How My Interest In Enemas Began

How My Interest In Enemas Began

I received my first enema when I was in grade school. I had gone into the hospital to have my tonsils

removed---a common operation during that Era.

The morning of the operation a nurse walked into my room carrying a metal can filled with water, that had

a hose connected. She asked, "Ken, have you ever had an enema?"

I almost jumped out of the bed. I had never had an enema, but I knew what an enema was. I thought they were give with small red bulbs, not large metal cans. I asked the nurse why I needed an enema, since I had a BM the day before. She explained that enemas are given to patients before surgery to make sure that they are totally cleaned out. She then explained what she was going to do, and told me that enemas can be uncomfortable.

The next thing I knew I was turned over, the nozzle was inserted in my butt, and I had water running in me. It wasn't too bad at first, but towards the end I started to get a stomach ache and began to feel nauseous. That feeling continued as I sat on the toilet expelling the enema. And even when I thought that I was finished, I had to run back into the bathroom two more times.

For the remainder of my hospital stay every time a nurse entered my room I got scared and hoped that I wasn't going to get another enema. But I didn't.Although during the hospital stay I did receive numerous rectal thermometers in my butt, as well as a shot in the butt before the operation.

My next exposure to enemas was not one that I received, but rather one that somebody else received. I was in my Senior Year of High School. I visited my girlfriend who was in the hospital.

Her mother and I were in her room together, when a nurse entered carrying a metal enema can, similar to the one that was used on me 9 years earlier. Before the nurse could even ask us to leave, her mother got up and signaled me to follow her into the hall.

It was probably 20 minutes or so later when the nurse came out and told us we could return. The room smelled awful. I wasn't sure is she had expelled the enema on a bedpan, or if maybe she had been unable to hold it, and had let some of it out on the bed. She said, "I guess that I really needed that." Her mother put her fingers on her nose, which didn't help matters any.

I often wonder if it hadn't been for that enema that I had in the hospital whether or not I would have gotten the interest in this subject?

Welcome, @FourStar! That's a very nice first post! What are you up to these days?

My interest in enemas began when I was 8-9 when my mom used to give them to me for the occasional constipation. Then I would use them even if I wasn't constipated. Then my love for them got bigger and I can't stop using them.

Given that both parents were Klismos I don't think it began with me! I think it was passed down in the womb

This is an interesting question for me to answer because it has its origins in me being anal erotic.

I really have to trace my early interest in sex which began before puberty- I was masturbating well before I could ejaculate. I have a faint memory of my older brother and one of his friends talking about finding a suitable object for anal insertion- the memory is like a 3 second video clip and I could not have been more 8 years old. As they were talking about it, I was present and listening and very curious. That one incident may have planted the seed of the idea of using your anus for sexual pleasure.

I was a very curious kid in those early years. I found my Dad's Trojans- he sort of hid them in his closet and I liked to snoop in my parents bathroom. At some point I found my mom's enema kit. I thought to myself- wow these nozzles are made for anal insertion which really stimulated me. I don't really remember if I snuck into my parents bathroom and just played with the nozzles but I do remember the day I had some time alone and gave myself enemas. That enema session was so erotic and sexually fulfilling that I was so hooked on enemas from that day forward. That enema session also ignited my interest in anal eroticism.

So enemas became one of my first methods of anal pleasure. From there I have acquired multiple anal toys and evolved quite a bit sexually. That early childhood incident seems to have set in place a whole sexual trajectory that has taken me to where I am today.

Warm Ivory SSE's were the "cure-all" for whatever ailed me as a young child. Stomach flu, 3 or 4 days of just not feeling well, and the occasional bout with constipation. They were never uncomfortable or miserable, as my mother was very gently with the administration of the enemas I received. Leap forward a few years when I was going into puberty and discovered that I enjoyed anal stimulation. Naturally, my mind went back to those warm Ivory soap suds enemas I received as a young child. Let's try one, and see if they feel good. Wow.....did they ever! I've been hooked ever since.......60+ years later.

My older sister told me Mom gave me an enema the day she brought me home from the hospital! It was done with an ear syringe, so probably 1 1/2-2 ounces. I got them at least weekly growing up, and was hooked by the time I was six. My sister gat the same treatments, and we both got nightly doses of Fletcher's Castoria, which made us go as soon as we got up in the morning. If we didn't, then Mom popped a suppository into us which we had to retain through breakfast. If THAT didn't move us, she kept us home from school for a day of enemas. Once we started liking enemas, we both figured out that if we fought the laxative and the suppository, we got to skip school and got enemas all day. Most of the time, the combination of laxative and suppository won that battle, though. We were diapered if she gave us the suppository, and we both got the giggles when the other messed their diaper during breakfast!

Wow! What my brother and I missed growing up! I never got an enema from my parents and I doubt my brother did either.

Staying home from school for a day of enemas would have been fun for me, alas, my mother never let us stay home from school unless she could tell we were dying. We were always packed up and sent to school. My brother and I probably had the best attendance records in the school district!

My interest in enemas has been there from as early as I can remember. I have no idea when my first one was, but by time I started school I was well aware of them. I remember the bulb and mom telling me she was going to give me "a little warm water" to help me poop. They were not a traumatic event because by time I was eight years old or so, I remember my sister and I would play around with the bulb in the bathtub giving ourselves and each other small enemas just for fun. By eleven or twelve I was giving myself enemas when mom and dad would be out for a while, just because I wanted to. It didn't take long for mom to figure that out. After being interrupted giving myself an enema when she came home from shopping earlier than expected, she stopped offering an enema when I was not feeling well. She knew I could handle it myself if needed one. But I gave myself way more enemas because I wanted one than because I needed one. And so it goes.

Had a similiar experience. Age 11 I was in he hospital and bed ridden so i was constipated and could only use bed pan. My mother then then hey o;d me i was going to get an enema. After waiting nervously for about two hours he nurse came in the room with a cart.It had a bed pan a rubber sheet and an enema bag. She then prepared the enema and told me to lay on my left side. After administering the enema she help me use the bed pan,

Even though I was afraid to admit I enjoyed it and felt better that is what hooked me. After I never asked but when my mother told me she needed thought I needed an enema I never objected

I do not know when I got my first enema. If I was treated like my younger brothers I assume I got glycerin suppositories while in diapers, then enemas with the red bulb once I was potty trained. Around 8-10 years old I began to recognize that there was something about those enemas that I liked.

After mom gave me a few squirts with the bulb she would leave the bathroom while I expelled, and I started giving myself a couple more shots with the bulb just for kicks. Until one time she walked in on me giving myself one of those little extra enemas. That was the end of her giving me enemas, but I continued on my own when I could.

I don’t exactly recall when or even how my interest in enemas began but I am certain that it was derived from my mother, who was a dedicated klismo from the get go. She always had a red open top enema bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door and it always had an enema nozzle, not a douche nozzle, attached to the hose. But it was not used on me until I was six years old or so.

The first introduction to enemas that I recall was when I was about three years old and inadvertently wandered into the bathroom where my parents and grahlndfather were administering an enema to my grandmother with the red bag while she sat on the toilet. They quickly shooed me out of there and there urgency with which they did so made it apparent to me that something was going on that I wasn’t supposed to know about.

My mother was always fussing over my bowels and making sure that I went potty regularly. If I missed a day I did not get an enema but rather my mothers favored remedy, a soap stick suppository. She was very adept at whittling a slice of soap of a bar of 99 and 44/100% pure Ivory soap. (I wonder what the 56% impurities were?) she would call me into the bathroom, pull my drawers down, lay me over her lap and slide the makeshift suppository up my butt. I did not like it. It burned. It did incentivize me to do my best to poop regularly so as to avoid the dreaded soap stick ritual.

Somehow though, I did become attuned to what enemas were, perhaps because my mother did talk to her sister and friends about them in my presence. Even though I wasn’t getting them just hearing the word “enema” made me shiver, although I didn’t know why.

I do recall that when I was about 5 we lived next door to a family with a girl about my age or a little older who I played with and her favorite game was playing “doctor.” She had a toy medical kit with a miniature rubber hot water bottle, which she liked to pretend was an enema bag, despite lacking hose or nozzle. She made up stories about her friends getting enemas, and, retrospectively, I image she was no stranger to the enema bag at home. When the family moved I was sorry to see her go.

Another episode I recall is that when I was about 6 I was hospitalized for some kind of respiratory infection. When I was put in the hospital bed in my anxiety I passed a small stool. My mother informed a nurse that I had a “bowel problem.” The nurse thought she meant I was constipated and asked her, “Do you want us to give him an enema?” Mom explained that I had had an “accident” so a change of bed clothes was all that was required.

Now comes the good part. It wasn’t long after that that that I received my first bag enema. That was a long time ago, in the ‘40s, but the memory is vivid to this day. Apparently I had “failed” one of Mom’s check-ups and she decided that the soap stick would no longer suffice, I was old enough and big enough to get an enema with the grown-up bag. She recruited Dad to help, and they had a discussion in my presence, as though I wasn’t even there. Which nozzle shall we use? (The black adult one.) How much water? (Oh, I think he’s big enough to take a quart.) Should we add soap? (Heck yeah, plenty of Ivory soap flakes.) What position should he be in? (Naked and prone.) So to this day I get most aroused by taking an enema with a red bag and hose, large black nozzle, face down holding a pillow. I remember when Mom opened the clamp how shocked I was at how tickly good the incoming water felt. If I wasn’t before I certainly became an enema addict that day.

As a matter of fact, I am getting a little aroused just writing this memoir. Not only that I haven’t had a bm for a couple of days. I think it’s time to go home, get out the trusty red bag and put it to good use. I have many more enema memories to share, but I have covered enough for now so they will have to wait till later. Au revoir, good folks, and keep those enemas flowing.

I have no knowledge of how early I got enemas they just always were. By the time I was 7 or 8 I could fight them off and they went on to the younger kids. I hate enemas to this day but to hear the word or walk down the isle still gives me a thrill. To me there is nothing better than a female backside in the air with a nozzle in the middle of it. God I love it so!!

After my previous post on this topic some recollections about my enema history bubbled up from my distant past and I thought I would do well to add them. For example, I neglected to mention that my first bag enema from my parents was also my last one from either or both of them. My mother had really loaded up on the soapflakes in the solution and although when the bag emptied I made a mad dash from the bedroom to the toilet I left a string of turds on the floor en route. It fell to Mom to clean up the mass and although she was not mad at me it may have been what dissuaded her from using the adult enema bag on me again. But having fallen in love with enemas I sought other ways to experience them.

The first thing I tried was taking enemas in the bathtub when the rest of the family was elsewhere. I’m pretty sure Fleet’s disposables had not been invented back then but somewhere I snagged a plastic squeeze bottle with a tip well suited for rectal insertion so I used that for impromptu enemas. It wasn’t terribly satisfactory though, and as I approached puberty I began sneaking into Mom’s bathroom when she wasn’t around and using her enema bag which always hung on her bathroom door. I think she had an inkling that I was hi-jacking her bag, I must have left it wet on occasion, but she never mentioned it.

Meanwhile I found other ways to indulge my enema fetish, largely by reading about them. I prowled the used book stores iooking for books that referenced emend in some way. I was thrilled when Kinsey’s Sexual Behavior in the Human Female was published in which it was mentioned that some women took enemas for sexual pleasure. Who’d of thunk it? Just imagining it gave me a stiffie. I bought books on nursing and clipped out any parts about enemas and pasted them in a little scrapbook I fashioned, which I hid somewhere in my bedroom. I had learned to masturbate by then and would read my little enema book and jerk off beneath the covers at night. I don’t know what happened to that book, it mysteriously disappeared one day and I suspected my younger brother had glommed onto it. I would not be surprised to find out that Mom had passed her klismaphilia on to him as well as me, but our family was an early adopter of the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

I also liked to look at pictures of enema bags and equipment in the Sear’s mail order catalog catalog, and one day it occurred to me that I could order my very own enema bag and stash it in a secure place and use it at my convenience without worrying about being discovered. It was a great idea. I don’t know why but instead of a red bag I ordered a 2 qt. white bag with white hose and white douche nozzle, which I greatly preferred over the dinky enema tip. I had my own upstairs bedroom with attached bath and conveniently it had a panel in the ceiling for attic access, and that’s where I hid my enema stuff. That worked great until my parents divorced and sold the place. I went to live with my mom and god only knows what the new occupants thought if they ever found the enema bag in the attic.

I have more excellent and not so excellent enema adventures to recount but that’s enough for this evening. I did have a nice enema this afternoon and i’m ready to hit the sack. So hasta la vista, acerbas