smiling, I reached
around and grabbed his cock as I fell asleep.

Love
Maggie

Maggie,

I have to compliment you on your letter, it was intense! I have
saved it, and reread it several times, coming each time.
You have a fine, filthy mind. I’d love to hear about what you
used to do with your roommates, those must have been some times!

As I told you in my previous message, I am very turned on by the
idea and experience of showers, both golden and brown. In fact
most of my fantasies revolve around kneeling before a woman,
staring up into her open slit, and watching as her piss begins to
fall, first in a thin trickle, then in a steadily growing stream,
across my face, my body, into my mouth. My cock gets rock hard
at the thought of the feel and the smell of the warm yellow fluid
as it spreads across me, the salty-bitter taste of it as it flows
across my tongue. To be underneath that wet, hot stream is an
unbelievably erotic experience for me, one that I haven’t
participated in very often. The times that I have been
priviledged to receive a shower I hold as the most intense sexual
experiences I have had.

The idea of a piss enema sounds wonderful. My wife will be going
away for a few weeks, so I may give it a try. I don’t have that
much experience with enemas, so if you can give me some tips on
how to proceed, I would be very grateful. Are there such things
as clear enema tubes? I think I would enjoy the enema even more
if I could see the liquid flowing through the tubes on the way
into my body. And to then raise my ass and let the expelled
liquid flow all over me! I’m definitely going to try that!

I hope you enjoy my fantasies as much as I enjoy telling them to
you. I’m going to go now and take care of the hard-on I got
writing the letter to you. Thanks again for the exceptional
letter!

Jim

Maggie,

I’m really glad you enjoyed my letter. I had joined in the
hopes that maybe, MAYBE, I could find somebody with some of my
interests, but I never dreamed that I would encounter a person
whose passions are so close to mine. Like you, I thrill at the
thought of sex as far as possible from what many consider the
“norm.” To immerse oneself in piss and shit, to revel in its
feel, its smell, its taste, and the very thought of what you are
subjecting yourself to, may be perverse in the extreme, but it’s
a delicious perversion, and one I would engage in more often, if
I could.

My hell is that I have no one near with whom to share my passion.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that, even amongst those who
are heavily involved in the outer fringes of sex, our “interests”
are considered quite extreme. So I consider myself very
fortunate to have stumbled across your message, and to have found
that you are as intensly turned on by the same things that turn
me on. Please feel free to be as open, as filthy, as “perverse,”
as you like. I’m beginning to get the feeling that there’s
nothing you can say that would turn me off. I intend to be as
open with you. If I do happen to cover something that you are
not into, let me know. I think our common interests are broad
enough that I can refrain from a few things that might truly
gross you out.

As you can probably tell, my wife isn’t at all into showers or
enemas. Make no mistake, I love her intensly, she is a FANTASTIC
lover, and I would sooner smash my modem than do anything that
would hurt her. We do regularly engage in mild
dominance/submission fantasies, with me as the dominant. These
games, which are a lot milder than the stereotypical “whip and
chain” type scenario, are also a turn on for me. But she finds
taking the dominant role to be extremely unpleasant for her. As
for showers, I “felt her out” on the issue, and know that she
would never consider indulging my desire.

So, here I am, hoping that our conversations will satisfy my
urges, while keeping me faithful to my wife. My most secret
urge, the one that no one else, save you, knows about, has been
to experience a brown shower. I have never participated in one
in real life, but they are prominant in most of my fantasies and,
through play with my own shit and the use of mirrors to watch
myself as I crap, I think I can imagine in detail what it would
be like to be subjected to one.

I can imagine lying face-up on the floor as a woman squats above
me, her ass poised over my face. She first empties her bladder,
her pee splashing down upon my body, my face, and into my mouth.
The stream slowly thins out, until the last few drops fall from
her glistening pussy. She shifts her weight so that her ass
cheeks spread, and her asshole becomes clearly exposed. I lie
there and watch, helpless, transfixed, as her ass muscles tense,
and shift. Her breathing changes, she catches it, expells it,
and suddenly her asshole begins to widen. Both fear and longing
stir within me as I watch the shit emerge, long, dark. It hangs
there for a moment, and then the ass muscles shift again, the
cheeks close, and the hot turd falls upon my trembling face. As
I feel the heat, and drown in the smell, I realize that there is
no turning back, and that I will have to take all she has to
give.

When I look up again, the ass muscles are once more tensed, and
more shit has started to emerge. She squeezes out her precious
turds in rapid succession now, and I gratefully let my face be
buried in her steaming, brown shit.

Finally, she is done. She turns and crouches, extending a hand
to help me up. I raise myself, the shit falling from my filthy
face. I know what comes next. I kneel on all fours. The woman
starts to slowly stroke my cock with one hand, while the other
cradles the back of my head, gently pushing my face towards her
shit. I lower my head and begin eating. The scent is
overpowering, and the taste is intensely bitter, but I gulp it
down willingly, the hand at the back of my neck gently coaxing me
on, guiding me to the next turd, reminding me that there is no
stopping until I am completely finished. Occasionally the
pressure on my head becomes firmer, pushing me into the shit,
smearing it across my lips, my nose, my entire face. Meanwhile,
her stroking continually drives me to the brink of orgasm, but
does not permit me the release of coming.

I finish my “meal,” and go to the bathroom to wash my face. When
I emerge, cock throbbing and the scent of shit still in my nose,
I see the woman lying face down on the floor, her legs spread. I
lay myself down behind her and bury my head in her ass cheeks.
Tentatively, I reach my tongue out and begin to lick the crusted-
on shit from her dirtied asshole. I work carefully, thoroughly,
reaching deep inside, giving her a full cleaning.I start to
stroke my cock as I relish the the taste, the warmth of her body,
and the encircling flesh that cradles my face.

When she is completely clean, she rolls over and presents me with
her open cunt. With my hand pumping at my throbbing cock, I lick
remnants of her pee from her open lips. Now, though, after
making sure that she is completely clean, I circle my tongue up
to her exposed clitoris. Her body tenses, and I begin to work on
her sensitive clit, gently circling it with my soft, pliant
tongue, sucking, biting. The smell of her piss is overridden by
her sex-scent, and her cunt glistens with come. I change to
lapping the stiffened clit with short, sharp stokes, like a dog
licking the cunt of his favorite bitch. Her body stiffens,
trembles. Her low moaning begins to get louder. I pump my
throbbing cock with one hand, as I double my effort. My jaws and
tongue ache from the exertion, but I know I am close to my goal.
Finally, her body jerks in joyous spasms, and as she comes, she
lets loose what little piss she has remaining, and the hot stream
shoots down my throat. I rub my face in her cunt lips and, lost
in the aromas of her piss, shit, and come, drive my self to a
gut-wrenching orgasm.

So you want to know what gets me off? Need you ask by now? I am
intensly turned on by the thought of taking a woman’s piss and
shit, of having it falling upon my body, of having it fed to me
and forced up my ass. When I’m alone, I sometimes fantasize by
using my own piss and shit. I might pee into a glass and then
pour the urine all over my body, driving myself to orgasm by
rubbing the hot liquid into my balls and stiffened cock. Or
drink it down slowly, this time gently stroking my cock, delaying
my cum until I’ve finished every drop.

I sometimes use a flat shaving mirror to watch my shit emerge
from my distended asshole. Then I might smear it over my body,
lick it, eat it, or lie on my back, knees up, and force one of
the hot turds back up my asshole. If I don’t have the time or
privacy for all that, I might just go to the bathroom by letting
the pee fall of my hand into the toilet, and forego toilet paper
by using the same hand to wipe my shit-smeared ass clean, licking
the filth away until the hand is once again immaculate.

Whatever I choose to do, I do it slowly, so I can fully enjoy the
experience, all the smells and tastes, while I tease myself to
the brink of orgasm many times. It’s not quite as good as I
imagine it would be if I could place myself in the hands of
another person, to have someone else orchestrating the events and
coming up with variations I couldn’t even imagine. It’s probably
all in my mind, but somehow fantisizing using my own bodily
wastes just isn’t the same as knowing that I’m letting myself be
subjected to another person’s piss and shit. But, as with these
letters, one tries to recreate as much of the reality as
possible, and let the imagination take it from there.

Keep the HOT letters cummin’!

Jim

Maggie,

LOVED your last message! I could almost feel the hot shit as it
fell on my chest, not to mention your strong fingers as they slid
your delicious body waste up my waiting ass. Give me more! I
can’t get enough of it.

What I’d love to do is get you naked and on your knees before me.
You’d see me spread my legs and reach behind. A few seconds, and
I’d bring my hand around again, holding a large piece of my shit,
which I’d smear all over my balls and cock. Then I would cradle
your head in both of my hands and slowly draw your face towards
my filthy prick. First, your face would be pressed against my
crotch, dirtying you with some of the shit and allowing you to
enjoy the mingling of my shit- and cock-smell. You’d then have
to suck my balls clean, taking the entire sac into your mouth and
gently licking the encrusted shit off. When you had done the job
to my satisfaction, my hands would gently guide you up to my
cock. I would then fuck your mouth while you did a proper job on
my prick. Only after I’m fully clean, and you’ve had a good
opportunity to taste the combination of my shit and pre-cum,
would I then shoot my thick, hot cream down your waiting throat.
You’d then immediately wash down your “feast” with my hot pee, as
I relieved my over-flowing bladder into your mouth, my hands
preventing you from withdrawing until you’ve taken every last,
golden drop.

Like it? Want to hear my side of it next? Let me know. Your
wish is my command!

Have a good week, my filthy one, and lots of fun!

Jim

Maggie,

I can’t tell you how great it was to be able to speak with you
last weekend. I very near hit my chin when I came, our exchange
so excited me. I hope it did the same for you.

Being initiated into all the perverse arts by a firm, gentle
teacher has long been a fantasy of mine. The story I told in my
last letter was the reverse situation, with me as the teacher and
you as the student.

After I had taught you to bring me off by sucking my shit-covered
cock, it would be your turn to teach me. I would kneel before
you and watch as you spread your legs and drop a large, steaming
pile of shit onto the floor. You’d instruct me to hand you the
largest turd from the pile. I would carefully hand it over to
you, and you’d tell me lick my hands clean. As I carefully
removed the remnants of your shit from my trembling fingers, I
would watch as you smeared a thick layer of shit across your
breasts, your pussy, and tucked a large piece of the turd up
inside you.

You’d inspect my hands carefully, and clean yours by wiping them
on my face. Then you cradle my head in your hands and draw me
towards your filthy breast, holding my face a fraction of an inch
away, so I can inhale the warm aroma of your shit.

You press me against your breast. My mouth opens to take your
nipple, and I nurse on your shit, sucking you, letting the filth
dissolve and slide down my waiting throat. You press my head
firmly against you, making sure that your nipple securely seals
my mouth and I have no choice but to inhale your sweet shitscent
through my nose.

When I have fully cleaned one nipple, you switch me off, and the
slow process continues. When it is clean, you let me lick the
rest of your breasts clean, saving your cleavage for last so you
can press my face deep between your tits.

After I have finished my work up top, you push me down towards
your shit-smeared cunt. You first make me dig the thick piece of
crap out of your pussy by using my soft, pliant tongue. I probe,
twist, and am finally able to remove the shit. You make me hold
the turd in my mouth before permitting me to finally swallow it.

Then it’s time to clean your pussy. My quick, moist tongue laps
up each bit of the shit. I work thoroughly, carefully, paying
special attention to your clit. Slowly, you are cleansed, coming
as the last bit of shit slides down my throat. You press my open
mouth hard against your pussy, and piss hard into my mouth. I
strain to keep up with the flow of your hot pee, gasping for air,
and swallowing every last, sweet drop. You release me, lean
down, and kiss me. We share the last traces of your piss and
shit together.

Well, that’s it. I hope you enjoyed it. Please keep that HOT
mail coming!

Love, Jim

Maggie,

What a week it has been! As you’ve probably guessed from my previous letter, I
got around to taking my first enema since childhood, a mindblowing experience
quite unlike the parent-inflicted enemas I got as a youth or one particularly
gruesome and painful occasion in a hospital when I was a teen.

So, I assume your on the edge of your (toilet?) seat, wanting to know what
happened on Monday. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Early in the
evening, I took a little walk to a drugstore I rarely visit. There I purchased
a combination water/douche/enema bag, your typical lurid red rubber thing, a
little frightening for me since it conjured up a number of unpleasant memories.
I cleared up all my business early in the evening, spoke to my wife over the phone (she’s out-of-town for
month, which is why I can finally indulge these desires), assembled the enema
bag, and went into the bathroom.

Using a measuring cup, I filled the bag with a quart of warm water, and lay
down in the bathtub. I had assembled a chain of coathangers so that the bag
hung only a couple of feet above my waist. I greased up the nozzle with
Vaseline, pulled my knees up and slipped the nozzle into my tight anus. I was
glad to find that it slid in easily, without pain. With my eyes I traced the
slender white tube as it emerged from between my legs and snaked up to the
swollen, rubber bag, ready to dispense its contents into my body. It was only
a quart of water, but it looked huge, an impossible amount for me to hold in my
virgin bowels. As I stared at scarey red container, I made a pact with myself:

Once I had first released the valve, I would be committed to going through
with everything I had planned. Once started, there would be no turning back.

No matter how large the amount of liquid seemed, the nozzle could not be
removed until I had received the full enema. Only in the case of severe
pain could the enema be curtailed before the bag had delivered its full
load.

I would endeaver as much as possible to take the enema in one steady
stream. Again, the only excuse for closing the valve would be if pain was
experienced. Similarly, I would try to retain the fluid for as long as
comfortably possible.

Once I started receiving my enema, I would not be able to use the toilet
for either urination or bowel movements until sunrise. Until the morning,
the bathtub would be my toilet, and all bodily functions would be performed
on my back.

That done, I still had a choice: I could remove the nozzle and not experience
this strange, and not a little frightening, practice, or I could go ahead, in
which case I would be committed to undergoing everthing that followed, no
matter how uncomfortable, shameful, or filthy it was.

I released the valve.

At first, nothing happened. I jostled the tubing with my foot, in case there
were any kinks in it. Still nothing. With the nozzle still planted in my ass,
I sat up and raised the bag up to a higher hanger, hoping that the pressure
wouldn’t be too intolerable. I lay back down and waited. After a few seconds,
there was a muffled gurgle from within me, and I was suddenly flooded with a
warmth that spread deep within my bowels. The water rushed into me, a little
too fast, in fact, since I was suddenly seized with an agonizing cramp. I
immediately closed the valve and waited until the spasm passed, all the while
feeling the water within trickling up into my body.

When the pain had gone, I slowly released the valve and used it to modulate the
flow so that it was strong enough to overcome whatever resistance my body might
put up, but not so strong that it caused actual pain. I watched the bag slowly
shrink. Originally I had feared the volume of the enema, but now my thirsty
bowels were drinking it all in, without the least bit of discomfort, and only a
pleasant full feeling and a spreading warmth to indicate that an enema was
indeed in progress.

Eventually the bag was empty, and I slowly removed the nozzle, and tightened my
anus to retain the full quart that I would never in my wildest dreams have
thought I could hold. There was no pain, and little indication, in fact, that
I was filled at all. Possibly I could have taken more, but I decided to take
it easy my first time.

I probably could have held the enema for quite a while (how long do you retain
yours?), but a small gurgle from within me suggested that I was maybe ready to
expel the fluid. I was in for a number of surprises. The first surprise was
the force with which the now filthy water jetted from my open asshole. Warm
water and softened shit splattered against the foot of the tub, splashing back
onto my feet, legs, ass, and even up onto my stomach, so strong was the stream
that was flowing uncontrollably from my bowels.

The second surprise came when the flow stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I
couldn’t understand it, surely I couldn’t have dumped a full quart of water so
quickly. It hardly seemed enough. My doubts were answered by a soft groaning
from my bowels, and the sensation of something making its way towards my anus.
I squeezed, and the flow of water and shit resumed.

It continued like that over the span of a half hour, my ass dispensing the
enema in short, but copious, batches, until I feared that the stream of shit
and water would never stop. Eventually though, I was as empty as the bag that
hung above me and my feet, pressed up against the foot of the tube, were
literally buried in a pile of soft, brown shit.

My third surprise was how much I had relished the experience, the helplessness
as my gut continuously delivered another load of filth to expel, the delicious
shame as the steaming shitwater filled the tub, flowing along my body and
streaming through my hair, inundating me in its strong odor, the beauty of the
generous pile of shit that smothered and stained my feet. I could have
orgasmed right then, but I knew I was not finished.

I had turned myself, during the day, into a human piss factory, drinking glass
after glass of water and expelling the results into a large glass jar. That
jar now sat in the sink, surrounded by hot water. I retrieved it, opened it up
and checked the temperature. It was warmer than the tap water I had used, but
I did not wan’t to wait for it to cool down slightly. I poured the fragrant,
yellow fluid into the enema bag, reinserted the nozzle, and released the valve.
I had worried that acidity of the urine would be painful, but was delighted to
find that the only sensation was that of a comfortably hot liquid streaming
into me. It could have been just plain water that was rushing unchecked into
my empty bowels, but I knew it wasn’t.

With a careful hand on the valve, I was able to take the entire piss enema,
which was considerably more than a quart, in one satisfying stream. I lay
there, the pee heating me from within, until I could hold it no more, and
flooded the tub with the piss and whatever remnants of my bowels remained from
the previous enema. As the yellow stream flowed nonstop from from my ass, I
simultaneously released my bladder, and a fountain of fresh pee arced up,
bathing my stomach, my chest, my face. I opened up my mouth and swallowed my
own urine as it poured, sweet and hot, from my prick. I wished that my body
could process the waste water immediately, so that the salty-bitter stream
would flow in a never-ending supply, and I could lay there, swallowing my own
piss, forever. I was now truly a piss-and-shit factory, the filth streaming
from my ass and cock in massive, glorious amounts, and I unable to stem the tide.

Finally it was over, and I lay in a stinking pool of my own body wastes. There
was not a single inch of my body that was not tinted either a subtle yellow or
a more prominent brown, there was not a single pore or hair that had escaped
being perfumed by the almost unbearable reek. I was exhausted, but there was
one more thing I had to do. Slowly, carefully, I dragged myself to my hands
and knees, and crawled towards the mountain of shit that lay at the foot of the
tub. I kneeled down, my face a fraction of an inch from the almost-liquid mass.
I admired its rich browness, felt the heat, let the steam moisten my face.
Then I buried my head deep into soft feces. My hand pumped my prick viciously,
massaging more of the slick wastes into my cockflesh, as I drunk in the molten
shit, my tongue burning from the sheer heat of it. It was not long before I
was brought to a screaming orgasm, and another product of my body, my sperm,
poured in a thick, white stream into the cesspool that once was my bathtub.

Needless to say, it took me nearly an hour and a half to clean the mess up
(shit was everywhere!), and two showers to get the smell out of my body. The
task was complicated by my swearing not to use the toilet, which meant that
anytime any further remants of the enemas made themselves known to me, and any
time that the pressure in my bladder became to much (I had drunk so much water
that the baptisms continued far into the night), I had to lay down and once
again soil myself. The frustration of having to reclean the tub over and over
was more than compensated for by the delicious feeling that my body was totally
out of control, demanding that I attend to its needs, and rewarding my
attentions by splattering me with more foul wastes.

And I loved every damn second of it! I hope that you enjoyed reading about it
as much as I enjoyed doing it. If you can think of anything else that I could
do to alter the experience, please let me know. There is one thing you can
tell me: could you please explain to me what a bardex is, what makes it
different from a regular enema bag, and where I might be able to find one.
I’ve heard the name mentioned, but I really don’t know what it is. Is it one
of those things with the rubber bulb, like they used when they were testing the
astronauts in THE RIGHT STUFF? Help me out on this, I’m dying to know.

Much love and kisses,
Jim

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