Enemas in the bathroom growing up

My childhood enemas usually began with a sib's,"Mom wants you now!" I would arrive in the bathroom and see everything ready: the basin of warm water and Mom swishing the Ivory soap in it, the red bulb syringe, and the open vasoline jar. Then came, "Take off your pj bottoms." and the feeling of vulnerability of being half naked. Moments later Mom would lift me over her towel covered lap. I was used to the routine - the filling of the bulb, my buttocks beiing spread apart, the repeated insertions of the nozzle, and the feeling of the warm solution entering my rectum.

The enemas were small, warm and gentle. I didn't like or dislike them, they were just a fact of life growing up in the fifties!

Mom would have everything ready so it could be done quickly as I was not a big fan of enemas at the time 😉 . The enema bucket would be about half full of strong soapsuds and a towel would be on the floor. She would have me lie on my side and slide the lubed hose inside me and give me the enema. I can't remember how long she made me hold it, but it wasn't too long, 5 mins or under.

Never got them anywhere else, even now I tend to gravitate to the bathroom for them.

I find a great deal of commonality in many of the posts on this thread. The earliest enemas that I recall took place (always in the bathroom) around the age of three or four, administered (from a bowl of warm water with the Ivory soap bar swished around in it) with an infant syringe, very tenderly and carefully—still, at that early age, I had a fear of them. And I did not enjoy or look forward to laying over my mom’s lap, being lubed by her finger, hearing her fill the syringe, and then feeling the contents fill me up. Probably by the time that I was seven or eight, and had graduated to the fountain syringe hung from the towel rack, that was the time that I learned to relax and begin to enjoy the whole process. One summer my mother’s youngest sister came from California to spend a couple of months with us. I was probably 10 or 11 that year, and for some reason, one evening the chore of giving me an enema fell to my aunt. That experience was the turning point for my enema fetish. My aunt spoke freely, and talked a lot about how, when they were growing up, all of their siblings had enemas at least once a week. She also explained that it was normal for boys to be “stimulated” (I think was the word that she used) by a warm enema, and also told me about the prostate gland, demonstrated where it was, and why touching it produced pleasurable feelings. Not too long after that time, into my teens and my late teens, I took enemas by myself, having received a great deal of instruction from my mother, and on occasion from my aunt. We had a huge collection of fountain syringes, nozzles, a few colon tubes-that was a time when the Sears and Monkey Wards catalogs had amazing selections of enema and douche sets.

Like most of the other posters here, when it was enema time, I would hear my name being called by my mother and when I went to find her, I would find her in the bathroom with everything set up. Warm sudsy water in a bowl, a jar of vaseline with a bulb syringe next to it, and she with a towel across her lap waiting for me to come in. She would say, "come in here and close the door". Of course I would protest to no avail.

As we got older we graduated to the red bag hung from the shower rod, with a towel over the edge of the tub. I can still remember telling my mom that it felt like there was electricity in my butt when she inserted the short enema nozzle and started the flow. To this day I can recreate that feeling (and it is not a good feeling), by using the short standard enema nozzle. Apparently, there is a nerve right there where the tip resides and the water flowing across it, is awful. When I use a large douche other nozzle, it is no problem. Weird!

Yes the safest place to take or give in the bathroom. Bath tub gets a lot of use!

I always got mine in the bathroom, and usually lying on my tummy in the cold tub. A couple of times, I was in a warm bath. I think leakage was the major concern. My sisters got them on the bed, but I was always in the tub.

I really enjoy the large tub these days. It can fit 2 people as desired, or one can stretch out and truly relax for the process.

Talking about the bathtub: my mother in law taught my wife to self-administer enemas lying on the back in the tub.

I did get some enemas in the bathroom very young. My mom had a small step stool she had me bend over and put my hands on. I also remember some on the bed, usually hers with a towel on it. I have given a few on a stool just for this reason.

The bathroom was always the place where I received my enemas as a young person. Partially, because it was the most private place, and in case of an accident, clean up was easier. I was naked, and told to lay over the edge of the tub. Once administered, the toilet was just a step away.

95% of the enemas I received at home were in the bathroom taken in a knee chest position on the floor. My mother was seated on the toilet and held the nozzle in with one hand and held the bag with the other. As I got older,7/8, I would be told to hold the nozzle in place. Mom would either sit or stand, especially if she was in a hurry.

All of my childhood enemas were lying on the floor in the bathroom. Today I do them in the shower because I tend to leak and it would be messy on the floor.

hankb

My early enemas were generally given in the bathroom, with a bulb syringe, and over mom's knee.

I remember not being happy about being taken over her lap for an enema, positioned with bare bottom up, as that was generally the way I was put when she was going to spank me.

All four of us kids, myself and three older sisters got enemas when we had colds, or were constipated. Mom would always ask us if we were constipated. She kept a mental tally of each of us using the toilet, and noted when it had been three days since our last BM. It didn't take long to learn that she already knew the answer was "Yes". After the answer, we were told, "Go to your room and get undressed, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

We would do as we were told, and soon she would be in with a rectal thermometer and a jar of vaseline. She would direct us to get into knee/chest position (of course, we didn't know the name). She would say, "OK, on the bed on all fours, head down, bottom up." Once in position, she dipped her finger in the jar, then spreading it around our anus, then sliding it deep into us to lube our poop chutes. Next, we felt the cold glass rod sliding into us. She would keep her hand across our anus to hold it in for five minutes. She would remove the thermometer and tell us if we had a fever. Then, she would tell us to get up and go into the bathroom, although sometimes, she would tell us to stay in that position, and she would be right back. That let us know that we were getting a suppository instead of (or sometimes before) an enema. Otherwise, we walked naked down the hall to the bathroom. In our early years, we were met with a Pyrex bowl full of soapy water, with the red bulb floating in it. Until we were 6 or 7, she sat on the toilet and pulled us over her lap. After that, she had us kneel with our chest over the side of the bathtub. Either way, we soon felt the nozzle easing into our little butt hole. As we got older, the number of bulbs increased, but always our enemas were comfortable, and although we didn't like them, we submitted quietly. When we were 10, our bathroom visit changed to finding a huge 4 qt bag hanging from the towel rack, bulging with our soapy enema, and smelling of Ivory soap. Our first bag enemas were about 1 qt, but as we matured, they were increased to 2, 3, and if we could hold it, 4 qts.

My two older sisters were pretty "normal", rarely getting constipated, and thus rarely getting enemas. The third sister, Lisa and I both got plugged up almost weekly, and became good friends with warm soapy water. Mom started using suppositories on us pretty often as a pre-emptive treatment. After about a year, we were getting 2, and then 3 glycerin suppositories. If the supps didn't get good results, a soapy enemy wasn't far behind. After about two years, she dropped using suppositories, and just gave us enemas. Lisa and I talked together about our bowels, the suppositories, and enemas. I do not recall ever getting oral laxatives. Mom didn't like the uncertain time for action. I was 12 and Lisa was 14 when Lisa told me she was really liking her enemas, and asked if I did, too. I hadn't really thought about it, but realized that I was looking forward to them. One day, when we were home alone, Lisa whispered in my ear, "I really want an enema. Do you?" I was surprised, and said, "Mom isn't home." Lisa said we could give them to each other. I said OK, and we sneaked to the guest bathroom, which was on the first floor, away from the two older sisters. Lisa took the bag and a bar of Ivory from the upstairs bath, and we locked the guest bathroom door, got undressed, and she mixed up a half bag of hot, strong Ivory soapsuds. She handed me the vaseline, and knelt on the tub side. I lubed her anus, and she said, "Put it inside me, too, and pushed back, impaling herself on my greasy finger. I was really surprised when she moved back and forth on my finger, making soft noises. After about maybe 15 seconds, she pulled off, and said, "OK, I'm ready." I inserted the douche nozzle, opened the clamp, and held the bag up. She started moving back and forth on the nozzle and making the same noises until the bag was empty. I removed the nozzle and she got up.

She had a bulge in her lower tummy, showing that she had an enema in her. She said, "Thanks! That feels really good! You did that as good as Mom. I want to hold this a while, so let's do you." She mixed up about 2 qts for me, and I got into position. She lubed me, and moved her finger in and out, which immediately had me erect. Then, she slid the douche nozzle in, and started my enema. I took about 3 minutes to take the whole bag. SHe pulled the nozzle out and said, "Let's see who can hold the longest! I already have 5 minutes, so we'll start your time now!" I was dubious, but agreed. After five minutes, I had to go. Lisa was going on 10 minutes, and said she was fine, so I sat down and exploded into the toilet. She made a "Eeeewww!" face, and flushed my toilet. By now she wad been holding over 15 minutes, and I asked her if she wanted to go. She said she was OK, and wanted to see how long she could hold it. I kept releasing, and she would flush when the odor got bad.

Finally, after 20 minutes, she said, "I'm almost done. I'm going to try to hold it until I have an accident." She climbed in the tum and squatted down. First, she started peeing. I was fascinated because although I lived with four women, I had never seen one pee. Then, a stream of brown water joined the stream of yellow, and chunks of poop started dropping into the tub. Although fascinated by what Lisa was doing, I couldn't help gagging at the odor. I finished releasing, wiped and started to leave. Lisa said, "Not so fast, we need to rinse the soapy water out. I'll be finished in a minutes, so why don't you fill the bag with warm water." I did fill the bag. Lisa turned on the shower, and used her feet top rinse her used enema down the tub drain. She used a washcloth to clean up, hopped out, and said, "You go first." I got in position, and soon had half the bag gurgling inside me. Lisa shut the clamp, pulled the nozzle and handed it to me. As she knelt, she said, "My turn." Being the good little brother, I injected the rest of the bag into my big sister. She stood in the tub while I released on the toilet, then she sat and released hers. We cleaned the equipment, and the guest bath, dressed and went about the day. Our sisters and Mom were none the wiser. This was our first of hundreds of clandestine enema play sessions, which continued all the way through college, and occasionally after we married.

All of the enemas I got from mom that I remember were in the bathroom, except one.

In the bathroom, they were either bent over the edge of the tub, or as I got older, just bent over at the waist like you were touching your toes. All of these were with the bulb.

The one exception was when I was maybe 8. I had the measles and was supposed to stay in bed. After several days laying in bed with no activity mom decided I should have an enema. The house I grew up in was a big 2 story with bedrooms upstairs and the only bathroom was downstairs. There was a chamber pot in my room for emergencies. Mom said she did not want to clean up puke or poop from the steps if we didn't think we could make it downstairs in time. Better to use the pot than make a mess. So she gave me that enema on my bed and I was allowed to expel into the pot.

The majority of my enemas were given in the bathroom. When i young they would usually be done over mom's lap while she was sitting on the toilet but I will relate experiences as i got older. Normally I was sent to my room to strip down. When the enema was ready I would be called to the bathroom. This is where things got tricky, Complete cooperation was expected. If i lingered in my room and didnt call when I was told she wasted no time coming to my room and leading me by the arm to the bathroom with a threat of spanking for non cooperation. The Vaseline would be sitting on the sink and I would be told to get in position, head on a folded towel butt up high. My rectum would be lubed directly and the nozzle put in. My mom was a stickler about she expected the full bag to be taken (usually 3/4 full) followed by a 5 minute hold

My Dad would give me an enema in after telling him that I cannot go to the bathroom (poo) or that I hurt my stomach for the same reason. He said that an enema would make me feel better and asked if I wanted one. After I agreed we would go to the bathroom and he would get the hanging enema bag and fill it with warm water while I watched. He would give me a choice as to lying on my side on the floor or on the edge of the bathtub. When ready he would position the nozzle against my butt hole but let me actually push it in by myself. After it was in, he would either open the clamp or let me do it. As the water flowed in, he would challenge me to take more or else the enema would not work. When I told him that I could not take any more or that I needed to poo real bad, he would shut off the clamp, massage my tummy, and tell me to try to take a little more because he knew I could do it. So I almost always took more. Finally he would pull the nozzle out and help me to the toilet where he would let me expel in private. After I was done and took a shower he would ask me how I felt and I always felt much better.

Yes, in the bathroom. We lived in an apartment on the 4th floor of the building and the bathroom was immediately to the left of the entrance way as you exited the living room area to the two bedrooms. The master bedroom was to the right with windows out to the courtyard. The bedroom my brother and I were in was diagonally to the left.

The bathtub was along the wall that separated the apartment from the central hallway. The sink was to the left and the toilet to the right. The bathroom was a white tile with black accents with a black and white hex tile floor. Beside the toilet was a little wooden "potty chair" with a plastic bucket in the bottom (essentially a small toilet training chair). I remember the light switch turned on with a loud click which turned on an overhead light and a light over top of the mirror over the sink.

I have no recollection of why enemas were given (to me) or whether they were on a schedule. My mom was a stay-at-home mom. But I think she was giving me enemas at the age of four (maybe earlier) before I went to kindergarten. It could be that it was a recommended practice because I was having so much difficulty with my tonsils (removed at age 5). I went to kindergarten (half-day) at age 5 and she was home taking care of my brother. I have no recall as to whether my brother (three years younger than me) received bulb-type enemas or any enemas whatsoever.

I have a vague recollection of receiving bulb enemas when I was young. I would be naked and laying across my mom's lap as she squeezed the bulb of (Ivory) soapy water into me. A more definite memory of the enemas she administered was her threading a tube into my bottom and holding it there while a warm soapy solution flowed into me as I laid across her lap (completely naked). It wasn't until much later in my life that I realized the bucket and tube combination was actually a colon tube enema kit. And although my memory "enlarged" the size of the bucket and the amount of solution flowing into me, only recently (when I found the enema bucket sans hose) did I realize that it was a 48 ounce of 1.5 liter enema bucket. I don't know how far she threaded the tube into me and it seems that the bucket was probably about two-thirds full (about one quart) with soap suds on top.

There were a number of times when she was naked or nearly so with her robe open in the event of an "accident" the amount of soiled clothing was limited.

I remember laying there quietly studying the pattern of the floor tile as my young bottom was filled and then held the warm enema solution. I don't ever remember the preparation or receiving the enema itself as being unpleasant. If anything, the feeling of the warm liquid flowing into me was quite pleasant. There was some discomfort as the enema worked on my young colon but my mom soothed such discomfort by having me lay there quietly across her lap.

When she was ready to have me "release" she would pull the tube out and have me sit down on the potty chair and let it all flow out. I remember the flow into the plastic bowl as I emptied out looking up at her while the enema flowed out of me. It seems that was a very good feeling to have that liquid flow out of me. Once I finished, I'd stand up and she' empty the plastic bucket in the toilet. Then she'd repeat the process. Don't remember how many soap enemas I received before getting the rinsing enemas (my guess would be that it was based upon what was coming out of my ass onto the bucket). Eventually, she'd get me rinsed out and then I'd get a nice warm bath before being dried by her. I don't know how old I was the last time she gave me an enema.

But I do know those enemas stopped when my mom and dad separated and divorced. We moved to a different apartment and it is possible that there was a red enema bag hung in the bathroom of that apartment. But if there was, I didn't really take notice of it. Several years later, after we moved to a house, I began self-administering enemas from a red, open-top bag that hung in the shower. It just made sense to fill the bag, stick the nozzle in my ass, open the valve and let the water flow. And from there, the rest is history.

Oh I clearly remember the small bathroom off the basement. When you were mysteriously summoned there. It was a pretty fair odds you were getting an enema. If she told you to strip and change into your robe, you knew what was coming.

I remember the excitement mixed with a touch of fear

Extremely few. Lay on bath mat, pants off, nozzle in, enema from RN mom's amber rubber enema bag. Retain briefly, expel, probably all before age 10 or before. I started using her gear to give my own enemas the same way about age 15, after I had discovered how to orgasm.

Eric

Growing up, I got enemas from my mom and my Aunt Marge always in the bathroom.

Mom was a single parent. Those times (which was few and far between), I was summoned into the bathroom where I saw the enema bulb standing up on the sink top, nozzle attached, Vaseline smeared on the nozzle ready to go. A pan of white looking water was in the sink. A small padded bench with a towel draped over it was next to the toilet. I had to take my pants and underpants off or my PJ bottoms if I was wearing them and lay over the bench - my bare butt on top the bench. Mom wasted no time and I got 3 bulb full of that white looking water.

I got my last enema from mon when I was 10-11

When I was sick and home from school or during the summer and when mom was working, my aunt Marge came over and took care of me. Auntie Marge always gave me one enema during my sick period. She believed that a good cleaning out would help. The enema was in the bath room. Auntie differed from mom - Auntie would sit on the bench with a towel over her lap and give me the enema. Auntie took her time and slowly gave me 3 bulbs full

I was looking for the best place to post this, so here looks good.

We had a house with a master suite and two bedrooms with a adjoining bathroom. One of those bedrooms was mine, the other a guest room that doubled as an enema room. Two closets, one held the equipment. It could be set up for enemas on the bed, or a chair that tipped up, so your ass was in the air. You could walk into the bathroom or use a potty chair.

Since the tummy washes were seen as a healthy thing, the potty chair was usually used so the results could be inspected. With me the enemas almost always came out easy, rarely did I have to go back, I’d usually just sit until I was done, same with mom’s boyfriend. But mom would always get two or three surprises, so she didn’t want to be far from the toilet, because when they hit there was no holding them. I saw her not make it to the toilet several times, I used to think it was funny.

So getting an enema was a family affair, and so was letting it go. It was constantly looking in the bucket under the potty seat for what had come out. When you were done the results were checked.

Rarely was it just one enema, usually two or three, but there were times of some rather intense sessions where enemas were given until clear water came back.

Pre enema you might be bent over the chair, and your rectum checked. In that position things would open up for a good view, or if the long hose was going to be used this was a good position to get it started.

A lot of these memories are just coming back, and from the pleasure I am getting now I feel like I have missed out on a lot of enjoyment. But maybe I made up for it with my enjoyment of anal sex.

I started getting bag enemas when I was about 11. Up until then it was bulb enemas, both done in the bathroom. I was usually down on my knees on a rug and forearms on the edge of the tub for the bag enema. I know when Mom switched from bulb to using a bag I started getting a lot more water. She went from probably a cup or so of water to about a quart and she told me I was getting to be grown up.

I was surprised and didn't know what was going on . She said the smaller enemas were for just a quick bm, but when adults did enemas it was to help clean them out and it meant a larger bm. I know I was on the toilet for at least 10 minutes the first time and to me it was huge bm. She always lubricated the nozzle with vaseline and she used soapy water for every enema I can remember. I probably received two or three enemas a month growing up, it would be when my dad and brother were out of the house, I was pretty shy and didn't want them hearing or seeing anything. In the summertime they would go out camping for about a week and my mom would usually give me two or three enemas while they were gone, then it would go back to normal.

The bathroom was my torture chamber... and my fate...

Mom always sat on the toilet lid when it was down, and I always had to get into a knee/elbow position at a right angle to her left. I still remember the floor tiles I had to stare at during the ordeal.

Every enema was accompanied by screaming, tears and outbursts of anger; mom always took the road to victory and I always found myself at the wrong end of the nozzles and colon tubes.

Mom gave my siblings and I enemas laying naked across our bed together. Around age nine she moved our enemas from the bedroom to the bathroom in the knee chest position. She gave us a soapy then a rinse enema as we watched one another. As we got older, she slowly started letting us help give our siblings enemas, as she supervised.

When we were at our grandmothers, our teenage aunts were responsible for our evening bath including enemas. Grandma had a big downstairs bathroom with a large walk-in dual head shower, making it convenient for the girls to bathe us together. Like mom, they gave us enemas together as we watched our siblings laying naked across the girl's bare lap or later in the knee chest position. The one difference was, unlike mom, both girls were naked like us. The reason being, once they finished giving us enemas, they put us in the shower together. Then got in with us to keep order as they bathed us. As we neared puberty, like mom, they let us help give our siblings enemas. Then the summer I turned twelve, our RN grandmother taught us personal hygiene and enemas became our responsibility.

After we were responsible for ourselves, my sister and I started giving each other enemas more out of convenience than anything else. It wasn’t like we hadn’t given each other enemas before, because mom and our aunts let us help give each other enemas. The issue was, we didn’t like using the bathroom at school, so we waited until we got home to go to the bathroom. This resulting in constipation issues for both of us, hence the need for enemas when we got home. So, when my sister and I got home one afternoon, shortly after being responsible for ourselves. Both constipated, each needing a couple of enemas, unbeknownst to the other. We’d gone to our bedroom to put our schoolbooks down when I told my sister, “I need the bathroom for a while. I’m constipated and going to give myself a couple of enemas.” She quickly informed me, “I’ve got the same problem. Tell you what, I’ll give you a couple of enemas then you can give me a couple.” I agreed, personally liking her suggestion. Then we both got undressed and went to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, we gave each other a soapy then a rinse enema. A couple of weeks later, our brother got home early than expected from practice and didn’t hear him come in. I was in the knee chest position with my sister's finger buried deep in my behind when our brother walked in the bathroom. We both froze as he walked in and caught us. He didn’t say anything, just started getting undressed. As he was doing that, my sister continued what she was doing. He joined us that afternoon, getting a couple of enemas from our sister after I gave her a soapy enema and he gave her a rinse enema.

After the dreaded announcement that I was going to be given an enema I would be told to head to the bathroom. Mom would follow behind with a pitcher of warm, soapy water. Go ahead and get undressed and put your clothes in my dirty clothes hamper. Have a seat on the toilet while the enema bag was filled. Mom would lubricant the douche nozzle with Vaseline and tell me to lean forward. She would separate my bottom with one hand and insert the nozzle into my “popo” with the other. That’s what she always called my asshole. The clamp was opened and the solution would be allowed to flow into me. I had to take it all. Once the nozzle was removed I would be told to massage my belly and hold the soapy water to break up my poop. I was left alone to expel and mom would check on me after about 15 minutes.

All of my childhood enemas from mom or grandma were given in the bathroom. As a teen giving myself enemas, my focus shifted to using an enema to enhance masturbation and I started doing it in my bedroom if I had the house to myself. I was able to control it with minimal leakage and the bathroom was right across the hall. That continued as a young wife and mother. If my husband was out of town for work, and the kids were in bed by eight or nine, you would probably find me on my bed with the nozzle in my butt and very busy fingers.

Interestingly, I never got one from a parent. It all began as an exploration. The bag would be hanging over the tub faucet. After it was used by someone else, it would be sitting there, and I would be taking a bath. It’s time went on, and became more curious and experimental. It went from simple insertions to filling the bag up to about 25% of its volume. I did that for a while. But when I was in college, I reached a point I had to head the full experience I related that story elsewhere under another heading. When I finally got to complete that first formal full bag. I knew it was different. The moment the water hit me, I knew I was hooked for life.

When me and my younger sister and brother were given suppositories or enemas it was always in the bathroom

As infants suppositories were given face down over Mommy's lap . Once we got big enough, suppositories were given kneeling on the bathmat bent over the edge of the bathtub. Mom had a good technique for prevention of squirming and clenching when it was time for suppository insertion. She would say, "little help" and we had to reach back with both hands and spread out cheeks for mom to push in the long thin infant and child suppositories. Mom figured out that you couldn't clench if you were holding your cheeks open and even squirming became almost impossible.

Enemas were given with a bulb syringe over mommy's lap til age 10 when we "grown up enough for the bag" Bag enemas were given in the head down ass up position in the bathtub " in case we had an accident". None of us ever did, but mom still gave us our bag enemas there.

The things I remember most about my bulb enemas were two things.

The first one was when you got called to the bathroom the first thing you saw was the hamper top and all moms enema supplies on it.

While my mom did give us soapy enemas at times, she had a whole variety of solutions she liked to use and all the ingredients would be sitting on the hamper with the Vaseline, the 1 quart plastic pitcher she mixed the solution in and her trusty Davol enema bulb.

In the ingredients department there would be table salt and baking soda, a bar of Ivory soap, a carton of Epsom Salts, and a small bottle of Glycerin.

We never got to see her mix up the enemas, but whatever combinations she used were always VERY EFFECTIVE. She was not as much of a fan of soapy enemas as other moms were and often gave us a "dose of the salts" and usef Epsom and table salt enemas.

And the second thing I'll always remember about moms enemas were that they were HOT ! I swear my mom had a warped sense of heat as her enemas and baths were always so hot.

Mom would have us stay in the receiving position for our retention time. If we didn't hold it long enough to give it "time to work" it meant we were getting a second one right after we were done expelling the first..

And the thing that I most remember about my bathtub bag enemas was after being given the full bag in the knee chest position in the tub, and having to hold it in that position, I remember how hard it was climbing out of the tub with a huge tummy, enema swirling inside and my penis sticking up for mom to see. She never made a comment but I'm sure she noticed her little boy had a raging hard on.

Ah the embarrassment and the joy of those childhood flushings.

Enematically

Steve

Host 2024 Florida E-Fest

All of the enemas that my mom ever gave me when I was a kid were given to me in the bathroom. It was in the same bathroom every time, it was in what my mom called the main bathroom.

Sometimes my mom would tell me that it was time for my enema and to go change into my nightgown and meet her back in the bathroom, where the bowl of soapy water and red enema bulb with a black tip would already be sitting on the counter. As I got more enemas, I started to resist them. Sometimes my mom would tell me that it was time for my enema and to go change my clothes, but instead I would run outside into our big backyard and hide. There were numerous times that I had to be retrieved from outside and taken forcefully into the bathroom to get my enema. I literally remember being dragged by my wrist doing anything I could to not go into the bathroom. Once I got into the bathroom, I usually complied with what was going to happen and didn't resist anymore because I knew it wouldn't make a difference. Although there were many times where I would use my hand to block the enema from going inside me. There were a few times where I was cooperative enough that my mom would let me set up the bathroom floor before the enema, remember a few times bringing in pillows and a bunch of stuffed animals to basically bury myself and hide while I was getting the enema.

Something that I will never forget is being in the bathroom while mom was preparing the Ivory soap water and looking at the bulb waiting for me on the counter. Lots of mixed emotions looking at that bulb knowing where it was going to go and what it was going to do in just a few minutes. Even though I hated getting enemas, I liked how it felt being inserted in me and also how the water felt going inside me. This made it all so embarrassing for me.

The enema bulb and the clear glass bowl with a bar of ivory soap that was stored in it were always kept together underneath the sink during the time when I was regularly being given enemas. Many times I would go into the bathroom, lock the door, and open up the sink cabinet to look at and inspect the bulb. That red bulb gave me such a rush of mixed feelings and emotions that I did not understand at the time but probably consider my greatest sexual pleasure now.

When I got the only enema as a child I was nine years old and it was in the bathroom. My sister who got them a lot was always in the bathroom.