Just a little more. Almost done.

Who else got an enema when someone told you this, and your bowels about to explode? A mom, Aunt, or Grandma telling you that " almost done ", along with just a bit more, or being told that that the last of the enemas does the best good.

I got lots of encouragement to take just a little more. Anyone else, and what did they say to you ?

This is a fondly remembered moment in enemas from my giver. I’d be on my left side in his bed and hear him say, “You’ve almost taken it all, honey,” and then feel him hold the nozzle in my bottom with one hand as he lifted the can with the other, bringing the last of the water in.

Shortly after, he’d very gently remove the nozzle, get into bed next to me, and begin massaging my abdomen with his warm hands. While this was always for an IBS attack and often hurt some at first, he was very good at relaxing my trouble spots and would soon have me comfortable. I loved his touch and his encouragements.

My wonderful colon hydrotherapist used, sadly she is no longer working, to hold my hand and massage my tummy whilst filling me and yes she would ask "do you think you could take a little more?".

There was no question about when I released. She was the judge of that. She would maintain the clamp on the discharge line until she was ready and with the CSRE-2.75 colonic speculum enhancement nozzle implanted I wasn't going anywhere!

Then it was the same thing all over again, several times, until she achieved her goal - the cecum flush

Mom was quite vocal during those childhood enemas. Those words and many other phrases became happy ending triggers for me. After filling me with the bulb syringe, my late wife would insist that I hold the enema until her slow stroking produced the desired result. Asking me repeatedly if the enema feels good, or telling me about how she needs a good one too was all it took.

When mom gave me an enema with the bulb syringe, there wasn’t a specific number of bulbs that I needed to take. I was allowed to tell her when I was full and it wasn’t always the same number of bulbs that made me feel full enough to ask her to stop. Sometimes if she felt I didn’t take as much as she thought that I should, she would encourage me to try one more, and sometimes I would try another one but if I said that I couldn’t take anymore, we were done. I guess not being forced to take a specific amount is one of the reasons why I liked those enemas.

As kids growing up in the nineteen fifties, mom, grandma, and our teenage aunts, all gave us enemas using a two-quart douche/enema bag. The first enema I can remember getting, was from my grandmother, when I was around four or five years old. She was sitting on a bench, against a wall in the bathroom, and I was laying naked across her lap. If I turned my head, I could see the bag hanging on the wall, and its red hose leading to the nozzle buried inside me.

We never knew, how much soapy or rinse water was in the bag, until around age eight. However, in some respects, it really didn't make a difference. Because, as a rule, we had to try an empty the bag. If we couldn't, and asked them to stop, they stopped. However, if they thought we hadn't taken enough, the enema was repeated. Even after we knew how much was in the bag, it didn't change the fact, we had to try and finish it, if we could. That being said, my siblings and I, never really had a problem emptying the bag.

The soapy enemas we received, weren't as large, as the rinse enemas afterwards. They were always a little larger, and if they thought we hadn't taken enough, we got another one. Growing up, I can remember hearing, "Just a little more." More times, than I care to think about, during either a soapy or rinse enema.

My mom would say honey we are almost done you will feel so much better after it's over. I would be usually fussing and crying and maybe yelling. No No No Oh No... . I have to go now... My mom said almost honey. You are doing so good I am proud of you. Ok that is it let's get you on the potty now. Sitting on the toliet it felt like my butt was about to explode which caused me to cry and try to hold it in. my mom said let it all out sweet heart. She would coach me though it telling me I was a good boy as my behind exploded.

I would say " Mommy please let me go to the bathroom I have to go bad, Please Mommy!" She would say hang on just a few more! That turned out to be another 3 or 4 enema syringes. As I was kicking and screaming !!! Please I have to go!!!

I always got bulb enemas from my mom on my back legs up. There was never a count or definat amount of enema to be taken to my knowledge.

The enema continued until I said I was full and had to go. Most of the time mom would talk me into a few more bulbs full by saying you don't want to have a second enema do you??

Looking back as I got older. A sec9nd enema would have been great!

My Mom always used the standard red enema bag with soapy water. I always had to take all of it. As the cramps got really bad I would say I can't take any more. Mom would always say you are almost done which meant I knew I had to take all of it regardless of the cramps or how much was left. Those crsmping enemas could really clean me out.

I was always required to take the full amount in the bag, no matter how much I complained that it was giving me bad cramps and I couldn't take any more. My mother just told me to take slow deep breaths through my mouth to ease the cramping and she squeezed my buttocks together tightly to prevent any leaking. The first time she used the enema bag on me was at 4 years old and she used 1 pint. Then every 3 years she increased the amount by 1 cupful until she started giving me a full 2 quarts at 22 years old.

When I felt full getting my enema, naked, over my mother's lap from the bag hanging on the shower curtain rod, she would say, "Take short, quick breathes, pant like a doggy." I never knew how much I got. She had a folding travel bag which always looked SO full. My profile pic is a similar bag; hers was pink with white tubing.

My goodness, I remember vividly my mom telling me to just take a little more for her. I was usually very quiet during these, but if I cramped I would moan and she'd stop until the cramp passed.

I’m 74 years old but my wife and I play the mommy and little baby boy pretend when I’m getting enemas on our bed. She gives me a two quart clean out enema then when that one has been released, we fill a three quart bag and the two quart bag again. She will coax me through the three quart bag until it’s empty and make me hold it for a while. She will drain some of it into a bag on the floor then she will put the two quart bag nozzle in my bum and start the flow. Of course I’m telling her to stop throughout both enemas and saying I’m full and can’t take any more. She tells me I have to take the whole last bag. She is playing with my little boy parts the whole time and when the last bag is emptying into me, I have a super orgasm.

You Easy3 are a very fortunate man! All the best to you and your wonderful wife.