Waiting or doing?

Which do you like the most? Being told you are going to have an enema, as punishment for being a naughty boy, and having to wait or the actual enema? Waiting drives me wild until I can get a full release. What is your opinion?

As a child, my Mom would notice I had not had a BM for a couple of days and would anounce that I was to get an enema later. I would be in a tizzy all the rest of the day until it happened. now, as today, my girlfriend told me I was to have an enema this afternoon [she told me yesterday] and I am anticipating it all day.

I never had an enema until adulthood. Neither of my parents had them as children either

I am a do-er not a waiter!

Dad always let me "help" with various aspects of the enema.

From putting the funnel in the bag when I was 6 to essentially taking a solo enema when I was 12.

NOT waiting and making myself crazy

It drives my wild when my wife tells me that she is going to give me an enema later. I never know exactly when later will be but the anticipation drives me crazy.

The anticipation, AND the certainty, was/is absolutely heart-pounding!

As a child, my Mom would notice I had not had a BM for a couple of days and would anounce that I was to get an enema ..

In my case it was no BM in the morning meant the white metal pot and box of Ivory snow was coming out of the kitchen cabinet, along with the eight ounce bulb.. I mentioned elsewhere that it was like there was a timer connected to the toilet seat, and after 10 minutes or so it set off a "he needs and enema" alert!

Not even for a punishment, but I go CRAZY when my wife texts me to come home on time because she has a hot/soapy bag waiting for me.

For the rest of the day I am unable to concentrate on anything except the eventual enema. Really perks up my entire day!

My wife is the master at anticipation. She announces when (what day) and the time she feels it is appropriate for her to give me my enemas. I don’t have much say in the matter. During my “wait time” she will say little off the cuff remarks like “we are going to clean you out soon” or “it’s been awhile since we’ve milked that cock of yours.” During these fun discussions I always get a raging hard-on. She senses my arousal only to say, “ you are just going to have to wait a couple more days.” Drives me nuts but well worth the wait.

Back in my career days when I was traveling weekly and the kids were away at college, it became routine for my wife to ask me as I was unpacking if I needed to be cleaned out. Many times she would answer that question herself as she rubbed my erection through my underwear. She knew a relaxing enema that included a good milking was a great stress reliever. She also knew my reaction to her using the word "enema" frequently. The anticipation was electrifying. The enemas were bliss. I really miss her.

While it's fun to know I have an enema coming -- you'll be getting at least one enema tonight are sweet, sweet words to be awakened to -- I much prefer the actual act to the anticipation.

I suppose those of you who got enemas for punishment, or if for any reason you did not like getting an enema, the anticipation waiting for it to happen could be traumatic. That was never the case for me. I don't remember ever getting an enema as punishment, although I do remember one time when mom said something like she hoped the enema I was about to get would be an "attitude Adjustment". I was probably grumpy because I was constipated.

I rather enjoyed the small enemas I got and as a young girl there was not much time between the time mom told me I was getting an enema, and when it actually happened. Sometimes only minutes. At most an hour or so if she told me during dinner, "I think you need an enema after I finish the dishes."

Then once I was old enough to stay home alone, there were times when I couldn't wait until mom and dad left for shopping, or whatever, knowing I would have time to give myself an enema while they were gone.

Then as a young career woman working in an office, there were times when the anticipation waiting until I got home after work for an enema became a real event. Sometimes it was with my husband, sometimes solo because he was out of town or otherwise busy, and I decided to spend my time with the bag and vibe.

Even today, I look forward to days when I know I will have time to indulge in a long leisurely enema session.

I can recall a time in which waiting for an enema caused butterflies to fly in my stomach! One was when I was around the age of eleven. The ordeal was strange to say the least, but the event still after 50+ years still drifts into my mind from time to time... Mom and Grandma had gone shopping so I had the house to myself for what I thought would be at least an hour and a half. Anyway, I had decided to give myself an enema while I was home alone. I waited for about 10 minutes before I started the preparation wanting to be sure they didn't leave and then remember something that they'd might have forgotten. I had just filled Mom's Rexall Victoria combination bottle with about 3 quarts of water... It was extremely bloated and actually looked like a basketball with a hose coming out of it. How I did it was, well, I filled the hot water bottle full of warm water. Then, I attached the tubing to the bottle and made sure the tube's shut-off was shut. Next, I laid the bottle on the floor and filled a large glass with warm water. I, then, filled my mouth with the water from the glass and put the hose minus the nozzle into my mouth. After opening the shut-off, I'd blow the water into the bottle. I continued doing this until the bag looked like it might burst. Then right before I started to hang the bag, Mom appeared with Grandma in the bathroom door. I was sitting on the commode in my underpants. Mom's only comment to me was "Mike, that's way too much water! If you want to kill yourself, go ahead!" After that was said both Mom and Grandma left the door. I was so embarrassed! I just sat on the toilet, elbows on my knees and hands holding my head. I probably stayed in that position for 15 or so minutes. Then, Mom reappeared and entered the bathroom. She came over to where I was and took a seat on the edge of tub. She took one of my hands and had me face her. She just looked at me not saying anything for at least a minute. Then, she said "Mike, I don't understand you and this enema thing you have! I really wish could, but let me tell you something! You wouldn't be taking so many enemas!" I thought for a second. Then, I looked down at the floor. Mom lifted my head and turned my head toward herself once again. I peered into her eyes and said "Mom, I really do like the way enemas make me feel! In fact, I can truly say the feeling I get as the water fills my stomach is quite unique! That's why I take them!" Mom didn't say anything. She just held my hand and looked into my eyes. Finally, another minute, she said "Well, Mike, do you want to take this enema?" I looked down and said "I guess so." Mom, then, let go of my hand and stood up. To be honest, I thought that she was going to leave the room, but instead, she walked over to the white bathroom cabinet and took out a jar of Vaseline. Then, she returned to the edge of the tub. I was just sitting on the toilet watching her every move. Mom, then, asked me .. "Mike, where do you hang the bag in here? Normally, I gave you your enemas in your bathroom and not in here." I pointed up to the window. It had a perfect knob that the bottom tab would hang on. Mother, then, bent down, picked up the bloated bottle and hung it on the knob using the bag's bottom tab. Immediately, I heard, the sound of bloop, bloop as the water filled the hose. Shortly thereafter Mom, opened the Vaseline jar and took her finger and obtained a glob of the stuff. Then, she smeared that Vaseline on the black nozzle that was attached to the hose. While she was doing that, I slipped out of my underwear and took a knee chest position in front of the toilet. Mom patted my back and then slipped the nozzle into my rectum. She, then, said "ok, Mike, I am going to start your enema now. Let me know if you need me to stop it, ok!" I nodded up at her and then lay my head down on the floor. Mom, seeing that I was ready, opened the shut-off and I was in heaven.