My Intro to Anal Eroticism


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I am a 43 year old female anal erotic. This is a journaling of my introduction into the world of anal eroticism. I can recall my first anal induced orgasms occurred when I was in eighth grade. My parents are very wealthy and sent me off to an all girls boarding school in the South rather than deal with my rebellious teenage bullshit. I lived in a dorm with students my age and older, up to high school seniors. The older students were supposed to act as sort of big sisters to the younger kids, although there was always the role of superiority and quasi-dominance that came into play. They called it "respect".


The dorm rooms were much like two hotel rooms back to back, only with a large common bathroom between allowing access from either room. The bathroom had a shower/tub as well as a large multi head shower booth. There was a doublewide marble vanity with a full width mirror and a potty.


One morning, I was feeling a need to exert my independence and decided to skip my first class and get some sack time instead. I rolled out of bed about ten o'clock. Feeling kind of hungry, I went out into the hallway to get a candy bar out of the snack machines. I was trying to be as quiet as possible lest I garner the attention of the house mother whose suite was across the hall from the vending area. Klink, klink, klunk. The vending machine dispensed the chocolaty snack.


Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the sound of a door being unlocked and before I could duck out of site there stood Broom Hilda aka house mom. Damn. Busted. She inquired as to what I was doing and why I wasn't in class. I always prided myself on my ability to think on my feet so I stammered out something about not feeling good, sick to my stomach; yes that was it. She glared at the recently dispensed candy bar in my hand and inquired as to my intent. Before I could reply, she grabbed my arm and directed that I visit the school nurse immediately. I was marched to the clinic location where I was turned over to the student assistant Beth, a senior


I recognized from the adjacent room I shared a bathroom with. She was interested in a career as a health care worker and assisted in the clinic as a practicum. She inquired as to the nature of my illness, and I stuck to my story so as to not get into any further trouble. I explained that I wasn't feeling well, my stomach didn't feel right. I was taken to an exam room where I was told to take my clothes off and put a skimpy paper gown on. I tried to indicate that all that attention was not necessary, and I was feeling better already. Beth invoked her role as a senior and explained that the school had a policy to check out all medical complaints and it would be wise for me to shut up and do as she said.


I shed my clothes and unfolded the gown, awkwardly trying to figure which appendage went in what hole. The rough paper scratched against my nipples made hard by the coolness of the exam room. What a curious feeling. I hopped up on the table and waited for the doctor to appear. After about fifteen minutes, the doctor appeared and introduced herself. She inquired as to the nature of my stomach ailment and as I explained how much better I was feeling, the subject of my eating habits came up. Apparently the tale of the vending machine preceded me. She invited me to lay down on the table and began her exam. She pressed on my stomach and abdomen, mumbling to herself in tones of agreement, as if her exam was conferming her diagnosis.


She moved to the end of the table, and fitted it with stirrups. As my feet were guided into them, the bottom of the table dropped away and my private parts were now afforded full and unfettered access. She moved to a side table where she donned rubber exam gloves. I did not like the looks of this situation. A small package of lube was torn open and applied to the gloves. She moved back into a position between my legs. She asked if I had ever been examined down there. I replied that I had not. She explained that I would feel a little pressure as the exam progressed, but it should not be uncomfortable. Then two fingers were inserted into my vagina as she pressed on my stomach. While I was technically still a virgin, I usually only masturbated with one finger or a tampon and the insertion was producing unusual feelings in my crotch. She withdrew her fingers and then began to lubricate my anal opening. Sure enough, two well lubricated fingers were inserted in there as she pressed on my stomach and abdomen some more.


She withdrew her fingers and removed her rubber gloves with a snap. She moved from her position between my legs to a position behind my head where I could not see what she was doing. I heard her running some water and I assumed she was washing her hands. A few moments later she returned carrying a bulging red rubber bag with a rubber tube attached to the bottom and a small hard plastic piece attached to the end. She asked me if I had ever had an enema before. The mere word sent shivers up my spine. An ENEMA! The things I had heard of about them from others ranged from awful to sexy. While I was curious, I never had the facilities to actually have one. I explained that I had never had one and she began to describe the procedure in purely medical terms adding that a lot of girls who were away from home for the first time needed them because they had adopted poor eating habits. She raised a pole from the end of the table and hung the bag there; taking the tube with the nozzle she lubricated the end and guided it toward my anus. It went in without difficulty sensing only the change in temperature of the nozzle from my body.


A clamp in the rubber hose holding the water back was released and a warm tingly feeling began to build within my body. Then the worst thing happened. The nozzle began to slip from my anus. I guess what with all the lube and having two fingers stretch my hole open just moments ago, the small nozzle had no chance. Plop. Out it came spraying water all over my ass, the table and now the floor. The doctor quickly retrieved the flopping hose and shut the clamp. She called for Beth to assist in the procedure. Beth responded between my legs at the end of the table where the doctor warned her that it was probably not a good place to stand lest she get sprayed by an errant expulsion, not to mention the puddle on the floor from the nozzle mishap. Beth was positioned at my right side with her left arm draped across my abdomen, her hand in direct contact with my pussy as she held the nozzle firmly in it's proper place. The clamp was again released and the squishy feeling of the water entering my body resumed. As the pressure built I squirmed a little to get comfortable. I became more aware of the feelings in my pussy as it brushed up against Beth's hand. I was getting really turned on by the whole scene.


It seemed like it took forever to finish the whole bag, but I did so without cramping. Beth removed the nozzle and instructed me not to do anything for ten minutes. About half way through, I felt the need to go and cum building. I wiggled a little more to ease both feelings. Finally it was time. Beth helped me from the table and lead me to the bathroom to release the softened waste along with the enema water. My fingers found my swollen clit and massaged it as the water flowed from me. As I began to cum, the torrents of water pulsated in rhythm in unison with my orgasm. I wiped and exited the restroom to find Beth standing outside smiling. I wonder if she heard me coming?


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Julia Chang

My name is Julia Chang, and like you, I'm a long-time enema enthusiast. I'm a relatively young person, just 28 years old.

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