Most vivid recollections of childhood enemas

My sister and I have discussed our childhood enemas many times, and have very similar recollections. We got enemas together in our grandmother's bathroom, usually from Grandma, but often from Mom. We both knew that Wednesday night after dinner and Saturday mornings were enema time. We never had to be told to strip and report to the bathroom those times. We received our enemas together, naked, kneeling over the side of her huge clawfooted bathtub, palms flat on the tub bottom. When younger, from a bulb, later, we got our own 4 quart bags, which started half full, and by late teens, filled to the brim with strong Ivory soapsuds. We never really disliked getting our enemas, and came to actually crave them by late teens. I remember seeing the large Pyrex mixing bowl, with milky soapy water and bubbles flowing over the side. The bathroom was always warm, and the smell of Ivory soapsuds pervaded the room as we entered. We knew to kneel, and soon, Grandma's finger, with that big glob of Vaseline, was deep in our anus, twisting around to lube us thoroughly. When she pulled out, if her finger was brown, she always showed us saying, "See, you need this!" Next, she filled the bulb and slipped it into Sis first, then refilled it and into me it went. There was the feeling as the hot soapy water squirted into me, then, it was Sis's turn again. She alternated back and forth until we were both filled, seemingly to bursting. The last bulbful was always followed by, "OK, it's all in, now hold for 15 minutes, and don't leak on my floor!" I remember the feeling of the water squirting against my rectum wall, the pain as she squeezed in those final bulbfulls, and the building cramps as 15 minutes passed. Finally, Sis was allowed to use the toilet, and I went down the hall to the half bath. About the time of puberty, we were switched to the bags, and started at 2 quarts. By 16, we were both getting 4 quarts. We agree that we missed the feelings as that bulb was inserted and withdrawn, and would sneak bulb enemas when home alone. We always bathed together in that big tub, and would use the bulb to give bathwater to each other. Later, when home alone, we gave to each other with the bags. By the time we were 16, we were full-blown klismos, and talked openly about the sexual feelings that our enemas produced. I gave Sis her first orgasm with her enema bag. (Scared the hell out of me; I had no idea what was happening! LOL!) She quickly reassured me that it felt wonderful, and I always tried to get her off with her enemas after that. We both remember fondly the rectal temps that preceded our enemas, the feel of Grandma's finger lubing us, the smell of hot Ivory suds, the water squirting into us, the warm fullness, and even the cramps. We relished feeling that rushing flood of dirty water and chunks of poop when we expelled the first enema. A normal Wednesday was one or two soapy enemas, and a plain rinse. Saturday mornings were enemas til clear, followed by two rinses. I recall some Saturdays when I got four or five SSE's before getting my rinses,

The ones that stand out in m mind:

My very first enema when I was 4 I've posted about it before

My first bag enema, when I was 7. given from a "Children's HWB" that was sent to us by my Aunt in Canada It said on the neck, "1 Imp Qt Made in Canada" Did NOT also say "Fabrique Au Canada" Leading me to think it was made before 1965.

M first 2-qt enema at age 9, which was also my first time doing the insertion and valve opening myself.

One particular enema I had when I was 12 stands out. By then I was basically self-administering, but my Father, who raised me as a single parent had been staying in the room monitoring and essentially instructing. That was the fist time he was outside the room. The night before when we agreed to do the enema, We agreed that it would be essentially self-administered with Dad in earshot if I needed him. By then we were both aware that I derived some amount of pleasure from enemas.

I said to him right as were were ready to turn out the light the night before, "Dad, what would you say if I wanted to use your 3-qt bag?"

His reaction was, "Well you are big for a 12 year old, and I don't think it is going to harm you. I will advise against it, but I don't see enough danger to STOP you, so it IS your call. I'm prepared to let you try it, but don't be surprised if it's too much for you"

I used the 3-qt bag I got it all in, and retained it 15 minutes!!

I also got my first full blown enema-induced orgasm, right there where my father could hear everything!!!

My most vivid memories are of watching my Mom administer enemas to my sister and cousin.

It was entering the bathroom and seeing the enema bag hanging above the bathtub. I'd flush in embarrassment and try to avoid looking at it. I'd work myself up alternately hoping and dreading that it would be used on me. I secretly desired an enema but when it came time for the actual enema I'd be reduced to tears.

Being taken into the bathroom which smelled of Ivory soap. Then the bubbling sound as my mom filled the syringe, signalng that my enema was about to begin despite my protests. Feeling her spread my butt cheeks apart and then the nozzle being stuck up my ass and the feeling of the hot soapsuds squrting up inside of me as she squeezed the bulb forcefully. Then the gurgling sound of air being sucked into the syringe as she pulled it from my ass and relaxed her grip on the bulb. Then the bubling sound again as she refilled the syringe for another assault on my ass. Laying there after having the soapy water squirted up my ass and hearing those sounds meant that she was going to use the syringe on me again, filling me with dread. The scent of Ivory soap and the bubbling and gurgling sounds are the vivid recollections that stick in my mind from those early syringings.

I have very vivid recollections of my mom preparing the enema at the kitchen sink. She used a glass pitcher if she added soap or other things to the solution. As she carried the enema bag into the bathroom, the black douche nozzle was prominent in her right hand. I was made to remove all my clothing and lay down in the tub.

The tub was cold and I shivered as I turned my head to see her standing over me. She was very intimidating as she hovered over my helpless body. My grandma would usually be there to assist. She would spread my cheeks and lubricate my bum. The excess went on the nozzle. Mom would then insert the nozzle.

I shivered upon insertion and would squirm as the enema invaded my innards. If I was perspiring, the tub would be warm under me by now. As I got older, the tub would also be damp and slippery. The intensity of the enema would build until I was allowed to relieve myself. Sometimes there'd be another round, but usually it was just one.

After achieving wonderful relief, I'd be given a warm bath. That red enema bag would be hanging there on the shower arm. Droplets of water would dangle from the black nozzle. I'd relax and ponder what had just happened. My nemesis, mom's old enema bag, was there to drum it into my head...do your duty every day...or be back in the same predicament again.

Of course, the time came that I made friends with the old red bag...best friends of course!

When I think back on it there might be several but the all-time standout memory was when my mom graduated me from a bulb to a bag. Up until that point all of my enemas had been from a small bulb. By the time I was 7 or so I was getting 2 or 3 instead of a single bulb enema. Then one time I was naughty because after the first bulb I squirmed off mom's lap, sat on the toilet and expelled it. I had not had enough enema nor held it any length of time so not much of anything other than a little warm water came out. That's when mom decided that i would not only get another enema, this time from the bag, but that all future enemas were to be that way. No more multiple insertions and certainly no more squirming opportunities.

I'm going for a 'visual' here.......the sight of a "Combo bag" three-quarters full has to be one of the most erotic shapes imaginable.

the boxcar

I remember so well the rituals and routine for "enema time" when I was a kid. If I felt sick or had a fever or was just "out of sorts" my aunt who raised me would usually remove all my clothes except my underwear, put me to bed, call the doctor, report what my condition was, and get his orders.

Always, always, she would return to my bedroom with the message, "Dr. Hart said to give you an enema." I would know either to undress to my underwear if I hadn't been already and wait on the bed, or stay in bed while she prepared the enema and until she called me into the bathroom. When she said, "Come on in" I would go in, slip my underwear or pajamas off, always with an erection, and lie on my left side in the bathtub. She would reach over and spread my buttocks, insert the tube and click the clamp. I had to take all the water at once.

The volume was usually a quart or a quart and a half. Neither of us ever said much during the enema. When she was finished, I would stand up in front of her and sit on the toilet. I was to wait until she came back to look at what I had "accomplished." I would either go back to bed or get another enema. Standing naked in front of her was very embarrassing. But needless to say, I enjoyed these experiences immensely. I usually had some reason once or twice a month.

My best friend was my room mate. One winter week I had the flu and was really sick. High fever, throwing up...the real deal. He came into my bedroom and asked if there was anything he could do and told me how his mom would give him an enema when he was sick and it really helped.

I knew from experience that he was right and he felt my forehead and said that he was going to Walgreens and would be back shortly.

I drifted off to sleep and about 2 hours later he came into the room and gently woke me up. Chris took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom where I saw the enema bag hanging from the towel rack in the tub area. He also laid a towel in the tub. He told me to take off my underwear and leave my tshirt on and to lay down on the towel on my stomach. Since this wasn't my first enema I knew what to do because this is how mom gave them. When I was in position he got down on his knees and took the hose in his hand and let the air out of the hose until I felt a little warm water splash my butt. He out some Vaseline on the nozzle and told me to relax.

I felt the nozzle slide into my butt and a few seconds later the click of the clamp being opened as the warm water started to fill me up.

He gave me the enema slowly and I took the whole bag. A few minutes later he pulled the nozzle out and told me to hold it for a few minutes. While I expelled the enema he prepared another one.

He gave me 3 enemas that day and I slept like a baby and woke up the next day feeling much better. Before he left for class he gave me another enema and one more that evening.

The next day I was back in class and feeling 100% better.

During the time we lived together I would say we gave each other about 25 enemas. He had his own bag also. I still have that enema bag and we are still good friends although we now have wives who give us enemas when we need them.

I started giving my son enemas in high school when he didn't want mom doing it. I still give him an enema once in a while when he comes home from college and is not feeling well.

Yes. I've always had trouble with being constipated and having to take enemas for relief. Up until the point of this story I had never experienced enemas with another boy before. It was my constantly being constipated and having to use enemas and suppositories for relief that made me really curious about my butt, the feelings associated with my butt, which made me start to wonder about other guys butts in the junior high school locker room, at high school and sneaking a peak at the other men in my family's butts, and it was my being constipated one day that led to my first intimate encounter with another boy.

It was a late summer afternoon and I'd been constipated most of the week. A friend and me had been chilling over at my house playing video games and listening to music when I excused myself to go to the bathroom like I had been trying to for several days. I had been in the bathroom for several minutes grunting, straining trying to go when I realized that I probably needed an enema. I went over to the bathroom sink cabinet and got a Fleet from under the sink and laid down on the bathroom floor to give it to myself the way I'd done many times before in the knee chest position.

At the time I'd gotten most of the enema squeezed up me My friend knocked on the bathroom door saying he had to pee and I told him I'd be out in a minute. A few minutes later, I was still laying there waiting on the enema to work, with the tip still up my butt and my friend opened the door asking me what I was doing in the bathroom so long and why it smelled so bad in there. He asked me what that thing was that was stuck up my butt and I told him what it was and why I needed it. He said he'd been constipated before but never had one of "those things" or even a suppository for relief.

A little while later, back in my room, we were playing a game and I stood up to go to the game console and change the game cartridge. i noticed my friend was checking my butt out. He told me not to think anything about it, but he had rather enjoyed seeing my bare butt with the tip of the enema stuck in there. I asked him what he meant and he told me that he wanted to put something else in there. That afternoon led to a fun summer of us being extremely close, and even a few mutual enema sessions.

There have been a few notable enemas but the one that cemented my interest in enemas as more than a medical process was the first enema I got with a bag rather than the bulb. I was ten when my youngest brother was born. At that time dad dropped me and my other brother off at grandmas to stay with her for a few days. After a couple of days there I was not feeling well and grandma decided I needed an enema. I did not hate the small enemas mom gave me with our red bulb, and grandma had a red bulb in the bathroom medicine cabinet much like the one we had at home.

I had already been given an enema with grandma's red bulb some time earlier, so no big deal. After she finished the dishes she called me to the bathroom and told me to take off my pants and underpants and lay on the towel on the floor. I looked around but did not see the red bulb. I did see grandma's big red hot water bottle hanging from the towel bar with some kind of hose attached to it. As I undressed I asked, “What is that?” Grandma said it was my enema. I asked her where the red ball thingie is? She said now that I was a big boy and I should start getting my enemas like grown-ups do, with an enema bag. She lubed and inserted the nozzle and turned on the water which was pleasantly warm.

Soon I was feeling pretty full, much fuller than I had ever felt before. It was an interesting feeling, not pain, but certainly pressure, and not all that unpleasant. I probably had taken about half of the bag when I thought I couldn’t take any more I asked her to stop, and she did. She pulled out the nozzle and helped me to the toilet and left the room. I sat there on the pot staring at the big red bag hanging there in front of me not believing how much water and poop was coming out of me. It was a new and interesting experience compared to the bulb, and way more water, but somehow I liked it.

We only had the red bulb at home but I started giving myself more and more to see how much I could take. Sometimes after mom gave me the usual couple of bulbs I would give myself some more after she left the bathroom to allow me to expel in private. One time I got caught doing that and she stopped giving me enemas. I was on my own. I started reading all I could find about enemas.

Our home First-Aid book had some information which told me that the enema bag was the preferred means of delivering an enema for adults. I was surprised to learn how big what they considered a normal enema was compared to the small amounts I had been used to getting with the bulb from mom. It would be years before I bought my own bag and worked up to a full 2 quarts on a regular basis, but that first bag enema from grandma is what focused my attention on the enema for much more than just relief of constipation.

In mid 1959 I was a 9 year old boy abiut to get his first ever enema bag enema.The black 4" pediatric enema nozzle was fully in me.My Dad put his hand gently but firmly down on my liwer back,just above my buttocks. I was in crying/fussing,melodramatic enemaphobic mode. My Dad unclicked the clamp. The 1 qt.of 104F. Castille soapy water began to flow into me from the Victoria enema bag 16"-18" above my buttocks. It felt very warm and irritating, rotating/ twirling in my rectum.After maybe 2 minutes the awful sensation of fullness/pressure began .I cried louder and wriggled/squirmed my bottom. Small bodyframed,I was getting a big enema. As the enema bag went empty,it felt like my anus would explode,but the enema nozzle stayed firmly in me. My first enema was indeed memorable.

My mom had a standard procedure that was followed to the letter. The enema was always warm water with Ivory soap delivered from a red combination bag that was hung on the wall. The recipient, whether me or one of my sisters, was placed over her her lap, we were lubed with vaseline, and the pipe inserted. We never had to take all of the bag, but if we did that was OK too. All of us kids would protest and I was probably the most vocal and my younger sister the least so. When we got to expel, it was like the heavens opened up and the enema and poop just flowed quickly out in the most amazing fashion.

Mom was 18 when I appeared. I easily remember her learning to drive. I remember being amazed at the steering wheel correcting itself after turning a corner. After all the frustration, she became a cool driver in her mid 20's. After milking, she took dad to his job in town as a machinist. Then we went to visit her mom on a summer morning. She brought along her enema kit which had a skinny catheter fixed onto the tip.

Gramma had a phone, but we didn't. She called one of her sisters, who came on over with her little boy. He was still sleepy as they began to visit. Instead of playing he climbed onto one of the beds and I joined him. But soon I was in there with the ladies though, leaning on momma. Her sister was complaining about her two not accepting their enema without a big fuss and some hollering. While she was going on about it, mom reached around me standing beside her. She slid her hand up under my shirt and began to rub my tummy and pull me in under her arm. I craved her scent.

As her sister wound down about her complaints, mom slipped her finger tips under my belt and let her older sister know she was too rough saying, she had prepared me for an enema and that I did not even know it was coming. She exaggerated her handy work on me and asked her mom to get one ready, please. I was into her loving and was only too willing to be made an example of as she lifted my shirt to gave full view of the direction of her finger tips on my tummy. She then dropped my pants and I stepped out of them. I had sprung a little boner under my shorts. As gramma came back into the room, she made a big deal about it saying, "Would you look at that big kid!"

Suddenly instead of shame, I was proud as mom pulled me in even closer saying, "Drop you shorts, so they can see." she instructed. Gramma again praised me and said, "Come Eddy, show aunt Gertrude how easy it is." They made a procession to where Grandma had set the stage. All the commotion got Johnny awake and following along too. Mom was so proud! She could drive and now she was teaching her older sister something. Mom gobbed some grease and began to massage my anus with it, reviving my little boner once again. As the enema proceeded, mom rubbed my tummy some more and kissed my forehead. I was in mommy's heaven and she was in perfect control.

One of the more memorable childhood enemas I remember was administered by our neighbor Faye. I must have been about 6 years old. We lived in an apartment house in Brooklyn.I clearly remember getting prepared for it. I was completely stripped and made to lay down on the bed. Bottom up. I remember Faye being handed the enema pouch by my mother. It was a white pouch. In it was a red enema bag withuttocks and put a dap on my heinie hole. a metal top. Never seen one like it again. It was red as was the hose. She attached a black rectal nozzle to it. Attached to the hose was a metal clamp. She was looking at me as she put the enema bag together. She went into the kitchen (it was a small apartment and I heard the water running. She went into the bathroom and took a new bar of ivory soap out. It was wrapped and not used. As I lay there bare bottom, I felt a sense of helplessness feeling the cool breeze on my bottom. I heard them talking. After about five minutes (it felt like an hour) Faye came into the bedroom carrying the enema bag in her right hand and holding the hose and nozzle in her left hand. She hung the bag on the wall where there was a small hook. I think there was a picture or something there before. I remember her opening the jar of Vaseline. It was made of glass and had a metal screw top. (this was in the mid 1960s). She put some on her finger and parted my buttocks and put a dab on my Heine hole.She then lubricated the black nozzle. What seemed like it took forever, she then parted my buttocks and slid the nozzle in me. She said that it wouldn't hurt but I remember smelling the scent of Ivory soap in the air. She even commented how I looked cute with the red hose looked coming from my buttocks. Then she said "Ready" then I heard a loud metallic snap and felt the warm soapy water start to fill me. She said that I had to take the whole bag and hold it so the enema can work. I started to cry as I got a cramp. She closed the clamp for about a minute then opened it again. I started to push the nozzle out so she held it in me like she was holding a cigarette. I took the whole bag. I was re-leaved to hear the clamp close. I was yelling and squirming. Faye said that if I didnt stop it that after the enema I would get a bare bottom spanking too. I hated them at the time but I get very excited at the sight or mention of an enema. How times change.

Stingr

As a child, I only received one enema from my Mother. While that was a momentous occasion for me, and pointed me in a direction that hasn't changed throughout my whole life, The most vivid recollection for me, was my brothers ardent protestations at getting his enemas. He received them often, as he was constipated often. He would fight and scream, and there was always a mess to clean up after it was all over, but he got them anyway, and on most occasions, my father had to help my Mother with the chore. I remember that I always had trouble with, and wondered why he fought at something that, for me, was a pleasure. I loved the feel of that huge black nozzle, and the enema itself was a bonus. To this day, I still don't know why he fought. I never asked. And I don't think I want to know.

I received bulb enemas up until age 5, then the dreaded bag. It look so huge. Over mom's lap as she sat on the edge of the bathtub with the bag hanging from the shower rod. At least she used lots of vaseline.

Like many here, i'll bet, the first enema was the most memorable. For me it was being placed on my bed, legs up and back, while the white can was held high overhead and the soapsuds flowed into me nearly nonstop while I pleaded for it to stop. zi was 4 at the time and never did get an explanation of the treatment either before or after, but I guess I needed it.

My most memorable experience was the first time I asked for an enema. Mom gave regular enemas on Saturdays which I enjoyed actually. I was talking with my mom after school one day and I said I wished it was Saturday so I could have an enema. She was surprised that I liked them enough to want one and asked if I was sick. I said no, I just like them. She confided ti me that she always felt better afterward too. She said okay and told me to go out on my pajamas and meet her in the bathroom. She mixed Epsom salts and filled the bag which she hung from the shower. I took off my bottoms and knelt by the tub bending over the edge. She gave me a warm 2 enema. It felt really nice and I sprouted an erection. After expelling the first bag, she gave me a large rinsing enema with plain water. After expelling that, she said I should take a shower and rest in my room. The enemas felt wonderful and I was so glad that I had admitted to mom that I liked them. They weren't just a Saturday routine after that.

Question...Growing up, enemas were never done for punishment, and I've really come to doubt some of the stories based on a punishment theme. What I remember most was hating it, yet getting sexually excited at the thought of it. My question is this.. I recall mostly cramping and saying, " it hurts" and she would stop and help me thru it usually by having me go from knee-chest to left side - never was there an urgency to evacuate. Today 50 years later, the need to evacuate hits long before any pain crops up if it ever does. I wonder why the difference. Bag was hung low as a child as well as today. Temps were always warm just as today. I use plain water - she used baking soda and/or salt.

Dave K Yes ,even after 65 years of enemas , for health reasons , usually all most all of the bag would empty in me easily . But now as you state , urge to expell comes way before cramps or pain . My health aide knows it will be usually a series of 3 , baking soda enemas , about a pint , then around a quart , before the whole 2 quarts will go in for a full flush. We do this on a every second week schedule , helps control my IBS . Would gladly do it weekly ,but wife is not in favor ,never was ,never will be , very anti enema person .

Enemas never bothered me , self administered for years , not as flexible as I used to be , so Lucky to have health aides both in north east ,and southwest where we winter.