Was there a first incident that started your enema fetish?

I was about 6 when got my first enema. I was taking a warm shower.

I had soaped up my rectum and bent over to rinse my gapping anus. Boy did I get a surprise......! It was a lucky the toilet was close..

..I just made it.

I really enjoyed taking showers from then on.

J 😄

I am not sure how old I was. Probably 3 or 4. I do remember laying on my back on the bed with my mother how my legs up and inserting a bulb syringe into my butt. Then I was 6 or 7 I remember sitting on the toilet and my mother giving me an enema from the bag. She took and enema every day that same way. Growing up I thought that was the only way someone took and enema and my mother gave me several that way.

I was 11, on mom's bed, on my back legs up. She used a bulb syringe and every time she shoved it in I got a little stiffer. How embarrassing.

My first enema I received from a nurse when I was in the hospital. It was a strange feeling, when she forced me to have a bowel movement. A few days later I received a suppository (laxative) from her.

I don't remember my first. It had to be with a small bulb because I remember seeing the bulb but don't remember it being used on me. I do remember my first "bag"......I must have been about 5 or 6. I had some childhood desease, because anytime that I ran a temp my colon shut down. It was always followed by an enema. The bag was a standard 2 qt and usually filled about half way. My Mom was always very gentle and caring. I don't ever remember it being difficult or painful, butt I do remember it as feeling so good after.

the boxcar

I must have about 5 when I got my 1st enema. I remember being led into the bathroom by my mom and grandma. A big enema bag hung on the door. My pants were pulled off and a nozzle shoved up my butt. Needless to say I put up a big fuss. After a while I didn't feel anything and stopped complaining. That's when mom noted I was sitting on the tubing. It was quickly rerouted and I jumped up, causing the nozzle to come out and spray everyone. After mom and grandma had a good laugh, the nozzle was reinserted and held in place while I dutifly took my 1st enema. I must say as frightening as it was it was also exciting and was my beginning of fascination with enemas.

I was in the hospital for the usual kids T&A. must have been about 5 or 6. could not seem to move my bowels. one morning a nurse came in a said that she was going to have to give me an enema. she came back in a while with a tray. on it she had a large pitcher of warm soapy water, a white enamel can to which a hose and nozzle had been attached. she placed me on a rubber pad on my side, made me pull my knees up to my chest, and inserted the nozzle. it was a very strange feeling but pleasurable. She poured some of the water in and raised the can up. I felt the water coming into me. she rubbed my tummy from time to time, told me what a good boy I was. I had a bowel movement shortly, but the water made me feel very good. I think that is why later I made up excuses at home so my mother would administer an enema. have been a big fan ever since.

My first enema came in the late 1960's, I guess I must have been about 6. My grandmother given it to me. When it did not pass by the 4th day and I had thrown up my lunch, that evening, she told me that her were going to give me a very special treatment to help the penny come out that usually only grown ups use. I asked if it would hurt and she just told me that it would just feel very different. My grandmother laid out a rubber sheet and a towel on the old divan we had in there and told me to take off all my clothes. Then my grandmother entered the room with carrying a white enamel can by it's handle in one hand and a coiled hose with a black tip at the end that was attached to the bottom of the can with the other hand. My grandmother had a jar of petroleum jelly, a roll of toilet paper and a bedpan. Shorty I was laying tummy side down when I felt something going up my butt that felt, like my grandmother had said - really strange - but in a good way since it sent a little cool or chilly sensation up my butt. All was going well yet - my grandmother was holding the can and the hose in my butt. Then I heard a metal snapping sound and quickly got a real bad urge to go number two and a big stomach ache as well. Needless to say, the next three minutes (it took the 1 quart can to empty its soapy water) were the most remembered in my life up to that point. Finally, the hose was pulled out and I was turned over on my back while the bedpan was slipped under my butt and I began to go number two like I had never done so much and so bad plus blow lots of bubbly farts - in my life up to that point in time.

The first one I can remember was when I was about to turn 5 and mom used the family enema can. My grandmother helped by holding up my legs for easy access by the black hard rubber nozzle. Another time she held up the can, probably a foot too high.

At 50 + I have only just received my first enema. I had been admitted to hospital for severe stomach pain and after spending ages in A&E I was sent to a ward. A lovely young nurse attended to me and said once I was settled she would be back to give me an enema.

She duly returned and got me on my side and told me pull my leggs into my belly. Then I felt her spread my cheeks apart and apply some gel. Now at this stage I was so erect, I love to expose my bum, then she spread them again and I felt the tube go in. Then came the wonderful feeling of warm water entering me, it surprisingly felt so good. She removed the tube and wiped me clean and told me to hold it for as long as I could.

As I was mobile I didnt have to have a bedpan but was told not to flush after I had been so they could see what was passed, thankfully nothing much came out so I got another one!!

Anyway the problem turned out to be something completely different but at least I was able to experience an enema and now look forward to having more.

At about 11 years old i got my third or fourth enema and this time, it aroused me and I got my first erection, of course my mom didn't know it yet, if she even did, before this, i hated them and never wanted another until this day, i loved to have them and have been taking them and giving them as much as possible.

I have bulb syringe enema that i use, same as when i first started to experiment with my friend at 12 years old.The feel of the thick nozzle was really what brought it all on from that point in my life, really wonder why we both had some interest in taking enemas'.

What ever the reason is and was i have now a little collection of enema equipment and continue to grow everyday, just like same minded people who are the same way.

I was 31 and married for just a few months when I wound up very constipated. I tried everything and when I finally admitted my problem to my husband he said that I really needed to have an enema. I had never had one and on the one hand I was petrified of the idea, but also knew that I really needed some help. He ran out to the pharmacy and came back with an enema bag, prepared one and gave it to me. It was an amazing experience and I remember it like it was yesterday.

I received my first enema university. My girlfriend really like playing doctor, so Iconvinced her to play with her.

From as early as I can remember, it seemed my mother was quite insistent that I had to have a bowel movement each day. On days it did not occur naturally, I would be made to swallow a spoonful or two of Fletcher’s Castoria, then sat on a child’s potty in the middle of the kitchen floor where she could keep an eye on me and the result while she worked. It seemed I was forever bending over to have my butt cleaned.

My first enema came at age three and I remember the incident clearly. My younger brother and I would be diapered on the kitchen table, put into our pajamas, and taken upstairs to bed. Probably thinking it wasn’t necessary, our parents never explained things to us—they just did them, so when I was about to receive my first enema, nothing was explained to me. I was immediately curious and a bit fearful when I wasn’t prepared for bed along with my brother and allowed to accompany him—fearful, because I knew something was up and I wasn’t given an explanation. I had been undressed and placed on a pad on the kitchen table and told to wait there—for what? While my dad was upstairs putting my brother in his crib, I watched my mother at the kitchen counter as she removed cellophane wrapping from a flat box and remove a red object, long red tube, and various other items. When I asked what she was doing and what the objects were for, her reply was that I would soon find out when my dad returned. She had her back to me at the counter and I heard water running and I watched her fill the red object—a bag—and attach the long hose to the stopper.

Soon my dad returned and my mother approached with the dripping red bag and placed it next to me on the table. Still, there was no explanation of what they were up to. I was told to stay on my back and not to move, except to raise my legs. By this time, I was annoyed, even afraid, and not so ready to cooperate. The little black nozzle that was on the end of the hose had Vaseline applied and my mother pushed it into my rectum. I was told to lie still. Next, my dad raised the bag and unsnapped the metal clamp and I felt water invading my bowel. In my anger, I became uncooperative and began to kick. The nozzle slipped out and sprayed around the table. My parents became angry and threatened corporal punishment if I refused to behave. The nozzle was again inserted, and the enema commenced anew. Not knowing how it would end and not wanting to be spanked, I began to do the only safe thing—cry with loud shrieks. That caused my brother to do likewise from his upstairs room and my parents became more angry with me. Feeling the pressure building in my tummy and, while crying, I told them my tummy was hurting. Seeming to doubt me, the hose was clamped and the nozzle removed. I was held down, flat on my back on the pad, screaming that I wanted to use the potty, but told to wait. When finally believed, I was picked up and placed on the potty, making a bit of a wet mess around me.

Prior to this event, I had not seen a doctor regarding any suspected "problem," nor was aware of anything out of the ordinary. Yet, I overheard conversation between my parents that it was advised that I be given an enema nightly for two weeks! My mother was regularly seeing a chiropractor in those days and I later realized, even though I hadn’t seen this doc, he must have been behind the scheme for my "advised treatment." My parents tried again on the following night, but realized that it would be an uphill battle to gain my cooperation. Their plan was thereafter dropped.

As a result of that experience, I’d immediately become aware of and fascinated with anal stimulation and play and soon began to secretly experiment by inserting parts of some toys into my rectum (that sometimes caused minor bleeding—unknown to my parents). I actually thereafter loved and looked forward to the prospect of receiving future enemas, but never failed to put up a mock protest to some degree, contrary to my real feelings of longing for it to happen. (It was several years until my next episode and I occasionally did receive them from my mother right into my early teens.) The die had been cast and I’ve forever since been a confirmed anal-erotic!

Other traumatic events at that age of three included being hauled off to the hospital for a tonsillectomy (again with no prior explanation) and of being told in no uncertain terms that I must learn to outgrow my need for nighttime diapers (I hadn’t see that one coming).

My first was the decisive one. It was given by my "ex", and there was nothing therapeutic about it. It was farce -- potty training was the pretense -- but there was never any confusion about true purpose: a new level of erotic play, pure and simple. Both of us were in our late 30s at the time, and neither of us had any recollection of contact with enemas in early life -- they were not used in either childhood home, as far as we could remember. The answer to the obvious question -- how did we get to this point? -- is another long story I've told in earlier posts. Back to this one. . .

That first enema not only added a favorite way to satisfy my sexual appetite, it boosted that appetite like nothing ever had! (More on her gratification at the end.) Compared to the many that followed, #1 was awkward and probably low-quality. I know we were both nervous and ham-handed, and as a total newbie, I'm sure I was constantly apprehensive about where things might go next. But an irresistible new element had been introduced: domination (her) and submission(me).

The full-blown fetish (addiction?) developed over the next few months, as we became more proficient with the equipment and more comfortable with the effects it produced. The sessions quickly became ritualized: day of the week and time of day, dialog, dress, solution prep, nozzle insertion, elapsed time to "bag empty". An expulsion encounter was in the repertoire from the start, and it became super-intimate very quickly.

I used to wonder if she was as "hooked" on giving as I was on receiving. The question was important because that was the agenda, 9 out of 10 times. She certainly did not seem to have the same intense craving to receive that I had (though as recipient, she responded positively). I now believe GIVING was her special pleasure: more often than not, she was the one to initiate a session with an order, rather than a suggestion. Her demeanor would change instantly, and she'd become incredibly intent when supervising my expulsion. When the dom:sub roles were reversed, it probably threw her off-balance.

Whatever the psychology, HAPPY DAYS indeed!

Rafter

It was the war. Our fathers were in the military and our Moms were working in the defense factories. I and most of my playmates had been told by our parents that "enema" wasn't addressed outside the family.

A winter storm flooded the area and the creeks were running near flood stage, carrying all matter of flotsam. We four kids (two girls and two boys) were catching frogs when a bright red fountain syringe drifted by. I'd only seen our family combo before and knew not what this might be. I grabbed a stick, ran along the creek bank and fished it out of the creek. The girl nearest my age commented, "that's what you get an enema with."

The rest of us asked her if she ever had an enema from this new thing. She told us how it worked. We asked how it felt. The chat continued and we shared observations about our likes and dislikes about enemas. Each seemed jealous about the good feelings that others had. There was a frank evaluation of how good or bad our Moms were at giving enemas.

In the weeks ahead we would visit each other's bathrooms and compare family enema bags. At first we were shy about filling a bag with water. Within a month we were demonstrating the bags and comparing things like how well the hose clamps worked. this play was just assembling the gear, filling the bag and running the water out into the bathtub. Three of us decided to give ourselves an enema with the others watching. We talked it over for almost two weeks. One girl said no. After the first two meetings of the 'enema club' she decided to visit our demonstrations. We didn't trade enemas then -- we were each rather posessive of our family bags.

I was hooked.

Although very young, the first one was the one that hooked me. I was taken completely by surprise, well lubed and given several bulbs. This was repeated a couple of times. It really got things started.

My kinkiness and exploration of enemas started in January or February of 1966. I was 11 and decided to go visit some friends that lived a couple of miles away. It was a hot day, and I stopped about halfway to rest in a shady area, which were not common on the rest of the way. When I arrived at their house, their mother, who I called aunt, opened the door. She informed me that Gustavo was not home and Liliana was feeling ill, but I could visit with her after her enema.

She took me to the hallway by the bedroom and asked me to wait on a small bench that sat close to the door. Auntie went away and returned a few minutes later carrying a 2 liter enamel enema can with the hose attached. I remember seeing the small spigot and nozzle in her other hand. She put the can down and opened the door, picked up the can and walked in. At that time I heard Liliana say, "No, Mom, please no!!"

Auntie said, "It is for your own good, now take your panties off and lay back with your knees up and legs apart!" There was a bit of silence, and then I heard Liliana cry out, "I hate enemas Mom!" Auntie told her to breathe deeply and relax since she was going to give her a good cleanout. Liliana started to cry that it hurt; Auntie told her that was good since it meant the soap was working and she was going to need a good rinse. The sounds and the thought of Liliana, who I had a big crush on, getting filled made me horny, and I decided I would like to give her an enema myself. It remains a fantasy.

I heard Auntie telling her that the can was now empty and she just had to hold it for a while, and I heard a mixed groan/sob from Liliana, I do not know how long she was made to retain, seemed a couple of minutes to me, and then heard Auntie telling her she could go, and a few seconds later Auntie came out carrying the now empty enema can, looked at me and said, “I am going to give her at least one more enema, do you want to wait or want to come back later?” Of course I said I would wait.

Auntie took the can with her and returned about 10 minutes later, with the obviously full can, and walked into the bedroom. I heard Liliana say, "NO please no, Mom!!" The response was quick, "You are getting the full can again and maybe one more, now open your legs!!" This was followed by a groan from Liliana, and a few seconds later she started to cry. The enema took about 3 minutes, and Liliana cried the whole time. Soon Auntie came out and said to me, "Liliana sure makes a fuss when I enema her. They are not that bad; have you had any?" I said I had not, and she told me not to be scared of them.

When Liliana was done in the bathroom, I went in and we played some cards. I had to pee, so I went in the bathroom, and there was the can, sitting in the tub. I asked Liliana about them, and she blushed and said she got them a few times a month and hated them but her sister did not dislike them.

A week later I bought an enema can and gave myself an enema. I was now hooked and kinky!!

The first one I remember I was probably 3 or 4. My mother, aunt, and grandmother had me on the diningroom table on my back. One of them held my legs up while another inserted a white bulb syringe. They repeated several times. It was scary.

The first that I remember was when I was about five. I think that I must have had enemas before that, because it took both my mother and father to get me into the bathroom, down on the floor and get the enema in me.

I was very young when I got my first enema, and it was because I was sick and mom said the doctor wantad me to have it.

enemas where given when needed witch was often, we all got them when sick or pluged up.

my mom was very loving and so careful with us and when we had to go we where allowed to go but another was coming until nothing was coming out, I really loved these moments and charrish them to this day.

have a great enema day

I just got my first enema a few days ago. It was administered by my Master. Being the first time, things didnt go quite as planned, but it was enjoyable none the less. It was 2 qt's while I was on my hands and knees. I look forward to many more!

I had to have been pretty young when I got my first one and don't remember it. For several years I got enemas from a bulb and when I was maybe 8 years old I was given the first "big girl" enemas from the bag. Those always seemed like a much more substantial cleaning out and at the time I would absolutely dread them.

Unlike most I wasn't a child when I received my first one, the fascination started with someone I saw occasionally. I admit I was hesitant at first but quickly learned to completely enjoy them. Unfortunately, due to some life circumstances we no longer see each other and I am starting to reqret my love for them.

I had gotten enemas frequently since birth since I suffered from a birth defect (That later in life turned out to be a Mega Colon.) At age 7 or 8 I was in the hospital with a ruptured appendex....and received a first of many enemas while there. I think that enema was the trigger for what became my fetish.

the boxcar

I just stumbled upon an enema syringe and bag in the hall closet when I was about 10. I looked up the word in the dictionary and it sorta blew my mind. I couldn't get it out of my mind. The next time I was home alone I took it out and gave it a try. I was hooked ever since.

The incident, if you would call it that, was reading about the enema procedure in an old home nursing handbook when I was about 15. I had never heard of it before and we had no equipment at home, but I improvised and eventually succeeded in giving myself an enema in the bath.

I was about three when daddy and mother brought me in to Dr. Wilson for the colic. He took my temperature and shook his head but then smiled and winked at daddy and told mother to take me over to his nurse who was his mother. I was in a frantic rage but she dragged me kicking and screaming over to this tall buxom woman in white with pince nez glasses hanging from a velvet ribbon. Augusta Wilson spoke to mother in a half whisper and told her to put this thick plush white cotton towel over her lap and picked me up and set me face down on top of it. In minutes she had the seat flap of my night suit lowered down to half mast and was dipping a thermometer into a jar of Vaseline. I was roaring and staring at the red bulb enema syringe standing on the table next to her chair and wondering what the hell that was for. I soon found out. :'(

Booty, I guess you were "roaring" more when the nozzle went in?!

My fetish (a word I'm not entirely comfortable with) was the end result of eleven miserable years - which you've heard enough about I'm sure.

Apparently, unlike many here, enemas started as sexual exploration during my teens (as opposed to having them administered by my parents early on).

The details are a bit hazy, but I know I stumbled on the concept of enemas when I was about 14 or so, probably reading about it on forums like this one. After the seed of the idea was planted, it was only a matter of time before I got the courage up to unscrew my shower head and self administer... I don't think I was too thrilled the first time, despite getting 'excited' in the way most of the males here have also described. But it grew on me after a while.

However, despite being something I started in my mid-teens, I've only recently acquired a good enema bag and kit. Having the right equipment REALLY pays off, and makes it all much more convenient.