Did you easily accept being given enemas as a child?

I could never get used to these enemas back then. The number was manageable and, in retrospect, probably necessary. Mom knew about my dislike. She used this very cleverly in her educational methods. A threat of an enema was enough. With two or three exceptions.

Well tbh I didn't at first, but as I got older I started to like them more..they gave me comfort afterwards. as well as maybe arousal so I could get relief before I went to sleep.

mom always knew how to give them in a way that was arousing, Dad on the other hand was kinda rough which deep down I sorta liked too

I can't say exactly when I first had enemas. But by the time I started school, there had already been quite a few. My mother noticed my aversion and occasionally used them as a disciplinary tool. I didn't really like it, though. What did she achieve with that? I see it now.

I don't remember disliking enemas. The first ones were given on a table and latter over mom's lap. Constipation was painful for me and would do anything to relieve my bowels. Once I reached my teen years I gave myself enemas using mom's 8 oz bulb.

I didn’t like them until about 10 years old. I started doing them when I was home alone. I liked to squeeze the enema bag and feel the water rushing in to me. I liked to feel them hurt. I didn’t protest when my mom said that I needed one. At 13 I was giving myself an enema and moving the nozzle around and started feeling so amazing.

I had an orgasm and from that moment on preparing the enema would get me so hard knowing that wonderful feeling would happen again soon.

Absolutely no, I fought like he'll as my mother and a neighbor held me down and forced the nozzle in me, for some reason that's why I have this enema fetish

As a child they were a pain of life not worth fighting over, the faster it was done, the faster you were back doing whatever..... after it was something every one was afflicted with, sports were more interesting, and then the big discovery, they were also connected to a forbidden pleasure and doing those, you weren't getting dirty..... oh yes...bring them on....

As a young boy, I fussed and whined and sometimes cried when mom told me that she was going to give me an enema. As an older child and teen, I complained, argued, and tried to talk my way out of the enema. None of these tactics worked. At best, they momentarily delayed the inevitable.

Living on our grand parent's farm in THE 50S IN WV, we grew up with our grandmother's open top red bag, and mom's "red squeeze thing" that Tess called it, which we used on each other from about 5 years old until puberty interrupted. Many enjoyable times over mom or grandmother's lap watching the entire operation in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Part of the enjoyment was as I took my pants, and undies off, laid them on the clothes hamper, watching the bag being filled with a measuring cup, bag hung on the hook next to the window, administrator sitting on the window seat, me laying on her lap, waiting for the insertion, watching in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, her hand reach for the metal clamp and the marvelous sound of the CLICK!

Around when I was 10 or 11 years old we moved to Philadelphia, and now our enemas were on our beds laying on a rubber sheet covered with bath towels, until dad put ceiling fans in all the rooms where mom would hang the bag from the fan blades, mom would hold the bag above us.

I don't remember which one of us needed our first enema in the new house, Tess thinks it was Diane, and mom bought a combination kit and the words on the box "rapid flow" stood out like a brightly lit sign to me! So now mom prepared the enema in the bathroom while the recipient would get ready in the bedroom taking off our pants and undies lay on the bed, if it was me I would watch in he dresser mirror as mom would lay the bulging bag on my bed, pick up the lubricated nozzle, I watched as it was inserted, bag held up, only now it was a soft click of a plastic clamp.

Ok, it was a LONG way around to saying I easily accepted and looked forward to enemas since I was 5 years old.

I'm still LostInThe50s

Marty