What do you remember most about your first enema

My first memory goes back to age 4, being lifted off the toilet held legs-up on my bed, with the well-used enema can held overhead . I cried my eyes out, but that did

no good, as many here will attest.

The first enema i ever remember receiving was from my dad and mom. I was probably 4 at the time. I must have known what they were or had received them before because when dad told me i was going to get an enema I was scared and every time he had me lay down on the towel to receive the enema, i kept getting up claiming I don't need an enema because i can poop. After 2 or 3 times he decided enough was enough. He held me down and mom gave me my enema.

Not sure if it was my first enema, but the first that I can remember was from my Mom, probably at the age of 5 or 6 years old.. I remember being led into the bathroom and the first thing I recall was the aroma of Ivory soap filling the room, and seeing a red bulb,, a jar of Vaseline sitting on the bathroom counter top, and the sink filled with white soapy bubbly water. A chair from our kitchen sitting in front of the sink.. After that experience I always knew what was in store when called into the bathroom..

I can't remember exactly how old I was but I might have been 5 or 6 but possibly older. The thing I remember most was that I was embarrassed because a woman neighbor dropped by while my mother was giving me my enema and ended up watching me get my enema. I was lying naked on the bed in my bedroom with the bedroom door open while my Mom was holding the nozzle in and I heard our neighbor at the front door. My Mom called out to her to come on in telling her that she was giving me an enema. She then sat down on the bed and watched my Mom finish my enema and me hold the water until Mom told me I could run down the hall to the bathroom to let it out. At the time it surprised me that my Mom invited our neighbor in but later I suspected that she had told our neighbor ahead of time that she would be giving me an enema and the neighbor dropped by to see that everything went well.

I'm not sure about my very first, but I remember vividly the very first that I enjoyed. I was about 13 or 14 and was in to experimentation of all kinds. I found some of the enema "paraphernalia" and decided to give it a try. I remember a huge set of sensations, no real pain and such pleasure that fifty years later I'm still an avid fan of the enema. Part of the great feeling was a sense of well being, just a warm glowing feeling inside. Another was a tingling in the groin, I soon discovered that it was my time for a first ejaculation; very exciting. It's such a simple, straight forward, cheap procedure that I can't think of any other way to get so much "bang for the buck". Sure, you can invest in more elaborate and colorful equipment, bu it's variations on the same theme, and always fun.

Can't say that I can clearly remember my ' first ' but over time my mother and I did have many pleasurable

enema sessions with my first remembered experience at about age 3 - 4 . Later my mom did share with me that she did in fact ' give me a little enema ' when I was an infant through toddler years . My home enema experiences were of a ' positive ' nature and led to an mom - son bonding , with no incest whatsoever , as to our enemas . I received home enemas by very much mutual consent through my college days when I returned home from our state university . My mother was a very caring , experienced enema administrator and she was without question ' klismo ' as well as to her personal ' give - receive ' enema activities .

I don't remember my first enema since from what I gather I got them from about 2 years old and on. It seems we got suppositories until we were potty trained and then it was enemas with the bulb. But I sure remember my first enema from a bag. It was pretty common that on Friday evening my brother and I would be dropped off at grandma’s while mom and dad went shopping. I clearly remember one time when mom told grandma that I had been complaining of a tummy ache, and I was not hungry at supper, so could she please give me an enema? I remember grandma had a small red bulb in the bathroom medicine cabinet much like the one we had at home so no big deal. I remember getting maybe 2 or 3 from grandma with the bulb over the years.

My youngest brother was born when I was 10. When mom went to the hospital, dad dropped me and my other brother off at grandmas to stay with her for a few days. After a couple of days she noticed I was just not right, and after a few questions it was determined I had not pooped since I got to her house. She decided I needed an enema and since I had already had a few of her enemas and they were just like mom's enemas I agreed. A bit later she called me to the bathroom for my enema. As I took off my jeans and underpants I looked around and did not see the familiar red bulb but there was this large red bag with some sort of hose hanging from the towel bar and grandma was holding the end of it. I asked her what that thing was and she said it was my enema. Grandma explained that I was now a big boy and I could start getting my enemas like grown-ups do. She told me to lay on a towel on the floor and inserted the nozzle into my little butt and turned on the water. The warm water actually felt good going in, for a while, but then I started feeling pretty full, much fuller than I had ever felt before. It was an interesting feeling with lots of pressure but not really pain. When I thought I couldn’t take any more I asked her to stop, and she did. She pulled out the nozzle and helped me up off of the floor. Then she left the room while I sat there on the pot staring at the red bag. I probably only took half of it but it was a very new and interesting experience, and I liked it.

Some weeks later I was at grandma’s for the weekend and I decided to see if I could get another enema with the red hot water bottle. I told her I had a stomach ache and it worked. I tried my best to empty the bag, but again had to stop at about a half of the bag. I couldn’t take anymore but I was beginning to like the full feeling. This was way more water than mom gave me with the bulb. It clearly started something.

I remember how much better I felt after I released the contents of my colon into the toilet. I think i was 4 years old, and I remember lying on the bathroom floor with a nozzle up my backside, and the bag hanging above me. I don't remember feeling full, but I do remember feeling so much better after it was done. I think that's why I like enemas, especially the 'good' ones.

I think the most memorable things for me were the feeling that came with the insertion and removal of the nozzle, the way the water felt when it was being squeezed in me, the embarrassment and humiliation that I felt, and the fact that I could never stop thinking about enemas after getting one.

My very first enema I can remember I did it my self as my mom only gave suppositories to me if I needed them. My first enema was with a squirt bottle It felt good I think I was 8 or 9 at the time. I later graduated to the sink sprayer which at that point I could do a much larger volume. By the time I was 10 or 11 my mom and dad worked after school so I was alone and I honestly took a sink sprayer enema almost every day if not every other day.

I was very young 5 ,6 7, dont remember but i know i didnt like them,brothers and sisters would make fun of me .and i of them when they got a enema.maybe by 10 or 11 i started sneaking them on my own

I don't remember my first enema but it probably was like all the enema I received as a youth.

From mom - Laying naked from the waist down on a towel draped over a padded bench feeling the solution being forced into me when mom squeezed the bulb.

From my aunt - laying naked from the waist down (except if I was going to take a bath later in which case I was totally naked) on a towel placed over my aunties lap while she gave me an enema.

I was 7 and I remember my dad calling me into the bathroom. He had an enema bulb in his hands. I didn't know what it was at the time. He pulled down my skirt and panties. I had no idea what was going on as he put me over his lap. I remember being scared.

He lubed up my butt before pushing the bulb in. I started crying right away. He emptied the whole thing in me and it burnt and stung. I begged him to get it out over and over. He made me hold it for what seemed like forever. When I finally got to release it it was the most relieving thing I'd ever felt. Then he made me take one to clean out the soap but that wasn't nearly as bad because it was just water.

He did explain to me that I had "tummy trouble" and would need to be cleaned a lot.

Can't say that I remember my ' first ' but my mother indicated to me that she gave them to me from my infancy onward . I had ' colic ' as a baby and also according to mom constipation issues due in part to changing milk formulas . She indicated that the enema syringe of choice in that ago day was a ' long rectal tip infant rubber bulb enema syringe ' . I can only recall being given enemas from a fountain bag-type enema syringe but they were not my first enema .

Can barely remember mom giving one to me. Not even sure she did, but I think so perhaps 2-3 times.on the other hand, the first enemas I gave myself were at age 15 either on mom's bathroom rug or in my parents' bed, as I did both. Always with mom's amber latex bag and douche nozzle. I loved the nozzle penetration and enema water from the very first time I did it.

Eric

All that I can remember of my first was I had been sick for a couple of days running a fever. Mom came into my bedroom and administered a cold water enema. Being the first time it was very crampy and I am sure the cold water did not help that. After I felt much better and thought that wasn't that bad. I had heard how awful an enema was from my siblings.

Although this was sixty years ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a bag and hose. It was huge. And red. I remember the tiny black enema nozzle sliding into my bum. Most of all though, was the click, then the sudden pressure inside. I was seriously backed up... mum had tried everything and nothing worked.

Very little water was able to make it very far, and I remember how painful it was when that first big chunk exploded out of me. Mum said that she would need to do it again, and I remember crying. She said it wouldn't hurt this time, and she was right. There was still a large blockage inside me, but I guess it had some room to move around and it came out with much less pain.

I must say, it wasn't a pleasant experience at all. It was a long time until I needed another one, and yet I couldn't forget the feeling of that nozzle. It was quite a few years before I started looking for the equipment, but once found, I played with it whenever I was alone. A fetish was born.

I don't remember much, I do know mom gave me my first enema and the water was worm. I was about 4 or 5 years old. I did tetnot hate it or like it much. Mostly I remember the Amber 2qt latex bag.

Was about 7,had my first experience with anal thermometers,soon I was to endure my first enema courtesy of my Gran.I was to accompany her to the bathroom followed close behind by Grandad,i knew I was in for something but had no clue what it was ,maybe the thermometer again?.I was told to take off my clothes and as I was doing this a towel was spread on the wooden bench.Grandad motioned me to climb up on the bench and he pushed me into a kneeling position head down .From the corner of my eye I saw Gran with what I thought was an hot water bottle with a rubber tube coming out of it.She held the bottle against her face as if testing the temperature .Grandad turned the bench slightly so that my bottom was now facing towards Gran ,it was then I felt his finger between my bum cheeks me and i could feel something slippery being applied to my anus.With the bag held high in the air she passed the tube and the white nozzle to grandad ,then I got the strangest of experiences as I felt something going inside my bottom.Was about thirty seconds or so, when I felt a very warm feeling inside me,i tried so sit up but a hand held my neck.About five or ten minutes later I was allowed to get off the bench,and I was told to go and sit on the toilet and not to go until I was told to,.but I couldn't .

I never had an enema growing up. Shortly after I turn 30, I was dating my husband. I remember sitting in his room and I had bad stomach cramps. He asked if I was constipated. I told him yes that I had not gone to the bathroom in a couple of days. He i can give you something that will fix it quickly. I sigh with relief that maybe he had this quick acting oral laxative. Then he said "I can give you an enema". I turned white as a ghost and said "No! No! No!" We still have not had sex yet and I was taught by my mom growing up that you did not mess with that area. After an hour past, i was cramping more. Again, he told me that he could me an enema. Again I said "No". He has never seen my butthole. What happens if I cannot control it and I make a mess everywhere. Another hour past and I am lying on his bed. The cramps increase and I reluctantly agree. He went into the bathroom and i hear him turn on the water. A few minutes later, he comes out with a red bag and jar of Vaseline. He lays them at the foot of the bed. He tells me to roll over on my stomach. I feel him pull my shorts down pass my knees and then my panties. He told me to roll onto my left side and pull my knees up. I heard him open the jar of Vaseline then I heard him close it. I felt him spread my butt cheeks and then I felt the ouch of the nozzle going in. A few seconds later, I felt the nice warm water going in. It felt like heaven. I started to get full and I whimpered a little to stop. He finally stopped and pulled out the nozzle. I got up and ran to the bathroom. I loved the expelling and relief that I got. It was amazing. The high you get afterwards and now I was hooked on enemas.

I was twelve. The process was so embarrassing but it felt soooo good when it was finished.

Don't remember a lot but the second enema when I was 10 or 11 years old was the hook .The anticipation sitting on the bed with just a undershirt on and not sure what was about to happen and you hear those words ' Its ready come in to the bathroom " and a fetish was born.

First enema was with a bulb syringe and I was very young and very afraid. However, the nozzle penetration was not unpleasant and I think that hooked me.

I am not sure, but my best guess is that I didn't like it due to the cramps that developed. As with many here, after taking them on and off, I soon secretly looked forward to them.

I was five or less, and what I remember are:

Face down on a green rug in the bathroom.

I had watched my mother mix a strong Ivory Soap solution... I remember the smell.

A rubber rectal tube and funnel, and her constantly asking if I could take more.

I was encouraged to take as much as I could.

I have no idea how long I had to hold it.

The first squirts were soapy water. I thought I was done, but mum knew better.

I think I got up and walked around, and then it hit me, so back on the toilet with good results. That felt good.

I thought I was done, but while I don't remember much about them there were at least a second or third enema.

The most vivid visualisation, looking up at my mother as she poured the water in the funnel, and later looking in the toilet at the clear but soapy water before the dam broke!

What I do realise, this was not my first enema, because I think I remember knowing what was coming when I was called to the bathroom. Later I learned I received enemas from infancy.

My mother would talk about how good I was when she gave me an enema and that I would "go" right away for her. I wonder if she realised I was good because I loved what was happening... I think she did.

I also remember I looked forward to every enema I got after that one, to this day!

And one other fond memory, the praise I got when I graduated from the funnel and rectal tube to the Davol Petal bag. I quickly learned I could look at the bag and see how much I had taken and how I wanted to be a good boy and take the whole bag. From memory of how the bag looked I'd guess I was a quart and 1/2. Over time mum would fill it to the brim.

One of my best memories along that line was year later when I was having an enema at Mildred P. Burgess' colonic clinic. I had easily taken the entire two quarts, and she suggested she add more water to the bag... I think I made it to the gallon club a time or two.

After reading through the posts I thought I would add some additional experiences.

A female friend in college was having stomach issues, and she went to the clinic for a barium swallow. After she got there they decided to do a lower GI. Since she had been fasting she was told all she needed was "4 ounce Fleet." She described the nurse that gave it to here as being rough, but she got through it, she said she didn't think much but the solution came out.

She was then taken to X-Ray where she saw the bag of barium, and expressed that she could never take it all. The technician said she only has to take as much as needed for the X-Ray. She said that comforted her, and as the procedure started with "Barium on" and "Barium off" repeated several times she started to feel full but not uncomfortable. When she was done and as she was assisted off the X-Ray table she realised she had taken most of the bag. When she saw that she said she felt really full.

When it was all done she the worst part wasn't the enema going in but that "She felt like she would never stop shitting."

A few years prior to that I had a groupy that used to call me at the radio station, a single mother who was up for anything! Her youngest daughter, perhaps from the stress of the divorce, had some health issues. In order to prep for some tests she had to give the girl an enema. She asked me to tell her what to do, so I talked her through it, she even let her older daughter hold the bag.

She said everything went fine, then enema was success without much fussing, the younger daughter like being the centre of attention. One problem, now here older daughter wanted an enema, too. My friend tried to tell the daughter no, she didn't need one, but she fussed enough mum finally gave in. I asked if that satisfied her curiosity, and her reply was, I don't think I should have done that, now she wants another one!

Can’t remember the age

I absolutely did not want it and was hidden until grandma and grandpa found me. My grandpa and sister of grandma constrained my legs, was crying and screaming while she was giving me with her bulb

I even expelled it on bed

They were not happy and received a second one until I hold it enough time. As I did not want a third one, holding time was respected

My most memorable moment in my first ever enema bag enema as a 9 year old boy was when the metal clamp was unclicked and the firm stream of 103--104F.soapy water began rushing into my constipated rectum/g.i.tract . It felt very warm with a "dreadful" peculiar -- uncomfortable "tingle" effect from the castille soapy water that continued to rush/stream into me . I was for maybe 15 seconds -- "stunned". It continued to stream in and tingle and then the initial feel of fullness/pressure began. I just lost it and began to bawl--fuss-squirm as I got my first ever enema bag enema. It was a bit "humbling" for my 9 year old boy pride -- and after expelling it I put my p.j.bottoms on and "pouted" quietly in my room.

The memory is vivid these 70+ years later. It was summer time and I was staying with my grandparents in Bremerton, Washington. My maternal grandmother was very keen about keeping track of my toilet habits. "Stu, have you had a BM today?" My answer ? "No, Gram." I had been taught to always tell the truth, but this set of circumstances called for a different response. My "No Gram" resulted in a series of steps that soon became routine.

"Well, Stuart, you need to keep regular. If you do not have regular bowel movements, I will have to give you a spoonful of Fletcher's Castoria. If that doesn't work, I'll have to give you an enema." There was always this warning. "You don't want to be like Uncle Al and Uncle Charlie. They have to have enemas every day." Aha! Something to strive towards. Al and Charlie lived in a tiny house on my grandparents' property. I frequently saw Gram headed down there with the enema equipment in its box.

Soon it became a major goal of my life to get the enemas. I loved the enemas. They started when I was six or seven. The first ones were from a bulb syringe, but I soon "graduated" to the 2 quart Rexall bag from the Ivory colored box with a cellophane window. She used the small black nozzle, but my eyes lit up when I saw the longer, larger douche nozzle.

I was intent upon watching the whole process. Gram would test the water from the faucet - not too cold - not too hot. When the temperature was just right, she would hold a bar of Ivory over the opening of the bag such that soon soap suds would come billowing out. The bag was filled to the brim. The black rubber stopper was screwed back in and the bag was hung from the shower curtain rod.

I was across Gram's lap as she sat on the closed toilet seat. My memory tells me that I took most of the bag each time. That was a large volume for a young boy. I don't recall any accidents. She got me onto the toilet seat in plenty of time to expel.

I told this story a few times as an adult. A psychologist colleague of mine observed, "Sounds like your grandmother had a bit of kink." I have always defended her. It was the period of the 1940's and 50's. It's been described as "The Golden Age of Enemas."

Those years of my childhood and adolescence were times when a person rarely saw a doctor. Whatever the malady, the first treatment of choice was one or more enemas.

When I was seven or eight years old, my father was being prepared for some type of diagnostic procedure. The doctor's instruction was "Give enemas until clear." Mom and Dad were in the bathroom for what seemed like hours. My father was screaming. "Ahhhhhhhh" "Ohhhhhhhhhh" I could not tell if these were sounds of pain or pleasure. These 70 plus years later, I still don't know. A part of me wishes they had sent me to one of the sets of grandparents.

In 1961, my parents were selling their Olympia home and moving to a retirement facility. One of the things we discovered was a stack of Penthouse magazines and it sister publication, Penthouse Variations. It was during that time that many of the articles were on the topic of enemas. My father initiated a conversation with me about enemas and the role they played in my parents' marital life.

Having discovered the joys of enemas only relatively late in my life to date - I was in my early forties - I have a very clear and fond recollection of my first time with a bag. A typical drug store red bag with the, in my opinion, nasty white hose and choice of vaginal or anal nozzle.

As soon as I got home with the bag I made for the bathroom, turned in the hot water and stripped. Having read up on how to administer to myself I was fully prepared for what I was about to do. What I was not prepared for was the psychological thrill of the whole experience. The anticipation.m the curiosity. The “naughtiness”. All of it had me rock hard as I bled the air from the hose, applied a blob of petroleum jelly to the nozzle and slid it home in one, admittedly tentative, movement. Lying on my back, I watched as the bag drained and deflated and I marveled at how simple and comfortable the process was. No cramping. No hesitation. Just the thrill of the experience.

I was hooked instantly.