My wife was gone for the summer, off on a climbing expedition to Northern Pakistan for 10 weeks and my son was away with friends. I guess it was the first time in my adult life that for all intents and purposes I was truly and well living alone.

I had also planned on taking my vacation during the same period and heading down to Spain for some slightly more modest hiking, climbing and camping out. But if you have a shop like mine you are more dependant on the vagaries and whims of customers than is generally realized. People don’t buy antique furniture every day and when sales are good you try to stay on the roll and rack ‘em up while you can.

So when my custom picked up the week after my wife left, I decided to let the more mercenary side of my nature get the overhand. I put my planned vacation on hold and decided to wait until sales calmed down, as they inevitably do. I was lucky in having no one to account to except myself. 
  
   

In the summer we get a lot of tourists in Antwerp. I don’t live very far from the Cathedral and the City Hall and for some reason or other certain types of tourists are attracted to the narrow street where I live. It’s cool and shaded in the summer for one thing, there is no traffic to speak of and it appears to be a quiet and secluded spot.

Quite often groups of young people, students travelling around in pairs or the less affluent backpack type of tourist pick my street to make themselves at home in. They sit down against the walls of the houses or on the window sills for a drink, a bite to eat, some chatting, a smoke or even for some rest. Every now and then there are some I would rather not meet on a dark night. On the whole they are well behaved and not too loud, although most are prone to litter to a degree that I consider to be excessive. But generally I just ignore them when entering or leaving my house and they do the same.
 
 
 
 

It was around noon a week or so after my wife had left and I had just gone for a fresh baguette for lunch when I rounded the corner into my street and noticed two girls who had taken a seat on my stone windowsill. Their backpacks identified them as tourists on the cheap and their eyes followed me as I went up to the door of my house, key in hand. I could see them wondering if I was going to make a fuss or shoo them away but I just smiled pleasantly and unlocked the door.

In truth it wasn’t all that difficult to smile since the two were clearly in their early twenties, students most likely and rather nice looking. I had to go out several times that day for some items or other and I expected them to be gone when I returned. However they were clearly quite content where they were. Each time I passed them I smiled and after a while I graduated to nodding pleasantly. This brought some tentative smiles back in return and if I am not mistaken, a muffled fit of giggling.

In the late afternoon I had to get my van to unload several pieces of furniture and as I went out the door one of the girls stood up and approached me hesitantly.

“Ah, excuse me, please….do you speak English ?” she asked.

Aha, I thought, does Bill Gates make money ? Of course just about everyone in my city speaks English in one manner or another. But for me it was always a treat to meet a native speaker. “Sure, how can I help you ?”

“I was wondering if you could tell us where we could fill up our bottles with water ? We’re almost out. Is there a fountain around here ?”

“Look,” I answered, “You’d better not do that. The fountains are not safe for drinking. Would you like me to fill them up for you ?”

“Oh, that would be great. You don’t mind ?”

“Good grief no, why should I ?” I said.

“Oh, you know….” she said going back to bring me two large plastic bottles. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Really, no big deal. I’ll be right back.” I went inside and quickly filled them up. Back outside I gave them their bottles.

“Thanks so much.”

“It’s OK.” Anything for a smile from a lovely lady.

I was back soon with my van and backed up into the narrow street. The girls were about to move away when they saw me get out.

“It’s OK, just stay where you are.” I said.

“We’re not in your way or anything ?”

“No, no. Not at all. I just have to unload some stuff. I’ll be finished in a jiffy.” I must confess that I did a Tarzan number in unloading the furniture. It looks heavy and bulky but if you know what you’re doing it’s not really all that strenuous. Still I did my best in showing off, unconcernedly moving the pieces into my warehouse around the corner. When I was finished I gave them another smile which was returned and off I went to park the van.

When I got back I noticed that the girls had unpacked a small camping gas stove and were preparing to heat water in an equally small pot.

“Say, that’s not very handy here,” I said. “Want me to get you some hot water ?”

“Oh it’s just for soup and coffee,” one of them answered, “we’ll be all right.”

“Don’t be silly. If a policeman comes by he’ll give you a hard time.” Now, that was an exaggeration if not a downright lie. Antwerp’s Finest are only interested in writing parking tickets to help lower the municipal deficit.

The girls looked at each other. “Look, if you like you can come on in and use my kitchen. I’ll be busy downstairs in my shop anyway.” I offered.

“We couldn’t…..” But clearly the offer was tempting.

“Sure you can, come on. It’s no imposition. You don’t want to eat out here on this dirty street.”

“That’s really nice of you, but……”

I had taken out my key and already opened up the front door. “It’s OK you know. Come on in and I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”

They looked at each other and relented. “Well if it’s not too much trouble….”

“No trouble at all.” I held out my hand. “I’m Alex. Why don’t you bring your backpacks inside as well ? Better not leave them out on the street unattended.”

“OK. Thanks. We appreciate it.”

And that’s how I got to meet them.
 
 
 
 

They were Canadians, their names were Sandra and Nancy, and they were 22 and 21 years old respectively. Both had graduated and were taking the late 20^th century version of The Grand Tour on the cheap, backpacking around Europe, staying in Youth Hostels or whatever. The idea was to visit as many places as possible on as tight a budget as possible.

Both were good looking by anyone’s definition of the word, though their being on the road did give them a somewhat scruffy look. Nancy was the youngest and had shoulder length brown hair. Sandra was a year older and had very short blond hair, cut in an alluring androgynous fashion. She was tall and slender but with all the female curves in the right places.

To make a long story short I persuaded them to use one of our guest rooms while they were here in Antwerp. It was a lengthy process before they finally relented but somehow uncharacteristically I must have made a good impression on the girls. I suppose the idea of staying with a fellow North American also helped induce them.

Normally I treasure my solitude in a not egotistical manner, but I was very pleased with this situation. It’s always nice having young ladies around, especially when you are viewing them from my age vantage-point. There was also more than enough room in the house. We had a maze of rooms on three different floors, in three previously different houses all interconnected somehow or other.

I put them in a spare room on the third floor that had originally been intended as the main bedroom but which proved to be unpractical for me and my wife. It was on the same floor as the bathroom, my library and my much used computer room among others. The girls could use a separate stairways and street door if they so wished. Most likely they appreciated the feeling of semi-independence it gave.

The first evening was awkward in a fun sort of way. They bathed profusely, we ate a meal together, I took them for a short walk around the old town and along the riverside in the evening. Afterwards we had a drink at a local café.

It was nice to have someone to talk English to on a full time basis. I told them how I came to be here, they told me some of their background and all in all I like to think that we hit it off pretty well even despite the age difference.

We must have, because neither Sandra nor Nancy showed any inclination to be off the next day, rather they decided to see some more of Antwerp. I enjoyed guiding them around the old town and showing them places that are generally not visited by everyday tourists. They did all the hot spots as well though : the Cathedral, Rubens’ House, the flea market, Museum of Fine Arts, Photography etc. etc.
 
 
 
 

Now you are probably wondering what the condition of my libido was with the two girls as house guests. It was fine and well, thank you and though I must profess that while theoretically I was always ready for any emergency that might come up (ha ha), in practice I knew not to expect anything. Basically I am a realist.

That didn’t mean that there weren’t any potentially charged moments though. Since they were lodged next to my library I knew they would certainly look around, maybe try to assess my personality from the books I read. Now that would be a very good joke indeed or maybe just more revealing than I would like. Aside from the innumerable number of spy thrillers, murder mysteries, historical works and computer reference books I own, I was sure they wouldn’t have any trouble finding my collection of erotica.

I don’t lock any of it away or hide it, nor am I prone to put it on prominent display in the hopes it might be a catalyst for further interactions. But everything was neatly stacked on several shelves by size and subject for anyone who cared to look. And I like to think there was something for everyone : true stories, novels, reference works, semi-popular How To volumes, quite a number of art anthologies, collections of drawings and what not, some very graphically illustrated old medical textbooks, and loads of adult literature and comics. These last were mainly French or Italian publications, some exquisitely printed and most quite graphic in their attention to erotic detail. I was quite certain they spent an evening looking through my books, but they didn’t say anything directly about it.

Another charged moment was when I invited them to take a look at European television. They seemed particularly interested in watching the legendary BBC, even though that evening’s offerings weren’t all that extraordinary. Rather it is the Belgian and French commercial TV stations that regularly broadcast a late night ‘erotic thriller’ or two for the horny insomniac or lonely heart.

It was just being together in the room that made it special. You see, due to circumstances that are too intricate and boring to explain, I have my cable hook-up and only TV in the room we ended up using as master bedroom. Also out of an inability to shake free of my past, I have this propensity of sleeping with the mattress on the floor, late ‘60s hippy commune style. It’s all very clean and neat though, so when Sandra and Nancy came along to watch TV, we ended up together on the large double-sized bed. It was a cozy intimate situation which I believe we all felt , though one which did not lead anywhere.

Another situation that comes to mind was when we were out for a stroll in the early evening and we ended up near the red light district, which is only a five minutes walk from my house. You can’t fail to notice all the brightly lit windows, even from a distance and there is always a crowd of people walking about the streets. There are a lot of low life creeps about, East European maffiya no doubt, as well as street vendors, pimps and God knows what else. But all in all most of the people are just normal fellows looking to get laid or else just hanging around, getting a free eyeful of the scantily clad girls behind the windows.

It amazed Sandra and Nancy to no end, this open, brash and quite legal display of sex for sale. At first they were very shy and reluctant and hurried past the houses, looking out of the side of their eyes at the working girls. I told them to slow down and appreciate their surroundings. As long as you’re friendly and act politely the girls will usually smile back, beckon with their hands, blow a kiss maybe and make hand signals indicating their fee. Sandra asked what it all meant.

I told them that 5 fingers meant 500 franks (around $ 15.00, the lowest price), 1 finger meant 1000 franks, 2 meant 2000 franks and so on. The colored girls really give a good graphic sales pitch, sucking or stroking their fingers, moving their hips provocatively, lowering parts of their already scant apparel, sometimes even coming out of the doorway and embracing easy looking marks on the street who are best advised to check for their wallets afterwards.

Some houses advertised S & M by hanging little whips or chains in the window, others had signs offering nursing, correction and other stuff. Some of the girls were plain looking, some were topnotch beauties. About half were African and if you looked closely there were a number of nicely dressed-up transvestites offering themselves for hire. I told the girls that one of the typical situations a rookie police officer gets himself into was having to calm an irate client, drunk or not, who’s failed to notice what kind of ‘girl’ he’s paid for until it’s too late. This really amused them and had them laughing all the way home.

Sandra jokingly asked if that had ever happened to me.

“Oh I don’t patronize the girls. I just like to come by for a look now and then.” I replied.

“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what all the guys walking around here say…..”
 
 
 
 

By the time Monday came around we were all rather well at ease with each other. Normally that is my free day but when things are busy I use it catch up with my work. It’s usually a good day for buying at wholesalers so I invited the girls along. Afterwards I promised to drive down to Brussels which is less than an hour away and give them a quick tour. I also wanted to get in some browsing in the second hand book shops.

The visit to the wholesalers warehouse was an unexpected success, both girls being charmed to no end by all of the antiques and junk laying around for sale. The trip to Brussels was successful as well. We saw the Grande Place, Manneken Pis (that unabashed juvenile exhibitionist) and other points of interest. I took them along to the shabbier neighborhood by the Gare du Midi and I believe they had just as much fun sniffling around the second hand books as I had. They were amazed at the amount of English language books to be found and bought a few things themselves. I also found some nice additions for my collection of naughty literature. On the way back, they insisted on seeing what I had bought and giggled up a fit.

At home later that evening, I prepared a quick dinner and called the girls down to eat. But instead of the previously buoyant mood, when they came to the table Nancy looked down and out. She half-heartedly picked at her food, ate a little and then excused herself to go back upstairs and lay down.

Never being a very perceptive person about many aspects of human behavior, I made a silly face. “My cooking isn’t all that bad, is it ?”

“Of course not,” Sandra said, “Nancy’s just not feeling all that great right now.”

“Oh, I see…” I said in a knowing tone of voice meaning : ‘it’s that time of the month’.

Sandra caught on and smirked. “As a matter of fact you don’t. Nancy’s not having her period. She’s having digestive problems.”

I figured that she meant that Nancy had the runs.

“The old tourist quick-step eh ?”

“Nope. Wrong again. Wanna try for three strikes ?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s OK, I shouldn’t be so evasive either. She’s just awfully constipated. I don’t think she’s been able to go since last week. It can make you feel pretty awful after a couple of days you know, even nauseous.” Sandra explained.

Now usually I am much too slow to notice when serendipity beckons. But now ? I was wide awake with potentialities. This was a golden opportunity.

I assumed a serious demeanor, obviously sympathizing with Nancy’s plight. “Maybe she should take something or other …?”

“She doesn’t like to take medicine very much, I know that. And personally I don’t think that laxatives are a good idea. It takes until the next day for them to work, and then you can’t stop going for the next two days. Doesn’t sound good to me.”

To me neither. “Maybe she just needs a good cleaning out, you know. An enema ?” I said deliberately mispronouncing the word as ‘e-nee-ma’.

“You mean an enema.”

“Whatever…”

“Do they still give those things in Belgium too ?”

Definitely not, but I wasn’t going to tell. Instead I just made up some drivel about my wife working at the University Clinic and my having a Red Cross Care and Aid certificate and what kind of equipment was used at the clinic and how easy, fast-working and beneficial an enema could be when properly given.

“That might help her feel better,” Sandra agreed. “Is there a drugstore open where I could buy what she needs ?”

I told her that we have pharmacies over here, no drugstores. And everything was closed anyway. “But I always have the necessary equipment at hand in the medicine closet. There should be an unused one or two still unpacked. You’re free to use it if you like,” I offered.

“You know something about enemas I guess ?”

“Sort of…you know what with being around doctors and nurses a lot …” I replied vaguely.

“I also saw some books on the subject in your library.”

“Really ? I’ve got a few.” An understatement if ever there was one.

She grinned, “Yeah, a few….”

Sandra thought a bit and made a decision. “Look, I’ll go and see what Nancy thinks, OK ?”

“Sure, go ahead.” And I wished her Godspeed in my mind.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Nervously and in anticipation I cleared the table. After a few minutes I heard Sandra come back down the stairs. I tried to act unconcerned.

“OK, she’s willing to try an enema if it’ll fix her up quickly.”

“Oh, it will. I’m certain of it.” I had to turn away to hide my grin.

“But,” Sandra continued, “She’d like me to give it to her.”

Well, there’s always a catch. At least it wiped that silly grin from my face in a hurry. “Sure, if she prefers it that way. I’ll go up to the bathroom and get the equipment.” Sandra followed me.

I opened a few cabinet doors until I found an unused clyster syringe still packed in cellophane. It was a red rubber squeeze bulb model with a 20 cm long nozzle. It sported two bulges near the tip for pleasurable anal sensation during insertion. Strictly speaking this was more of a sex play item than a medical device, but I wasn’t going to let on. I had bought this one and several others in a German sex shop a while back and was quite pleased with it.

Sandra looked at the discarded package that read : ‘Odörfers Doppel Olive Klistier’. “Double olive ? What’s that supposed to mean ?” she asked.

“I don’t understand German all that well,” I replied evasively. “It’s probably the manufacturers name or something.” Of course I knew all too well what it meant. If you looked at the nozzle it resembled nothing so much as if two olives had been rammed down the tip. Small olives admittedly, but nonetheless the protuberances were intended to provide discernable (and pleasurable) anal sensations upon insertion.

“Shouldn’t the nozzle be smooth without those large bumps ?” Sandra asked.

“No, actually it’s designed to …ah…stimulate the bowels into working….” I said

“If you say so….” She made a face indicating : ‘it sounds fishy to me, but what do I really know about all this ?’.

“How do I prepare this ?” Sandra asked. “Should I just fill it up with water ?”

“Warm water would be best. If Nancy hasn’t been for about a week, it would be best to add something to help soften her stool first, then maybe put some soap or glycerin in as well as an extra irritant.”

“I thought it was easier than this. Why don’t you prepare the water…?”

“The solution.” I corrected.

“Yeah, whatever…”

It would be my pleasure. First I filled the sink with hot water and put the rubber bulb and nozzle in for an initial cleaning. I washed both parts thoroughly with soap to impress upon Sandra my notions of cleanliness and hygiene. Then I put them neatly on a towel to dry.

Next I took a small plastic basin and filled it with about a liter and a half of tepid water. To this I added a generous amount of glycerin, about 50 cl and afterwards half a dozen squirts of a neutral based liquid soap. I mixed it all with care and diligence to impart a serious attitude on my part.

I set the basin with the milky colored solution to the side for the moment. Taking the clyster bulb and nozzle, I carefully dried both parts and screwed them together.

“It’s best to lubricate the nozzle tip thoroughly. Traditionally Vaseline comes to mind first, but you can also use KY-jelly or others.”

“What’s best ?”

“Actually, I’ve had the best results with Preparation H Salve. It’s specifically manufactured for rectal use in the first place. It’s also quite soothing.” I advised.

“OK you’re the house specialist.”

And don’t you know it. “Further, to make the insertion as comfortable as possible the anus is also liberally lubricated.”

“OK, Nancy ought to love that…”

I gave Sandra a tube of salve. She looked around at all the implements and made an uncertain looking face. “Oh well, I’ll try and get it right.” She gathered all the things and went to Nancy.

I waited in the bathroom, cleaning up the sink and just puttering around, hoping to at least hear something of what was going on. But I couldn’t really catch anything being said. After a few minutes Sandra came back outside.

“Alex do you think you could help me out here ? There’s more to this than I thought.”

Isn’t there now ? “Sure, no problem.”

She was looking me straight in the eye. “But you’ve got to promise to behave yourself, though. No hanky panky.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t take advantage of anyone feeling ill.”

We entered the guest room where Nancy lay on the bed. Travelling lightly with backpacks, the girls hadn’t brought all that many clothes along, certainly no pajamas or nightgowns. Nancy was only wearing a T-shirt and panties.

“I spilled some water on the bed,” Sandra told me. “I hope you don’t mind ?”

“That doesn’t matter. Why don’t you get a few towels from the bathroom though ? We’ll place them under Nancy.”

Sandra came back with the towels. I folded one double and had Nancy raise her bottom. Carefully I draped the thick fluffy towel under her.

“OK now, Nancy, did Sandra tell you how this works ?”

She nodded.

“Good, just keep yourself relaxed and don’t worry about anything. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“This is just so embarrassing. I’ve never felt so bad in all my life,” she said.

“Why don’t you roll over on your side ?” Nancy shifted herself into the required position. “Did Sandra lubricate your bottom yet ?”

“Not yet. Is that really necessary ?”

“Most certainly is. You don’t want the nozzle to feel too rough going in, do you ? It’s better when it slides in smoothly, believe me.”

I took the tube of salve and gave it to Sandra. “I think it’s best if you do it, OK ?”

“OK.” She squeezed out an amount of the yellow colored ointment on her index finger.

“I’m going to have to lower your panties now, Nancy. Just relax now.” I said. Gently, I hooked my fingers around the hem of her slip and pulled it downwards, exposing her buttocks. They were such a lovely sight. Nancy was rather well-formed, she didn’t tend towards overweight but wasn’t the slender type like Sandra either.

“I’ll spread her cheeks a little so you can grease up her anus, OK ?” I said to Sandra. “Just spread the stuff around her opening and rub it in good and deep.”

Much as I would have liked doing the honors of lubricating this pretty girl’s backdoor, I thought it prudent not to push my luck. Besides, it was heavenly just being allowed to hold onto her buttocks and pry them apart.

I couldn’t keep myself from looking at the alluring and pleasing sight that was revealed to me. Nestled in the crease of her buttocks was a cute little pulsing asshole, no doubt virginous and unused except for it’s primary natural function. And even that wasn’t up to standard at the moment.

Nancy didn’t shave her pubic hair, that I could clearly discern. It wasn’t all that plentiful, but it did grow all the way around her anus. In order to take a discreet look somewhat higher up the valley, I opened Nancy’s buttocks more than was strictly necessary so I could get a view of her female parts. The lower vaginal lips were also moderately covered with pubic hair, though I could clearly make out the shape of her labia.

“How deep should I rub this stuff ?” Sandra asked after she had delicately started applying the ointment.

“As deep as you can, just slide your finger up into her gently and work it in and out a few times.”

“Up her ass ?”

“That’s right. If you do it slowly and gently it will help her accommodate the nozzle easily afterwards.”

I could feel Nancy clench her muscles and tense up, but I kept my grip and did not allow her to pull away. Sandra did as I instructed and I watched as her index finger disappeared out of sight. The excess lubrication accumulated around Nancy’s anal sphincter.

“There we are. Now you can start filling up the clyster, Sandra. Squeeze out the air, then dip the nozzle into the solution and let it be sucked up. Do it a few times until the bulb is full.”

I watched as Sandra somewhat clumsily did as I said, though maybe her hands were shaking more from anticipation and arousal than anything else. I knew that I for one could feel my heart beating more rapidly than usual. Not only that but there was a distinct bulge in my pants. I’m quite sure that Sandra was experiencing the female equivalent.

I asked Nancy to move one leg a little nearer to her chest, so allowing easier access to her anus. Her panty’s, which had been pulled down to her thighs, were in the way so I told her that it was best to just remove them altogether. I heard a very soft ‘OK’ from Nancy.

When they were off, Nancy slid her top leg up to her chest and turned about a quarter ways onto her stomach. In that position her asshole was more exposed to view and although strictly speaking I need not have kept her buttocks pried open, I took hold of them again. Nancy did not protest in any way and Sandra said nothing either.

Now came the moment I had been waiting for. I told Sandra to insert the nozzle slowly up into her friend’s lubricated anus. I watched it slip into her bowels, bit by bit until it could go no farther. I could only imagine the feelings she was experiencing as the protruding ridges of the nozzle were forced into her, opening her anal muscles momentarily and then allowing them to close around the smaller diameter of the nozzle shaft.

“Squeeze the bulb, now,” I told her. As Sandra was doing so I could hear Nancy gasp. Her body tensed up.

“Just relax, Nancy,” I said. “The first injection or two of the solution can feel awkward at first, but try not to think about what’s happening. Just close your eyes and don’t worry about anything.”

Of course that was just standard bedside talk and it didn’t mean anything. I knew that soon, Nancy would feel a burning sensation in her rectum from the irritating effects of the injected glycerin, soap and warm water. That combined with cramping and the pressure from a week’s supply of un-discarded waste would cause her to feel much more than just ‘awkward’.

Sandra pulled out the nozzle, filled the clyster with a fresh load of solution, and inserted it again. She repeated this several times until all the solution was used up. I told Nancy to try and hold it for as long as she could.

But after about half of the solution was injected it was clear that Nancy already experiencing an amount of discomfort.

“Oh…good grief… I can’t hold this much longer…” she panted.

“You’d better try, Nancy. I know from experience that if you expel the water now, it won’t have much of an effect and we’ll just to start all over again.”

“Oh…oh…it’s so hard to hold back….”

“If the cramps become too severe, try breathing through your mouth, ride them out. After the first few, you won’t feel them so bad. Trust me.”

She mumbled something under her breath. I think it was ‘that’s what they all say…’ or something of the same, but she said it with a smile at least, half in jest.

When all the solution was injected I had Nancy roll over onto her back and started to massage her abdomen. I told her to keep her knees up which helped ease the cramping and which also incidentally kept her genitals exposed to view.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandra intently watching me, with what I think was a knowing smile on her lips. She put the clyster down and came over to Nancy, stroking her on the forehead.

“Try and hold it for a few minutes more, OK ?” I said.

“OK.” Nancy replied.

Sandra began massaging her friend’s abdomen as well and together we gave Nancy a good work out. I noticed that Sandra’s hand seemed to stray lower than mine did. I don’t think that she actually played with her friend’s sex organs or anything but she did like to ruffle about in Nancy’s pubic hair. Every now and then she would smile at me while she was skirting propriety and give me a look, maybe daring me to go further ? I know that she studied my crotch (with bulge) and gave me another knowing look, telling me that I wasn’t fooling anybody. Least of all her.

Finally after about 15 minutes passed I judged that Nancy had waited long enough and told her to hurry off to the toilet. She got up grimacing and clenched her buttocks together, not even bothering to drape a towel around her.

She closed the door to the bathroom behind her and with what I imagine to be a great deal of satisfaction and relief let go. Two rooms and a hallway further both Sandra and myself heard the toilet bowl being filled up with the contents of Nancy’s bowels. I surmise that both liquids and solids cascaded from out of her in a seemingly endless and no doubt gratifying gush. Every now and then she would let out a small groan, though if it was from effort or pleasure I could not say.

Sandra and I pretended not to hear the splashes and the other inevitable rude noises, though neither of us could help from smiling.

“Well,” Sandra said to me, “It sounds as if your treatment has helped.”

“Certainly seems so, doesn’t it ?”

After a while we heard nothing more. Then the toilet flushed and we heard running water. Nancy came back into the room, a bit weak in the knees but looking very much relieved.

“I can’t believe it. I must be 5 kilos lighter at least,” she said.

“Feeling better ?” I asked.

“That’s not the word for it. I feel so empty I could almost float away.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re OK.”

“But I am a bit tired. Do you mind if I lay down ?”

“No at all. Why don’t you get some sleep now ?”

Nancy crawled under the blankets after giving both Sandra and me a hug. I was mildly but pleasantly surprised at this gesture, especially as she was still only wearing her flimsy T-shirt.

We took the equipment back into the bathroom, cleaned everything off and set it out to dry. Then we washed and went back downstairs to the kitchen for a drink.
 
 
 
 

Back downstairs we were the image of domesticity : we cleaned up and did the dishes, I made us a pot of tea and we both sat down. It was only a few days since I had met the girls and already they felt at home. How things change.

Ever since coming back downstairs, Sandra’s demeanor seemed to have changed as well. She smiled a lot and touched me now and then in a very easy going fashion. This I did not mind one bit.

“You know Alex,” she started, “that was very nice what you did for Nancy.”

“Oh, it’s OK, really. It’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you too.”

She laughed. “I bet you would too, in a moment’s notice.”

I shrugged sheepishly and wantonly at the same time. I probably just looked silly

“No, really. I think you did it very well and courteously. I don’t think a lot of other guys would be able to restrain themselves like you did. That was very sweet of you.”

Now, ‘sweet’ was not the adjective I had in mind when thinking of my conduct a while back. Maybe ‘unnecessarily chivalrous’, ‘professional’ (as what though ? an accredited wimp ?) and just plain ‘timid’ would be more appropriate. But then again, that was me to a T : always doing the ‘right’ thing. When what I longed to do was something altogether different.

“I’ve always heard that enemas were horrid things, unspeakably nasty, and terribly humiliating.” She put on an air of theatrical exaggeration, implying that she thought differently now.

“Well I hope I’ve proven that to be incorrect…”

“You certainly have.” She kept on looking at me with this knowing smile, she really had to do her best not to break out in a grin. So did I. I felt as if she could read my desires like an open book.

“Do you do them a lot ?” she asked.

“Oh, every now and then…it depends.” The understatement of the year.

“On what ?”

“I don’t know…Lots of things I guess. My mood mostly.”

“How’s your mood right now ?”

I definitely felt my heart skip a beat. I loved the way this conversation was going.

“My mood has never been better, I think.”

“I’ll bet.” Sandra took a swig of her tea and held her head askance. “Look, how about a deal : if you give me one, I’ll give you one ? How does that sound ?”

I wasn’t used to such directness, which doesn’t mean to say I didn’t appreciate it immensely. I did. I was just taken aback. So much good luck in the same evening. I knew I was going to pay for it somehow or other.

“Sounds wonderful to me. Do you really mean it ?” I asked.

“Of course I do. I’m not a tease. But you’ve got to promise : this is no prelude to any fucking.”

“Sure, fine, whatever you say Sandra.” Girls : always thinking in stereotypes. Whatever made her think I’d want to get into her lovely pants ?
 
 
 
 

We quickly finished our tea and went back upstairs, being as quiet as possible so not to disturb Nancy. I suggested that I use the recently unpacked clyster syringe on her and that she use my regular device on me. Apart from the hygienic considerations there was a difference in nozzle size, my own model having a much wider diameter than I would expect Sandra to accommodate a first time.

There was a small couch in my computer room and I draped several large beach towels on it. Since we weren’t taking the enemas for cleansing reasons but for fun I suggested to forego any irritating additives and just to use warm water. It was all fine with Sandra.

I took two plastic canisters and filled them with warm water. Sandra helped carry them, along with some extra towels and a tube of lubricant. We set everything out and looked at each other.

“I guess we can start now,” I said. “Who’s first ?”

“Since you’re so used to doing this and can probably hold it longer I think you should be first,” she said.

There was no logic to fault with, though as a typical male I had hoped it would be the other way around. I would have liked Sandra to disrobe first. For all my wishful thinking and imagined fantasies, in real life I can be quite the prude. So non-chalantly shrugging as if I did this all the time I bent over and started untying my shoes, a most un-erotic but necessary prelude if I didn’t want to end up doing an involuntary impersonation of one of the Three Stooges when removing my trousers.

Then I unbuckled my belt and lowered my pants, stepping out of them with less grace than you can imagine. I was trying to keep from view something that wasn’t meant to be seen except for a sex partner. My erect prick was doing a very successful imitation of a tent pole, forcing my briefs outwards in an undignified manner.

It was silly of me, I know, but I really had no idea what Sandra expected. Did she want this to be an enema only thing, medically chaste and formal ? I rather suspected not, and hoped that surely she must know that the male sex organ can be stubbornly independent, my promises and assurances notwithstanding.

Then there was one other thing that I had forgotten about and which I now realized might cause a bit of embarrassment. I like to keep my pubic hair cut very short, in the equivalent of a genital crew cut. Every now and then, depending on circumstances I just shave it all off except for a bit around the pubis. It feels soft and smooth and as far as I am concerned it is much more hygienic into the bargain. No to be vain, but it also makes one look younger and larger in the attributes department. Just after my wife left I had shaved, so that right now I sported nothing more than a light growth of pubic hair.

I stood facing Sandra with a bulging pair of briefs showing a growing wet spot in front. “Shouldn’t you just take that off before the seams bust ?” she joked. “Here let me help you.”

Sandra knelt in front of me and pulled off my briefs. My prick was forced downwards and then sprung free, merrily bobbing not far from her lovely face. She pretended not to notice and had me step out of my undergarment. Then she took a more leisurely look at my equipment.

“Hey, that’s cute,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve seen a guy shave between his legs.” She put on an exaggerated look of appraisal and had me turn about to the side and lift my T-shirt.

“It looks so soft and smooth. I know that a lot of women shave but this is my first look at a man. Do you mind if I feel it ?”

Did I mind ? What a silly question.

Sandra delicately used the back of her hand to feel up and down my shaft. She felt around my balls with the tip of her fingers and felt lower down, probing around. She had me spread my legs a little so she could get at the area below my genitals. I think she liked the feeling of a hairless prick.

“Nice. Maybe I should shave as well. Would you help me if I asked ?”

Another silly question. She didn’t even wait for me to answer. “It’s a shame you haven’t shaven your legs too. Maybe I should help you with that sometime.”

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. I rather hoped not, though shaven legs did seem a bit too outré for me. But before we got any further along this line, she reminded me of what we had agreed to do.

“Mustn’t let the water get cold now, should we ?” she said. “Come on and lay down for me.”

I sat down on the couch and turned my backside to Sandra, not really sure if I was glad to get my stiff and naked prick out of sight. I assumed a rather tense position, my muscles all clenched up and tight. She ran her hand over my bottom.

“You’ve got a nicely muscled behind, Alex, but you’re gonna have to relax if you want me to get at your asshole. Come on, lighten up and spread ‘em.”

I did as she asked and assumed a more comfortable and exposed position, one leg resting on the floor and the other on the couch. I nestled my head in my arms, face down and wondered if people are always so stupidly fluttered when their dreams come true. I was quite thankful that Sandra was never shy for words. Me, I get all tongue-tied and say inane things when I’m excited. It was all I could do at the moment to utter anything longer than a three monosyllabic word sentence. And even then it was full of such gems as ‘OK’, ‘Yeah’, ‘Sure’ and ‘Uh huh’,

“I guess I’d better grease up your little hole before I stick anything up it. We don’t want to be too rough on you when we stick that big nozzle in, do we ?” I wondered where she was getting this ‘we’ stuff from ? If she was playacting it seemed as if she was doing a good job of it. For all the world she sounded like a nurse telling a patient what’s good for him.

She put a glob of lubricant on her finger and then I felt her part my buttocks. It felt cool as she rubbed everything in, working her finger along the crack of my ass. Non too daintily she inserted her digit into my asshole. I think she liked this part rather much, since she really stuck her finger into me up to the hilt, twirling it around, feeling to all sides and even using her free fingers to pinch my sphincter from both inside and out. She did this longer than was strictly necessary, but who was I to complain ?

Finally she slid her finger out, though for all the world I would have been content had she just continued to finger fuck me and do nothing else. That wasn’t her intention and not what we had agreed upon either. The next part was still to come.

I heard the familiar slurping sound of water being sucked up into the rubber bulb, only it seemed strange that I wasn’t doing the filling.

“OK, here we go now. Relax…” she said as I felt the familiar nozzle being poked in my backdoor. Sandra was somewhat less gentle than I was with myself, though that could have been an erroneous perception due to my nervous yet eager anticipation. I felt a few drops of moisture trickle out of the nozzle head onto my backside before it was inserted into me.

I had done this so often to myself I thought and now when someone else was lending a ‘helping hand’ it all felt so much more intense. She pushed the nozzle in and I felt it slide by my sphincter. Right afterwards I could discern the flow of warm water being injected. She was a bit unsteady and moved the nozzle around a lot, or maybe she even did it intentionally, I don’t really know. Whatever, the stimulation felt decidedly nice even if she did have the tendency to press too hard on the rubber bulb, thereby injecting the water somewhat forcibly. But it was done with the best of motives and I enjoyed it immensely. Indeed I hoped that I would have other opportunities in which to instruct Sandra in the finer points of enema giving. At the moment I considered her to be a most gifted and promising pupil. And a very enthusiastic and willing one as well.

In short order she emptied the canister of water into me. It was no more than one liter, some 4 bulb fulls and no great hardship to accommodate. She told me when it was done and had me turn around on my back. She pressed down on my abdomen either in a clumsy attempt at massage or else just to see how I would react with all the water in me. Charitably I like to think it was the former, though I had a sneaking suspicion that Sandra liked to play the dominant role and see how far she could go with fooling around.

I was still nice and stiff, glaringly so in fact and even though it may seem uncharacteristically macho of me, she couldn’t seem to be able to keep her hands off my organ. Not that it bothered me in the slightest, mind you. For instance to rub/press my abdomen she used her left hand to move my prick out of the way while her right hand did the rubbing. Along the way and while she was at it, her left hand did a bit of squeezing as well.

“OK, now it’s my turn,” she said looking me in the eye and standing up.

I nodded and got up, taking her clyster bulb and greasing the tip. She watched me with intent and, I like to think, anticipation. “OK Sandra, I guess it’s your turn to lay down.”

“Sure,” she said and loosened her shorts, stepping out of them. She still had her panties on, a small plain white cotton pair that were oh so small and tight fitting. Faintly I could see the outline of her vulva through them as she bent over to take her shorts from the floor. I had hoped to be allowed to remove her undergarment but she did it for me.

It was gratifying to see that Sandra was a natural blond to the hilt. Her pubic hair was none too abundant, which pleased me greatly. I had hoped that she would remove her T-shirt but that was not to be. We both stood looking at each other, naked from the waist down, me with a stiff pole and Sandra with a very knowing smile on her face.

“Well, are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to stick something in me ?” she asked. Ever the witty one.

I tried to think of something clever to reply with, but couldn’t come up with anything, figuratively speaking that is. Sandra just turned around and assumed the same position as I had : bottoms up and face down.

She was a lovely sight, of that there was no doubt. Sandra had a boyish figure seen from behind, her hips weren’t all that wide and her buttocks were nice and firm, well developed with no surplus tissue or padding. Of course when she spread her legs and I could make out the shape and form of her female organs, any and all ambiguity was dispelled. Not that I had entertained any in the first place. There was a small amount of pubic hair growing around her lower genitals and running up to the general area of her anus, but it was so minimal as to be hardly visible.

I knelt down next to her and spread her buttocks open with my left hand. Already her little rosebud was pulsing in and out, seemingly enthusiastic and expectantly eager for the treatment to begin. I took the cream and squeezed an amount onto my index finger. Finally I was going to be allowed some intimate physical contact with at least one of my lodgers.

I started rubbing the lubricant into her, doing it very slowly and gently and generally taking my sweet time about it. She yielded, relaxing her anal sphincter as I pressed into her several times, intentionally just not quite penetrating into her depths. She did not complain or make any comment about my slow paced anointment of her rosette, but seemed to move along in rhythm to the motions of my hand. I finally had to insert it all the way and then stuck it in as far as I could, hooking my finger and feeling around the inside walls of her rectum. Then I withdrew and cleaned my finger off on a towel.

“How are we doing Sandra ?” I asked adopting the same first-person plural mode as she had. “Are we ready for the water ?”

“Un huh…sure.” I noticed that she was not in any condition to make witty conversation. I was sure that she was experiencing a multitude of sensations, most of them very pleasurable and intense. She just cradled her head in her crossed arms and wiggled her bottom around a bit, raising it a bit to present a more accessible target.

I sucked up a bulbfull of warm water, letting it gurgle quite audibly in the process. Then I spread her bottom open again and pressed the clyster nozzle up into her budding little asshole. I exerted as little pressure as possible and at first just teased her opening, pushing it in slightly and then withdrawing, then moving it around in a small circle. This just made Sandra thrust her bottom out more and taking the hint I finally slipped the nozzle all the way into her rectum. I pushed the clyster in to the hilt and squeezed.

The water flowed in, I withdrew and sucked up some more. Then it went back in Sandra’s lovely bumhole until the canister was emptied and the little procedure was over.

“There we are,” I announced, “Everything’s all inside now. Are you feeling OK ?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“How does it feel ? Can you hold it in ?” I asked.

“I think so. I feel like I have to go, but it’s not a strong urge.”

“Good, that’s because you’ve already had a bowel movement today and aren’t too full.”

She turned around and sat up facing me. “I can feel a little cramping though.”

“Would you like me to massage you ?”

“I guess so….”

I told her to lay on her back and to keep her legs spread. At this she smiled but said nothing. I started to rub over her abdomen, doing so slowly and innocently. I don’t think she really experienced much discomfort from the small amount of fluid inside of her, but it is possible that the unexpected and unfamiliar feelings of having her rectum and colon injected with water made her feel uncomfortable.

During the rubbing of her abdomen I could not refrain from letting my hands stray to her lower parts. I skirted the outlying regions of her pubis, feeling around in her pubic hair. I would have liked to go lower even still, maybe take her mind off the enema process by some gentle stimulation of exterior sex organs or clitoris but she admonished me to keep my hands busy elsewhere.

I apologized (not too sincerely though).

“Come on Alex, no fooling around now. You promised.” She said.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I couldn’t help notice you did the same with Nancy.”

“You would see that wouldn’t you ? Besides that was different.”

“Oh ? Is she your girlfriend or something ?” As soon as I said that I knew I had made something of a fool of myself. Girlfriend indeed. That sounded like a line from a Mel Brooks movie. I had meant it to sound lighthearted and frivolous much as it does in French or Dutch but instead I was ever the apparent prude.

Sandra laughed. “My girlfriend ? Good grief, I bet you really meant to ask if Nancy is my lezzy lover ?”

Now it was my turn to blush. Fantasies are something else, no matter how torrid and unrestrained they are, encountering them in real life can be confusing.

“Isn’t that so ?” she teased. “I thought all guys get off on that kind of stuff.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy.”

“I’ll bet …. Say look,” she said changing the subject and not answering anything, “How much longer do I have to wait ?”

“I guess it’s been long enough now. Do you want to go expel now ?”

“Shouldn’t you go first ? You’ve had the water in you far longer.”

I made a sweeping motion with my hand. “Ladies first…” She made a silly face as I helped her upright. Sandra then hurriedly made her way into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

After a while I heard the toilet flush and water running. Sandra came back outside.

“How did it go ?” I asked.

“Great, I feel fine.”

“Really ?”

“Sure really. Nice and clean and everything. Now it’s your turn.”

I stood up and went to the bathroom. Sandra asked if she could come along and watch. Now this was a novel situation for me, something I had never done before. I wasn’t all that sure if this wasn’t pushing things a bit. But like all males, especially those with a stiff prick, I am a sucker for a pretty face. And when the pretty face is wearing nothing more than a skimpy T-shirt then it becomes very hard to resist.

Not even waiting for me to say yes, Sandra just took my hand and led me in. I felt very childish as I sat down on the toilet seat. Thankfully there were no pants to pull down first, but to compensate for the absence of that little humiliation my prick continued to fly at top mast and stuck up straight and true.

Now normally after having received several fills of water up the backdoor, I have no trouble at all expelling it and letting it all flow out. That IS the idea and purpose of the whole operation in the first place. But now with this pretty girl watching me I froze up. There was no urge or compelling feeling to gratify, no sense of urgency or even the slightest amount of cramping or intestinal movement. I was just plain nervous and inhibited and felt quite the fool. But curiously none of that diminished my sexual arousal. I still sat with a flag pole jutting up in front of me.

What to do ? I tried closing my eyes, taking deep breaths and mentally forcing myself to relax. None of that helped.

Sandra was still standing around sans culottes, leaning against the washstand and eyeing me with what I thought to be a mixture of amusement and lust.

“What are you waiting for ? Can’t you go ?” she asked.

“I’ve never done it like this before.” I lamely explained, feeling for all the world like a man trying to excuse impotence to his lover.

“That’s OK,” she replied, “Neither have I.”

As if that made everything OK.

She came closer and started playing around with my prick, pushing it to one side and watching it spring back up again. A fun game in other circumstances I would think. She then stood up and straddled me over my legs, snuggling up close and taking me by the shoulders. She kissed me on the mouth and I felt her tongue darting around my lips. She broke off playfully and nestled my head on her shoulders whispering silly little things in my ear. She used a hand to press on my abdomen, really exerting quite some pressure on my intestines.

After a while this massaging did the trick. I either regained conscious control of my excretory functions or Sandra succeeded in stimulating my colon sufficiently. Whatever the case with my head buried in Sandra’s sweet smelling embrace I was finally able to let go. The water squirted out bit by bit as I lost my inhibitions. Soon it was over and I was empty.

Sandra got up and so did I. I wiped and washed myself with her watching. Neither of us said much but I could tell that she was pleased with how things had gone. Oddly I felt no embarrassment either. I wasn’t proving anything to anyone, but in a sense I felt rather pleased with myself. No more mere mental fantasies for me, at least I could claim to have done the deed.

I would have thought the fun over for the evening, but Sandra had no inclination to retire. She told me she was thirsty and I suggested we go back down to the kitchen for a drink. But instead of going to retrieve her panties and shorts she unconcernedly went down the stairs without dressing.

I had gone to reclaim my garments but Sandra just scoffed goodheartedly. “C’mon Alex, Don’t tell me you want to get dressed again ? Besides, you’ll stretch your briefs all out of shape if you ever succeed in getting that stiff prick of yours stuffed back in.”

She had a point of course, but hardly one that I had ever seriously thought about. I followed her back downstairs where I poured us both a softdrink.

I sipped my drink and contemplated how the evening was turning out. Not bad at all though it was decidedly unexpected and quite unusual. Sandra somehow someway seemed to have taken the initiative and was enjoying it immensely. Or such was my impression from the perpetual knowing smile on her face. Also from the way she teased me about.

“That was fun. I never knew getting an enema could be such a gas.” That must have been her idea of a pun.

“You’re never too old to learn.”

“I’m probably not even half as old as you are…”

“Well in that case it’s best to start young.” What witty repartee.

“You know, that really turned me on. How about you ?” she unnecessarily asked. Sandra had only to look at the state of my prick to see what I felt about that. I think she was only asking a rhetorical question anyway.

“What do you do to ah… relieve the tension ?” she asked. As if she didn’t already know the answer.

I put on a show act grin and wiggled my five fingers in the air.

“Ohhh…still playing with yourself like a naughty little boy ? Shame on you…”

“In my situation it’s called ‘muddling through’.” I joked. There were times when I could turn it into a fine art.

“Well, maybe I should do it for you….you’ve been so well behaved tonight.”

Actually, I thought I had been too. Ever the gentleman. “Well, that sounds very nice.” I said.

“Let’s go upstairs and try out that big double bed of yours,” she suggested.

The bed room was under the eaves and much warmer than the rest of the house. For privacy’s sake I pulled the drapes across the windows. Normally I don’t mind giving any Peeping Jane of a neighbor a little show but I decided that tonight discretion might be better than being gossiped about.

Sandra lay down and waited for me to join her. “Now remember Alex, no fucking or anything. OK?”

“Sure, whatever. You lay down the guidelines.”

“No fucking, keep your hands to yourself and let me do you. OK ?”

Translated that meant we were in for some heavy duty, possibly one-sided petting with me being the handled object. It sounded very nice.

“How about you ?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll get off when the time comes,” she teased, “in any way I choose.”

I didn’t doubt it for a minute. I just hoped she wouldn’t mind me watching.

I started to remove my T-shirt but she told me to leave it on. She did the same. Then we kissed. Ah, what a silky sweet tongue she had. There was something adolescently exciting about a prolonged bout of French kissing with a semi clothed girl. I could not refrain from taking hold of her shoulders and caressing her neck and face, but as promised she did not permit any roving hands under the equator. Sandra didn’t encourage any exploration of her foothills either, though I was allowed just the teeniest leeway when feeling up her breasts.

She on the other hand considered no part of me to be off bounds. She really explored every surface of my hairless prick and balls, alternatively coolly examining my apparatus as if she were a medical student or such and then switching to an undisguised sexual manipulation. If I hadn’t known better I would have said this was the first pair of male genitals she had ever seen, she gave them that amount of scrutiny. On the other hand she was quite knowledgeable about where to touch me, how hard to squeeze without causing undue pain to my more sensitive spots and areas.

Sandra was also quite keen about playing with my anus. It seemed as if this were a thing she had previously overlooked in her sex play and that she now wanted to make up for lost time. Her fingers were busy inside and outside of my anus, a most pleasurable pastime indeed.

I have no idea of how long we kept this up, but inevitably there could be only one outcome. She goaded me on, whispering smutty little encouragements in my ear, urging me let it all go and spurt everything out. This I did, with a great amount of pleasure and relief, to mine and I hope to Sandra’s satisfaction.

After climaxing under Sandra’s very accomplished handling I lay still for a while, regaining control over my breathing and to a lesser extent my heartbeat as well. I suppose that this is the moment when one is traditionally required to be taken in by remorse and regret at succumbing to one’s lower instincts. Well, I’ve always been unconventional to a large degree and in this regard I was not going to take a new track. I felt great and very pleased with myself.

Now it was time to return the favor Sandra had done me. I told her I would do her however she preferred, but she reminded me that I had agreed to let her do it ‘her way’. She jokingly said that right now she preferred to do it herself but she would love to have me watch. I was to be the onlooker and she would perform on herself.

Was this her way of convincing herself that we would not have really ‘done it’ ? I don’t really think so, especially in light of subsequent events, but it is so difficult to gauge another’s rationalizations that I didn’t bother at this point. Instead I just leaned on my crooked elbow and watched Sandra masturbate herself slowly but surely to orgasm.

This must be ranked as one of life’s great pleasures : observing a female in the throes of sexual climax. Sandra was among the loveliest. She displayed all those little mannerisms that are so endearing : eyes closed with a smile on her lips changing to a grimace of near pain from one instant to another, tip of the tongue sticking out of the mouth slightly and gently rolling around her lips. Sandra also liked to spread her legs wide open and lift her pelvis into the air, allowing me a wondrously enticing view of her vulva and immediate interior, glistening wet from her sexual secretions. It was lovely beyond words.

In the end she finally succumbed to my charms I suppose, since she told me to insert my finger up her anus. The actual language was somewhat more coarse as is often the case during sexual excitation but I complied without the slightest compunction or hesitation. Anything for a lovely lady.

With a smile on my lips just as broad as her own, I watched as Sandra shuddered and jerked about in orgasm, tensing all her muscles and rhythmically pulsing her anal sphincter around my inserted finger. I suppose she curled her toes as well, but that was one indication of climaxing that I wasn’t all that interested in.

There followed a period of post orgasmic bliss, wondrously genuine and gratifying during which we kissed a bit and engaged in some light-hearted caressing and stroking and inconsequential conversation of a sorts.

I surmised that when all was finished Sandra would politely extricate herself, kiss me goodnight and go back to the guest room and crawl into bed with Nancy. Not that I would have blamed her. But no, instead Sandra pulled back the covers and invited me in with her to pass the night. Now I know it was my own bed she was inviting me into but there are conventions about these things that have to be observed. So pleasantly fatigued and ready for sleep I gratefully joined her under the blankets.

Sometime during the night I was awoken from my sleep of sexual exhaustion and heard Nancy coming up the stairs, sleepily calling for Sandra. Fearing some type of jealous row or exchange of cross words I courageously feigned sleep.

It was hardly necessary, since after some muffled conversation Nancy just crawled into bed with us. I was wondering if this was all just a dream or something but when I felt Nancy put her arm over me and kiss me from the back I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.

I lay awake for some time afterwards, wondering what sort of liberties I would be allowed with Nancy, if any and if I should try for a sample right now. In the end I figured it was best not to push my luck so we all passed the rest of the night in a moderately chaste sleep, though I for one could not help wonder what this was all going to lead to come the morrow.

I was pretty sure that this situation was going to cause me to change my vacation plans for the coming weeks, but to what extent that would turn out to be I could then only guess.
 
 

Chapter 2
I didn’t really get much sleep that night with being sandwiched between two lovely girls. Now I’m not complaining, far from it, but every time one of the girls turned over or shifted position, I woke up and had to try and fit myself into a new nice and intimately clinging pose : hands over the shoulder cupping a breast or fingers nestled between a pair of thighs tantalizingly close to vulva or anus.

None of us got what you’d call a good night’s sleep, but even so I for one awoke with a feeling of elation. After all, the night before had really been an uplifting and unexpectedly pleasant experience. I hoped that Nancy and Sandra felt the same way about it.

At least they didn’t avoid looking me in the eye as they got up. In fact both gave me a peck on the cheek and a quick smile before hurrying off to the bathroom for the first pee of the day.

Breakfast was pleasantly informal and homey. I went for fresh bread and rolls and over tea Sandra and Nancy discussed their plans for the day.

Me, I was more occupied with schemes and arrangements for the coming night, hoping for some sort of repeat or an equally fulfilling sequel to our little session of last evening. Maybe Nancy would feel a bit under the weather again by tonight ? Or Sandra might need some more cleaning out ? God, I hoped so.

But I need not have tried to be so clever about it all. Before they left for the day’s outings Sandra told me they would both be back early.

“We know it’s hard to wait and we don’t want you to start without us,” she said mischievously amid a bout of giggles.

I was left to ponder what that meant.

There were other things to ponder about as well. My good luck was the first thing that came to mind along with a lot of pessimistic sayings, the meanings of which generally translated into warnings about not expecting the good times to last.

Another good thing that didn’t seem to be lasting was the warm and sunny weather. Now in Belgium, one never sets one’s climatological hopes too high, question of not having them continually dashed. During the morning it had been intermittently cloudy and overcast and by noon it had started to rain. The weather report predicted the same miserable pattern for the rest of the week and that could be considered reliable. When the weatherman predicts rain he’s usually not far off the mark.

There is nothing like a wet Belgian summer to drive the tourists off to sunnier climes. I figured that the girls wouldn’t be hanging around much longer, fun and games notwithstanding. After all they had come to Europe to see cities and countries, not to fool around with the natives.

I was of the same mind. It was time for me to close shop and go south for my yearly dose of sunshine. I figured there ought to be a way for all three of us to mutually benefit from this.
 
 
 
 

The girls came back in the early afternoon, sooner than I had expected. They were soaked through from the constant rain. Not being prepared for the wretched weather they looked miserable as well, cold and thoroughly discouraged. I didn’t need to be a soothsayer to predict what they were going to do the next day.

Over a cup of nice hot tea I got them warmed up again. Reluctantly they began discussing their plans.

“It’s a shame about the weather, but you know Alex, we’ve got to get going. As nice as it’s been we can’t spend all our vacation time in Antwerp, Sandra told me.

“That’s understandable. If I had a choice there are other places I’d rather be at the moment as well.” I said giving my best impersonation of a Gallic shrug. I changed the subject. “By the way, where are you headed for?”

“Right now ? France I guess.”

“Paris ?” I hopefully asked.

“Well, that’s where we get our flight back home. So that won’t be until the end of the vacation. We were thinking of somewhere else. Any suggestions ?”

Did I ever. Acting as if the thought had just struck me I told them that I was leaving on vacation as soon as I could. Tomorrow wouldn’t be a day too soon. “Would you like for me to drop you off along the way ?”

“Where are you headed for ?” Sandra asked in turn.

“France, Spain ? Somewhere far to the south where the sun shines all day every day of the week.” This was said in a semi ironical tone of voice, since they had figured out by now that I was no lover of the cold, the damp and the wet. “I was planning on heading for the mountains. But there is a lot to see before you get to the Pyrenees.”

“Really ?”

“Yup, no doubt about it. Care to join me on the way down ?”

This went on for a while but in the end both were more than pleased for the offer and took me up on it. We’d head south, stay off the highways, save paying toll and stop along the way to visit the more interesting places we passed by. I know certain parts of France like the back of my hand and promised them some off the beaten track sights. Whenever they wanted to take off on their own, so be it.

I was ecstatic and pleased to no end. I’m sure Sandra and Nancy were as well.
 
 
 
 

That evening we went out to an old tavern for drinks. Flickering candles and darkened oak beams gave the place an intimate and venerably aged atmosphere. Outside it rained on but in here we were warm and cozy. I know that’s a discouraging description for a July evening, but there you have it. Welcome to Belgium.

The talk turned from prospective travel routes to other things and after a while we were discussing more intimate affairs. We talked about things like past loves, desire and passion, previous experiences and similar matters. I advised them to take advantage of every opportunity they could.

“You’d like to help us out with that, wouldn’t you Alex ?” Sandra asked with a twinkle in her eye.

What a silly question. “What do you think ?” I replied.

“I think you’re probably just as horny as when you were a teenager. But at least you’ve got better manners.”

I took it as I’m sure the compliment was intended to be : ironically.

“That’s me all right. Good manners no matter what.”

“Well I certainly appreciated it last night,” said Nancy. “I’d like to do something back in return.”

“Alex got his returns last night. Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, Sandi, you know what I mean. There must be something special we can do for him.” Nancy insisted, bless her heart.

“Remember what we agreed before leaving ?”

“I know….. and I wasn’t thinking about that exactly anyway.”

I figured Nancy was referring to some sort of ‘no fucking on vacation’ agreement. That turned out to be correct, though they did end up interpreting the term ‘fucking’ very very narrowly and then in reference to one specific act only.

“C’mon, I know you two had some fun last night. Now I want to join in as well.”

“We’ll do ‘something special’ for Alex if you want.” Sandra turned to me, “What would you like ? Have anything in mind ?”

Anything in mind ? Good grief, my mind was just about O.D.-ing on pornographic fantasies. As usual they were very intricate and much too embarrassing to describe.

“Maybe we could shave the rest of his hair off.” Sandra suggested.

“Then he’d be nice and soft all over.”

“That might be neat. Or I have an even better idea.”

I’ve always been wary when females start to talk about any males present in their company in the third person. It usually bodes ill in one manner or another. The girls suggested one outrageous thing after another, none all that practical or much of a special turn-on.

Sandra hit on just the right thing though. “I know he likes sticking things up his backside. Too bad we can’t fuck him like girls are.”

They finally acknowledged my presence. “That should be more fun than just squirting water up your ass, wouldn’t it ?” Sandra teased.

I reddened and couldn’t help an enormous involuntary grin from spreading on my face.

“Look at him Nancy. I think that’s just the thing for Alex,” said Sandra delightedly.

“We could do it like in those pictures we saw… you know, where the girls strap on something and do it to the man,” said Nancy.

“Well Alex, what do you think ?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess it might be….. OK if you two….” I couldn’t really get it out.

“I think you’d love it. Have you got one of those things at your house ?” Sandra asked.

“You mean a strap-on dildo ? No, I don’t.” I answered.

“Are you sure ? It looks like you’ve got everything else.”

She was teasing. And exaggerating.

“Well I suppose we can always buy one. Is there anyplace where we can go now ?” Sandra asked.

I pretended to give the matter deliberate thought and after a decent interval suggested we head over to the red-light district. There was always a sex-shop or two open till the early hours.
 
 
 
 

We paid the bill and set out for the naughtier section of Antwerp. Despite the drizzling rain there was a considerable amount of people milling about. Colored lights reflected off of puddles in the streets giving the area a gaudy and gay appearance. Cars drove slowly past the windows, drivers ogling the girls inside instead of watching the narrow streets ahead. Collisions in this part of town always cause no end of hilarity and amusement to on-lookers and passers-by. Police and gendarmes patrol continually ensuring that the local business is pursued in an orderly if not in a morally acceptable fashion.

We picked our way around groups of sailors out on the town or fellows down on their luck, trying their hand at vending cheap imitation watches and jewelry. Neither Sandra nor Nancy acted the shy and shocked young things of several days ago. It was rather as I have seen with many other girls accompanying their boyfriends here. They tend to boldly assert their presence, saying with body language : I can do whatever you professionals do just as well. And I do it for free.

I must say it was pleasing as hell to my ego to be in the company of two such lovely girls in this area. I don’t think that I looked like a pimp escorting his girls to work, nor like someone with more money than sense buying whatever he wanted. I hope I gave the impression that I was just plain irresistible. A dream lover. (Yup, dream on chump.)

Anyway we choose one of the larger establishments to go looking for a strap-on device. It was a gaudy looking place, tacky and in very bad taste, though I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Was it the awful lighting or trashy loud music ? The bored out of his head sales assistant sitting despondently behind the cash register ? Maybe just being surrounded by all this stuff took the fun out of sex for him. I guess in that case I might have had the same expression on my face.

We looked around a bit at all the videos and magazines for sale, then went over to the ‘Home Appliances’ section. Vibrators of all kinds, shapes, sizes, textures and colors were for sale : ‘Slim and Thin for Her and Him’, megastud stallion size and everything in between. There was also a nice assortment of artificial vaginas and vibrating pussies, though I for one find such articles to be in bad taste.

Apart from these staples of the sex shop, there were all kinds of butt plugs, inflatable or not, some of alarmingly huge proportions, various kinds of love beads, ben-wah balls, cock rings, penis enlargers, ‘exercisers’ and a multitude of other thought provoking articles.

Finally we found several types of strap-on dildos. Basically they came in two sorts : single or double. The double type had a smaller protuberance that was meant to be inserted into the vagina of the active partner, allowing for simultaneous mutual penetration and stimulation.

Amid a lot of giggling, mock astonishment and serious consideration the girls opted for a double model, just as I had figured and hoped they would. Thankfully the strap-ons were obviously designed with a ladies buggering of her male friend in mind, though nowhere was such advertised or suggested. The dildo itself was not all that large around. It was less than that of an average erect prick, much to my relief.

There is something to be said about being in an ‘Erotic Boutique’ in the company of two pretty girls. I got a lot of knowing looks from other customers, especially since neither Sandra nor Nancy had the quietest of voices. They were also getting a kick out of strutting their stuff, females being allowed more leeway in such establishments.

On the way to the check out counter they stopped to give the racy lingerie a look over : g-strings, crotchless panties, garters, knickers, negligées, stockings, camisoles etc. They would take one item or another, study it as if considering purchase and hold it at arm’s length, pretending to imagine it being worn. Once or twice they acted as if they were considering me as the wearer.

“Wouldn’t he look cute in this Sandi ?” Nancy would say.

“Definitely. It fits the color of his eyes.”

I told them to knock it off, other customers were giving me the look-over. It could have been in envy but just because I was willing (and eager) for an anal fucking from a pretty girl didn’t mean I was considering becoming feminized. But they just giggled even more.

I paid (it was going to be my party anyway, no matter how you looked at it) and after getting the discretely wrapped parcel we headed back to my place.
 
 
 
 

Was I nervous ? Actually yes. I had never done this before outside of my dreams and fantasy and for all the world I didn’t want to come over as woefully inexperienced and apprehensive in front of these two lovable lasses. I searched my memory for all accounts (fictional or not) of this act that I had ever read about. Well, the exact rendering in the stories was of little account, but I was running the basic approach and procedure over in my head : undressing would come first undoubtedly, followed by a discreet but thorough cleansing, lubrication (copious hopefully), (gentle) insertion and then some pleasurable stimulation followed by a climax of some sorts.

I know that sounds detached and impersonal, but that’s what happens when I’m nervous. It wasn’t that I was anxious or timid, far from it, but I didn’t know if I could accommodate the dildo without some painful stretching on the part of my virgin asshole. I sincerely hoped we weren’t going to skip the foreplay. I think I was going to need it.

Sandra, bless her smutty little heart, must have been thinking up her own scenario for this event. “OK Alex, let’s go to the bathroom and get you washed up. This is going to be something special and you’ve got to be clean inside out.” That sounded nice.

We all went upstairs. Sandra told Nancy to draw a bath while I went into the adjacent room with her to undress. “Take off your clothes now and then come along with me,” she told me. I started undressing and watched out of the corner of my eye what Sandra was doing. When I was down to my pants I asked her if she wasn’t going to do the same.

“Don’t worry about me right now. All in good time. You’re first, so just strip. OK ?”

So young and so bossy. It looked as if Sandra was planning on taking charge. That was fine with me, though I would have felt somewhat less exposed if we had all been on equal footing, garment-wise. But one of the girls would have to disrobe and expose the more lovely parts of her anatomy in order to wear the strap-on dildo so I decided to just bide my time.

Needless to say, by the time I was out of my briefs I was stiff and ready. Sandra noticed, (she hardly couldn’t) and grinned knowingly.

“Good, now just come along into the bathroom so we can clean you up a bit.”

“What about you ?” I asked.

“What about me ?”

“Shouldn’t you get undressed too ?” I suggested. “Just a little maybe ?”

“I don’t know. It all depends who’s going to be doing the fucking.”

“Oh, I thought you were….”

“Would you prefer me to do it ?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed ….”

“That I was the bossy one. Right ? Well we’ll see who gets to do the honors. Maybe we should both do you. How would you like that little boy ?”

Now there was a thought. I wondered what the ‘little boy’ stuff was about though. Just her way of showing who was going to be running the show ?

“C’mon, let’s go. Nancy probably can’t wait to get started.”

Neither could I for that matter. Nancy had added a generous amount of bath oil to the water which was bubbling up in a sweet and fragrant swell. It takes a while for my bathtub to fill up though. Sandra asked me where I kept the clyster bulbs we had used last night. I showed her where and she retrieved them.

“Nancy, don’t you think we should clean Alex out, before we stick anything up his behind ?”

Playing along she replied in a mock stern voice : “Certainly, by all means. I know that a good enema would be just the thing. Right ?”

“Right,” Sandra replied. She looked at me : “Right ?”

“Oh, whatever you say…. Hygiene and cleanliness and so on….”

“Especially the ‘so on’.” Sandra took the bulb syringe and studied it. “Is this the largest size you have ?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“OK, why don’t you just sit down while Nancy and I prepare you a good cleansing enema.”

I sat down on the turned down toilet seat while the girls washed the device clean with soap and water. They used a generous amount and were very thorough about it. When that was done they filled the washbasin with warm water and added half a dozen copious squirts of liquid soap. They stirred it up with their hands, causing the milky colored water to foam. I liked to use a lemon scented hand soap and the sweet tart fragrance filled the bathroom.

“Where’s that other stuff you put in ?” Sandra asked.

“You mean the glycerin ? That’s not really necessary.” I said.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Just show me where it is.”

I got the bottle and handed it to her. “Don’t use too much. Just pour some into the bulb itself. Don’t waste it in the sink.”

“Who says I’m going to waste it ?”

There was at least two liters of hot sudsy water in the wash basin. Not an overly excessive amount for an enema, but enough for me. And more than enough for the circumstances.

“Well there’s more water than you’ll need for a little cleaning.” I pointed out.

“I’ll need ? Alex, you’ve got this backwards. You’re the one whose going to get it. Not me.”

“I know, but it’s still ….”

“Just what you need. Now why don’t you just do as I say ? OK ? I’m sure that you’ve squirted more than this up your ass and had a fun time.”

I took the Fifth and played along. Clearly Sandra wanted to take control and have me submit to whatever she had in mind. I didn’t really mind. In fact it was decidedly more fun this way.

Sandra told me to stand up, take hold of both sides of the washbasin and to spread my legs. Nancy had the tube of lubricating cream and began to coat the clyster nozzle with the ointment. She used a generous amount and took her time in rubbing it along the black plastic shaft. Once or twice she looked at me with a gleam in her eye and a smile on her lips. Nancy then squeezed a dollop of the cream onto her fingers. Sandra spread my buttocks while Nancy worked it into my anus.

“Get it inside of him too, Nancy.”

That was an unnecessary suggestion, since I already felt one of her fingers pushing up into me. I relaxed as much as I could to allow her easy access. Once she was past the sphincter muscle she twirled her finger around and pumped in and out. She was somewhat brusque and nervous or else very aroused and unheedful of her excited handling. In any case it was a bit more forceful than I had expected. I hoped this didn’t bode ill for the later activities they had planned for me. A nice gentle buggering by a lovely lady was a pleasant prospect to look forward to. But I wasn’t planning on being impaled or skewered on a plastic prick.

Nancy finished her greasing and breathing heavily she withdrew her finger to wipe it on a towel.

Sandra started filling up the plastic bulb by squeezing out the air and then putting the nozzle into the washbasin in front of me, demonstrably repeating this until the clyster was full.

“All right. You do the first few bulbs. I’ll do the last. OK Nancy ?” Sandra said.

“OK.” She took the clyster from Sandra with slightly trembling hands. While she once again spread my bottom open, Nancy poked around until she got the nozzle up into me. She squeezed the bulb as flat as she could and then withdrew it, allowing air back in. Since she was squirting upwards, the clyster had to filled after each squeeze. Sandra figured out a more expeditious manner of proceeding. She sat down on the bathtub rim.

“C’mon Alex, lay down on my lap, otherwise this is going to take all night. There are more fun things in store for you.” She patted her thighs.

My my. She really knew how to play to my fantasies. I could hardly believe that she was making this up as she went along. Either Sandra had done some serious reading and picture looking or else we had more of a congruently compatible fantasy life than she liked to let on. Or maybe she was just a natural.

Whatever the case I bent over and lay down over her lap. She had opened her legs and by positioning me with her hands she got my stiff prick between her thighs. When it was neatly encased she closed them tightly, provocatively pushing upwards with her groin at the same time. She told me to just look down in front of me while she opened my buttocks for the clyster nozzle.

It was indeed faster in this position, Nancy just having to retract the nozzle between squeezes. The water flowed in easier as well and after half a dozen or more bulbfulls, the washbasin was emptied out. Sandra squirted the last half of the solution into me but I hardy felt the difference.

When it was done she stuck her finger into my anus ‘to plug me up’ until it was time to expel everything. I think she must have rubbed soap on that finger as an added little incentive since it produced an unexpectedly irritating burning sensation and urge to go.

I felt my anus start to pulse around her finger as I consciously resisted the desire to let go. She twiddled around and spread her remaining fingers open along the outside crack of my ass, rubbing and pushing at various places. I tensed up my muscles to ride out the cramping that was beginning to manifest itself. It was nothing severe that I couldn’t control, only I had never done so with anyone else present. I tried to remain dignified and avoid squirming around too much or moaning.

Sandra told me to just wait a little bit longer until the bath was filled up. It took another 5 or 6 minutes. Nancy closed the faucet and Sandra had me get up, but didn’t remove her finger from inside of me until I was almost seated on the toilet.

I sat down and let the water gush out. A blessed feeling of relief. It took a while for everything to be expelled and while I was waiting for the water to make it’s eager way out of me the girls left me alone to complete the task in relative dignity.

That wasn’t the only reason why they had left though. When I was done and ready both of them came back into the bathroom, stripped down to their skimpy undergarments. Now in all fairness, I didn’t see why they had to retain anything on at all. On the other hand they looked simply scrumptious and innocently virtuous.

“OK Alex, all done ?” I nodded. “Good, why don’t you step in the bath now.”

The water was nice and hot, just as I liked it. I slowly sat down, bit by bit acclimatizing myself to the temperature. Nancy sat down on the rim next to me and began soaping a washcloth. She started on my upper body and face, gently but thoroughly washing me all over. She then had me stand up again and washed the lower part just as diligently, if not more so.

Meanwhile Sandra was fooling around the shelves and drawers, obviously looking for something.

“Hey Alex,” she asked. “Where does your wife keep the cosmetics and stuff ?”

“I don’t know. Why ?” I asked while guessing what was coming next.

“I’m looking for some body lotion or facial cream or something…”

“Is yours all up ?”

“No silly, not for me, for you.”

Here we go again I thought. “I don’t need any.”

“How do you know ? Besides, it’s just to rub on you after the bath. You’ll like it. It’ll feel nice and soft.”

“She must have taken it all with her.”

“I’ll bet…just what a girl needs at Base Camp….” Sandra kept on looking around. “Aha, here’s something we can use.” She held up several flasks and a tube or two of something. The stickers were in Dutch so Sandra couldn’t read them. She unscrewed the stoppers and smelled the contents. “Hmmm, this smells good. So does this. What do you think Nancy ?”

She tested the lotions and creams as well. “Nice.”

“If any of this is stuff you shouldn’t put on your skin, now’s the time to tell Alex. We wouldn’t want to rub you in with a depilatory, now would we ?”

I wondered about that. Looking at the labels I saw there was nothing special. Just stuff like Chamomile cream, sea weed extract lotion, cucumber emollient and so forth. Nice smelling, expensive bio goo.

“Sit back down in the tub to rinse off.” Nancy told me.

Finished, I got out of the bath and dried myself, or rather got dried off, Sandra doing the honors. “Turn around now so I can rub you in,” she said. I figured she would keep at it until she got what she wanted. “Hmmm, which one to use ? They all smell so nice…..”

Whichever cream or lotion it was she choose, it certainly felt cool and slippery as she rubbed it in. Luckily she used it sparingly and spread it out all over me, head to toe. Need I say that an un-proportional amount of time was spent on anointing my prick and adjacent region ?

Actually it did feel nice and the lotions were pleasantly fragrant without being overbearing. Odd as it may seem, I only protested when Sandra rubbed my face in as well. She just laughed and told me to stand still.

“It’s only your face, for goodness sakes,” she reminded me. “Why should that bother you more than other parts of your anatomy ?”

I couldn’t answer that one, so I said nothing, letting Sandra do as she wished.

“There now. All finished.” She caressed my backside with her hand.

I suppose that I was ready by now, and stood waiting for what was next.

“Nancy, it’s your turn now. You undress while I clean this little device here.” She held up the strap-on dildo. I took it that this meant Nancy was going to be the active one. Or was going to be given first shot at any rate.

It didn’t take all that long for Nancy to unhook her bra and step out of her panties. She looked me in the eye when she was done, a smile of anticipation on her lips. She came up to me and caressed my shoulders and neck. “Nervous ?”

“A little.” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I know what it’s like the first time.” She gave me a little peck.

Sandra dried off the dildo and turned around towards us. “Fancy that, Alex still an asshole virgin at his age. Well, we’ll soon pluck his cherry.” She handed her friend the dildo. “Time to buckle up.”

The bathroom was clearly going to be much too small for what we had in mind, so we all went into the next room. Sandra drew the curtains and I dimmed the lights.

The dildo was attached to a padded rubber triangle to which a belt and several straps were in turn fixed. Nancy had to spread her legs open to insert the shorter protuberance into her vagina. When it was snuggly fit into her, Sandra fastened the belt around her waist and tightened the straps around her thighs.

“How does it look ?” Nancy asked. She wiggled her hips, making the plastic phallus bob every which way.

“Nice.” I answered, though I wondered if mine wobbled around just as ridiculously.

“Yeah, every girl should have one.” Sandra said. “Let’s get it lubricated.”

She anointed the artificial prick quite copiously and took almost as much loving care as if it were a real one. Then it was my turn. They had me bend over forwards with my hands on the couch while I spread my legs. The lubrication of my orifice went smoothly and was done quite diligently. Sandra spread two different kinds of cream on me : an oilier salve type of cream and over that a water based lubricant. She rubbed it in and worked it deep into my anus, using first one, then a second finger to get it into my insides. The first finger went in easily, the second was a bit awkward and not all that pleasurable.

“OK darling. I guess we’re ready for the big scene : Alex gets royally fucked.” Sandra announced.

“How do you want me ?” I asked.

“Soft and sweet and eager and willing,” she joked.

“Ha ha,” I mocked dryly. “I mean in what position ?”

“Hmmm, why don’t you just lay stomach down on the couch ?”

I assumed that position, cradling my head in my arms. I felt one of the girls spread my thighs open wider. She also had me move around a bit until my behind was more easily accessible. Then she placed a small pillow under me, raising my rear end.

Nancy lowered herself onto the couch, her legs and thighs brushing against mine. I could feel the greased phallus across my buttocks, cool and hard. I shivered in anticipation.

“It will be OK, just relax,” Sandra told me as she kissed the back of my neck and caressed me. She took hold of my buttocks and spread them wide open as Nancy knelt down and placed the dildo up against my anus. She pushed up into me several times, but my hole being so tight and small was not all that easily accessible. The plastic prick slipped away either upwards to the small of my back, or lower pushing into my testicles. The last did not feel so nice. I tried to pull away.

“Sorry, Alex. Did I hurt you ?” Nancy asked.

“Almost. That’s a tender spot you know.”

She tried again several times but it didn’t work all that well. Guiding a real flesh and blood penis into a vagina requires a little bit of practice at least, and then we’re talking about two organs that were designed for coupling up. This dildo buggering was going to take more dexterity than a routine fucking.

“Alex, you’re much too tense. You’ve got to loosen up.” Sandra told me.

“That’s easy to say you know. I’ve never done this before. Aren’t you supposed to start with some foreplay or something anyway ?”

“Not a bad idea. Maybe we should play around with your asshole some more though, loosen it up. Do you have anything smaller we can use ? You know, something smaller than the dildo, but larger than a finger ?”

“Let me think…”

“Haven’t you got a vibrator somewhere ?” Nancy asked.

“They’re just as large,” I replied. “I do have an anal plug though.”

“Great, where is it ?” Sandra said.

I explained where she could find it in the bathroom. Grinning she came back with my personal dilator.

“I knew you had a lot of neat stuff stashed away. What’s this for ?”

“Sometimes I use it to keep myself plugged up while taking an enema. It helps hold the water in.” I said.

“I’ll bet it feels nice otherwise as well. Ever walk around the house with this thing up your behind ?”

I must have given myself away somehow, though I think the lights were too dim to let her see me blush. “You nasty little boy you !” She joked, punching me in the arm. “Does it feel good ? Does it make you wiggle your behind when you walk ?”

“I just use it every now and then.”

“Don’t they always ?” she said to no one in particular.

“It’s true,” I said somewhat untruthfully. “Sometime ago my, aaah…girlfriend cut me with her fingernail when she was in my behind. It hurt real bad so I went to see a doctor. She said it would heal all right but stiffen up if I didn’t regularly exercise and stretch my anal muscles. She gave me one of those dilators to use.”

“That must have been some doctor.” Sandra said.

“Yup, she certainly was.” Now that was a whole story on it’s own.

“You have unexpected sides to you, you nasty little boy. How long ago was it ?”

“Before you were born,” I tried joking.

“Come off it. You’re not that old.”

“Only kidding. It happened when I was at the University. Ages ago.”

“So you’re not the blushing anal virgin you make out to be.”

“Oh yes I am. I’ve never done it with anyone before. And I’ve never used anything larger than this either.”

“Well, let’s see if it fits more easily. C’mon, why don’t you turn over and lay on your back.”

Nancy crawled off the couch and knelt down next to me. The pillow was placed under the small of my back and I spread my thighs open, one leg draped high over the couch backrest, the other pulled up to my chest.

“Maybe Alex would be more relaxed if we engaged in a little foreplay and kissing first,” Nancy suggested. “Would you like that ?”

My heart melted. “Oh God, yes,” I got out before she kissed me. Now if Sandra had been an eager kisser last night then Nancy was positively voracious. She almost devoured me on the spot sticking her tongue deep into my mouth, flicking about and twitching every which way. She took charge with a positive delight and purpose of action.

Meanwhile lower down my anatomy Sandra was applying some more ointment to my no doubt glistening asshole and began to insert the tapering end of the anal dilator. It entered me smoothly but tightly as always. Sandra fooled around with it, pumping in and out, twirling around and turning it in wide circles along the middle of it’s axis, using my anal sphincter as fulcrum point. That was quite clever of her and wantonly lustful as well.

Besides sliding the probe in and out numerous times, she also fiddled around with the lower extremities of my genitals, squeezing the mound of my perineum quite shamelessly, finger rimming my asshole proper and teasing my prick without really ever grabbing it. It was ever so delightful and gratifying. Engaging in this activity could have been an end unto itself as far as I was concerned.

When Sandra decided that I had been prepared sufficiently she put my trusty anal plug aside and told Nancy to try sticking the dildo into me again.

Giving me a final kiss Nancy whispered, “Keep your eyes closed Alex and relax.”

I slid lower into the couch, trying to position my buttocks higher. I breathed deeply and willed my muscles to loosen up. Once again Nancy kneeled between my spread-eagled thighs and pushed the tip of the black plastic prick up against my asshole. Sandra used one hand to guide it straight over target and the other to knead my anus and so hopefully help it distend sufficiently.

Nancy pushed from her hips several times until I bore down in unison with her thrusting and the dildo slid into me. I moaned, half in relief that we had succeeded and half from the powerful sensations the insertion caused. It was partly painful but also wondrously fulfilling and gratifying. I had done it.

Nancy slowly pushed her way deeper into me, gently sliding the shaft up my rectum until her groin was up against my buttocks. She then lowered her upper body onto mine, causing my murderously erect prick to be pressed between both our bellies. I responded by repositioning my legs and crossing them around her hips. Nancy rocked back and forth in slow movements and I was lost in a fog of rapturously wanton desire and lust.

Sandra urged me on as well, touching where she wanted, uttering little inconsequential smutty remarks and encouragements. I could not contain myself and soon felt a pressure build up within me. It started deep in my bowels and spread to my genitals which were throbbing and pulsing with a desire to spurt my semen out in a long hot gush. I orgasmed and felt the fluid flow out of me and cover our bellies.

When Nancy felt the sticky wetness on her body she stopped pumping her hips. “Oh, you’ve come….”

“Uh huh,” was about all I managed to get out between gasps.

“And we didn’t even touch your prick. Oh that’s so sweet of you Alex.”

We lay still for a while, joined together. “Was it nice ?” she asked.

“Yes, very much so. Did you come ?” I asked though I knew she hadn’t.

“That’s not the point of this. I think I would hurt you too much before I finally came.”

That’s what I had been afraid of as well. I was glad they were going to be considerate enough to spare my asshole some wear and tear. “Just tell me how you’d like me to do you.” I offered.

“Well, we’ll see later. Now I think it’s Sandi’s turn.”

“Oh, yeah…sure…” I said realizing that the performance wasn’t over yet.

Nancy retracted the dildo slowly and gently. I was thankful when it slid out and eased the pressure on my anus, however pleasurable it had been. I lowered my legs and stretched out. While I was reposing myself between bouts of buggering (how’s that for an alliteration ?) Nancy and Sandra exchanged the dildo among themselves. They cleaned off the smaller part but left the lubrication on the main shaft. Well, it was going back in the same hole anyway.

I wanted to get up for a towel but the girls told me to just lay as I was, semen covered abdomen and all. Sandra took place between my thighs this time and using small and gradual movements she re-inserted the dildo back into my anus with little trouble.

I was not as aroused as earlier. Actually once I have come, it takes a good while or at least a little sleep for me to be physically eager for some more. The mental side of things is somewhat different since I can always enjoy the imagined pleasures of sex and desire.

This meant that I was somewhat detached from what was happening now. I did not become erect to much of a degree, and being at a remove from the proceedings I was more relaxed and distended and consequently felt little discomfort as Sandra banged away at my bumhole.

I don’t mean to say that I wasn’t enjoying it, I was but just in a different manner. It gave me great pleasure to see how aroused Sandra still was and how much vigor and gusto she put into her fucking. She didn’t lower herself onto me, but remained kneeling upright so she could use one hand to play around under the strap-on, no doubt fingering her clitoris in her preferred fashion. I pinched her nipples and made myself useful in other small ways, encouraging her with words and urging her to come.

I watched gratefully as she shuddered and shook in orgasm, finally falling down limp and bending over, her head on my chest. She was covered in sweat, glistening and shiny in the dim light. I took her head in my hands and kissed her, rubbing her neck and shoulders tenderly, content that she had taken enough pleasure in this act to climax herself. I felt pleased with my performance, grateful that I had been able to accommodate her. I wondered if females felt the same after having their lovers climax inside of them.

Sandra withdrew and lay down next to me. “That was nice, Alex. You should let more ladies fuck you this way. You’ll learn more about sex if you experience it from both sides of the fence.”

We kissed a bit until she drew away. “Now you better take care of Nancy,” she whispered. “She likes to be tongued to orgasm. And don’t forget to stick a finger up her ass either,” she added. Well I had figured and hoped they were something of an item. This confirmed it, much to my satisfaction.

I did my duty to Nancy as well, non too reluctantly I must add and with a pleasing result for all concerned. Her pussy tasted just as good as her mouth and was just as eager and yielding. She climaxed finally, not too silently and very noticeably.

By then we were all exhausted. Our session had taken several hours of intense and fulfilling sexual activities of a quite special nature. Somehow or other we all cleaned ourselves off and I discreetly applied some ointment to my sorely used and ravaged asshole. We then wearily trooped up to my bedroom to quickly fall to sleep.

Before I dropped off, I lay watching the two girls wondering whatever we were going to get into in the days to come. I was certain that it would be fun, though any activity of this nature would be quite impractical when we were on the road. I tried to imagine what could be done in a camping van or under a tent but couldn’t come up with much aside from some good old fashioned fooling around.

All in all, I was pleased that the evening’s fun and games had turned out so well. I had the novel experience of being taken in the behind by two lovely ladies and in turn watching them climax in sexual passion. I did however resolve that in the future I would do whatever I could to come last.