Did your parents know you took enemas ?

Mom gave first due to real painful, screaming pain blockage. She did so good, thought to ask her to give for pleasure but chickened out for fear of a possible put down about it. Accidently found the bag and just did solo in bathroom with out her knowing. Never caught. Got caught by dad playing with something else. Got the put down of terror 'If your mom ever found out' and a good put down lecture. I suspect he told mom anyway, her eye look gave it away to me and it wasn't very approving.

😄 Oh heck! I would have been mortified, I didn't get into this till I was out of my first marrage....LOL

They encouraged it, or my mother did, as she was the one who introduced me to them, so yes.

From about the age of 13 to 14 years old, if I was feeling "out if sorts", I would tell my Mom and she would get the bag ready for me. She offered to help if I wanted, but understood that I really wanted to be left to my on devices.......

When I was about 12 I had my last parental enema...and first sweet sensation up front shortly after.

My parents don't know.....but I do owe them.

I would sneak the bulb syringe out and use it sometimes when I was in the bathtub. I was never brave enough to try to sneak out the big bag. I doubt that my parents ever knew that I used the syringe on my own. I'm sure it would've been hidden if they figured it out.

My mother always knew that I was taking an enema because she was either giving them to me up to about age 11 or 12 and after that I was allowed to self administer. She would tell me that I should take an enema and be sure to put plenty of soap in the water just as she had when giving me all those enemas that she had given me.

My mom didn't know that I took enemas until after I was married. It was so long ago that I don't even recall exactly how the topic of conversation came up, but I think she just assumed that it was what everyone eventually did.

Yes, my parents knew I took enemas as they caught me a few times, but that never stopped me as I was hooked as I am now.

Bill

My parents knew I took enemas because I told them. I always said it was because of constipation. Little did they know!

When I was older my dad dropped a few remarks indicating he had always been onto my water games. He and my brother drank beer together at times and he probably got his confirmation that way. Me and my brother tried a little bit of anything we wanted and sometimes even dared each other into far out stuff.

Reading this post I'm struck that (grand)parents sometimes really don't know what they want, or are in any case not really consistent about things.

They have enema equipment themselves, but get upset when their children use it - and it doesn't seem to be about possible hygienic aspects either - or else they administer enemas to their kids for just about any old excuse, but don't like it when the kids start doing it themselves ...

I always vowed never to start doing such inconsistent and contradictory things when I grew up ... I hope I've managed to do so.

I had a few close calls but I was always on my own anyways. I was intrigued from an early age and it was on like donkey kong.

Nope. None of my parents knew anything.

Enemas were my well kept secret ever since in the family envrionment.

Neither my parents nor my friends ever found out I am a klismaphiliac. Only a handful of girlfriends got to know this secret of mine.

Cannot say with certainty. I was never aware that my parents knew anything. But you never know what a mother knows, they have special powers.

Quincy, I agree with you. I don't have any idea of what my parents knew of my enemas.

Yes, one day mom found the bag wet after I had used it and asked me if I used it and was I sick. I admitted that I had used it and she told me to tell her the next time I wanted an enema. It took some time to muster the courage to ask her but when I did she agreed without issue. She gave me a nice soapy enema and a rinse. I did that regularly after that. Eventually she let me give myself enemas.

I always thought I had kept my enemas, masturbation and anal play secret from mom. My little sister and I exchanged a few enemas and other mutual play and I always trusted her to never tell. But now 55 years later, I learn from my sister that one day while helping mom clean my room, they discovered mom's black douche nozzle hidden under the edge of my mattress (I'd had it up my butt hole the night before and failed to get it replaced in the bathroom before going to school). Sis said she and mom just stared at it, then mom scooped it up and with a little chuckle went off to replace it in the bathroom.. My sister didn't dare say anything because when younger she had been the one jamming it up my ass while I masturbated for her. Nothing was ever said. Mom gave me enemas until she could tell I was getting erections every time - about 10 or 11, then she just stopped and never suggested that I could take them on my own. From then on constipation was officially handled with laxatives.

Have no idea whether parents knew what I got up to with "the equipment"....Though never underestimate mothers.

Mothers have a unique sense about their children. They seem to know what is going on almost before it happens. But in this case I don't believe she knew I was taking enemas. I was always careful to clean and dry the equipment and return it in the same exact position I found it. If she knew, she never said anything to me.

Gape--I think the truth is in your phrase, "If she knew, she never said anything to me." A parent needs to know when to keep quiet, too.

hankb

Mothers have a unique sense about their children. They seem to what is going on almost before it happens.

That sounds like an excuse for when kids don't take enough precautions not to be found out ... then the kids blame it on a parent's preternatural sense of maternal affinity instead of on their own shortcomings as sneaks ... ha ha.

Mother caught me. Very embarassing

Mama and my Mother's mother both knew that I enjoyed taking enemas. I had been given enemas first with a small red bulb for as long as I could remember back. Mom said they were given to me because my intestines were not developed properly when I was born. I came about 2 months early. Anyway, when I was about 8 mother changed doctors and he advised her to stop giving me the bulb enemas and advised her to start giving me oral laxatives like Castoria, Milk of Magnesia, and even ex-lax. An occasional glass of Epsom salt water or prune juice was also given as were a weekly dose of prunes. I can't tell you how much I hated each of those things. Taste, oh yuk! Then, one afternoon, I was in the yard playing with a neighbor girl, when Mom called me into take my "medicine." It only took a few seconds. When I came back out, "Dattie" asked me what kind of medicine Mom had given me. I told her and her response was "oh!" She then told me that her Mother had once given her that stuff too, but that she had changed and had started giving her "adult" enemas. I listened intently. Later, that day, I came into the kitchen where Mom was. She was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, smoking one of her Salem cigarettes. I sat down next to her and picked up her right hand off of the table. She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, then I asked her, point blank, if she could give me an "adult enema!" She just looked at me saying nothing. I did not give up. In fact, I continued to ask almost daily. About a month into my begging, I found, on a table in my room a little blue booklet about constipation. I opened it up and read what it said about enemas. Mom had highlighted a section which basically said "individuals that are hooked on the enema habit are often lonely, pitiful people who spend most of their time indulging in the taking of enemas."After I read that part I, again, found Mom sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and smoking her cigarette. I took the little blue book in there with me and sat down next to her. She looked at me and then she saw the little blue book. There was silence for a second or so. Then, she spoke saying "Mike, I hope you read that." I took her hand in mine and said, "Mom, I did, but that ain't me." Her response was "Son, I don't want that to be." I replied "Mom, I hate that stuff you are giving me! It taste awful and it seldom works." Mom didn''t say another word. I left the little blue book sitting on the table and went outside. Later that day, deciding that I needed help, I rode my bike over to my Grandma's house. She welcomed me in and we went into her kitchen and sat down. I told her of my plight. She didn't snicker or put me down. in fact, Mam-Maw didn't even try and convince me to stop asking. She just listened. After I had finished my plea, she spoke saying "Mike, you know what your Mom's doctor has said. Your Mom believes that those things are bad for you and you should not be taking them." I listened and then replied, "Mam-Maw, I know all that. But, Mom has given me enemas all my life and they haven't hurt me, have they?" She couldn't answer. Then, she spoke saying, "Mike, ok, I'll talk with your Mother, but I can not promise anything." With that said, I gave my grandma a hug and rode my bike back home. A day or so later, I was on the front porch swing when Mam-Maw drove up in her car. She got out, came over to the swing and sat down. She, then, said "ok, son, I am going in there and talk with your Mom. I, again, can not promise you anything." I leaned over and gave Mam-Maw a kiss on the cheek and said "thank you so much!" She, then, went into the house. About 15 minutes later she came out, gave me a thumbs up, got into her car and left. I remained on the swing thinking Mom would soon be out to talk with me. Mother never came out, but about 30 minutes later Mam-Maw came back. This time, when she got out of the car, she pulled out a rather large brown paper sack with an orange and black box sticking out. She, again, came over to where I was sitting and sat down. She, then, spoke saying "Ok, son, we will see," patting the box. Then, she got up and went into the house. She didn't stay long. After she left, I got up off of the swing and went into the house. I found Mom, as always, in the kitchen, sitting at her table, sipping a cup of coffee, smoking one of her cigarettes I leaned over and kissed her cheek and sat down next to here. The sack that Mam-Maw had brought was sitting on the table as well. Nothing was said about it. After several seconds of silence I got up and went to my room. I just knew Mom was going to give me an "adult enema." Well, that didn't happen. Instead, she called me to the kitchen and gave me my "medicine." I teared up as I took it. Several weeks passed, then, it happened. It was a Saturday morning. I was sleeping soundly when Mom came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and woke me up by rubbing lightly on my neck. Then, she took my left hand and pulled me gently out of bed and led me into my bathroom. Immediately, on the washing machine that was in the room, I noticed the orange and black box, open, with nothing in it. I, then, glanced over to the right and there hanging from a curtain rod above the toilet was an orange hot water bottle with a red hose hanging from it. Being, embarrassed, I left the room. Mom called out "Son, if you want me to give you this enema you had better come now, or I am going to take it down, and if I do, I do not want to hear another thing about enemas." Well, I went back in and Mother did give me the first of many enemas. A couple of months had passed when Mom took me to her doctor. She told him that she had once again started giving me enemas. He went nuts. Well, enemas from Mom ceased. But, every I chance I got, I'd sneak the bag out of Mom's towel closet in her bathroom and take one. One day, when she was gone shopping I went in to retrieve the syringe, but it was not there. Mom had hidden it from me. I searched and eventually found it in Mom's top dresser drawer under her panties. Several weeks, later, Mom came home sooner than expected and caught me with a full enema bag lying on the floor and me taking off my undies. She demanded that I give her the bag which I did reluctantly. She poured the bag's contents out and left the room. I did not leave. Instead, I remained sitting on the toilet with my hands on my head, embarrassed and ashamed. Thirty or so minutes passed. Mom came back into her bathroom. She sat next to me on the edge of the tub. She turned my face towards her and said "Mike, you heard the doctor! He continues to say those things are bad for you!" I listened, teared up and said "Mom, I know what he said, but I like them. I have been taking enemas most of my life. That other stuff makes me sick to my stomach. Don't you understand?" Mom sat there next to me rubbing my hand for several minutes. Then she got up and left the room. A few minutes later Mom returned carrying her enema bag. She came over to the toilet area again and sat down on the edge of the tub. She put the syringe in her lap and took my hand and with teary eyes said "Mike, I know that I'll get in trouble for this, but I hate to see my boy hurting like you are." With that said she got up, walked over to the sink and filled the hot water bottle. I got up took off my undies and allowed Mom to give me my enema. Ask me if she knew? Yes Ask me if my Mam-Maw knew? Yes and I thank both of them for loving their son and grandson like they did.

My Mother knew. 😃

I'm almost sure she had no idea I liked the enemas she gave me. She did not know that whenever I was alone and could do it, I'd get out the bag and give myself an enema. After the few enemas she gave me for constipation, she'd leave me alone in the bathroom and I could refill the bag and give myself another one. When she'd come back everything was just like she left it so there was no way for her to know.

I think my parents figured it out on their own. I was is my middle teens and found a way to contort my body to force water in from the bathtub faucet. I made a lot of noise just getting into and out of that position. Then there was the down pour into the toilet. Their bedroom was just next to the bathroom. It was a very small home. My father would ask why so much noise and activity in the loo. I probably responded with the normal teenage boy grunt. Later in my teens I got the urge and had the money to buy my very own red closed top bag. I hid it in my closet. I was questioned a few times occasionally and then left alone if I knew what bulimia was.

My dad knew. (I never had a mom) Sometime he would walk into the bathroom when I had the nozzle in my butt and the bag filling me, and he would ask if everything were OK, and when I said yes, he would leave. Other times he would stay and do what he came to do (pee) while I was filling and then leave. Neither of us felt embarrassed and I also saw him doing enemas too.

My aunt (father's sister) would administer them on a regular basis when I was at their place during the school year and part of the summer! When I returned to live with my mothers parents enemas were forbidden and when I continued to use them and replace equipment that was thrown out it landed me at the psychiatrist! (Which made me want to do enemas even more>:-)!