My mom gave me my first enema at age five, as part of a punishment for playing “doctor” with a neighbor kid. I think she would have been too embarrassed to tell my dad about it so only she knew about that one.
I knew I was being punished, but when that warm water shot into me, I was surprised and also thrilled with the sensation of warm water filling my bowels. All through my teenage years, when no one else was home, I would sneak into my parents’ bathroom and used my mom’s enema equipment to self-administer enemas. I always tried to put everything back the way I found it so my mom wouldn’t notice something was misplaced or wet or whatever. If she did, and she probably did, she never mentioned anything. I was one of six kids, but by then the three oldest were gone. I doubt the other two kids received any enemas, punishment or otherwise, so if she suspected anyone, it would have been me. I think she just let it go because she felt guilty about punishing me as a child that way. I’m grateful she did because giving me that enema started my interest in and love for enemas for the last 60 years.
Not long after my wife and I got married in 1979, I talked to her about the benefits of enemas. She wasn’t interested, but had no problem with my enjoying them whenever I wanted. About 10 years ago, she let me give her several over the course of several weeks, hoping they would help with her constipation.
Our daughter knows that I get enemas and that my wife got a few.
I mentioned enemas to a daughter-in-law and gave her some equipment so she knows.
So, that’s four women in my life who know I get enemas, but only my wife knows that I get great pleasure from receiving enemas.