Good Lord! I know my mother “wasn't right” in the head in a lot of ways, and the form of her post historic problems were a paranoid schizophrenia with a Religious Delusion…. And I became a focus of that delusion because I was so “different” in so many ways. But I know her mother had given her and her sisters enemas OFTEN, and that both would NEVER admit to liking them…. But having spied on both either taking one, or getting one from the other. And they became the default for ANY sort of health issues, constipation not the least. This was usually determined by how long you had been in the bathroom. With me…. That tended to be FAR OVER HALF the times I was in the bathroom. I would hear my mother lurking at the door, and then asking in a concerned way “Are you OK?”/“Is everything OK?” Followed immediately by “Do you need some help?” After a brief exam, a choice of enema or suppository was offered… At least at the first memories. But often it was out with the bag, filling it, and sometimes adding glycerine or soap, but usually just plain water (I later had it explained to me by my cousin that those were added because they “Helped to make the enema more effectIve.” And that she eventually just asked her mother to always include it, saying I should too, which I did not then understand. The “Effectiveness” she was referring to turned out to be not just emptying her colon, but increasing her arousal. She was right); then hanging the filled bag on the medicine cabinet hook (for that purpose); putting me on the counter (almost always left side), and uncermoniously inserting the nozzle followed by a simultaneous “click” that started the enema filling me. It did not take long for me to begin shouting “TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH! STOP! STOP! TOO MUCH!” Producing the inevitable response “You havent even taken enough of the enema for it to work. You need to be able to take more before I am even going to let you try to go. And if I let you, and you cannot go, or do not have very much come out… We are going to keep repeating this until I do not feel anything inside you.”
And so on…. I was interested in the urgency they produced, which resulted in the events that led to both even more frequent enemas, and my learning to take more of it at a time. Although then I discovered that being able to take a whole bag meant missing out on the repeated insertions and fillings. That event was sneaking an enema myself. My mother somehow knew, and the next Saturday I woke-up to my mother giving me n enema, and looking very pissed off, saying “The enema bag is not a plaything. If you’ need one tell me. But since you’ wont, I will just decide if you need one, every day.” While it wasnt every day, it was often, usually every other. And that was in addition to if I stayed at my grandmother or aunt”s. But that frequency continued until I was about 12, when there was a brief increase for getting caught sneaking enemas again. Added to that were those I began doing with friends who had heard me getting an enema, and recognized the sounds from getting enemas themselves. While these were vastly more numerous on any given day we could sneak-off to ”Play,” It was usually only a couple of times a month. Those from Mom, Grandmother, or Aunt continued until I was about 16 or 17. A later girlfriend who was a psychologist said that in addition to their own suppressed kinks, the fact that I looked so young, even in my teens, probably contributed to their continued attention, as they would have to consciously think “Oh! He is 16 or 17 isnt he, when he only looks like he is 12 or 13… MAAAYBE I am taking this too far?” (And probably until the last ones from each: “But since I already have everything prepared, and he is here and not complaining… I guess this one time wont hurt.”)
So… Hundreds per year from very young to about 12 or 13 (Including from Mike and Brenda for three or four of those years)….. Thousands would be accurate to about 17. And with the number of girlfriends or boyfriends I managed to encounter who were equally interested from the age of 14 or 15 (When we moved away from where Mike & Brenda lived, and then she moved to NYC after having been accepted at Juilliard… I encountered only two or three with whom I could indulge things. And sadly not very often. Although the frequency of times able to indulge with others was always compensated by the quantity of enemas involved)…. The number dropped to only a few a month. Although I have to admit to a much higher quality of participants and enemas due to both the level of interest equal to or exceeding my own, and due to many of those participants having access to equipment that was intended more for sexual application than any excuse for health cited for enemas. One girl had about four JBL bags. Fill all four with different things and you can get a very diverse experience depending upon how long you sit on each.
Sucks that I had to screw-up so many of these relationships, and was less motivated to manipulate my mother or aunt th way my cousin was (Technically I got caught “Playing with the enema” every time I tried to, about a dozen times, with what became a predictable reaction from my mother of giving me enemas she considered punishment that I only found to be at first. So only about half of those times was I actually trying to “Get away with it without getting caught.” I have no fucking idea how she knew I had used it given how careful I was most of those times. But of the last few the covertly self-given enema really had no intent of hiding. The whole point was to trigger my mother’s reaction).
She also stopped giving them to me as by my mid-teens our relationship had become decidedly violent. But when we reconciled when I was in my late-30s to early-40s, I remember her commenting one time “I think maybe I gave you too many enemas. Some maybe for the wrong reason. I hope that it hasnt caused you any problems.” I couldnt really say anything but “Nah! It seemed pretty normal for that time.” It didnt occur to me to ask “You didnt happen to keep count of how many you gave me , or your mom o sister? I might need to know that in the future for others who are curious abou’t comparing experiences.”
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