What do you remember most about your first enema

It was the first time I ever experienced pain and pleasure AT THE VERY SAME TIME!!

I was also a little scared, but not scared enough to try to avoid.

First time I ever experienced curiosity and fear in equal parts.

It's happened several times since, including my first 4-qt enema.

I think that was the only other time it involved enemas.

Lisa,

How old were you? Did you give this to yourself or receive it from someone? What was the pain from, cramps?

Eric

I cannot remember what age my enemas started, but with the early enemas I remember getting the distinct feeling that I was peeing my diaper/pants. These enemas were with a bulb syringe and all I can think is that the enema water must have been injected somewhat forcefully, giving me the sensation I was peeing. This, combined with the fact that the enema water was obviously going nowhere, gave me a warm feeling in my genital area and the feeling of incontinence. I was so young it is somewhat hard to try to put it all together, since I do not recall a time in my life where I was not subjected to an enema. All I can remember for certain is that is when I fell in love with a procedure that many find distasteful and I have loved all my life.

The nozzle going in and the warmth.

As I remember my sister 5 and I 7 were told to go in the bathroom and get undressed for our enemas. Entered bathroom, stripped off all of our clothes, the red combo bag was hanging from the towel rack with the hose looped over the top of the towel bar. Mom came in and knelt next to the bath mat, then had me come over and kneel down in front of her, my sister was stratteling the bathtub edge sliding back and forth. She then lubed the nozzle with vaseline spread my cheeks with thumb and finger then inserted the adult rectal nozzle in me. She then had me lay down on my hands on my belly then heard the click of the clamp and felt the warm Ivory water flow into me.(I'm tingling just remembering) After a few minutes she closed the clamp, removed the nozzle then told me to go potty. She then had me sister come over and kneel down as I had then inserted the nozzle in her. When she started the flow sis started to cry and say she didn't want to do this. She continued to fill her with what was left in the bag from my enema. When the bag was empty I was told to slide to the side of the toilet and my sister was placed against my back so there we both set emptying out. I was trying to comfort sis so she would stop crying.

That was the routine most of the time, once I guess I took to much of the enema as mom yelled at me as she had to mix up more water with Ivory soap.

About 4 or 5 I think. I remember nothing of the early ones, beyond assuming they were successful from Moms perspective.

At around 11 I remember them well. And so did she. That's when she banished me from her lap, telling me to do future enemas on my own. What's a guy to do? Do what Mom says, right?

As it probably happened to most kids who grew up in the 40's and 50's, i got my first enema from Doctor Mom. Since I am the last-born of three kids, Mom didn't need to buy the needed equipment; it was already in our bathroom linen closet. Mom told me that I needed to have an enema. whatever that was, and produced a white enameled can complete with the red tubing and black nozzle from the closet and summoned me to the bathroom. I don't know what the capacity of the can was but I'd bet it held about 3 pints and she probably mixed up a 2-quart enema. There was a hook on the bathroom wall about 5 feet from the floor, probably intended to hang a bathrobe. so it also was used to hang the enema can. After being undressed, I was told to kneel next to the bathroom stool, and I quickly learned the meaning of "enema." With the enema can at 5 feet and my toosh less than a foot above floor level, the enema ran into me very quickly and I cramped up quickly.. the ivory soap in the water didn't help either.

So my most vivid memory was the sight of enema can with the red tubing, the smell of Ivory soap, the feel of the heavily vaselined nozzle being pushed into my bung hole and the cramps.

I hated all the childhood enemas I had to endure.. fortunately they ended when I was about 12 years old.

My first enema occurred when I was approximately 2 years of age. I lived with my grandmother and I was given an enema by my mother in one of my grandmother's bedrooms. I remember the plastic from the dry cleaners was put down first and then a towel was used over that before they laid me down. I remember screaming and crying. I began to associate pleasure with the anal area and began inserting certain toys that reminded me of the experience. I also began to act out by writing humorous stories that had to do with farting or anything that had to do with the bum or buttocks. Then when puberty hit, I was secretly purchasing my own 2-quart and sneaking an enema or two in the half-bath when the rest of the family had gone to bed. The big red “hot water bottle” as we had called it had become a symbol of pleasure for me.

I must have about 3 years old when Mom stuck that bulb up my ass while sitting on the toilet. I forever remembered to never again tell her I was constipated.

Cant remember exactly. I was 4 or 5 lying on the table on my back, mom held my legs up and pushed several bulbs inside me.

Biggest thing I remember is wondering why I have not been doing this since the beginning. My legs were shaking during my first enema cause it felt so good

I was about 4 when i recieved my first enema. Mom gave it to me otk. Parwnts most have known several of us need enemasbecause we were all fighting with each other and at dinner none of us barely ate so we were called one by one upstairs to visit mom in her bathroom otk. I did not know what was going to happen. All i know is my brothers and sisters would always cry and scream.

I remember my enemas, I had one in the bathroom in our apartment ! I remember the rubber bag (RED) with the white nozzle hanging on the shower rod. I was bent over the tub naked and mom giving me the full bag. Then in the hospital with two nurses undressing me and giving me an enema before an operation the next morning ! Not sure which was first !

I was in the hospital age 10, and was unable to use a bed pan. My mother then told me in a very professional and feminine way"she said they were going to give me an enema."

I must truely be the odd one here!!! I self administered my first one in my 20's. I never had one of any type as a child or while growing up. Still having tonsils and appendix at 62 means mo hospital as a child. So I guess I missed out….

Must have been around 4 or 5, my mother gave my two sisters and I enemas. We were laying next to each other on the floor in her bedroom naked from the waist down. She went down the line giving each of us an enema. One bag, one nozzle. I remember being the last to get it, probably not a lot of volume. When we were done we watched TV - Milton Berle show.

I posted some of this before, but it's appropriate here:

The first time I was given an enema with a Fountain Syringe I was about 11years old and was badly constipated. I don't think I'd gone in 5 to 7 days and neither a laxative nor an 8oz adult bulb of warm water earlier in the day had done anything to make me poo.

I think my mom called my doctor and she ordered a bag enema and a visiting nurse came to give it to me.

At the time I had no idea what was about to happen. The nurse was a complete stranger and I thought she was a new maid in a dark blue uniform. She came in and briefly examined me, took my temperature a rectal thermometer, and left.

A few minutes later, my mom and a neighbor couple came in. They removed to covers from my bed and pulled the foot out from the wall, so it was accessible on three sides. Then I was rolled on my side, a thick pad of newspapers was placed on the bed, and I was rolled onto the pad on my tummy. My pajama bottoms were then removed completely.

Then, without warning, the man pinned my shoulders to the bed and each of the women took hold of an ankle and my legs were spread wide.

The nurse then came into my bedroom carrying something that looked like a hot water bottle. I later learned it was a filled red Rexall Roxbury fountain syringe. I was pinned on my tummy on the bed and could not see well and was completely clueless of what was happening. I'd never even seen an enema bag before.

The nurse came to the bedside and I saw her open the clip and jet some water onto the pad to purge the tube, and felt the nozzle enter me. She then opened the clamp and held the bag a foot or two above me. I felt nothing. After a few minutes, I saw her over my shoulder, squeezing the bag, to see how much water was left, I think. I may have felt some fullness but don't remember it.

After a while more, she closed the clip and removed the nozzle. I still had no clue about what had just happened. Soon, I felt a very strong urge to poo and pleaded to get up. Someone asked “why ?” and I replied I had to go to the bathroom very urgently and was let go. I ran to the toilet and sat down and was amazed when whitish water started to pour out, uncontrollably. The soap I guess. Soon, the water was interspersed by poo. The visiting nurse came in and sat on the tub rim right next to the toilet as I pood, likely to be sure the enema was working well. After a while she opened a bottle of liquid laxative and gave me a big spoonful as I sat "to keep me going", and then left. I sat on the toilet for about a half hour while the enema continued to work.

I'm sure the episode described above was in no way abuse. Their sole purpose was to make a badly constipated kid poo and they organized it in such a way that I'd get the entire enema without possible resistance and it would be retained long enough to completely empty me out.

Getting enema from step dad gave me an enema fetish for life

I remember the nurse spreading my cheeks with her strong little fingers and inserting the nozzle. I remember wondering, how many anuses does this woman see in a week?

I was 40 I think, at a clinic to have a sigmoidoscopy and anoscopy.

Cant remember my first because mom started very early due to constipation issues. My earliest picture goes back to age 4 or 5 I guess. Mom just put me to the towel covered table, pulled my panty, raised and pushed back my legs what grandma held them tight, then she bulbed me several times till she thought it is enough. As it happened pretty often I got used to it and never made big fuss, so grandma's role became unnecessary.

My mother shared with me at an early age in our enema journey that she ‘ gave ’ me enemas as an infant in part to relieve my chronic ‘ tummy colic / constipation ’ issues . The constipation issues continued into my boyhood and to a lesser degree in my teen / young adult years still requiring an enema which she lovingly and carefully administered as required . I can't remember the ‘ infant enemas ’ but the earliest recollections from late ‘ toddler ’ through my early adulthood were very ‘ positive ’ and so ……… here I am today . Our enema times were special to both of us as I matured as there was ‘ just something about …… ’ my physical and emotional feelings when an enema was given that my mother was very attuned to . That she self-administered and more often was the case was ‘ given ’ an enema in our home by other ladies I am certain enhanced her appreciation and empathy for me as she gave me an enema . Yes …… we were both ‘ klismo ’ well before I ever heard the term or definition and yes …… over time our enemas ( and enemas only it was ) came to have it's own secret eroticism for both of us . She seemed almost delighted in later years with my coming home from the university when I requested of her to give me an enema which she always did as only she could which was a ‘ win - win ’ for both of us .

My first memories of enemas are vague, before I was 5 years old. I recall laying on my back on a table or bed, having my legs raised and mom using the red bulb. I am not clear on my reaction to the treatment, but I imagine I fussed some. I do clearly remember our yellow potty chair being in the room. My first clear memory is at 5 years old when I received my first bag enema. It was unexpected and I recall only the vaguest explanation that it would not be any different from the bulb enemas. Needless to say, I believed it was much different from beginning to end.

Essentially that strange mixture of pleasure and pain! Sometimes at the same time!

There was an element of fear as well, though I might have denied it at the time

I remember my first bag. I was 8. On all fours, elbows on the toilet . She used a lot of ivory. I hadn't gone in over a week. She left. It came out in one log. What I remember most was the relief…

What I remember first is hiding, fighting, crying 😂😂

The ‘ novelty ’ of the scene as a whole . I think I most remember my mother's nurturing and encouraging demeanor as ‘ all was new to me ’ as in assuring me the the enema was a beneficial . All was successful as to my ‘ young kid fear factor at this ‘ new thing ’ ’ being alleviated as she with her pretty ‘ signature smile ’ held the enema bag , explaining the pending function as she instructed me to disrobe for her access to my small bottom and subsequent slow , gentle insertion of the small rectal pipe . All ‘ got better ’ as time went on . These are my earliest recollections .

What I can remember most is that I was about 5.. My mom would have me go to the bathroom. There I saw her with a towel across her lap. She had me remove my shorts and underwear and lye down across her lap. She would then take my temperature, I saw the bulb with the Vaseline jar, she would lube the nozzle, fill it with water and then insert the nozzle into my butt. She gave me a few bulbs, then I would go the bathroom, and expel.

I was I think eight years old when after a visit to the doctor with frequent constipation he prescribed an enema so the District Nurse was called to administer one on a home visit the next day. I had no idea what to expect other than my mother telling me it was something you often had in hospital before an operation. It was a morning visit and I remember being told not to dress but stay in pyjamas. The nurse arrived and soon was in discussion with mother and my next memory is of a commode used when my invalid grandmother visited being put next to my bed which was then covered with a rubber sheet unpacked from the nurse's black bag. I then followed them to the kitchen where in the sink she fileed an old enamel chamber pot with water and mixed in soap.

Returning to my bedroom with only the nurse and the chamber pot she unpacked a higginson syringe which had been wrapped in a towel or cloth, I don't remember seeing either a nozzle or rectal catheter on it but I think maybe from the feelings of inserting and removal it was probably a catheter. She than had me take of my pyjama trousers and lie on my side. At this point I was oblivious to what was happening for the next few minutes though i suppose she was lubricating and then expelling air before insertion. Without warning she lifted my right buttock and quickly inserted the catheter and told me she was going to start filling me and to try and hold as much water as I could and I began to feel the pulse of the flow from each squeeze of the higginson. She must have decided when I had enough because she suddenly stopped and putting a kidney bowl against my bottom began to withdraw the catheter telling me to hold on.

Next she had me lie on my back holding the solution for the next few minutes and she began packing equipment I was then allowed to sit on the commode and encouraged to expel. Though embarrased it was impossible not to immediately void in an explosive rush of water and solids, I will always remember the sound as it hit the empty container of the commode. Finally when I had finished an extra humiliation was the contents of the commode being inspected by both nurse and mother.

The memories and vivid images of that first enema have been a major influence on my enema fetish

I was young , I probley got then before this but don't remember. I had to be younger then 5 maybe 4 . I was on the kitchen table . There was a pot of snappy water and a baby bulb syringe. My grandmother was holding me down, Mom was inserting the bulb , withdrawing it refilling and the re inserting it. My Aunt was there as well as my older female cousin . Not sure if they took part. Mom kept telling me to hold it, not let it out. I don't remember going to the bathroom. I just remember being on the table.

I remember it was around 28 years old and I was on some narcotics for an injury and constipation was a big problem with that medicine. So many days went by I could not go and I finally went to the hospital and they determined I was plugged up and they wanted to try some fleet enemas to see if they could loosen me up. I remember they tried to and it didn't do much that is when the doctor ordered a full bag with some sort of solution in it that would cause a massive evacuation of my ass. What I remember most is the flow of fluids going in me and how bad I was cramping and I could not stop it because the nurse had control of the enema bag and she kept saying it would be better in the end so just lay there and do my best to endure it. After a while I finally expelled on the toilet and felt so good that I decide to pursue this feeling for the rest of my life. This is one of many reasons why I really love nurses.

What I remember most are the insertions, first the shock of mom's slippery finger sliding over and into my butthole, but she didn't use enough cream, so when the nozzle went in, i felt it chafe and cried because it hurt and when i protested to mom, she said to relax and it will be painless but i still struggled to no avail because the nozzle was insistent and i felt that something had to give and wondered if mom was going to break me, then suddenly plop! the nozzle lurched in and instantly no more pain, only an oppressive fullness.

What I remember is hiding, then fighting, then crying then running to toilet 🙂