This subject has been a journey for my wife and me - a journey we're still on. Soon after we started dating, I knew incorporating enemas into our sex life would be a tremendous challenge. She had a very "sorry, but its exit only" attitude whenever any form of butt stuff came up, even me stimulating the outside of her entrance with the lubed tip of my pinky while I went down on her.
The first time I introduced the subject of enemas at all, I was on a business trip a few months after we'd established a serious relationship (but were not yet living together). We were texting back and forth, and I'd let her know I'd not been sleeping well and was otherwise feeling out of sorts (including my anal fissure acting up). She was sympathetic, and responded something to the effect of "Poor baby. Wish I could help." I bit the bullet and quipped something like "nothing an enema, a blowjob, and a nap wouldn't cure." Crickets. Literally no response. Uh oh. I'd shocked her. But at least I'd introduced the subject.
I want to say the next step was immediately when I returned from that trip, but it may have been shortly thereafter. For some reason I was at her apartment alone waiting for her to get off work, and I gave myself an enema and left the bag to hang in her shower. I think I gave her a heads up before she saw the bag that I'd had to give myself an enema because my fissure was acting up and that helped. While her response was sympathetic and not at all judgy, I also sensed elements of "gross", "tmi", etc. She had no questions or curiosity. But at least I'd established that I took enemas occasionally and she'd not freaked out. It started the "I won't ask, you don't tell" phase of our relationship. Subsequent conversations indicated she'd never had an enema and found the idea of having one appalling.
The next big step was after we were married. One morning I asked if she'd help me with my enema because I needed one and my back was hurting too much to do it myself. She said of course but I'd have to tell her what to do. I walked her through it, and I was hoping I would get an erection and prompt the conversation that enemas stimulate the prostate and can be, thus, arousing for me, but that didn't happen. She was obviously feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and I was thus not able to muster anything up during the process. I was probably a bit nervous, too, about her reaction. But I absolutely rubbed one out after I was left alone to expel.
I thanked her and explained that with her helping me I'd found it far more comfortable and easier to relax while taking my enema. That started the routine of her giving me my enemas, and she quickly got far more comfortable with it. After a few of them, I admitted to her that it was turning me on.
I'm surprised I don't remember vividly when I first masturbated while she was giving me an enema, but I am pretty sure that had to have been one of the next steps, and it probably followed pretty closely my admitting the process turned me on. We'd been open about masturbating from the start and did it in front of one another on occasion, so adding that element to my enemas was not as big a step for us as it might have been for others.
She accepted my fetish but made it very clear she had no interest whatsoever in trying it herself. Even the stray fingertip was still unwelcome.
Occasionally I'd suggest giving her an enema when she was having trouble in the bathroom. I was hoping that since she'd now seen that they were not the barbaric, excruciating process she'd envisioned before she started helping me out, she might be open to it, but she always declined. Until one day she didn't.
She'd tried everything from drinking more water and eating more fiber to taking laxatives, but she'd not been able to go. When I said I really thought she needed an enema, she asked if we could compromise with a suppository. I told her I'd of course be willing to help with that, but I asked her to agree to an enema if that didn't work because I suspected she was probably too badly backed up for a suppository to do the trick. She agreed, and the suppository was ineffective, so I finally had a green light to give her an enema.
Finally, I was going to get a chance to show her enemas were not so bad and provided tremendous relief. She'd be more open to them in the future, and might eventually want them as her go to solution when she was feeling sluggish. Heck, maybe she'd even start to find them erotic when she got completely comfortable with the process and over her embarrassment of having me see her in such a vulnerable position and involved with such an intimate and private bodily function.
But that ain't what happened. She freaked the fuck out the instant she started to feel water going in. Absolute panic. I asked her to take a breath and try to calm herself because she'd barely taken anything (seriously she could not have taken more than a 1/4 cup) and would need to take more for the enema to be effective. She tried but, like I said, was in panic mode so as soon as she agreed to try to take a little more and heard the click, she immediately told me to stop and pull out the nozzle. Then she bolted for the toilet. Being as backed up as she was and only taking 4-6 ounces of warm water, she did not get much relief at all, and the process only served to reinforce her negative feeling about taking enemas.
So we settled into a detente that lasted for years where she was perfectly willing to give me enemas but was absolutely unwilling to take them. As klismaphiles go, I was far luckier than most in that I had a partner I adored who would regularly give me enemas and eventually give me simultaneous hand jobs, blow jobs, or, with the aid of a retention nozzle and double-length hose, have sex with me while doing so.
At some point I installed a bidet seat with enema function in our bathroom, and she tried it when she was feeling a little backed up. To our surprise, she liked it. She didn't feel the panic about having an accident or embarrassment of me helping her, and it provided a little relief. She started using that very regularly, and I was hopeful it would get her used to the idea of filling up with warm water and, thus, more open to the idea of me giving her enemas, but that has been slow going.
The next time she took a real (if small) enema was when she was pregnant with my son. She had pregnancy constipation, and agreed to take a series of small enemas from a bulb. She took one, got a little relief, and told me that was all she needed, despite having agreed to take at least 3 to make sure she was properly rebooted. She still strongly disliked the process, but she didn't panic like she had 5 years earlier when she'd taken her first. Though she admitted it had not been that big a deal and she did get some much needed relief, it would be more than 10 years before she'd agree to take another.
That happened a few years ago when we were on vacation, and she was struggling with travel constipation. With our friendly bidet unavailable and, nothing else having worked, she agreed to let me give her a disposable enema. I bought a 2-pack in case the 1st did not get the job done. I first warmed it up by placing it in a sink full of very warm water, and she took it like a champ, held it for 5 minutes, and had great success right off the bat. The irritating chemicals kept working on her, and she made several more trips to the bathroom that day. By that night, she felt tremendously better and thanked me profusely.
I brought the 2nd enema home with us, and it sat around for a couple of years as an available nuclear option she was at least a little more open to consider if the bidet was not helping. She was still very reluctant, but a few months ago, that time came, and it did not take that much convincing to talk her into taking it, with much the same result as she'd had on our trip. She was still not enjoying the process, but seemed to be accepting it as a very effective and not unbearable solution.
Then just a few weeks later, which was only about two weeks ago now, she was again having trouble. I suggested I give her a little enema from my bag since we were now out of the disposable chemical enemas. But in her mind the disposables worked much better because both times she got great relief from them and she'd experienced less relief when I'd given her warm water (well, duh, she'd hardly taken any water and hadn't held it for any length of time at all). I was going to the store later that day and asked if she'd like me to pick up a couple of disposables, and she responded (this was by text) "Yes, please! Thanks!"
They only had the "extra volume" version in stock (the regular sizes of both the store brand and national brand were on sale for a good price), so I got 2 of those. I was actually glad about that because I figured the extra volume (still less than 8 ounces) would probably help her a little more, it would get her used to taking a little bit bigger enema without realizing it (I did not plan to mention it becuse she'd immediately get in her head about it and claim she couldn't take it all), and the process of giving her the enema, which turns me on tremendously, would take just a little more time. I was semi erect the rest of that grocery store trip and all the way home thinking about giving her an enema.
Fortunately for her she'd had some good relief in the meantime from using the bidet and no longer needed an enema. Sure, I was disappointed I'd not get to enjoy giving her an enema, but I was, of course, very glad she felt better. Plus, it had taken very little convincing to have her agree to the enema, which I thought a good sign.
Flash forward less than two weeks. This is just a couple of days ago - late Friday afternoon. I am trying to wrap up my day working from home, and she is upstairs getting ready to go out. We had a date night planned - an early dinner before seeing a musical afterwards. Out of the blue, she calls me and asks if I'll come upstairs because she is feeling uncomfortable and wants me to give her an enema before we go out. Over 19 years of marriage, and she just actually asked me, for the first time, to give her an enema. All of her prior enemas had been at my suggestion.
I suggested again a water enema from my bag instead because the chemical enema might make her crampy all night, but she'd made up her mind. I'm not going to say she took the extra volume without noticing, because she did mention that she was struggling to take it. I told her she certainly didn't have to take it all, but that it would help her more if she did and that if she breathed deeply, tried to relax, and let what she'd taken so far work its way up into her, she'd probably find she could do it. She did that and took the rest of the bottle. She held it as long as she could and got a ton out right off the bat. Unfortunately, as I'd feared, the chemicals made her feel crampy, and we ended up canceling our dinner plans. She had to hit the restroom several more times before we left for the theater, and her stomach continued to bother her through the show.
Discussing it at various times that night, she agreed that the chemical enema just before going out for the night was not ideal (even if effective), and she seemed to warm up to the idea of taking warm water enemas sooner when she feels herself getting backed up or even as a periodic preventative measure rather than waiting until she's desperate and relying on the crampy chemical enemas. We'll see how it goes, but her recent willingness to consider enemas has me hopeful that the situation will continue to evolve in a positive way.
In the meantime, I am greatly looking forward to the enema and blow job we have planned for me this afternoon. As I mentioned, I'm pretty darn lucky for a klismophile.