What do you remember most about your first enema

I remember all these strange sensations in my rectum, Getting lubricated with Vaseline, Mom inserting the long enema tube. I remember the strange feeling of warmth flowing into my bowel. It felt nice. I remember some cramping but mostly the warm feeling.

My first enema was a terrifing experience..................I was 5 years old and in the hospital for surgery and I had no idea what was going to happen to me. The night before they gave me no supper and in the evening a nurse (starched whites, stern look, etc) came in wheeling a cart that had a bunch of cans with a towel over the top. She took one out and I could see the suds in the white enamal can with a hose attached. I was only wearing a backless gown and she flipped me over and lubed up my butt. I started to fight back but she told me to behave and be still, that she had a lot of enemas to give that night. Before I knew it the hot water was flowing and the pressure was intense. I thought she was going to explode me when she finally took the nozzle out and sat me on an enamal bed pan. She left the room and there I sat on the bed afraid to shit. The results came bursting out, splashed all over me, the bed and I was mortified. Another nurse came in, saw my predicament comforted me, cleaned me up and I think I cried myself to sleep that night. The surgery is another story, but before I was discharged, another enema was given...................this time my a very gentle and careing nurse and I got a belly rub and sweet treatment from her. From that time till now, I have been fascinated with enemas and have had a fetish for them. This was in 1947 when you got enemas for just looking cross-eyed. I am sitting here looking cross-eyed and waiting but my wife just thinks I am crazy, but I am still looking for that last nurse.

Can't say that I remember the very first enema, as I was probably only about 3 when I started receiving them from my Mom, whenever I wasn't feeling well. But I still remember the multiple experiences I had, all about the same. A thick terry cloth towel was placed on the bathroom floor (floor was heated in the winter months), and my mother would have me lie naked on the towel on my stomach, while she slowly administered the warm ivory soap suds enema from the red bag, red hose, and black enema nozzle, which was hung from the bathroom door knob. My butt was always well lubricated with Vaseline, and the enemas were always very gentle, and my mom would always let me tell her when I had taken enough at one time, and she would stop for a while. I guess because my early enemas were such a positive experience, I began giving them to myself in later years when I went into puberty. Been enjoying them ever since.

Hah! I remember very little, but it was definitely a non-event. It was self-administered with improvised equipment, the tubing didn’t match the funnel, and I tried in vain to seal the gap with a wash cloth. I think it took a few frustrating attempts before I got things to work. This was at fifteen or sixteen.

I was probably 5 or so for the first one I remembered - had to go into the bathroom, my mother was a nurse and she had her uniform on and was holding the red open top bag with a black regular nozzle - I had to take strip from the waste down and bend over the tub -- it was very humiliating. I am not sure when I began to like it though -- the smell of the rubber bag and feeling the nozzle being inserted ...

Not exactly do I remember my age. But I do remember being 6 y.o. when it meant something to me. It meant stripping down, laying on my bed naked, legs spread apart waiting? I could feel my heart pumping and now I realize my labored breathing was that I became more excitable anticipating my enema. I can now diagnose my overall feeling. It made me horny and as I developed into puberty my erections were more intense and more noticeable to my mother? To this day my reactions are no different then my childhood.

First remebered enema at about seven. Mom called me into the bathroom. For the first time I saw an enema bag with lots of water hanging on the medicine cabnet knob. Then " Take your jama bottom down, Momies going to wash out your tommie.." Then it was over her lap, nozzel in enema started. In no time it was hurting me. " Please stop it hurts." Sorry but you are going to take it all, no choice and took it. This Klismo remembers every second of that enema. That " sorry"has always made me take all the enema. Know I just don't cry.

I remember how frightened I was. I was very young, probably four or five. I was on my back naked on the bed with my legs spared and my mother was greasing up my butt hole. It was sheer terror. I cried all the way through the enema and that's all I remember. I don't remember getting another enema until round 20 years later in the hospital. It was administered by an orderly who explained the entire process and I got a raging hard-on. I was hooked and have enjoyed for 40 years.

One more thing I remember is the smell of Massengill douche powder. I think all mothers back then had it under the cabinet. It wasn't used on me but the smell I remember well.

I don't remember the first enema my Mother gave me. It was a bulb enema. I was told by Mom that I was just an infant. However, I do recall the first bag enema that Mom gave me. Mother had stopped giving me my bulb enemas when I was just 7 or 8 and had started giving me oral laxatives instead. Castoria was her favorite all though I also was given milk of magnesia and sometimes black something. I hated the taste of Castoria. One day, I was in the yard playing with a neighbor girl who was a year and a half older than me. Mom called me in to give me my Castoria for the day and when I got back out, Dattie asked me what type of medicine mom had given me. I told her and she stuck out her tongue saying "yuk!" She told me that her Mom used to give her that stuff too, but now she was giving her adult enemas and that she liked the feeling of them. She, then, proceeded to tell me that I ought to get my Mom to start giving me those too. I pondered the situation and later that day, I asked Mom for one. She ignored my request. So, I asked her for one the next day, and the next and the next. In fact, I bugged the devil out of her literally begging her for one. Mom always ignored my request, So, I recruited Mom's Mom, my Mam-Maw, to help out. She lived across town so I had to ride my bike a while. Mam-Maw listed and told me that she'd talk with Mom for me, but could offer no promises. Mam-Maw was true to her word and even went as far as buying Mom a Rexall Victoria Combination syringe. Mom finally gave in and gave me one a couple of Saturdays later. It was incredible! Been hooked ever since. Thanks, Mom and Mam-Maw... I love both of you and miss both of you very much!

The feeling of the water shooting in past my anus and on up into me as I held the hose there. That was the most pleasant and addictive feeling, and I have never forgotten it.

The one thing that sticks in my mind was being called into the bathroom and seeing the sink filled with soapy water with a bar of ivory soap floating in the water. Also sitting on the sink was a small red bulb and a jar of Vaseline and a chair sitting in front of the sink.. My heart dropped to my stomach.

I honestly don't remember my first enema, but suspect that I was very young because at the time a colicky baby was given a small enema and that might have been the case. I got enemas from a bulb until I was probably 6 or 7 when my mother switched to using the enema bag. That continued for several years although the frequency of enemas seemed to taper off although there was a point in my teens when I was actually feeling miserable and even asked for an enema. There were several things that I do remember and others have noted as well these being the smell of Ivory soap, the odor of rubber that even a years old enema bag gives off, and my mother also douched with Massengill and the hall linen closet had that very distinctive scent.

My first enema was only a few years ago when I was very constipated and nothing seemed to work. Finally I confessed to my husband about my problem and he insisted that an enema would be the solution, but if it didn't work then I would be off to the ER. He went out and bought us an enema bag and gave me my very first one. It started to loosen things up, but it took a second enema before we could be sure. I was really nervous about the whole thing between being worried that it might hurt and worried that it might not work. I remember looking at that bulging bag and thinking that I couldn't possibly take all of that inside of me, but I did and twice. Expelling that first time was also a weird experience with just the warm water flowing out of me, but then major poop. And then it didn't seem like I'd ever stop. What a great feeling it was to be finally able to go, too.

Whether it is the first or not I'm not sure but I have vivid memories of lying in my crib which was a combination youth bed and seeing the syringe all greased up with Vaseline coming at me. it was a 1 ounce Rexall bulb syringe red with black nozzle. my dad took enemas every day and one time after the enema when I was young I remember I was excited because I went to the bathroom just like Daddy

I'm pretty sure it wasn't my first enema, but it was the first time my Mom used an enema bag instead of a bulb on me. I was 4 years old and constipated during a cold. The doctor told my Mom to give me a 1 pint enema of salt solution using an enema bag. When she hung the bulging red bag with the long tube on it on a floor lamp beside my bed, pulled off my pyjama bottoms and told me to curl up on my side with my bottom towards her, I felt a wave of panic. When she put the rectal tip into my bottom and opened the clamp, I felt a surge of warm water inside my bottom and I started to cry and squirm. I didn't understand what she was doing to me. I just knew that it was very uncomfortable. Then my stomach started to ache and I pleaded for her to stop because it was hurting, but she just squeezed by butt cheeks tight together and told me to stop squirming.

Once the enema was all in me, she pulled the tip out of my bottom and squeezed my cheeks tight again and made me hold the enema inside for what seemed like forever as my stomach continued to ache and I cried and kept telling her that it was hurting and I had to go really bad. In reality she must have made me hold it in for about 5 minutes. When she finally let me sit on the potty warm water and lumps of poop gushed out of me until I thought I was never going to stop going. When I was finally finished going, my Mom wiped my bottom clean, put my pyjama bottoms back on, gave me a drink of juice, and tucked me back under the covers. It was a few months before she gave me another enema with the bag, this time a hot soapsuds enema when I was sick with another cold and even though it was just as uncomfortable, I didn't struggle and panic as much because this time I knew what she was doing to me and that it would soon be over with.

I was 5, my sister was 7, my mother gave us both over-the-knee bag enemas, one after the other. Things I remember most clearly: Mother wearing nothing but a cotton T-shirt. Seeing my sister's stark nudity, feeling my own. Seeing my sister's distress, while waiting for my own enema. Feeling the hard, un-natural intrusion of the greasy nozzle. Feeling totally dominated. I doubt Mother was aware of any of the feelings I would have; just following doctor's orders; but is it any wonder I have a bit of an enema fetish?

I don’t remember my first enema. I think I can remember from about five or six but I am sure I got them before that. But one of the most memorable enemas I got as a kid was the first enema I got with a bag.

I was ten years old. Mom and dad would often drop off me and my brother at grandma’s on Friday night while they went shopping. One particular time after mom and dad had left grandma noticed that I was moody and quieter than normal. After a few questions it was determined that I had not pooped for a couple of days. Grandma said that she would give me an enema and I would feel much better when it was over. I got enemas from mom with a red bulb syringe. I knew grandma had one just like it. I had seen it in the bathroom and I remembered it being used on me before. Those bulb enemas were not unpleasant so I didn’t argue too much about getting an enema.

Grandma went into the bathroom and a few minutes later she called for me. She told me to drop my shorts and underwear. I looked around for the red bulb but did not see it. What I did see was this red rubber bag hanging from the towel bar. It had this hose attached and a black nozzle at the end. I asked grandma, “What is that red thing?” She replied that it was my enema. Now my beating heart kicked into high gear. I was told to lay on my back on the rug with my legs up and then the nozzle was in me. I could feel the water going into me and soon I told her I was full. She stopped the water for a bit and asked me to hold it, then I felt even more water going in. I felt like I was going to blow up and thankfully she stopped the water, pulled out the nozzle, and helped me to the toilet. Then she left the room and I let it loose. I sat on the toilet amazed at how much water and poop was coming out of me. I looked at that huge red bag hanging there and saw I had only about half of it. I could not imagine all of that water fitting into someone’s belly, even a grown-up.

While it was uncomfortable getting an enema that way, it had some sort of strange attraction. I had to try that again. And a few weeks later after mom and dad had left I told grandma I had a tummy ache hoping she would suggest an enema. It worked. I did it one or two more times over the next year but I did not want to do it every time for fear she would figure out I was faking the tummy ache. By then I was giving myself enemas with the bulb at home, but those bag enemas will always be something special.

I don't remember my exact age when I was given my first enema but I was very young - probably before I was 5. However my mother was a nurse who believed strongly in the efficacy of the enema and I received them for many years after that. I would be told to strip off and lie face down on my bed, my bottom raised by a pillow. My mother would then give me two enemas. The first was always a warm soap and water solution administered with a Higginson syringe. What I remember it most was my conflicting feeling of not wanting her to squeeze the Higginson bulb again, with the consequent increase in discomfort and cramping, yet also wanting her to do so to get the whole embarrassing experience over with. My mother varied the rate at which she squeezed the bulb and kept the bowl of solution out of my sight so that I never knew how much more was to come. I think that the volume was initially no more than a pint but I when you are very young this is a lot. As I got older she told me that I needed a larger enema as a small one would no longer work properly and I think it the volume was about 3 pints by the time I was 12. Although I initially dreaded seeing the syringe, tubing, funnel and jar of Vaseline laid out on our table, which told me my mother had decided I needed another enema, I grew to find the experience, though uncomfortable, exciting and by the time I was 12 or 13 I was probably addicted to enemas. After I had evacuated the first enema I was allowed a little time to relax and was then given a saline enema to wash out any remaining soap left inside me. My mother usually used a long rubber tube and funnel for the second enema. Gravity feed enema bags were not common in England in those days (1950s); the Higginson syringe was the most common enema equipment. I remember that I would have loved to discuss with others of my age, who received enemas, their experiences e.g. how fast or slowly their mothers squeezed the Higginson bulb or did their mothers also raise and lower the funnel to achieve a kind of pulsing inside them but that was long before the internet and I was far too embarrassed to ask my friends if they also received enemas.

What I remember was how much better I felt afterward. I was about 5 and had a stomach ache probably because I was constipated. I told my dad and he felt my stomach saying that there was a way to make me feel better. He said he would put warm water into my poo hole, which would make everything come out, and then my stomach ache would be gone. He asked if I want to try it. I agreed and he gave me a hug saying I was daddy’s girl. So he filled the bag with warm water , hung it on the shower then gave me the enema nozzle to insert by myself, which I did. He asked if I were ready, and when I said yes, he opened the clamp and I felt myself getting full. I told him I needed to poo and he said to try to hold it, that he knows I can, so I did my best for a while longer. Finally I said that I have got to go right now. So he pulled the nozzle out and I rushed to sit on the toilet as stuff started to come out. He told me to relax and let everything happen and when I was done said I should do it again just to be sure so I did. After the second time, my stomach ache was totally gone and I felt so much better.

I don't remember my first enema. I do remember the smell of Ivory soap & rubber. That's what comes to mind first. Secondly, I remember the smell of pretroleum jelly. Next, I remember the feel of the towel under me, while I layed naked over someone's thighs. Then a sense of cool air over me.

I was about 8ish. Mom taught I had problems going. Turns out I needed my appendix token out a few days later. The only thing I remembered was the cold and wet nozzle at my butt.

"What single thing do you remember most of your first enema? "

Pleading for whatever was happening to stop - and it continuing. I was face down and had no idea what was happening to me. I could feel the intense pressure in my ass, not my abdomen. The pressure kept building and I instinctively knew enough to 'hold it.' Someone watching, doing it TO me. No doubt this frames some of the most erotic play I enjoy now!

In a consensual adult environment, that sounds exceptionally erotic, Enemasubgirl 😉

I really don't remember my first enema. It was prolly with a bulb. I got them from my mom, who used a bag, till I was 14

I'm sure it wasn't my first enema, just the first one I can remember. I was around five and hadn't gone to the bathroom for a few days ( I had a habit of holding back) and my mother gave me some milk of magnesia and told me if it didn't work she would have to use the syringe on me. I immediately began to protest because I knew what that meant, so I must have been syringed when I was younger, and I knew I didn't want this. All day I was filled with a sense of dread and tried repeatedly to go to avoid what was about to happen. Unfortunately the laxative didn't work and that evening she took my hand and led me into the bathroom. The smell of Ivory soap filled the room and I saw a jar of Vaseline and the small bulb syringe sitting on the counter. I tried to run away but it was too late. She had already closed the door behind me. A towel was on the floor and beside it was a bowl of the hot, soapy water. I begged and pleaded as she undressed me and told me to lie down on the towel. Again I asked her not to do this, but she told me since my bowels hadn't moved she was going to have to use the syringe on me and make them move. Lying on the towel crying, I saw her pick up the syringe and coat the nozzle with Vaseline. I will always remember the bubbling sound as she placed the nozzle into the bowl of soapsuds and squeezed the bulb. Then I heard the sound of the soapy water being drawn up into the syringe as she released her grip on the bulb. I knew my fate was now sealed. She spread my butt cheeks with the thumb and forefinger of her free hand and placed the tip of the nozzle against my tightly clenched butt hole. With one push she stuck the nozzle all the way up inside of me. I cried out as she firmly squeezed the bulb and I felt the hot soapsuds squirt up into my bowels. I felt her pull the nozzle out of me and heard a gurgling sound as she released her grip on the syringe and the bulb filled with air. I heard the bubbling sound again as she refilled the syringe. I begged her not to use the syringe on me again. I told her that it hurt. She said that she was sorry she had to do this to me, but she had to make me go to the bathroom. She reminded me that the laxative didn't work and that she was going to have to give me a good syringing to clean me out. Quickly the nozzle was stuck up my butt and more of the Ivory soapsuds were shooting up inside of me. Despite my protests she continued to syringe me. As I filled with the soapy water I began to tell her I felt like I needed to go, that I couldn't hold it in anymore. She told me that I needed to take just a little bit more to make sure it cleaned me out, because if it didn't work we would have to start all over again and that she knew I didn't want that. I had lost count of the number of times she applied the syringe to my ass but finally she placed it back on the counter. She squeezed my butt cheeks together and told me I had to hold it in for a while to let the soapsuds work on me. My little belly was racked with cramps as the Ivory gurgled inside of me. Finally she helped me up onto the toilet where all the soapsuds and days of backed up crap came shooting out of my ass. As I continued to fill the commode, I saw her empty the bowl of soapsuds, fill it with plain water and place it back on the floor beside the towel. When I was finally done she picked up the syringe and applied more Vaseline to the nozzle. She told me to lie back down on the towel because she was going to have to rinse me out to get the soapsuds out of my bowels. After another thorough syringing of I don't know how many bulb fulls I was once again on the toilet emptying out. After she was satisfied that she had cleaned me out properly my ordeal ended with a stern warning that if I didn't keep my self regular she would have to do this again when I got plugged up. Needless to say I plenty more encounters with the syringe.

I was four years old and I remember how embarrassed I was by what was happening to me, having to give up all control of my bodily functions to my grandmother and how much I liked the feeling of the warm, soapy water filling my colon and the growing urgency to expel. Being naked on the potty, emptying out my bowels while my grandmother was busy at the bathroom sink preparing another soapy enema for me is a memory that I will cherish always.

My father raised me as a single parent, so he had to give it to me. Did feel a little awkward, for both of us, but we got through it.

I think the things that stand out in my mind are first how hard this ordinarily coarse man worked so hard to be as gentle as possible and to minimize the hurt. The other was that it was the first time in my life I had ever experienced pain and pleasure at EXACTLY THE SAME TIME!! and how I was afraid to tell him that!!!

I remember hearing the click of the metal clamp opening and feeling the immediate and insistent surge of water.

The first enema that I remember was given to me in the hospital when I was recovering from a burst appendix. I was 4. The nurse used an enema can. She had me lay on my back with my legs in the air with her holding my feet. She lifted me up a bit and inserted the nozzle.