Having been an enema enthusiast since my mid-twenties, I had long heard about the virtues of the so-called inflatable nozzle nozzle. It has been a staple of dramatic enema stories, a tool that routinely reduces the recipient to a quivering, multi-orgasmic fool. I have also collected pictures showing its use in a variety of situations, admiring especially those featuring attractive young ladies giving and receiving this exotic treatment. The basic design of the legendary instrument enables one to inflate remotely a cuff-like fixture on the nozzle after insertion to prevent leakage and assist in the efficacy of retention enemas. I have always wanted to try one, but they were simply too expensive for me to justify for solitary, fugitive enema sessions - especially after I got married.

As luck would have it, though, I discovered a viable alternative on a popular Internet auction site. Apparently, disposable inflatable nozzle-type "enema kits" for hospital delivery of Barium solutions could be had - for a fraction of the price of the original article! Well this proved irresistible, and I soon became the proud possessor of brand new inflating-nozzle enema kit. Upon arrival, I quickly stowed it away in a secure pocket of my suitcase so that I could try it out during my next solo business trip.

The next scheduled trip was to a trade fair in Frankfurt, Germany. Being something of a Teutophile, I never seem to have jet lag when I get there because there is always so much to see, do and eat. This trip, of course, had another bonus in store. My flight landed around 6:10 in the morning, and I knew that it would take me a couple hours to get checked in to my suburban hotel and back to the fairgrounds for a full day of work - in other words it was going to be a long day before the fun would start. After a full work day and a nice light supper with local friends, I was back and ready to roll about 9:00pm.

Mind you, this is on top of a short night on board the plane. I suspect that all the physical exertion and my increasing fatigue had something to do with what followed. When I returned to my room, I stripped out of my suit, assembled my toys, poured a drink, lit a cigar and took a quick glycerin suppository to start the process.

It was only after I unwrapped the device that I noticed that the bag would hold 3000cc, about three quarts - an added bonus! What a treat to not have to stop, fiddle with a refill tottering above a full belly. I proceeded to test the bulb, making sure that everything was in working order. Satisfied that the kit was ready - lubed and half-filled with a thick, hot soapy mixture - I hung it on the bathroom door hook (a good two meters off the floor) and realized that the extra-long hose would enable me to coil it around my leg, giving me easy access to the clamp. I pulled out some great, thematically appropriate visual material and a smooth, curved vibrator to help me relax my sphincter and anus and started to massage my prostate. I have become very good at bringing myself to certain erotic "plateaux." This enables me to gradually build up to the enema, making sure that I am at a balanced level of peak sensitivity and relaxation.

After a good thirty minutes or so of prep, I topped off the bag with super hot water and made the first insert of what would become a memorable night. The kit has a larger sized nozzle head than the normal douche pipe, and about twice as thick as an average enema pipe. It was drilled with several large holes, making lubrication more important than before. When it was suitably planted in my anus, I then inflated the cuff, and my prick sprang to life while the anticipation in my belly became palpable: churning with anxious anticipation, I had to cool off before I let the water flow! The water pressure from the great elevation was too much to take at first, so I had to pinch the hose several times during the first minute or so and take a few "breathers." The water was also extremely hot, and I had burst out in sweat all over.

When I had regained my wits, I screwed up my nerve and let it rip. In the next hundred seconds or so, my reflexive anal twitching - what I call the "big gulp" - became repeated and rhythmic. I then felt what can only be described as an electro-magnetic ripple slowly traverse the length of my body, from my curled toes to my ears - and then back again. My breathing became more mechanical, and I began to loose my hearing. The next sensation was something akin to either weightlessness or paralysis: I had no sense of my physical position, whether I was on my knees or back or side. The hot water spraying my prostate gland combined with those increasingly strident muscular reflexes fused into full-force ejaculatory action - all this without any stimulation to my penis. The climax, consisting of rhythmic ball-draining pumping, continued until the enema bag was flat. My urethra was sore from the sheer volume of semen that had shot through it: more than ever before. The feeling of being frozen at the end of a hose while you are shooting your guts our of your dick are indescribable. I had taken all three quarts and felt as though I had discharged another three of semen on the towel before me. The pool of cum was, in a word, prodigious.

I had become the huffing and quivering fool just as the stories had described! And although it took me a long time to expel, when I was finally ready for the next bagful, I thought it would have been pretty difficult to repeat that performance. But, lo and behold, the same thing happened: the force of the water and the pressure of the cuff delivered another huge, howling, 90-second fountain of come shooting out of my dick in regular, rhythmic blasts. What with all the grunting and flushing sounds emanating from my room, I could only wonder what the neighbors thought!

I decided to test the adage that "three's a charm," so about two hours after I settled in for the evening, I had my third wrenching orgasm, and while the volume of ejaculate had decreased substantially, I discovered that seven hours later, when I gave it another go before breakfast, the volume was right back up there. I was able to work the fair with huge smile on my face during the second day, even though my dick-hole was sore as Hell and I was little achey in some of my joints and muscles. All in all, I returned home after having another four inflatable nozzle-induced climaxes, and went nearly a week without feeling the "itch." Needless to say, my little plastic inflatable nozzle kit has become a favorite traveling companion.