Greg lay naked in the tub. He was deep in the throes of pleasure. A hard plastic nozzle was buried inside him and a rubber tube snaked across the tub and climbed to a red rubber bag hanging from the shower caddie. His right hand was fondling his penis and with his left he kneaded his swelling belly. He slowly stroked himself, taking his hand to the head lightly then gripping himself firmly on the downstroke.
He had the house to himself and was taking advantage of the peace and solitude to indulge his secret passion. He was taking in a high volume hot water enema. The first bag was half emptied and the pitcher of steamy water for the second was near at hand. Appropriately enough, Handelís "Water Music" drifted through the open bathroom door.
He hadnít revealed this "hobby" of his to his wife. Not because he didnít want to, he told himself, but rather because the opportune moment had never arisen. Maybe, he thought, that was merely an evasion on his part. Sharon had always been an open and inventive lover. Their sex life had been quite adventurous from the beginning. Even so, he wasnít sure how to broach the subject with her and never had. So, the right moment wasnít ever likely to come up.
He knew is reluctance went back to the time he had revealed it to a lady he loved and it had driven her screaming for the door. An ugly scene! She had called him a dirty, sick, pig and had left him wounded and defensive about it. Hell, he had even given up taking enemas for over a year because of it. The words had rung in the ears of his memory long after the slamming of the door.
The pressure in his bloated belly brought him back to the present moment. He didnít take these large ones very often. But, when he did, he had found that playing with himself was the only way he could manage to get the second bagful in. So, he closed his eyes, stroked his penis and rubbed his stomach.
"What the hell are you doing?" She asked.
His eyes flew open so fast it felt like the lids had slammed into his eye sockets. Sharon was standing in the bathroom doorway.
His gut knotted, his cheeks instantly began to blush, and his hands stopped moving.
"Uhhh, uhhh, well, I... I was feeling a bit constipated, and... errr, ummm, well I, I thought an enema would help." He blurted out as he began to rise in the tub and clamped off the hose.
"Is that why you are playing with yourself?" She asked. "It looks to me a lot more like you are horny and jacking off." She added, as she set her small suitcase down.
"Donít lie to me Greg." She added. "Itís quite plain that youíre doing just that. Donít stop though."
"What do you mean?" He asked confusedly.
"Just what I said. Keep doing what you were doing." She replied in a soft even voice. "Actually it looks quite rude, and you know I like rude."
"But, but, but are you sure?" He managed to stammer out.
"Yes, I am sure. I want to watch. Iíve never seen a man give himself en enema. Judging by how hard you were, it looks quite arousing." She said as she closed the lid and seated herself on the toilet.
"Just like a man, always leaving the seat up." She jokingly remarked.
"Well, go on. I want to see this."
"Well, okay, if thatís what you want." He replied as he reached for the clamp and released it once more.
He actually couldnít believe it. Here was his wife watching him take an enema and telling him to masturbate so she could watch. He felt so stupid for ever doubting her and an even bigger fool for holding it back these three years.
Sharon was fascinated as she watched him begin to massage his tummy and play with his now soft cock again. She put one foot up on the edge of the tub and took it all in. The way he timed the up and down motion of his right hand with the circular motion of his left. The slight distention of his abdomen as the water pushed higher and stretched him from the inside.
"Arenít you mad at me?" He finally asked.
"No, dear, disappointed, but not mad. I wish you had told me about this." She answered. "Donít we have a strong enough relationship that we can trust each other?" She queried.
"Well, yes I guess so. At least with most things." He answered.
"Donít talk ,dear. Just let me watch and weíll talk later." Was her reply.
So, he did just that. The enema slowly filled him inching its way inside and pressuring his belly. The hard nozzle was resting near his prostate and the jet massaged him deep inside. Once again he got erect. He watched the bag as it deflated. The once stretched red rubber shrinking as its contents flowed into him. When it was almost empty, he reached for the pitcher. Sharon, took it from him and stood to fill the bag. She poured the water into the open neck until it ran over the top.
"Is that what you want dear? Some more hot water to fill you up?" She asked, no rancor in her voice at all. No mocking, no name calling, no scene, only she and he playing in the bathroom.
As she sat back down, Greg noticed that her nipples had hardened and were making tiny bumps in the front of her silk blouse. Was this turning her on, he wondered to himself?
He didnít have long to get his answer. She put her foot back on the tub and pulled her skirt above her knees. Opening her legs wide, she slipped her hand between her legs and placed it on her mons. Rubbing against the fabric of her panties, she massaged herself. Her other hand went to her breasts and she alternately fondled them through the soft silk and the thin satin of her bra.
"Mind if I join you?" She asked. "This is really very sexy."
Not another word passed between them as they both masturbated while Gregís belly filled with water. She was furiously massaging the tiny swollen nubbin hidden inside her panties as he was pumping his cock in shorter and shorter strokes. The were both reaching the pinnacle of their lust. They panted and moaned and squirmed under the spell of their own hands.
She was the first to climax, bucking her hips and thrusting her pelvis as she cried out in lust. Greg followed shortly thereafter, jets of hot cum erupted from the head of his cock and splattering all over his swollen belly and bare thighs.
They both slumped in release. Neither wanting nor having the energy to move. That wasnít possible though. The nozzle was beginning to be expelled from his rectum.
"I have to go, dear. I canít hold it any more." He gasped.
As he stood he clutched his distended stomach and seated himself on the toilet which she had vacated. He noted that she had that flushed look and sexy, dreamy, bedroom eyes as she sat on the edge of the tub. He thought he probably looked much the same.
She dug in her purse and fished out her cigarettes. She lit one and inhaled the menthol smoke. She then handed them to him and lit his. They both noticed that their hands were shaking, just like a couple of teenagers fumbling for the first time. Awkward but desiring, unsure but unwilling to stop. It was Sharon who spoke first.
"God, that was hot. I got so wet that my panties are soaked through." She said.
"Really? If I had known it would turn you on that much I would have done it long ago."
"Why didnít you?" she wanted to know.
He told the story of his earlier encounter and how he was afraid it would create a huge problem between them. He confessed that heíd meant to and that it didnít mean he loved her less. He told her about how he had done it for years in secret. He gushed it all out, just like the water draining from his ass. Afraid to stop until heíd said it all because he was scared to death heíd never have the courage to say it all again.
She listened without interruption as she puffed on her cigarette. When at last heíd finished speaking she replied at length. She told him to stop feeling guilty about it. She confessed that she had even thought about trying it herself but never had. She told him that she thought it was no stranger than many of the things they had already done. She related her own tales of horror stories with previous loverís spats and how that hadnít stopped her from desiring whatever it was. She reminded him that neither of them was a previous lover and that sharing had never been their problem as a couple. Finally she extracted a promise that there would be no more secrets between them.
Relief flooded through Greg as they locked in loving embrace. An important moment had passed and they both knew it.
Loosening herself from their clutch, she began to unbutton her blouse. She looked him square in the eye and summoned up her best Mae West voice.
"Well sailor, arenít you going to show a girl how to use this gear?" She asked as she picked up the enema nozzle. "Itís your turn to watch."
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