Fifth Anniversary

Trina stood in the bathroom, staring at the enema bag Tom held so carefully, like it was a bouquet of roses.

"Are you sure we have to do this?" Her voice trembled. She shifted from foot to foot, wrapped in her short robe.

"Baby, it's just water. Warm water. You won't even feel it." Tom stroked her cheek. "Five years, Trin. Five years I've been dreaming about this. Give it to me."

She bit her lip. Lay on her side on the bath mat, pulling her knees to her chest. Tom lubed up the nozzle with Vaseline.

"Breathe, girl. Relax."

The first trickle went in—Trina flinched, hissed.

"It stings... Tom, that's enough..."

"Just bear with it a little longer, half a bag more."

"No... no, take it out!" She whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "It hurts, it really hurts!"

"Shh, shh. Almost done. Breathe through your mouth, like in yoga."

He didn't stop. The water filled her bowels, her lower belly aching, cramping, twisting. Trina cried quietly, burying her face in her bent arm.

"There, there, that's my good girl. Now it all comes out."

She hobbled to the toilet, and it all came out. Humiliating, wet, disgusting. But Tom was already leading her to the bedroom.

"Lie on your back, bend your knees."

"I don't want to anymore, please..."

"Shh. I'm just going to eat you out. The way you like it."

He settled between her legs, pressed his lips to her clit. His warm tongue slid over the swollen nub. Trina arched, whimpering—but this time differently. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

"Oh... just like that..."

He licked slowly, teasingly, until her thighs started to tremble. Then he wet his finger with saliva and gently pressed it against her tight asshole.

"No!" She jerked away.

"Easy, easy. I'm going slow. Very slow."

His finger pressed, slipped inside to the first knuckle. Trina cried out, clenching so hard he could barely move.

"It hurts! Take it out!"

"Breathe, Trin. Don't clench up. You're making it hurt yourself."

A second finger joined the first. He pressed, stretching her.

"Don't... don't, please!" She was sobbing now, tears streaming down her face, the pillow soaked.

Tom stayed silent. His fingers pushed stubbornly deeper, spreading the tight ring. Trina writhed, tried to crawl away, but he held her hip.

"Bear with it, girl. It'll get easier in a second. You'll feel it yourself."

"I don't want to! It hurts! Tom, please stop!"

He leaned down and touched her clit with his tongue again. Not stopping the movement of his fingers.

"There... ride your pleasure. Don't fight it."

Through the tears, through the burning and stretching, she suddenly felt a sweet ache bloom low in her belly. Her body was betraying her. Her clit pulsed under his tongue, and inside her, two fingers were already moving more freely.

"See?" Tom whispered. "You're taking me now."

He crooked his fingers, pressed against her front wall. Trina sobbed and arched—this time from sharp, unexpected pleasure.

"What... what is that?.."

"Well, this," he smiled, "is your spot. This is what it was all about."