It's Not Fair - Benji's Letters

It's Not Fair - Benji's Letters 2

By Red Rover

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Benji (15 years old)

Dear it’s Not Fair:

When we got to Aunt Janet’s house it was just like every other summer. There was a big round of hugging and kissing and all the girls and women got to fondle my privates and spank my already red bottom a few times. I had to carry all the luggage up to our bedrooms including my pathetic little suitcase which contained a Spiderman T-shirt, a pair of shorts, two sets of underwear, my toothbrush and a few pairs of socks. I just took out my toothbrush and stuck it in the holder in the bathroom and shoved the suitcase under the bed. Not likely I would need anything out of it during my stay.

Aunt Janet looked at me and said, “That boy looks a bit sickly. What he needs is a good enema to clear all the junk food out of his system.”

I asked why my sisters didn’t need cleaning out – they ate just as much junk food as I did.

Aunt Janet snorted. “Girls are different. They don’t need enemas unless they are constipated or something like that. Boys need to be cleaned out regularly.”

So I was marched to the big bathroom and made to kneel down in the tub with my bottom stuck high in the air, my face on the bottom of the tub and my legs spread to expose my butt crack and butthole. Wendy (18) was directed to smear some Vaseline on her fingers and lubricate my rectum to get it ready for the enema hose. She had long fingers and used them enthusiastically to stretch out my anus and thoroughly lubricate my rectum. It took her several tries and more gobs of Vaseline to get me lubricated to her satisfaction. All the other girls gathered around and giggled to see me squirming while her fingers were busy inside my rectum.

Then one of the other girls pushed the enema hose into my rectum until the butt plug engaged so that there was one balloon inside and one outside my sphincter. Then they inflated the two balloons so that my anus was completely sealed. Next, they released the clamp so that about two quarts of warm, soapy water flowed slowly into my colon. Of course, the buildup of pressure inside me was horribly uncomfortable and the girls all thoroughly enjoyed my squirming and moaning. Finally, it was all in and I felt like I would burst, but they clamped off the hose and left me alone for about 20 minutes so that the itchy soap solution could percolate through mu innards.

It felt like my bottom was on fire inside and out when they finally came back, pulled out the hose and inserted a butt plug so I wouldn’t leak before I got to the potty. They all gathered around and “helped” me out of the tub, with a lot of hand-to body contact and groping all over my lower body. They positioned me over the commode, a few inches above the rim and Wendy reached under me and pulled out the butt plug. Then they lowered me onto the seat and told me to “let it all go.”

The noise sounded thunderous and I couldn’t believe how much stuff came out of me. It just kept pouring out and splashing into the commode. Lori was stationed on the toilet handle and flushed several times as the flood continued. Finally, I was emptied out and just basically collapsed on the toilet seat in exhaustion. After a few minutes, the girls picked me up, bent me over and cleaned off my bottom. I protested that I could do it myself, but the girls insisted that “Boys never clean themselves properly”

When I finally stood up, the inside of my colon was still itching, and Janet noticed my twitching.

“Do you still itch inside,” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Well then, we will have to just rinse you out,” she replied, and I groaned. “Back into the tub, little boy,”

So, it was back into the tub for me and we went through the whole process twice more, this time with clear (and cold) water. Finally, I was allowed to leave the bathroom and I was so tired that the girls had to lead me into the living room where they placed me bottom up over the back of the couch.

“Little boy,” Aunt Janet said. “You behaved very badly during your enema. You know it was for your own good. Sharon, go get the strap.”

Sharon (14) left the room and came back with a leather strap about an inch w9inde and two feet long.

“Good girl,” Aunt Janet said. “Now give this naughty little boy a dozen good hard strokes on his pudgy little bottom to remind him to behave himself while he is getting his enemas.”

Sharon was a strong girl and she laid twelve very hard strokes across my battered bottom. Some of them lapped over on my outer hip and two were straight into my butt crack. Of course, I screamed like a banshee when that happened, but nobody came to my rescue and most of the girls giggled and made crude remarks at my antics.

“I think that’s about enough for this session,” Janet said. Put him on the couch face down and we will let him nap until dinner.”

So, she jammed a large butt plug into my anus, laid a heavy towel under my penis, “Don’t want any leaks or spills.” And they left me to cry myself to sleep.

When they woke me up for dinner, it was all I could do to stand up and walk, my butt was so sore. Sharon led me to the dining room and to the little kids table where the kids form 6-10 were sitting. She pulled out a hard wooden chair and said “Sit, Benji.”

The other kids laughed because she said it like she would to a dog. I tried o sit but immediately bounce up because my bottom was very sore, and the end of the butt plug poked up inside me.

“Silly, me.” Sharon said. “I forgot about the plug. Let me pull it out for you, so you can sit down.”

“Not at the table, Sharon,” her mother said sharply. “We don’t need to see that nasty thing while we’re eating. Take him to the bathroom and clean him up first.”

So, Sharon led me to the bathroom, smacking my thighs a few times to hurry me up. I bent over for her and she pulled out the plug, wiped it off with toilet paper and put it into a drawer.

“OK, silly boy, bend over and spread your cheeks good and wide, so I can get you nice and clean.” She commanded. We don’t want to get poop all over your chair.”

Of course, I had to bend over and expose all my most private parts to her while she wiped my butthole with toilet paper and then washed my bottom off with a baby wipe.

“Hmm, looks a little irritated there,” she said. “Hold that position while I get some salve from the other bathroom.”

Naturally, she left the door wide open while I was bent over in the most humiliating way possible. A couple of the younger girls wandered in and giggled at my exposure.

Finally, Sharon came back and rubbed some salve into my most tender parts, including putting her finger into my rectum, which delighted the little girls. Then she marched me back to the dining room and put a folded towel onto my chair and told me “Sit, Benji.” That set the little kids off giggling again and she went back to the “grownup” table.

IT’S NOT FAIR.

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