Do you think you gave away your secret liking of enemas to mom?

@Dr_Strangelove said,

She understood that I liked enemas before I did while the enemas became routine as the baby boy of the family.

Interesting you say that. My siblings and I liked getting enemas from the beginning. At the time, we had no idea that mom hated getting enemas herself, but she sure gave us enemas at the drop of a hat. To us, enemas were something that happened from time to time, and it didn’t matter whether we liked them or not. We got enemas when mom or grandma thought we needed one. Did we fuss about, sure we did, but it didn’t matter one way or the other. We got the enema whether we wanted it or not. To us, from the very beginning enemas felt good, naughty, hurt, and weird all rolled together.

As we grew older, we realized over time, mom hated getting enemas. Having overheard grandma giving her enemas a few times and listening to her fuss about it. However, unlike mom, her two younger sisters liked enemas as much as we did. Something we learned, after grandma gave the girls responsibility for our evening bath including enemas, when I was six and the older of the two girls twelve.

Grandma had a big downstairs bathroom with a large dual head walk-in shower, making it convenient for the girls to put us in the shower together. Then, get in to bathe us, and keeping order. Making it a convenient time for enemas, before being put in the shower. So, whenever grandma thought we or the girls needed an enema, she’d tell the girls to take care of it, before putting us in the shower. It didn’t take long, seeing the girls give us and themselves enemas, to realize they liked giving enemas as much as they liked getting them.

As we got older, around age nine or ten, the girls started letting us help give enemas. At first, it was little things but slowly progressed to the point where we were giving enemas, just like the girls. It was around this time; the feelings enemas gave us started to change. They still felt good, naughty, hurt, and weird. However, we started noticing a new feeling, that we couldn’t quite put our finger on. This happened, along about the time, my siblings and I first realized we liked giving enemas as much as we liked getting them. Just like the girls.

For us, it wasn’t mom, it was grandma who realized we liked enemas along with her two younger daughters. Teaching them, as preteens, personal hygiene and how to care for and give children enemas. Then, giving them responsibility for our evening bath, along with enemas. Giving the girls practical experience taking care of children under her supervision. At the time, if you’d asked me if mom or grandma knew we liked enemas, I’d have said, “No way.” But now, I’m sure grandma knew we did, but mom's a different story. She hated getting enemas herself but liked giving them. Did she give us enemas because it was her responsibility, or did she give us enemas because it tuned her on. If I had to say, one way or the other, I’d say it was both. But that’s a question, I’ll never know the answer too, because mom passed away years ago. And judging from what my sister told me, she’d noticed at the time, I suspect giving us enemas out of the blue turn her on. However, giving us enemas was also her responsibility as a parent in the fifties. Though we discussed enemas as adults, once my wife and I had kids, asking that particular question never crossed my mind.

The only secret I told my mom was that I didn't like her enemas, despite my resistance fading and letting it happen.

I was never successful at sneaking an enema, despite trying MANY times,, starting at about six. I would ALWAYS get caught, because my mother was just hyper-vigilant as far as I was concerned. The first time she found that the bag had been used, she came and asked “Were you playing with this?! It isn’t a toy. If you need one tell me and I will give you one. But if I catch you playing with it again, you’ll get an enema, all right.”

So guess what happened? And fuck did she? I screamed during it, but also got an erection a few times, which wasn’t appreciated, and only elicited a repeat of the situation. It was the first time she ever used soap, and she bragged that her mother used much more, and she could take even larger ones without the struggle I was putting up. But she held the nozzle in me and my butt closed, so it was the first time ever got “the whole bag,” which she said I would be doing from then on. She did rinse enemas differently than I have seen explained. We either hung our butt over the sink, and she gave us most of a bag (or me, since I was the recipient of the vast majority of enemas she gave. Any longer than 2 minutes in the bathroom, and she invaded it, asking “if I needed help,” and “did I ‘want’ an enema.” Kind of a rhetorical question since I would be getting one4 anyway. But prior to this they were always plain water), and she would then refill the bag, and say “Just go whenever you need” while holding the nozzle in me.

After this, she gave me a lecture on “The medical necessity of enemas,” which included for headaches, stomach aches, fever, colds, flu, constipation, and so on… And that if she caught me again playing with it today would seem mild in comparison.

And she was right. But the next time I didn’t struggle nearly so much. Again a warning about playing with them, saying I would have this repeated for a week if I was “caught playing with the enema bag again.”

I did get caught, but it occurred after a vacation in which I got food poisoning that resulted in getting enemas for most of a night (while I threw up). But I remember that time something in me told me “An enema is EXACTLY what would feel ‘better’ right now.” So when my mother heard me throwing-up and shitting all overt myself in the hotel bathroom, and asked “If I wanted an enema, since it would help.” I just said “OK…” Most were given in the bathtub, and I don’t really remember them all. But the next day I got a headache and asked my mother “You said an enema would help a headache? How?” She said “Do you have a headache?” I just said “Yes.” She asked “Do you want an enema for it?’ So I said “Yes, if it helps them go away.”

So I got a couple of enemas for the headache, and was shocked that it did work. Just prior to getting caught the next time, I even asked her for an enema a couple of times, because of a “Headache.” But she did make-good on her threat to give me enemas all week long if caught again. I get the feeling she realized that I was a little turned-on by it. Later in life she did say that my interest in ‘boys’ was probably due to all the enemas she gave me. I told her that I was having sex with “guys” long before she stopped giving me enemas, and that I was still terrified of HER giving me enemas when I started.

She was all kinds of screwed-up… But after I started to grow pubic hair in my mid/late-teens she stopped giving them to me. I wondered if she only continued because of something she was excited by, given that I looked like I was only 12 or 13 until well into my 20s. But I know she gave herself enemas almost as frequently as she did to me. And that sometimes her mother or a woman down the street gave the enemas to her. I had gotten many from my grandmother, but was given a few by the woman down the street, and she openly said that getting an enema should be “enjoyable.”

That was just WEIRD to a kid.

I think after the first 3 or 4 she gave me she knew I would get aroused and I think that is why sometimes she insisted that my father give me a few as well.

Before puberty, and I will see my mother, naked, white, she love to give enemas, and she gave them to a lot of other children. I was in the hospital age 11 and was unable to use a bedpan. My mother came in and told me that I was gonna have to get an enema. I was nervous at first, but when the nurse administered and gave me the enema I iejnjoyed the insertion and the feeeling .since that time I have always been afraid to admit that I liked getting an enema. I never asked anybody to give an enema give me an enema, never refused one when a nurse, or a significant other told me that I needed an enema .That's where the fascination started and is still there..

I didn’t get a lot of enemas growing up, but as time went on there were certainly signs that I didn’t mind those enemas. Maybe mom picked up on those signs, maybe not. By time I was 10 or 11, I no longer argued that I didn’t need an enema but maybe only the timing of it. Like can we wait until this tv show is over? And I stopped arguing about how much I had to take.

But the incident that left no doubt was one evening after mom had given me several bulbs of warm water she left the bathroom as usual to let me expel the enema in private, saying she would be back later to clean up and put the stuff away. As I sat on the toilet I stared at the bulb sitting there on the edge of the sink. There was still water in the sink so I took the bulb and gave myself several more bulbs standing at the sink. Just then the door opened. Mom saw me standing there at the sink, bulb in hand. She mumbled something like, “Oh, I thought you were done”. She turned around and closed the door.

I was scared shitless at what she was going to say when I finished and went out of the bathroom. But she never said a word. But that was also the last time she ever gave me an enema.

Mom's always know, don't kid yourself

Never was in such situation, because enemas wasn't a practise in my home !!

My mom knew about my aversion and knew how to use it skillfully.

Do I think I gave away my secret liking of enemas to Mom?

Probably yes.

I'm sure she noticed that her enema equipment was often moved and/or wet from a more recent use than hers.

The other question might be, "Does my mom think she gave HER secret liking of enemas to me?"

I'm not sure that she knew that I knew, but I most certainly knew that she liked enemas given that she at least three different enema bags with hoses and nozzles, plus a red bulb with a black enema nozzle and a red bulb with a large, black douche nozzle plus a blue bulb with a white enema nozzle. And that's just what I found from a little snooping in the master bathroom. There might have been more.

When I was six years old, Mom unknowlingly sparked my interest in and lifelong love for enemas . She actually gave me a punishment enema followed by a paddling for playing doctors with a neighbor boy. I told him he needed a shot in the bum and injected the medicine with my finger right into his rectum. I told him I needed the same treatment and so he jammed his finger in my bottom hole. When his mom quizzed him on our afternoon play activities, he told about our medical treatments and she told my mom about them. Neither mom was pleased with our medical treatments in our bum holes. And my mom was extremely embarrassed by my conduct with her good friend's son.

My mom told me was going to teach me a lesson about putting things in my bottom or somebody else's bottom. I had no idea what to expect. She had me strip and then bend forward with my hands on my knees. From behind, she parted my cheeks and inserted the tip of her red bulb enema. The punishment enema went awry because if she was trying to teach me a lesson to stay away from my bottom hole, I didn't get that message because when the warm water irrigated my rectum and probably my undeveloped prostate, the feeling was exhilarating. Granted, the feeling was a bit of a shock to me and I let out a squawk of surprise, but knowing I was technically being punished, I turned it into a screech of terror, at least the best I could. But inwardly, I couldn't wait to have that feeling inside my rectum again. So I started sneaking into the master bathroom whenever I could safely do so, and I got out her bulb and filled myself up. Later, I realized what the bags and tubes were for because they had the familiar enema nozzle attached.

Soon I was hanging the bag from the shower head and sending straight-hot water much too fast into my rectum. Years later, I learned that straight hot water (120 degrees F or 48.9 C) and too much water too fast are not safe, but I still loved that filled-up feeling.

Mom never mentioned any suspected use of her enema gear, possibly because she was embarrassed that it might bring up a discussion of the punisment enema that I'm sure she didn't want to discuss.

The last enema mom gave me was age 11. I was on my back on the bathroom floor. She had just started the flow and I get a wonderful erection. She became irritated and said 'stop that ! ". Right, like I could. All enemas after that were sneaked when no one else was home.