Perverts 'R' Us

Twins: a Specialty

By Grade School Nurse ( M+/F/m+, enema, voy, ir, inc, nonsex )

As told by Master Sgt. Charles Jenkins

We're talking to Master Sgt. Charles Jenkins. Sgt. Jenkins was described last time by Colonel Reginald Collins as "a big, handsome black man who looked a lot like Morgan Freeman and was a supply sergeant down at A. P. Hill." He's retired to Queens, NY with his third wife, Clarissa, née Hill, who is white.

GSN: Sgt. Jenkins, you have quite a thing about nurses and twin boys. Did you have twins in the family?

CJ: Lord, yes. For as far back as I can remember. My grandfathers on both sides were twins. My sons, Dexter and Lester, are twins. Each of them has got twins boys. I swear there's something going on in the genes.

GSN: And you all had very handsome, big bottomed, strong willed mothers who either were nurses or dressed up that way on what you call "certain occasions?"

CJ: Positively so. The twins in our family learned right from the git-go that momma had very definite ideas about how twins should be raised, 'specially if they were boys, and between the hairbrush and the enema pump, she gave 'em a lot of suffocating love. But when it came to "takin' care of business" she was not anyone you would want to mess with.

GSN: You and your twin brother got regular enemas?

CJ: That's putting it mildly. See, you have got to understand that it went way back to what my daddy used to tell me about what his daddy told him. Seems just about every time he and my uncle were getting their enemas, granddad had to put on this long face and cry a lot of crocodile tears and in between the grimaces, and grins behind his hand, he would go into this long lecture about how his daddy would do his best to get his momma to "go easy on 'em" while she was getting their enemas ready. Truth to tell, this was all a big act and it satisfied its purpose in that it only served to enrage the twins even more. The hypocrisy of the whole thing was what a true enema voyeur like us finds so exciting.

GSN: But how do you think something that embarrassed you or hurt so much, or made you so mad when you were ten, after you got to be twelve or so you couldn't get enough of it? And all at a time when she was no longer interested in doing it?

CJ: I know damn well you know the answer to that question, but I'll let on I don't for the benefit of other interested parties. So here you have got a man, say my daddy or his daddy who has got this momma that he adores hurting him in a place that's, well, let's just say it's "sensitive" and leave it at that. And on top of it, there's this daddy that he wants for all the world to think he's a little man, not a sniveling little sissy, and he wants to be like him. And his woman, the love of his life, is fucking pimping him out to him. I say pimping cause momma is no way interested in pumping him. And for that he's got to go find any number of other women who are more than happy to do it. But he found out way long ago that it's some kind of a turn-on watching her "do" the twins cause the sights and sounds of the begging and bawling, and the rivers of tears running down their cheeks, and the gaping mouths stretched to the limit just plain excite him in fresh memory as he's "plowing the field" that night after dinner. Maybe he's imagining his momma is back again "doing what she does best" to him and his twin brother. He's got all the gain and none of the pain.

GSN: That's a pretty good analysis of what I've found in the many, many enema voyeurs I've met in my vast experience as a "nurse." It goes back to something that was very unpleasant to say the least that gets to be an obsession in the coming into puberty.

What did your father tell you about his father's experiences along these lines?

CJ: He was a slave in the Carolinas. Massa was a great devotee of the lusciously plump female bottom and a confirmed voyeur. He had an abandoned backhouse on the plantation that was off limits to all the slaves as well as to the whites. It was kept fairly clean and had a big square room on the ground floor and a wing in back that had a staircase leading up to two bedrooms. The east bedroom had a bed against the wall with a chink in the wainscoting about the length and width of a foot long ruler. Over this there was nailed a dirty silk cloth like a curtain. Massa had a connoisseur's eye for strapping, lusty men and his favorites were given certain "privileges." Each one was casually paired with a handsome woman or beautiful young girl who had but one other essential quality, a nice, big, round, fat cheeked, alabaster smooth, deep cleft ass. Massa spent long hours almost every night of the week jacking off at this peephole while watching the fucker "fuck her up, down, forwards and backwards" two or three orgasms per slave.

Granddaddy and his brother had been the "apples of Massa's eye" for a long time when about the time they were five he started questioning their daddy about them in a strange way. He would tell great granddaddy how pretty they were and, grinning in a shy sort of way, ask them if their momma "knew what a boy, 'specially if he was a twin, needed at that age. Fact of the matter, Clayton and Maynard were getting enemas at least twice weekly at their daddy's insistence on account of their momma saying more than that was just not good. Great granddaddy had a very good idea what he was driving at but played dumb 'til Massa got a little more specific. He asked him if their momma ever "gave them a little squirt where it don't hurt." Only reaction from great granddaddy was a scratching of his balding pate. Massa tried again. He looked furtively to the right and left, chewed on his fingernail and asked in a whisper:

"Does she p-pump 'em?"

"You mean get out the rubber bulb?"

Massa blushes to the tips of his ears, grins sheepishly and says, "That's it, Caleb! That's it! ... D-Does she p-p-pump their l-l-lovely b-bare asses? ... Does she? ... Does she?"

Great granddaddy scratches his chin. He says, "No more'n need be, Mr. Locke. No more'n need be."

Massa rubs his hands together and titters, "A-And h-how often w-would that b-be, Caleb? Eh? How often?"

"Oh, two, three times a week. She won't do more."

I guess I don't have to tell you my granddaddy and great uncle Maynard spent a whole lot of time bare ass upwards on the bed over at the "pump shack" with great grand-mama demonstrating her finesse with the newfangled Goodyear vulcanized rubber enema syringe.

GSN: And Massa would watch?

CJ: At first he would have them take the twins over to the shack at dusk and he would already be ensconced on his bed at the peephole. He would have his catamite, Virgil, a huge, big assed fourteen-year-old farm hand, propped on a pillow near the peephole. He would make love with his face to Virgil's huge cheeked round ass just about popping out of his thin worn red plaid trousers, slowly peel them down revealing his smooth deep cleft buttocks and quivering anus and kiss them all over, up and down and in between, coming up for air only to put his face to the peephole where grand-mama was plying her red rubber bulb with expertise on each of the roaring twins' plump naked hinders.

In time, as voyeurs love company and tend to be very generous with their "expositions" Massa had so many fellow voyeurs, slave and white, he had to break into the wall between the rooms and provide simple straight back wooden chairs for his "guests." The men would crane forward in their chairs and watch intently and with rising excitement as great grand-mama would squirt pump after pump-full of hot soapy water up the twins' asses while Massa would be finger fucking Virgil between wet rump smooches and gooey orgasms.

GSN: Old Mr. Locke sure seems to be the epitome of the polymorphous perverse.

CJ: If by that you mean that he'd get excited by an old shoe you're right on. According to granddaddy if it had a nice ass on it he was for it. But especially if it was a big-assed woman putting some "heat to the seat" of twin boys whether it be with a hairbrush on their bare asses or with some well aimed squirts of hot infusions put into the hole in the same place. And all his sense organs were involved at the same time. The simultaneous spells of sniffing Virgil's big milk chocolate ass, the overpowering aroma of cocoa butter and almond oil wafting through the peephole from the next room, the visual and tactile sensations of finger fucking Virgil and watching and hearing the twins bawl their heads off, great grand-mama shaking her humongous butt cheeks as she bends over to insert the nozzle and the men laughing, whistling and applauding. All this coalesced in a kaleidoscope of sensual bliss enjoyed not only by Locke but by everyone in the shack except obviously for the twins. Virgil for sure loved Locke's ardent attentions to his superb big ass.

GSN: So like father like son. Your grandfather passed on his obsessions to your father the same way. And you have had a lifetime full of indulging these passions. Tell us about your first wife.

CJ: That would be Jolene. She was my high school sweetheart in Roanoke. A lovelier or better endowed in the bottom woman never lived. Her daddy was a high school teacher and her momma was a nurse. Her daddy's idea of a real good joke was he would constantly be finding fault with how the twins looked. "A shade on the sickly side" he would always say.

This was code to their momma to get out the "bulb." Minutes later Boyd and Eldridge would be bare ass upwards on their bed with Jolene and Etta handing the thermometers and syringe in turn to Sybilla Malvo who would be, from all appearances, delightfully occupied in doing what she liked most, almost matching her husband's ardor of watching: giving the twins their regular hot soapy enemas. Two or three of Clarence's favored fathers of his students were always in attendance, a fact that made the twins bawl and roar all the louder.

Jolene pumped our twins, Clayton II and Maynard II, several times a week for a dozen or so years. That does not count the myriad of sessions at the homes of Mr. Malvo's students who were unfortunate enough to be twins. He got to know the fathers early on and they either became strong devotees of their wives' "twin pumping", or they were already, from unmistakable signs from their first encounters.

Jolene died in an automobile accident.

GSN: Were your other wives similarly disposed?

CJ: My Lord, yes. That's why I married them. Clarice was a visiting nurse at the grade school in Newport News. She had a specialty when it came to twin boys. To the total delight of their fathers, she always carried a nice virgin syringe with a small jar of Vaseline in her black leather nurse's bag.

After making herself utterly hateful to the twins by the end of their "session," which was always, on the first visit, a demonstration of the proper method and etiquette of "twin pumping" for the mother, she would present the twins with a box neatly wrapped in brown paper. This was to be presented to the mother, assuming she had passed the "course", by the twins.

Imagine their consternation when she opened the package. It sent them into such a tantrum and fit of rage that it took the father and several strong men voyeurs to subdue them after they tore into anyone who was near enough to be a target of their kicks and blows.

Eunice, my wife and the love of my life, is as you might expect, also a grade school nurse. Nowadays we have to be careful. Touch the hair of a naughty boy's head and they'll send you to jail. Fortunately she gets on famously with "the right kind" of fathers.