TUESDAY
We had lunch on his balcony, the two of us sitting there in shorts and shirts like a father and son on holiday. Then after we'd had a read and a brief snooze in the afternoon heat, he woke me by tapping me on my knee. I opened my eyes and he was leaning over me in his shorts, bare-chested, smiling.
"Let's start," he said.
I smiled back, nervous, and got up. I followed him into the room, which was cool from a metal fan whirring away on a side-table.
He led me into the bedroom.
"Okay," he said. "Alex, just take off your clothes and lie on the bed."
I obediently undressed, removing my shirt, shorts and briefs, and then I lay down, naked. It was oddly like going to the doctor, except that no doctor had ever asked me to strip naked.
I looked up at him, docile and curious and excited.
"You probably know a lot about women's bodies," he said. "More than I do, I'm sure, and what I know comes from what I've read or what I've been told, not from personal experience. But I can tell you that the male body has a lot of erogenous zones. You know what they are?"
"Yeah," I said. "Places that are easily stimulated."
"Exactly," he said. "It varies from person to person, but for pretty much everyone it's the lips . . ."
He touched my lips with his finger.
"The genitals . . ."
He stroked my semi-erect cock and I gave a little gasp. He parted my legs slightly stroked between them and I quivered and sighed.
"Then there's the perineum, which I see in your case is unusually sensitive . . ."
I nodded, blushing.
"Now roll over."
I rolled onto my belly and he kneaded my buttocks gently.
"And the buttocks," he said.
"Mmmm," I agreed. He laughed, and then his fingers brushed the cleft of my buttocks and I gasped again.
"Then there's the anus," he said, pushing a finger between my warm buttocks, slightly damp with sweat, and touching my arsehole. I squirmed gently, rubbing my cock into the mattress.
"Some people don't feel pleasure from anyone else touching their anus, but clearly you do," he said. "That's rare and valuable. Your anus is obviously a major erogenous zone for you."
"Yes," I gasped, wanting him to do more.
"There's also another very important one inside your anus," he said, "but before we get to it, we have to make sure that you're clean. Did you use the bathroom after lunch?"
"Yes," I said, blushing a little. "I'm very regular."
"Good," he said, "but we want to make sure you're really clean, and I think that you're not unfamiliar with how we're going to do it. Put this on and let me do the work."
He handed me a cheap, navy blue nylon sleep mask of the kind you can buy in airports.
"Why?" I asked.
"I want you to start focusing your attention to inside your rectum," he said. "Blindfolding is a good way to do it."
"All right," I said and put it on.
"Plus," he said, "I like blindfolding naked men and doing naughty things to them." I giggled and blushed. I felt very vulnerable, lying prone and naked on John's bed.
"This is going to test your muscular control as well as clean you out," he said. "I'm going to give you an enema."
"Ooohh," I sighed.
"And when you feel full I want you to hold it in as long as possible. I have a bedpan you can use to empty yourself into but only when I tell you, all right?"
"Okay," I said, feeling apprehensive and more than a little embarrassed.
"Here's the tube," he said, and he smeared some gel around my anus and then I felt him pushing at me with a piece of something like plastic hosing.
"Mmm," I grunted in protest.
"Take it," he insisted.
"Ohh god," I gasped as I forced myself to relax, and he fed the tube into my rectum.
"I'm going to turn it on now," he said. "I'd like you to tell me how it feels so I can gauge how full you are."
"Okay," I said, "nothing yet . . . still nothing . . . still nothing . . . ooohhh, there it is . . . ohhhh . . . oh god it's really filling me up, I . . . ohhh, don't know if I can take anymore . . . ohh, John, please, no more, that's enough . . ."
"A little bit more," he said.
"Please," I begged, "I don't want to mess up your bed, I . . . ahhhh fuck, I . . . ooooh . . . ooooh, oh god, I . . . ooooh! Please!"
"Okay," he said and I felt the unbelievable volume of fluid in my bowel stop growing, and the tube was gently removed. The pressure was intense and it was incredibly humiliating. I was shaking with the effort of keeping my anus tightly shut and stopping what felt like about a gallon of now-dirty water from squirting out all over John's clean sheets.
"There," he said. "That's about a pint."
"That's only a pint?! God, it feels more like a gallon. Ohhhh . . ."
"Plenty of women have this every day," he said mildly. "They just call it colonic irrigation."
"Just tell me when I can use the bedpan, okay?" I pleaded.