Message-ID: <45277asstr$1068523803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmytherubber@yahoo.com (Jimmy D. Rubber)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 11 Nov 2003 02:26:48 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} My E Story (True)
Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2003 23:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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My Story (True, Enema, Anal, Masturbation, M-Solo)

My therapist says that if I write things down, it will help me to
understand myself better. Well, in thinking about all that I have to
write it seems I must conclude that I am a pervert. I was born in the
mid 50's with a mother and grandmother who were very concerned about
*locked bowels* as a result of some close relatives and old timers who
died from obstructed bowels. They often discussed having to give
themselves *the works* if they were feeling a little off schedule. I
was curious about the term *works* and when inquired about it I was
given a look like - you are too little to understand. I saw the white
cloth laundry bag hanging by the tightly cinched draw string on the
back of the bathroom closet door. Occasionally I would notice a wet
spot on the bag after someone had given themselves *the works*, so I
knew it had something to do with that subject. I was too little to
reach up and take the bag down to open it, but I could feel some
rubbery parts inside that felt like the hot water bottle I was
familiar with and some other things that I had no idea what they could
be.

I was the only boy in the family of four other sisters. I was a
scrawny lad which was no surprise as both my parents were of small
stature. But apparently my Mom had high expectations for her only son;
that I should somehow overcome my genetic predisposition for smallness
and be a normal sized kid. She took me to the doctor and expressed her
concerns. Medical science being what it was at that time caused our
doctor to suggest that I might have a tape worm that was robbing me of
the nutrition to grow properly. Later after this incident they were
still so concerned they had the doctor give me injections of growth
hormones! My mother inquired as to how parasites could be confirmed.
The doctor suggested she examine my stool. Well I was always taught to
flush when you were done, so try as she might my Mom could not get to
the bathroom quick enough before I did as I was trained - and flushed
all evidence of wormy parasites that might be swimming in my stool
down the drain. Frustrated by my flushing, she conversed with my
grandmother about what to do. My grandmother suggest I get *the works*
and observe the worms as I could now be made to poop on demand. My
mother was unsure of how exactly to give a little boy an enema, so my
grandmother acquired a childs bulb syringe from the local Rexall and
brought it to my mother. In hushed tones, they then conspired to give
me *the works*.

I was summoned to the bathroom and observed the washbasin filled with
milky water and a bar of ivory soap floating in it. I had no idea what
was going on, maybe mom was washing sox in the basin. My grandmother,
who was also in attendance was holding something behind her back. I
was told to pull down my pants, no reason was given. Being shy and
modest I reluctantly dropped my drawers in full view of my grandmother
. In an effort to ease my embarrassment she engaged me in a
conversation about my *family trophy*, telling me that it was
something I should be proud of as I was the only one in the house who
had one. Brimming with joy on my newfound name for my penis, my mother
then invited me to lay over her lap as she was seated on the toilet.
My head facing away from the basin I became confused and thought I was
going to get a spanking but then I felt my mom put something greasy
between my butt cheeks. This was not part of a spanking, it felt kind
of good as my butt cheeks rubbed together. Then I heard a strange
sucking sound coming from the basin behind me. My mother told me to
act as if I had to go poop. I told her I didn't have to go but she
told me to just push as if I was trying to go. Something hard was
pushed inside my body. Then the most wonderful feeling started to
happen. I felt a warm swirly feeling inside my butt. I remember by
trophy started to get hard like a linkin log. The nozzle was removed
and the syringe was refilled and re-inserted with the instruction to
let me know when I felt full. I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by
full, but after the third bulb full I found out. Suddenly I didn't
have to act like I had to go - I really did have to go. I cried *I've
got to go poopy mommy* and quickly stood up. As my mother vacated the
toilet seat, I promptly sat down and pooped a bunch, my erection
pointing to the ceiling. My mother was quite flustered at the state of
my trophy as this was an unexpected event. My stool was examined - no
worms My mom never gave me another enema after that, but I never
forgot that squishy feeling inside me that gave me a boner.

The Teenage Years
Well once I reached puberty, I discovered the thrill of self
gratification; quite by accident I assure you. You see I was drying
off after a shower and got a boner when the soft towel was dragged
across my penis. It felt so good, I just kept doing it. I was dragging
the towel across it so fast, if my dick were a shoe, it would be as
bright as a five dollar shoe shine at the airport. Then I felt
something like electricity shoot up inside me. It was like I was
having a wet dream - only I was wide awake. I shot my load into the
towel. Oh, this was so much better than a wet dream; I was in control
and it was a lot less messy than waking up in the middle of the night
with sticky sheets. I was fascinated with the feelings I could give
myself. I wore kangaroo pocket underwear so that I lay in bed thinking
sexy thoughts, my cock would pop out of the pouch and my hand would
*accidentally* brush up against it (repeatedly, and in a rhythmic
manner) so I wouldn't feel guilty about jacking off. Did I mention
catholic education? Anyway, subsequent to that I became interested in
pornography. My sister gave us a stack of picture magazines to cut up
for an art project, and unknown to her husband's stash was mixed in
with them. Picture books indeed! I stashed the Playboys and Penthouse
(say it with me...) under my mattress. I liked Penthouse better, they
showed beavers. Once I was tired of jacking off to the pictures, I
discovered there were actually words also contained in this
publication. A section called *Penthouse Letters* aroused me in a long
hidden way. There were a series of letters from people who derived
sexual pleasures from having water squirted up their ass. MY
SOULMATES. Instantly as I was reading the letter, I began to recall
the bulb enema given to me as a child. I finally gathered up the
courage to stuff the magazine back under my mattress, and sneak away
quietly to the bathroom to re acquaint myself with the rubbery
equipment housed in that white cotton duffel sack hanging from the
back of the bathroom closet door. I felt around inside the hanging
bag, looking for something that matched the description of the enema
nozzle described in the letter. I didn't want to remove the whole bag
from the hook in case I had to ditch the whole excursion. I felt a hot
water bottle, a hose, a long hard plastic thing and a short hard
thing. I decided that the long plastic thing was too long to go in me
. I didn't realize a the time what a douche was or how good it would
feel to have the big one in me. So I reached over the top of the hook
and fished my hand through the drawstring opening and met what my
other hand had discerned to be an enema nozzle. Removing it from the
bag, I rubbed it up and down my crack pressing on my anus, unsure of
the angle at which the nozzle should be positioned. I pressed, it
hurt. This was not what an enema was supposed to be the way I
remembered things. Then I remembered the greasy feeling I had between
my buns just before I got the enema as a kid. I looked around for
something slippery, the closest thing to lubrication I could find
without the risk of someone hearing me rummage through the medicine
cabinet was my sisters jar of Noxema. I took a finger full of that and
smeared it up and down my crack. Mmmmm, it felt warm. I rubbed the
nozzle through the cream on my crack to lubricate it, and then gently
slid it home. Wow. What a feeling, the cold nozzle entering my warm
bottom. I got erect and masturbated on the spot, resting my balls on
the large porcelain washbasin. It heightened my orgasm, the sensation
of the cool basin on my hot balls, and I ejaculated into the very sink
where my first enema water was drawn from.

Deeper Still
Well I had broken into new heights of orgasmic pleasure with only the
nozzle, so I knew I had to try the bag. I waited till I knew I would
have lots of time alone in the house to continue my enema exploration
unfettered. The opportunity arose one Saturday afternoon when everyone
was out of the house shopping. I stripped naked, removed the equipment
from the bag and filled the bag from the bathtub spigot. Screwing the
hose on I strolled through the house to my bedroom where there was a
full length mirror to watch the action. I hung the bag from the bed
post of the upper bunk of my bed, lubed up the little nozzle with
Vaseline and inserted it promptly into my hole. With a click, the
clamp opened and the water gurgled down through the tube and once
again that swimming feeling filled my innards. I was giving myself the
works! I looked in the mirror, my slender body, the bag hanging from
the bed, the long hose disappearing between my ass cheeks - it was
quite visually stimulating. I began to get erect and stroked my dick,
watching everything in the mirror. Then another set of memories came
flooding into my mind (and nearly onto the floor) as the sense of
fullness turned into an urgent need to evacuate my rectum. I closed
the clamp, running through the house to the bathroom I barely made the
seat. I expelled what little water I had managed to take in a flash.
Somewhat disappointed by my first attempt, I suddenly remembered - I
had a hard on still that needed to be dealt with. Reviewing the images
just placed in my mind, I turned around to face the toilet like I was
going to pee, only I sat down on the seat (backwards) and stoked my
cock. Riding the seat with my cock pointed into the bowl, I
ejaculated. This was great! No messy tissues to dispose of. Just flush
and all evidence of my session was gone.

Well, I knew I had to work on*holding it* to fully realize the
potential explained in the penthouse letters. Gradually as I learned
to relax, I could take it all. It was awesome. But then again it was
messy and a hassle to get the bag out and all the other equipment to
get the works, so I discovered a way to hook the hose to the wash
basin spigot directly, eliminating the need for the bag and the
hassles it presented with concealing the evidence. I hooked up,
plugged in and masturbated by riding the toilet seat backward with the
hose filling me up. It was great. As my stomach would swell, so would
my penis. As I reached orgasm however, my sphincter would spasm as my
penis ejaculated and the nozzle would fall out leaving the hose
filling the bathroom floor with water. What a distraction to the
afterglow of an enema induced orgasm. Something had to be done.

 The penthouse letters described a man getting an enema from his wife
using her douche nozzle. Well I surmised the other nozzle in my mom's
bag must be a douche attachment. So one quiet afternoon I boldly went
where only penthouse letters had gone before. I fished the douche
nozzle out of the cloth bag and compared it to my penis. Damn, it was
as long as my pecker but certainly not as round. I knew that a human
butt would hold a penis (thank you again, penthouse for describing
buttfucking so eloquently) so I decided to give it a try. Hooking up
the hose as I usually did, I screwed the fluted nozzle on and worked
it up my ass. Feeling it seat deeply within me, I turned on the water.
Stomach swelling, cock growing. Good so far. Jacking off. OH what an
orgasm. Squirting in the potty while the water flowed in me, and no
mess. The nozzle stayed put!  Well this process continued throughout
my pre-college years. In college, there was no way to pull this off,
so I just jacked off silently in the stall, coveting my moderate stash
of porno kept in my dorm room.

All Growed UP
As I started my professional career, I traveled frequently. I became
familiar with adult book stores throughout the Midwest. Masturbating
in the 25 cent mast-o-mat booths and being thrilled to find ones that
offered private preview booths to allow me to select and control
lesbian strap-on videos. I also perused the magazine selections,
usually looking for lesbian strap-on publications to take back to the
hotel with me and jack off with. One day my browsing extended beyond
the lesbian section to a section that was called B&D. As I discovered
my browsing had led me out of my normal section, I started to move
away when it caught me. Water and Power Magazine along side
Enemerotica. Holy shit! There on the front cover no less, were women
using red bags with white hoses (just like mine from my days of youth)
filling their asses with water. What the hell were these doing in the
B&D section? There was no displeasure I ever associated with getting
an enema, but aparently for the lack of a better place this is where
they belonged. So each and every town I visited I now explored the B&D
section, looking for enema magazines to take back to the hotel an jack
off with. I had quite a collection, so much so that it was becoming a
burden hiding them all in my luggage. I later recalled the urge to go
and some cramping with some of my early experiments and understood how
it could be used to discipline someone, but that was never my
interest, just pleasure.

Welcome the computer age and the dawning of the internet. WOW is there
lots of good stuff out there. I no longer felt alone. There were
communities out there who also got off on enemas. There were lots of
pictures out there, some I remembered from the old mags but many more
from films I had not seen. Through the advancement of digital photos,
people were exposing intimate details of their enema experiences. Soon
I hope to publish photos of me experimenting with my newly acquired
bulb syringe with douche attachment. Thanks to the Fetish Box store in
Dania Beach for making it so accessible. I don't know how the pictures
will come out as I haven't figured out how to squeeze the bulb and
squeeze the shutter at the same time and have any sort of hope of
getting the right angle. It is tough to do it all by yourself. I hope
this story gets you off and maybe you too will get historical about
your enema fetish development. Maybe even you, Mary in St. Louis? But
most of all I hope you all realize your addiction to porno and will
deal with it in a constructive manner among consenting adults, maybe
even with a bag an nozzle, a big thick greasy nozzle slid gently up
your hot ass. Ungh...See what I mean, my therapist is right...I do
feel better.
Jim-E

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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