



                                 Gwendolyn

                                   by "D" 

This story includes situations of an adult nature that may not be appropriate 
for all readers.

The characters, situations, locations and actions depicted herein are fiction 
and are provided solely for the entertainment of the reader. Any resemblence to 
real persons, living or dead, is coincidence and exists strictly in the mind of 
the beholder. 



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Synopsis: A short, romantic, enema stroke piece. This won't be for everyone, but 
it might be for you [and you know who you are]. 
================================================================================


I regarded Gwendolyn as she sat across the table, unenthusiastically picking at 
her dinner. "No appetite tonight?" I asked. "I thought this was your favorite." 

"It is," she replied and pressed her hand against her abdomen. "I just don't 
feel like I can eat anything right now." 

"It's bad this time, isn't it?" 

"Worst ever. Traveling does this to me sometimes. I feel like my intestines are 
tied in knots." 

"Then, maybe we should've skipped dinner and gone straight to the enemas." 

"Maybe..." She scooped the last of her pasta. "There -- I cleaned my plate." 

"I'll put away the leftovers and we can get started. The dishes can wait." 

I removed a flat box from a closet in the main bath. From it I withdrew a two-
and-a-half quart, closed top combination bag, a six-foot length of clear vinyl 
tubing, clamp and rectal pipe. I worked the clamp onto the tube. From a cabinet 
I took a two- quart measuring pitcher. Gwendolyn approached me from behind and 
hugged my arm. 

"What recipe tonight?" I asked. "Tap water, soda, saline ... castile soap?" 

"It's been a while since we used soapsuds," she replied. 

"Yeah, and if you're as bound up as you say, a soaper is probably just the 
prescription." 

"I'll go change." Gwendolyn stepped into the bedroom. I could see her unzipping 
a duffle she had brought. She fingered a chain hanging from a hook in the 
ceiling. "I see you're prepared," she said. 

"Always." From a bottle of liquid castile soap I measured two teaspoons and 
poured this into the bag. Then I ran the tap until the water was a bit warmer 
than body temperature and measured a quart and a half into the pitcher. This 
followed the soap into the bag. On went the adapter cap and the length of hose. 
I blew into the tube to inflate the bag, clamped it off and rocked it to 
distribute the soap. Finally I attached the rectal pipe and opened the clam to 
flush air from the hose. 

Gwendolyn was spreading a towel onto the bedspread. She had changed into a 
sheer, babydoll nightgown. The hem came just below her buttocks and she wore 
matching, sheer briefs. I paused to regard her from head to toe. 

Gwen was of Peruvian heritage, Aymara to be precise, which made her features a 
bit exotic. A couple who were Red Cross volunteers after a mudslide wiped out 
her village had adopted her. They had found her as an infant barely alive, 
nursed her to health and brought her home to the States. 

Now she was a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties, petite, with nut-brown 
skin; dark, dark eyes and raven hair that fell to her shoulder blades, now tied 
into a ponytail. Her face was round with full lips, broad forehead, a straight 
but wide nose and a hint of epicanthic fold in her eyelids. 

Her sheer nightgown left little to the imagination but everything to desire, 
showing off her round, B-cup breasts with wide, deeply pigmented areolas and 
thick nipples. 

I carried the bag into the bedroom. She spotted me and teased me by modeling her 
gown. "This is your favorite, isn't it?" she asked coyly. 

"You know it is." I regarded her muscular thighs and shapely calves as I hung 
the bag with an S-hook onto the chain. Then I patted the mattress. Gwendolyn 
stretched out on it and I positioned the towel under her hips. 

"Let me feel..." I slipped my hand under the hem of her gown. Her stomach was 
flat but soft with a hint of abs underneath -- like the rest of her. Her body 
was slim but shapely -- athletic but soft and feminine. 

"Your hand is warm," she said. "Feels good on my skin." 

Gently I palpitated her abdomen. "You are plugged." 

"Can you really feel it?" she asked. 

I positioned her fingers low on the left side of her abdomen. "Can you feel the 
fullness here?" I asked. "That's your sigmoid colon, impacted." 

"I can see fullness," she replied. "My tummy is all bloated. I could barely get 
my jeans snapped." 

"Then it's high time to fix it." 

Gwen lifted her buttocks from the mattress, hooked her thumbs onto the waistband 
of matching briefs and slid them halfway down her thighs. Underneath them her 
demure pussy was clean-shaved. I grasped them and slipped them off her legs and 
set them at the foot of the bed. 

She knew the drill. Gwen rolled onto her left side and drew up her knees. I 
popped the cap off a tube of surgical lube and used some to coat the rectal 
pipe. Then, with a glob on my index finger I spread her buttocks with my free 
hand and smeared it onto her brown pucker. Rotating my finger I worked it into 
her opening. 

By rocking the tip of the rectal pipe I eased it past her sphincter. Once clear 
it slid easily into her rectum and I pushed it in all the way, up to the hilt. 

I walked around to the other side of the bed and sat so I could see her face. 
"We'll go real slow at first," I said and snapped open the clamp. With my thumb 
and forefinger I pinched off the flow and then let the fluid into her rectum in 
short squirts with goodly pauses in between. "Tell me if you feel pressure." 

From experience I knew Gwen wasn't one to complain -- she would rather suffer in 
silence. By watching her face I could guess what she was feeling; and I knew if 
she were as plugged up as she seemed to be, that working the first pint or so 
past her impacted sigmoid colon would require some patience. 

I continued pinching and releasing the hose. Gwen clenched her jaw and I held 
back the flow. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. "Cramp?" I asked. 

She shook her head. "Not a bad one." I gave her a couple more short squirts of 
fluid and with my left hand began massaging her belly, low on the left side. 

Her face relaxed. "It just started moving up," she said. 

"The pressure released?" I asked. 

"Mmm..." She nodded. "Like a dam broke. It's flowing more easily, now." I 
continued to pinch and release the hose, now giving her longer flows of fluid 
until the bag was down a pint. Gwen pointed to her left side, under her ribs. "I 
can feel it here, now." 

"By your splenic flexure," I remarked. "Now, onto your back." 

Gwen rolled to her right and stretched her legs. I released my grip on the hose 
and began a gentle, counter-clockwise massage of her belly. "Remember -- long, 
deep breaths. Use your diaphragm -- the movement in your belly will help 
distribute the enema." She drew in deep breaths. "I'm starting to feel you 
filling up," I remarked. 

"You really can tell?" 

"Yes, I really can." 

She pointed to her right side. "It's here, now..." 

"That's your hepatic flexure." 

"I felt bubbles inside..." 

"Some gas in your gut is normal." 

"...and I'm starting to feel full." 

"About another pint to go," I replied. "You're doing real well. Try to take it 
all." 

She put her hand on mine as I massaged her abdomen. "I like feeling your hand on 
me," she said. "It feels like you really care." 

"I do really care." 

"I can feel it." I watched the bag deflate. "Really full, now." 

I knew she was full. Not only could I fell the distention in her colon, I could 
see her belly was bigger than when we started. "You're done," I said. "Good 
job." 

Gwen lifted her knees. I reached between her legs and retrieved the tip from her 
anus. "Let's see if we can hold this for five minutes," I said. "Sufficient 
volume and sufficient holding time are the secrets to a successful enema." I 
caressed her thigh. Is it really uncomfortable?" 

"Not uncomfortable," she replied. "I just feel some fullness." 

"It was three pints. It shouldn't be too much for someone your size." I 
continued running my hand along her smooth, brown thigh. 

"Now," she said, "I'm beginning to feel the soapsuds." 

"What's that feel like?" 

"Sort of a dull ache throughout my tummy." 

A gurgle came from abdomen. "It sounds like it's getting things moving," I said. 

"Cramp..." She grimaced and another gurgle came from her belly. "I gotta go." 

"Keep holding it," I coached. "You've held it for two minutes already -- you can 
hold it for another two." 

"No, I can't!" She grimaced again, closed her eyes and grunted. A long and loud 
groan came from her abdomen. "Oh! The soap's making my tummy ache." 

"Then, in between cramps get up and go." 

Gwen grimaced, then swung her feet to the floor and trotted into the bathroom. I 
sat on the end of the bed and waited for her. Through the closed door I could 
hear the muffled sounds of her expulsions hitting the bowl, accompanied by 
grunts and groans. "Oh, God," I heard her gasp. "I'm perspiring!" 

"It's giving you quite a workout," I replied. 

"It is ... I am starting to feel better, now." 

Shortly I heard the toilet flush. Gwen emerged, closing the door behind her. I 
could see droplets of perspiration on her forehead. She flopped on her belly 
onto the bed. "Oh, God," she panted. "That was a truly gut-wrenching experience. 
Did you make the soap stronger than last time?" 

"I put in a little extra," I admitted. "I hope it wasn't too much for you." 

"It was enough. Maybe not so much next time. At least my tummy is flat again." 

"I'll go prepare a clear-water rinse," I said. 

"Let me rest a minute ... and give time for the air to clear in there..." I sat 
on the mattress and began caressing the backs of her thighs. "God, Jason," she 
said. "I don't know how I was lucky enough to find you. You take such good care 
of me." 

"It's no problem at all," I replied. "It gives me some purpose." 

She rolled onto her side and reached for me. I leaned toward her. She hooked her 
forearm around my neck, drew my face to hers and we kissed. "Oh, Jason -- I love 
you." 

"You have a standing offer to move in with me." 

She sighed. "We wouldn't see much more of each other -- not with my travel 
schedule. I'm on the road thirty to forty weeks a year." 

"Then, get a desk job." 

"I'm good at what I do." 

"Yeah, but the travel takes its toll on you," I remarked. 

"I suppose ... maybe if the right opportunity presents itself. Okay?" 

"Okay," I replied and kissed her lips. 

She gazed into my eyes. "Before I met you I had tried everything to resolve my 
... problem ... diet, supplements, fibre, softeners. Nothing worked. Then, you 
showed me how something as simple as some warm water..." 

"Gently administered," I added. 

"Gently and lovingly administered." She kissed my lips again. 

I removed the empty bag from the chain. "I'll go prepare your rinse," I said. 
"It's especially important after soapsuds. We don't want to leave any residue 
inside to irritate your colon." 

"Do you think it's safe in there?" she asked. 

"I'm sure it is by now." 

I carried the bag into the bathroom and began running water to warm it. Into the 
bag I poured some, shook it to rinse it and ran it out of the hose. Then I 
measured two quarts of quite warm water into the pitcher and dumped it into the 
bag. 

I replaced the rectal pipe with a douche nozzle, flushed air from the apparatus 
and carried it back into the bedroom. "Ready for round two?" I asked as I hung 
the bag on the chain. 

Gwen lay on her left side and drew up her knees. I squeezed more lube onto my 
finger, coated the nozzle and then worked some into her hole. Gently I eased the 
bulbous douche tip into her orifice. Once it cleared her sphincter I slid it 
into her. "Feel okay?" I asked. 

"Feels fine." 

"You can take this one on your back," I said. "It should flow pretty easily." 
Gwen rolled onto her back. "Before we start, let me feel..." I slid my hand 
under the hem of her gown and felt her abdomen. "Feels a lot emptier," I 
remarked. "This enema is plain tap water -- two full quarts. It isn't irritating 
like the soapsuds so we have to stimulate your colon with mechanical distention 
only. Ready?" 

"Ready," she replied. I reached for the hose and released the clamp. Oh, it's 
warm," Gwen remarked. 

"The warmth will relax your colon going in and keep you from cramping up. Once 
you're filled, the heat and the volume should stimulate motility. 

"Feels good ... mmm ... it's flowing in really easily..." 

"It ought to, after the first one." I continued caressing her abdomen. "I can 
feel you filling up." 

"I can, too ... and I can feel the water penetrating deep into me... I love how 
that feels." 

I could see her abdomen begin to distend from the volume of the enema. I felt 
the bag -- less than a quart remained, so I closed the clamp. "Roll onto your 
right side," I coached. "The water should flow downhill and make some room for 
the rest of the enema." 

Gwen rolled over and I snapped open the clamp. "Feeling really full, now," she 
said and ran her hand along her belly. "I'm bulging ... my stomach is huge." 

I reached under her and felt her abdomen. "That's your cecum, filled up like a 
football." I glanced at the bag. "You're almost done." 

"Oh ... so full..." She caressed and patted her distended abdomen. 

"You're done," I said, stopped the clamp and pulled the nozzle from her. Gwen 
rolled onto her back. I caressed her abdomen and could feel the outline of her 
full and firm colon through her abdominal wall. "Feel," I said, guiding her 
fingers against her belly. "This bulge is your sigmoid colon, inflated like a 
balloon." I traced the shape of her colon. "You really can explore your internal 
structure." 

"Wow... I guess I am full. How long do I have to hold this one?" she asked. 

"For as long as you want." 

"Or, as short as I want?" 

"With that size enema, you are in the driver's seat." 

Gwen grunted as she sat up and then stood. She admired her bulging abdomen in 
the mirror. "I look three months pregnant," she remarked and then headed into 
the bathroom. 

Again I heard the muffled sound of her expulsions. I decided to use the time to 
slip out of my clothes and into a flannel robe. "How are you doing in there?" I 
called through the closed door. 

"It's coming out in torrents," she replied, "long gushes. My tummy is back to 
normal. I don't thing the first one got everything." 

"It would take a series of four or five to get you completely cleaned out," I 
replied. "Any benefit from more after this one wouldn't be worth the effort ... 
unless you want another, that is." 

"I don't think so .. . I'm beginning to get that empty, relaxed feeling from 
this one. I think I'm almost done..." 

I heard the toilet flush and then she emerged, her hand on her abdomen. "That 
was a lot easier than the first one," she remarked and turned sideways to me. 
"Look how flat!" She smoothed her hand along her belly. 

"I've heard that ballerinas sometimes give themselves enemas before a 
performance to flatten their stomachs." 

"I believe it -- it flattened mine." 

"How do you feel?" 

"Wonderful ... relaxed and mellow ... like a load's been lifted." 

"You had good enemas. You feel great after a good enema." 

"I know. It was a revelation to me after the first one you gave me. I never 
realized how much better an empty colon feels. It's why I look forward to 
Saturday night. I'll feel good 'til Wednesday or Thursday -- then I'll start 
feeling sluggish again." 

"You can do this yourself whenever you feel you need it," I remarked. You don't 
need me to help you." 

"I really don't want to carry an enema bag on the plane with me." 

"There are small, compact ones that would serve." 

"Besides, I like the attention you give me. And, I know it turns you on." 

"It does. It definitely does. It's a very sexy thing." I embraced her and we 
kissed. We kissed again, each of us exploring the others mouth with our tongues. 

Gwendolyn slipped her hand under my robe, pressed it against my briefs and felt 
my very firm erection. "Mmm," she remarked, "meaty ... and, wet, too." 

"Like I said -- it's a very sexy thing." 

I turned back the covers and Gwendolyn slid into bed. I shed my robe and slid in 
beside her. We kissed more and I began tracing her breast with my fingertip. 

"Why does giving me enemas turn you on?: she asked. 

"Good question. My mother believed in regular enemas for me and my sister -- 
until we reached puberty, that is. I think the sensations imprinted on me early. 
And, I used to sneak peeks when my mom gave them to my sister." 

"Well -- I like how they feel," she replied. "I like feeling the water reaching 
deep into me. It turns me on..." We kissed again. 

I ran the backs of my fingers across her breasts. Her nipples began to firm from 
my touch and I regarded them through the filmy fabric of her gown. "Mmm," she 
sighed. "Feels good, Jason ... both sides..." 

I performed a circular massage on her nipples through the fabric of her gown. 
Then, I turned down the bodice. "Those gorgeous breasts," I said. "Every time I 
see them the thrill is the same as the first time." Shifting my position I 
brought my lips to her nipple, kissed her breast and rimmed her broad areola 
with my tongue. Gwen held my head and pressed my face into her flesh, and she 
clamped her thighs against my knee. 

"Your nipple is hard," I remarked. 

"It gets like that when it likes what you're doing." 

I nursed her firmly erect nipple and massaged it with my tongue, the taste of 
her skin filling my mouth. Gwen's breathing grew deep and heavy as she ran her 
fingers through my hair and caressed the back of my neck. 

She released her grip on me and rolled onto her back. "Other side, now..." 

I began tonguing her right breast while massaging her still moist right nipple 
with my fingertips. Then I caressed her, smoothing my hand along her abdomen and 
down to her cleanly shaved mons. The tip of her clit was barely peeking from 
between her labia. Cupping my hand over her mound I worked my finger into her 
slit and found a bubbling volcano of her slick juices. "You're very wet, too," I 
remarked. 

"I'm very aroused," she replied. I dragged some of her juices up to her glans 
and began stroking it. "Mmm...," she said in a hoarse whisper, "that feels good 
... so good ... mmm..." 

I held her around her shoulders and gazed into her dark eyes. Gwen caressed my 
arm and chest. I watched her breasts and ribs move as her breathing grew heavier 
and became slow panting. "Oh ... oh ... oh..." she moaned with each exhale, and 
each of my strokes on her clit made her thighs twitch. 

I lifted my hand from her mons, caressed her cheek with the backs of my fingers 
and kissed her. "Why did you stop?" she asked. "It was feeling really good." 

"I wanted to do something else," I said, coaxing her to lie flat on her back and 
adjusting a pillow under her neck and shoulders. Kneeling between her knees I 
caressed her shapely legs, running my hand along her smooth, brown skin. "I love 
those sexy legs." 

"They're okay," she replied. "I wish they were longer." 

"They're perfect on you." I lifted the hem of her gown and smoothed both hands 
up and down her abdomen. "That cute tummy. I love it -- inside and out." Leaning 
over I kissed her belly and tongued her navel. 

"That tickles..." 

I lay on my belly between her thighs and caressed and kissed her mons. "Smooth 
... why do you shave it?" 

"Why not? I like how it looks and feels." 

"So do I." I pet her labia with the backs of my fingers. "I see your little 
pleasure bud just peeping out ... like it's wondering what's going to happen 
next." 

"Oh, it knows what's going to happen next," she replied, "and it can't wait." 

"We mustn't keep it waiting, then." With my thumbs I spread her labia. "You have 
a pretty pussy," I remarked. 

She giggled. "What makes it pretty?" 

"It's proportion," I replied and then worked my lips between hers. Her scent 
filled my nostrils as I began a gentle sucking action on the hard-as-a-pebble 
glans of her clit. I eased my arms under her thighs, worked my hands under the 
hem of her gown and caressed her belly. Up under her gown I worked my fingers 
until I reached her breasts and then began pinching her nipples in time with my 
tongue. 

Gwen ran her hands along my upper arms. "I like your arms and shoulders," she 
said as she caressed me. "You have a nice build..." She drew in a deep breath 
and released it slowly. "It's starting to feel really good," she said and drew 
in another deep breath. "Mmm... It's building " Her ribs and belly heaved as her 
breathing became heavy panting. "A little deeper," she said and touched my wrist 
and I deepened my massage of her nipples and areolas. "Just right ... 
building... Oh, God, this feels so good," she gasped. Gwen extended her arms and 
lay, limp and still, spread-eagle on the bed as I tongued her. Her face rolled 
to one side, her eyelids drooped and she resumed moaning with each breath. 

I could feel the tension building in her. Her heart accelerated and was racing, 
its strong beats throbbing through her flesh, and her thighs jerked with my 
stroking. 

She was getting close. Gwen closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, panting 
through her nose. I could feel her flexing her clitoral shaft. She was nearing 
orgasm. I knew that, with her, reaching it was a joint effort. I was giving her 
all the stimulation I dared to give. I had taken her to the brink; and now it 
was up to her to go over the edge. 

Gwen lifted her face, parted her lips and drew in a deep breath which she let 
out as a long, low groan. Her back arched and she grasped at the sheets. I knew 
orgasm made her breasts super-sensitive so I moved my hands to her belly and 
lightened my tongue pressure to let her coast down from the peak. She rolled her 
hips up to ask for more stimulation so I ramped up my tongue pressure again. 
Another orgasmic wave crested and I could feel the muscles in her bottom 
throbbing and pressing against my chin. 

She grasped my forearms and dug her nails into my skin. Over and over she came, 
gasping, moaning and biting her knuckle to stifle a shriek. Finally, she 
caressed my cheek, which was her signal she was finished. 

I came up from between her legs. Gwen was still panting, her face flushed. I 
kissed her lips, now dry from panting; and then helped her to sit, cross-legged 
on the bed. Lifting the hem of her gown I slid it off her upstretched arms and 
lay it on the foot of the bed. 

We embraced and she covered my face with kisses. "How many that time?" I asked. 

She shook her head. "I lost track. I had lots ... lots ... lots of big ones..." 
I slipped my finger between her labia and pressed it against her clit. She dug 
her nails into my back and gasped, her body shaking. "Too much!" she panted. 

I stretched on my back and lifted my hips so Gwen could slide off my briefs. She 
knelt beside me, caressed my legs and hips and kissed the length of my stiffly 
erect organ. I grasped the base of my shaft and guided it into her as she 
climbed atop me. We locked legs and rocked our hips to drive me deep into her. 
"Mmm," she said, "you're bigger tonight." 

"You're sexier tonight." 

I held her tight and savored the intimacy, feeling my glans against the firm 
knob of her cervix. Holding her across her shoulder blades I stroked her back, 
my fingers encountering the birth-control patch she wore just above the small of 
her back. We kissed long, lingering kisses, each stroking the other's tongue 
with our lips. 

Gwen began rocking her hips, taking her pleasure and giving me mine. I continued 
holding her around her back and felt the muscles in her abdomen moving against 
mine. With my right hand I caressed her buttocks and explored her crevasse. Down 
low she was coated with her own slick juices. I dipped my middle finger into 
them and then up a short distance to her anus. My fingertip slipped into her 
orifice easily and I pushed it into her as far as I could reach. Inside her 
rectum felt like warm, moist velvet enveloping my finger. 

It was like turning a switch. Gwen increased the vigor of her humping and began 
to grunt with the exertion. I kept my finger deeply planted in her bottom as she 
rocked and pushed against me. She slowed, let out a groan and I felt her 
sphincter tighten around my finger; then she resumed her vigorous thrusting. 

I felt my climax nearing. I slipped out my finger and grasped her buttocks with 
both hands. Pressing my hips hard against hers I grunted as I pumped my sperm 
into her. 

Panting to catch our breaths we both let our bodies go limp. I ran my hand along 
her back, now damp with perspiration. She snuggled against me. My erection, 
still inside her, was beginning to subside. "Good?" I asked. 

"Mmm ... wonderful ... definitely qualifies as a Great Moment." 

"Great Moments in Bed..." I kissed her lips. "I love you, Gwen. I wish I had 
more of you." 

"Oh, I love you so much, too." She closed her eyes and I felt her legs twitch 
against mine. Soon lips parted and her breathing became slow and regular through 
her nose and mouth. I could feel her muscles relaxing. I reached for the lamp on 
the nightstand and switched it off. 

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Copyright (C) 2010 by the author. Redistribution in any form is strictly 
prohibited without the expressed, written consent by the author. 

Your comments are welcome -- compliments, complaints, gripes, bitches or cheap 
shots are all welcome. For contact information, or for more works by the author 
visit K-Files Home at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/klisma/index.html. 


