Was there a first incident that started your enema fetish?

My first enema was at 6. I had been sick w a stomach virus, but had it had a bm in 4 or 5 days.

Mom put a towel over side of the tub and had me lean over it. She told me what was going to happen and that it would be over in less than a minute. As soon as I leaned across the side of the tub, she gently inserted a children's fleet enema. I liked it from the very beginning.

I was in grade school and every once in a while my mother would hold her hand on my forehead and say "You feel like you have a fever, and I have to take your temperature"

She would lead me into my bedroom and tell me to loosen my pants, and she would lower my underpants. I could see her shaking down the mercury in the glass thermometer and pick up a jar of Vaseline. She had me lay on my stomach and lube my rectum, and then insert the thermometer and telling me "don't move for a few minutes". Then she would pull it out to look at it. She would usually say "you have a slight fever, and I am going to give you an enema".

She would lead me into the bathroom and have me kneel on the floor over the tub. She would fill the red enema bag from the kitchen sink and hook it to the shower rod. She would lube me with Vaseline again and insert the nozzle in my rectum and tell me to take deep breaths.

Meanwhile, I would be crying that I don't want an enema, but I had no say in the matter. I usually had to get three bags of soapy water until the water came out clear.

Not really a single incident, just a realization that pleasure and pain don't have to be an either/or proposition, and CAN occur at the same time!

Once I got that figured out I realized that enemas are pleasurable and the "cleansed" feeling you get after a clear return is also pleasureable in a different way, and that was all I needed

Mother got a job in the fruit packing sheds for the summer. I put cards onto my bicycle so they would make noise and peddled by to see if mom was OK, pretending to be ridding a motorcycle to impress her. The second day, returning home for the evening, she said the management had asked that I not hang around anymore. Older sister chimed in and invited me to visit with her friends. The first day I climbed all over our walnut tree. And that evening, with mom listening, she invited me again. Mom encouraged me to go and gave sister a quarter. That would be like $3 in today's value, no kidding.

So next day, off I go, holding sister's hand. I hang around and show them how to make a real mud pie, but nobody was tasting it, duh, girls ain't as silly as I thought. One little girl of the little group, pretended to feel sorry for me and rubbed my tummy, asking if I might have a temperature. "No" I quickly replied. "Well: Pretend then maybe, OK? For us?" Sister flashed her quarter at me and flipped it into the air, catching it firmly and dropping it back into her pocket, with a wink. Suddenly I caught on and asked her friend if she knew how to take a boy's temperature? The other one stepped in and assured me she did, and asked if she could show the others how it works. Before I could turn around twice, they come giggling and spinning a real thermometer back and forth between the oldest one's fingers, with her thumb. Stopping straight in front of me, doing that thing like that, she looks at my belt buckle and back up at me and over at my sister, who just shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, oh, back there!" and I giggle innocently for them, and they giggle back, nodding their heads in perfect unison. So I pull the belt end out till it can dangle down and twist to make it flap back and forth. The younger one proceeded to take my shirt off, ignoring my pants. With my shirt off, the older one challenges her to try and make my tiny nipples puff up. "What?" the little one with a frown, shakes her head no. To that the older one, even a little older than my sister, pushes her aside and starts drawing one into her mouth, making slurping noises. Tasting a good chunk of me, she was as a little calf to me. But as I cradle her head, the other one gets my sister to pull my pants down. With my pants around my ankles, I saw the little one's jaw drop and stare. I was pointing straight out and beginning rise. Sister recommends she feel it. And with that it grew some more for her. The older one dropped off of me and backed up to gain a panoramic view. "Turn loose of him and look at him now!" she blurted out in near disbelief. But there I was, their experiment, hobbled with my pants down and shirtless, as their captive.

My enema fetish developed form just one enema my father gave me when I was 9. Why he gave me that enema is a whole other story. The enema itself was mundane. It was very parental with no undertones of molestation or anything incestuous. The anticipation, the embarrassment and humiliation of being all bare in front of my daddy and being vulnerable was what made that incident memorable. Over the years I have built that one incident into a monumental event. For some reason I was more afraid that someone would see daddy giving me the enema then actually having the enema. To this day the enema is a secret naughty thing that nice, proper young ladies do not think about. HAhaha, if my "daddy" only knew!

I don't know when it started but I was firmly imprinted with a desire to penetrate a female bottom with a nozzle by the time I was in kindergarten. I was a kinky devil at a young age after getting enemas from mom very early on.

I can't recall any ‘ first incident ‘ that was memorable as to my ’ klismo ‘ journey . Enemas in our 1950’s decade home were as common as dinner , dad reading the newspaper and watching television . I do recall three distinct' stages ‘ in my growing affinity for the enema . I did verbally object at times to my mom but my objections were overridden by her gentle but firm reasoning that ’ this we must do ‘ . I can't recall a time even as a small child being non-compliant , physically , with her instructions at my enema time as to disrobing , positioning , etc. . Then came what I refer to as my ’ indifferent ‘ stage as to ’ no objections but can we just get this ‘ thing ’ over with ‘ . Then one day about the age of ten , during a mid-afternoon enema session ……. something just ‘ clicked ’ , and no …. it was not the metallic ‘ shut-off clamp ‘ though all was ’ operational ‘ that long ago afternoon , as to an intersection of pleasure , desire and just ’ being in the moment ‘ as to our enema time . So it was and so it is and here I am today posting on ’ zity ' as to still a pleasurable experience recalled and practiced .

I was age four or five, probably more like four and i saw my mother giving my grandmother enemas, i know it was more than one. And ever since then it became a fantasy thing of having an enema, yet i would never have wanted one from my mother who was actually and RN, otherwise all i would have to do is fake constipation probably, and the thought of getting them in hospital or something terrified me back then too, but looking back i wish i could have gotten them, but somehow l knew l would like it and it was always a fantasy connected to a pretty woman or girl being the giver or even the female also getting enemas. i have no memory recall of any anal stuff before that day, but i had an anal feeling ever since. i gave myself my first enema at fourteen years of age and had my first orgasm from it.

Yes, around age eleven when mom started giving me daily morning potato starch enemas directed by my doctor for chronic diarrhea caused by too many antibiotics. I was not allowed to expel the enemas for several hours or until the enema was absorbed. I hated that and felt violated by the short nozzle of the white children's bulb syringe. It was always well lubricated by the Vaseline and easily penetrated my anus to deliver the warm, thick enema. I so wanted to prevent it's insertion but was unable to. Then I started feeling pleasure as the tip touched a spot inside my anus and the slow squeezing of the bulb caused the nozzle to move a little inside. Much as I hated not being allowed to expel it, the syringing of the enema felt good and started to give me erections every time which my pyjama hid and I would masturbate once mom finished and went to prepare my breakfast. The following year, I started to give myself enemas to recreate the wonderful feelings those daily enemas created over several weeks of treatment.