My wife is kind of short – just over five feet tall. Although she says that she is “five feet and a half” what she really means is five-feet and one half inch. She is generally well proportioned and has always had a “killer” ass. I noticed her great butt the first night that I saw her.
After a few dates we started to become more and more intimate. I found that I could hardly keep my hands off her butt. She apparently liked the attention and never complained about the frequent grabs except when we were in public situations where she was sure that somebody could see us. She has always liked body rubs and I usually pay a lot of attention to her back – especially her lower back.
During sex, Barbara occasionally took the upper position. I liked this for a variety of reasons that included the free access to rub and explore her ass. Although she tolerated the rubbing and caressing, when I tried to go a little further, like a slight finger insertion, she always rejected the idea and generally acted ‘turned-off’ by the action. I brought up the subject of anal sex a few times but was immediately rebuffed. She had no interest in it and would not even discuss it at any length.
Eventually we decided to try to have a baby. At first this consisted of her stopping the “pills” and our just having sex as we had always done. After a few months, however, it was obvious that nothing seemed to be happening. Barbara went to the gyno and got checked out – everything seemed OK. I went for a check and all appeared normal. The doctor suggested a sperm count and this was a fun excuse for Barb to give me a nice hand-job. The sperm count showed normal results. Eventually, the doctor suggested that we “Track her cycle” and time our sex to coincide with the “most fertile times.” We had to learn how to do this. It consisted of our taking her temperature every morning before she got out of bed. Then plotting the temperatures on a chart and looking for dips and rises in the graph. The really fun part was that it had to be a rectal temperature.
I was in heaven. Every morning when the alarm clock went off, I would lube up a thermometer, apply a small dab of KY to Barbara’s’ rosebud and then insert and hold the thermometer for three minutes. She always lay on her tummy while this was happening. I had fun – she didn’t seem to mind much and was actually kind of anxious for success in getting her pregnant.
On a couple of occasions, while waiting for the thermometer to “time out” I reached under her crotch and massaged her clit. At first she resisted this but soon gave in and rode my hand to an orgasm. I was hoping that she would somehow connect the thermometer in her ass with a good orgasm and loosen up a bit on the anal sex subject. No such luck. The temperature plotting and timed sex eventually worked, Barb got pregnant and nine months later we had a brand new son.
I’ve had only two occasions to “administer” Fleets enemas to her, once a couple of years before she got pregnant and once about a year and a half ago. On both occasions, the enemas were to relieve constipation and consisted of a mineral oil enema followed by a clear water-cleansing enema. Both occasions were much too clinical for my liking. After trying to force herself to go, she tried laxatives that didn’t work. When the discomfort continued to build she gave in to my “horrible” suggestion and submitted to the ordeal. Both times it went something like this: I went to the local drugstore and picked up the supplies, a Fleet mineral oil and a Fleet cleansing (disposable) enema. Barbara was dead set against buying an enema bag and having “something like that around the house,” to use her words. Although the instructions on the package suggest that the recipient lay on their left side, I convinced Barb to lie flat on her tummy to allow the solution to run in and be effective. I was able to get her to put a pillow under her hips to raise her up a little – wow, what a sight. After some coaxing and discussion we arrived at the moment of truth. I applied a little KY to her pretty pink rosebud and slowly inserted the mineral oil enema tip. I tried to squeeze the bottle as slowly as I could so as to prolong my pleasure at both seeing and doing this. Once the mineral oil was all in, I reluctantly removed the enema tip and then she was supposed to wait for “the urge.” I suggested that I do one of my famous “reach under” clit rubs but she firmly declined.
After what seemed like only a very few minutes, Barb said that it had worked and excused herself to the bathroom to discharge the oil and whatever else came along with it. After she was done, I reminded her that the instructions strongly suggested that she take a water-cleansing enema to clear out all the remaining oil. Again she resisted. She said that the oil had done its job and she didn’t need any more attention “back there.” I read the instructions on the box to her and she reluctantly lay down on the bed again. I repeated the process and the offer again. This time she was up and back into the bathroom in what seemed like record time. The subject of enemas has not come up again until very recently.
We continued on with our lives and our very normal sex. Recently, however, I had a personal health crisis that was a little scary. I had to have some minor surgery to remove a cyst from my chest. The doctor had explained that this was pretty routine and that it would be done as a “same day surgery.” But, when they put me under, I had a severe reaction to the anesthesia. My Blood pressure went off scale low, my heart rate climbed and I was unable to wake up. The doctors and nurses did all the right things and I soon responded to their treatment.
Instead of “same day” the hospital stay extended to three days. While I was still in the recovery room, the doctor met with my wife and explained everything to her. Although I’m sure he was trying to be reassuring, he did scare her quite a bit when he asked her if I had a will and if I had a living will and did she know where these documents were. It kinda scared me too!
Well, I lived. While I was in the hospital, Barb and I had a couple of long talks about our lives and the impact of this latest scare. We were in agreement that life is way too short and we should try to enjoy this last third of it as best we can. We resolved to take more time for vacations and to “see the sights” that were within our reach. Then, out of the clear blue sky she said, “I’ve been thinking about that thing that you always wanted to do. I’ll be willing to try it once if it means that much to you.” At first I didn’t know what she was talking about. I must have had a confused look on my face. She looked around to be sure that we were alone, then leaned over and whispered into my ear: “You know, having sex in my butt.”