What do you remember most about your first enema

Being terrified, embarrassed, and feeling tricked all at same time.

My first few remembered enemas were much like cal's: legs up at age 4 with an enema can used. The difference was that the enemas took place on my bed and instead of a nurse, mom and grandmother gave the treatment. This may bring back similar memories to others here who grew up in the 1940s and 50s.

I have no idea how old I was when I got my first enema because i don't really remember it. The enemas that are memorable are those from about age 6 on when all enemas were given from a red combination syringe. At the time that thing seemed huge and held an unreal amount of water. My mothers enemas were always the same, namely Ivory soapy and warm water that seemed like it took hours to flow out of me. I really hated it when I was told it was to be enema time.

I was 13 or so, gave it to myself. I filled up a two quart bag since my stomach was hurting and had tried everything else-- some research said an enema was in order. I hung the bad about two feet above me and got into the knee-chest position. I inserted the nozzle and started the flow. It was painful at first, because the water was cold and I wasn't used to such a sensation, but that quickly subsided into a pleasurable full feeling that keeps me using them to this day.

I was given enemas from the time I was quite young -- maybe 2 or 3 years old till I was about 6. I was always lying face down across my mother's lap. I neither liked nor disliked them. They were just a fact of life. And, actually, administered quite gently. I have clear memories of the red bulb syringe, the fragrance of the ivory soap solution, and the repeated insertions. The only negative part was the feeling of being "vulnerable."

The click of the shiny metal clamp on the red hose connected to the big red enema bag held very high in the air, then the warm water flowing in and then waiting for the cramps to start. And then being told to take deep breaths. They started when I was very young, must have been about 4, before that I don't know what my mother used, I guess a bulb type enema. Our family doctor prescribed enemas for everything.

I received my first enema in the hospital a few days after surgery. I was in the childrens ward and was able to get around pretty well before surgery. Back in those days the ward was split one wing girls the other boys. the only privacy other than the bathroom was provided by moveable screens that the nurses moved around a bed when a procedure or examination was taking place. Iwas due for surgery the next day and I was wandering when I noticed a nurse pushing a cart that had metal cans on it and a large pitcher. The nurse stopped at the girls side of the ward at the first bed closest to the separating corridor. Next she wheeled one of the cloth covererd frames that was used for privacy. My curiosity was aroused. After the curtain was in place I heard some movement and then heard her talking to the girl on the bed telling her she was going to get an enema and that she neede to roll onto her left side and lift her gown all the way up. I had a perfect view through one of the hinge sections and saw what I condiered the most beautiful rear ends I can remember. The I saw the nurse grease the girls bottom with some vaselin and insert a nozzle. I heard a click and soon after the girl stared squirming and telling the nurse she was full. No matter because the nurse told her she had to take it all and that a rinse would follow after she evacuated. When the fluid was in the girl the nurse removed the nozzle and told her to lay on her back and hold it for as long as she could before going to the bathroom in a bedpan. As she rolled onto her back she looked at the screen and our eyes met. I moved out of sight as fast as I could wondering what trouble I might be in. Much to my surpise nothing was said.

The next day I had surgery and woke up feling dizzy and sick to my stomach. Slowly I began to come around and my mother was there to comfort me. 2 days later I was supposed to leave the hospital, but I hadn't had a bowel movement, and back then if you had anesthesia you had to have a bowel movement before you could be released. Early the following morning I saw the nurse wheel in a familiar looking cart with the same cans and pitcher I had seen before. I knew what was about to happen but wasn't sure about how I felt about it. I was told to remome my PJ bottoms and roll over onto my left side. I felt the greasy finger on my anus and then the nozzle invading my rear end. It felt weird, then the click and a surge of very warm water invade me and I felt the fullness and utter penetration of my bowels. The nurse encouaged me and I finally was able to take the prescribed amount. The nurse told me to roll on my back and hold it until I really need to go bad. I was in need of the bathroom very soon, but since I was able to scramble to the bathroom I was allowed to make a mad dash to relieve myself in the bathroom. As I made the move I realized I didn't have my PJ bottoms on so the nurse told me to take the sheet and go quickly. As I sat up I could see the familar eyes I had seen a couple of days earlier and a smile on her face. The embarassment and relief will never be forgotten.

I remember getting a squeeze bulb enema from my mom when I was only about 4 or 5. I had been swallowing a bunch of chewing gum, and it clogged me up and caused me to have a terrible stomach ache. Mom took me to the bathroom. Out came the blue squeeze bulb, and she started running water in the sink. She took my clothes and panties off. I saw her filling the bulb, and lubing the narrow white tip. I had no idea what was about to happen. She positioned me forward, kneeling against the commode on my knees. I felt the tip slide in and started whimpering. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't really hurt. When she squeezed the bulb, and I felt that warm water gushing in, I started crying. Mom kept trying to calm me, but each time that bulb was squeezed, it felt like my insides were being pressure washed. She sat me on the commode, and I exploded. It burned coming back out, soapy no doubt, and I kept crying my eyes out. She emptied the sink while I was on the commode. I saw her refilling the sink with more water. I cried out "no mommy!" I was back in the floor, the nozzle went in, and another warm gush. Another bulb followed, and I was back on the commode. It didn't burn, so I guess she rinsed me out. Thank God it was over with. Probably only took 5 minutes, but it wasn't fun. I didn't swallow any more gum. And from that lesson, I learned that squeeze bulb enemas can be more uncomfortable than bag enemas. That's why I only give my 4 year old son an enema with the bag. Only one insertion is needed, and I can control the flow to a more comfortable rate so he won't cry.

My first was when I was about 5 and had complained of not feeling well when we were downtown shopping. We had to walk many blocks home and I sometimes wonder if my mother thought the enema was good medicine for a sore tummy or whether she was trying to punish me. It was a little white squirt y bulb that she filled 3-4 times. I can't remember if I got cleaned out or not.

It's odd how something that happened so long ago and so early in life can leave such an impression. I was probably about 5. I don't deme,her the reason for the enema. I recall that grandma was present helping mom and I was scarred to death. After the nozzle was inserted I was sat on the toilet and the bag hung above me from the bathroom door. Then after the clamp was opened I remember not feeling anything so I stopped putting up a fuss. After a few minutes, and noticing the bag wasn't going down they realized I was sitting on the tubing. As soon as that was fixed I felt the water going in and started to get up and the tube came out of my butt spraying everyone with soapsuds. Eventually they got toweled off, had a good laugh and then got the enema going again with grandma holding the nozzle in. The things that stood out about that enema the most is that was the only enema grandma was present for and from then on I was on hands and knees, butt up for future enemas.

Some sixty years later it is the terror of that first remembered enema that is still vivid. My mother was authoritarian so I am sure there was no explaination of what was to happen before she gave me my first enema over her lap in the bathroom of our apartment.

I was somewhere between three and four years old. My enema was from her douche bag. I was naked and crying from fear and discomfort. I begged for my blanket and for her to stop. As all her subsequent enemas were made with Ivory soap, I assume my first was also a soapy solution.

What made it worse was that I got another enema the next day, possibly a third the day after. I have no memory of the the actual enema or of evacuating it.

Henceforth I dreaded seeing the enema bag hanging in the bathroom. I couldn't look directly at when I took my bath.

A great orgasm

I remember it being a rather traumatic experience. I was probably five at the time. My vivid memory is of my parents coming into my bedroom and I immediately sensed something was going to happen that I wasn't going to like. My mom was holding a bowl of milky water in one hand and a red bulb syringe in the other. I'm not sure who but one of them told me they were going to give me an enema and my dad pulled back the covers, helped me out of bed and began to strip off my pajamas. I began crying. My dad had me face the bed and bend over. He gently held me in place while my mother administered several syringe-fulls of soapy water. I remember the cramps and one of them holding my butt cheeks together. Finally they allowed me to run to the bathroom and to this day I vividly remember the acrid smell of the Ivory soap as I poured out of me. I believe it was that first enema that I've never forgotten that started my fascination/fetish with enemas.

I have posted my full experience under "Octane" and in another post. I do not remember my first day of school (1949) but I do remember my first enema at age 5 the previous summer. It was administered by my Grandmother over her knees, complete with hiked up skirt, corset, garters, and cotton stockings.

I recall the red bag, the itching the nozzle caused in my anus (it felt like having my temperature taken rectally), her instructions about what was going to happen, the click of the clamp, and the mesmerizing rolling feeling of the warm water surging into my bowel. It felt very, very good-at first-and I was so enthralled and embarrassed that I said nothing. Then the slow beginning of the extreme discomfort of being bloated full of water and cramping.

After she "convinced" me to take the full bag, my Grandmother would not let me expel until my Mother looked at my distended belly. I was standing, doubled over shaking with chills and cramps, it was miserable. My Grandmother had me "show off" my bloated gut, but what they laughed at was my little turgid penis. I didn't realize that it was as stiff as a nail until they let me head for the toilet. I tried to bend it to keep (I thought) from peeing on myself and it was like a steel rod. I never forgot the sensation, the pleasure, the misery, and the laughter.

The feeling of nozzle going into my anus

I don't remember my first enema! I grew up getting enemas and I thought everyone else got enemas too! I did not get enemas all the time, but I did when I was constipated! No embarrassment...Mother was a nurse and when I was in my teens I would tell her when I needed her to give me enemas. I would get at the least 3 and sometimes more. All girls in our home and sometimes we saw each other getting enemas and yes pooping our enemas too.

I remember getting enemas in the early grade school years, kindergarten through fourth grade. Hated them then.

I was thinking about my enemas I had received as a kid, and I was taken way back into my youth and I sort of tried to remember what I felt as the enema was prepared for me. These golden memories!

At any rate, I do remember the anxiety and sort of fluttery feelings that I got as soon as the impending enema was announced for me. When I was told that I needed an enema, and it was going to be given to me now, and was told to go to my room until preparations were made, I was almost beside myself with sort of a fear, yet a wanting of the enema, a mixed set of messages. I do remember I even had on occasion sweaty palms as I thought of what would soon be happening to me. I do remember the feelings if Ihappened to be near the bathroom and was able to observe the enema being prepared. I watched intently as the warm soapy water was made, and then poured in the bag. I remember having the feeling of wondering if I could hold all that water in me—the bag looked quite large! I did find out later that it was only a quart, which was increased gradually to the 2 quart amount. At any rate then the call to come to my uncles room, where preparations were complete. There was no turning back now, I was going to get an enema! My clothes were removed and the usual exam was done, I don't even remember much about this, except I would go over his knees for a temperature. That was the first feeling of something sliding into my most secret space, and I must say the feeling was great. I was given rectal temperatures every time I had to have an enema, and so was used to the procedure, which I remember as feeling quite nice. I do know however, that I remember that the next insertion would be something larger, and that I would soon experience the cramping aspects of the coming enema, and the fact that I would have to endure a somewhat uncomfortable 20-30 minutes until I could get to the bathroom.

After my uncle had prepared me, I was put on the bed, and had a few moments to reflect on what was about to happen. There was the bag full and heavy, hung above my legs, and snaking down was the hose, which my uncle has placed beside my leg. I looked at it, and saw it was glistening with vaseline all ready to go inside me. I instinctively remember how that was going to feel. The pushing at my rectum, and then the entrance, slow but all the way.It felt good to me—something sliding in my bottom, and it was pleasurable. Then just after the insertion, a moment of "well thats over!" and as I got used to the feeling of the nozzle in my bottom, the next part would continue. A couple of times after I had raised my legs up for the insertion, and then lowered them, my uncle had to leave the room to either answer the phone or something. Of course he soon would be returning to continue the enema, but now I had a chance to observe the bag, hose, and to squench my butt together, to feel the large (to me) nozzle imbedded in my bottom. It did not hurt, it never did, and to me, felt quite good in there/ It was only the thoughts of what was to come down the hose and into me that gave me some panic..

Finally the time came, and the enema began.... I watch with some fascination as the bag slowly began to deflate, and I felt the enema going inside me. It wasn't long before a cramp happened, and the enema was stopped and then restarted several times.

Of course the feelings then changed to ones of "can I hold it?" "when will it be over?" "How long will he make me hold it? Struggling to hold it all in—I watched intently as the bag was finally deflated, and my tummy felt full and round.

Some gentle massaging of my tummy by my uncle who commented on how good a boy I was to take all of this enema! He said he was impressed with mu behavior during the enema, and promised me a treat when we were finished!

And then the good feeling after it had been done!!

The first thing I can remember was my mother coming into the room carrying the syringe filled with soapy water. When the nozzle was inserted and the water started to flow, l enjoyed it and have enjoyed everything from the preparation to the end from that time until now. I was around 5 years old. Great memories.

I remember being pulled over the nannies knee and seeing the bowl with the sudsy water and bar of soap in it. I could see her squeezing the bulb and it sucking the soapy water in. Then felt my cheeks parting and it being squeezed into me. After a few squeezes I'd start but till she felt I had the right amount it continued. Then she squeezed my cheeks together to let the enema work on me. I'd then be put on the potty to let it out.

Cody

I remember my mom telling me that if I didn't have a good bowel movement she was going to have to give me an enema. I think it was around age 5 or 6. I remember now that when she told me I knew what she was talking about, so I must have had one before that I don't remember now. Anyway, I remember that it was a bulb syringe and that she gave it to me while I laid across her lap. She was sitting on the toilet. I think I was completely naked, but I might have had on a tee shirt. I really don't remember much else about this one, but I do remember that she was very gentle and there was no fussing or screaming involved. I do have memories of enemas given to me as I got older, with the enjoyment aspect kicking in around age 10 or 11.

My earliest recollection of enemas occurred when I was about five years old; I know I’d had then earlier but the memories are long gone.

At the time, my mother had me in the bathroom one evening, face down over her lap and she was using a little red bulb syringe with a black tip to fill me with hot soapy water (I still love the smell of poop and ivory soap!).

There was a knock on the door and in walks three of my father's cousins two were male their fiancé’s and the third was female with her new husband (I remembered being at their wedding the month before.

The men went into the living room with my dad to listen to the Yankee game on the radio (no TV back then).

Our bathroom was right off the kitchen and the door was open and the women (girls? I guess they were probably eighteen to twenty one or two at the time) stayed to watch / comment on the process taking place before them.

That was back in the mid 40's, when a child being given an enema was by no means uncommon. But I can still remember being mortified to the extreme. Meeting those women now always brings back a blush; it seems impossible that they, or my parents, were ever that young!

Hi Bethbeth,

I was about 2 1/2 years old, had the flu for a couple of days and got an enema each evening from my mom and my aunt, who assisted. What "single thing" do I remember, well there are several!! Mom and my aunt would come into the bedroom and mom would position me on the side of the bed. She would then pull off my undies and place a warm fluffy towel under my naked butt for starters. My aunt was holding the white Jones can with the red ribbed hose and black bakelite enema nozzle at the end. Mom would then part my butt cheeks with her fingers and I would feel the cool air against my rosebud. Next she took the enema nozzle with the tip coated with vaseline and I felt her slowly slip it into my rosebud!! My aunt wasn't holding the can very high but I could feel the water "pulsating" in my rectum as my mom held the nozzle in place!! All this was a "Totally New Experience" to me as my age would note!! I remember just lying there, not crying or upset but mesmerized by this new experience and...... it felt "GOOD!!" 'Things that I "noticed" and remember to this day, the warmth and softness of the towel against my butt, the feeling of the cool air on my rosebud when my mom parted my but cheeks, the silky smoothness of the cool vaseline coated enema tip slowly invading my rosebud and the "pulsating" feeling of the enema flowing into me. To this day, I have to say those "events" are what finally brought me to say, and after years of "negative feelings" about my "feelings" that it is OK to "Like Enemas!!!!" Yes, "I like Enemas!!!!!!" Yes, I am a Klismo!!!" Full tilt, all the way Klismo! No "Kloset Klismo" here! Again I say, "to this day" I like the warm fluffy towel under my butt, the feeling of the cool air on my rose bud right before "insertion," and the silky smoothness of the well lubed enema tip as it is inserted into me!!!!!! And I might add that mom was very loving, caring and reassuring during it all which I feel helped calm any apprehension i may have had at that age. That's what I remember, what I felt, what more can I say.

"No Kloset Klismo Here!!!,"

highwater

I was four years old and in an isolation hospital with polio in 1953. I don't remember much of the administration. It was a red rubber tube and funnel and I still remember the smell of the green soft soap in the jug. I remember lying on a rubber bedpan and having my bottom wiped with tow. This was a first of many enemas over the two years that I was in hospital. Almost every day we would see the enema trolley and screens being wheeled down the ward, and we all wondered who was going to be the lucky recipient!! I was very disappointed when I had my first baby and the enema was a squirty chemical job and not the familiar one that I had been looking forward to. It certainly worked though!

I was about 5 and was called into the bathroom where my grandmother was sitting on the toilet with a towel on her lap. Mom was sitting on the side of the tub and told me to take off my pants and go over to grandma. When I did she had me lie across her lap and would spread my cheeks and smear ivory soap on my butt, then she would take a syringe and squirt water into me and then insert her finger and swish the water around. She repeated this several times and then I was allowed to go. Afterwards we repeated until they were satisfied. I think grandma was teaching mom how to give them.

I cannot rightly recall the very first enema & I'd have to assume it was the small red rubber bulb with black bakelite nozzle which I was to "find" stashed in the linen closet along with other household goods sometime after age 5....(Yes,it got taken for a trial run)...though the youngest in the family got it so I guess we did too...as was one that looked like to me an Enema bulb but was in fact a pear shaped reddish/orange rubber bulb which was a Continental brand Ear Syringe....but that's another story.

The one that I recall vividly & was readily recognizable was her 1 Quart white enamelware irrigator with it's dark blue rim & spout,smooth dull red hose & black rectal nozzle...which was a 2 piece contraption....had a very stiff rolled over outer "T" shaped black tap assembly & due to that seemed to be little used...so more often than not it went in squirting from the get go....it gave me a little boy "stiffy" that would do things that I was yet to cum to terms with....er recognize.

When it first happened & I cannot say any particular night that took place,I'd had a bout of constipation bought on from a combination of eating far too much sweet rich foods (candy,cakes,dessert after dinner) & not taking notice as to when I last went last....toilets at that age were a quick in and out affair....kinda typical as going out to play was high on the fun scale,similar to readying for some new adventure daily...boys could be like that....well we are different & do get a bit hyper...the term at the time was "bake a cake" by not paying heed to ones plumbing.

Consequently due to the obvious taught stomach along with a grumbling bellayache my mother determined a soap suds Enema was to be given....at that point I had no idea what was in store & was none the wiser as to what was coming....from there she just sent me off to my bedroom & said i'll be in to see if i can be of help in 5 to 10 Mins...how right she was on that score !!....thinking no more of it I went & lay on my bed....what seemed like ages gave way to the sound of the linen closet door opening followed by a rustling around & that dullish yet hollow sound of a Douche Can being removed, hose coiled within & an almost inaudible tink !..tink !..tink ! as the nozzle moved about.

I had left my bedroom door ajar...Then came a quite period,presumably as the equipment was being assembled...shortly thereafter came alternating running water from the bathroom taps...a fairly brisk swishing noise with the occasional clank !..clank !..clank !...as the soap bar glanced off the inside of that white enamel can gradually dulling off as it filled...then nothing, just shuffling of feet on tile & the sound of some kind of material being moved about....the towel being folded !!

The moment had arrived...Mum was ready & I was not...well not for that surprise I can tell you...Entering my bedroom that hose by now obviously purged & heavy with soapy water bounced several times on the lower part of the outer side of the door..towel & red rubber underlay draped over her arm....almost within seconds & glancing across she announced as she walked in...I think you could do with a "Good Enema" !!...and something along the lines of this should have you all fixed up in no time...yeah right,one of the longest 15 to 20 minutes from a kids perspective.

I wonder what my eye's must have revealed at that moment as she came over & placed the Enema goods with it's black tapped nozzle deposited inside the soapy solution warming, together with a glass jar of Vaseline from her smock pocket,upon the bedside dresser beside my bed..To me 1 quart looked big & sounded heavy judging by the thud it made....even though I had been feeling a bit miserable and she was a kindhearted caring woman...I did squirm a bit,but didn't complain....so that made things a lot easier as I gingerly slid my pyjama bottom down....raising my bum up while doing so she deftly slid the towel & protector under...assuring me that I'd feel as right as rain in no time at all....chatting away with the added suggestion to relax....yeah good one right !!

I peeked over my shoulder as mum unscrewed the lid from the Vaseline jar...picking up a dob, lifting my right bum cheek up & open...the warm touch replaced almost instantly by a slippery finger lightly circling over my button...a momentary pause followed...before I knew it a small probing announced a finger tip had entered & rotated...shallow as it was (exciting at the same time)...caused a small tightening as I gasped at the intruder...drawing in my breath...my little legs quivered...my hand had grasped the pillow...face partially buried...the myriad of sensations.

Wiping her hand off casually...lifting the hose end & one eyed nozzle from that warm soapy solution....a small squirt jettisoned from it's tip...I felt my bum cheeks squeeze together briefly....facing away & easing apart my bottom I could feel her thumb press draw upward...a few drips flicked upon my upper thigh...causing a minor cheek flex...a light kind of probing ensued as she eased the bulbous like bud end furtively up inside...the unstoppable squirting was immediate....cool to begin then the warm rush as the soapy water careered into my rectum....again a myriad of sensations hit....that little boy "stiffy" struck...that was the hard part or so I thought.

Again I peered back ...mum standing there holding the Enema equipment with one hand & each time she changed footing it changed the direction of flow from the enema nozzle tip....that I was feeling as my uncomfortable tummy reacted to its incessant surge....didn't matter how hard I tried to relax as mum soothed me...the Enema was playing one merry dance on me & I really felt like I wanted to go badly... not just badly...very badly concerned about having an accident & letting it out....I didn't cry or anything just wanted to go have a poo as quick as my legs would carry me...mum said just take a few deep breaths & it'll all be over soon...then a reprieve came as the feelings subsided...holding the Enema can up a bit higher I heard the faint gurgle signifying it was finally over....wrong again !!

Easing the nozzle out & placing it inside the Enema can...hearing it clip the side with a distinct tiiing !!...she replaced it with a washcloth between my bum cheeks...felt nice & warm too as she pressed them together while talking away...lying there,legs drawn partly up, feet warm under the peeled back covers with my bum exposed at the beds edge...the minutes ticking slowly away...another rolling tidal surge had begun...some more encouraging of taking more steady breaths....bought about another easing....not that bad after all.....then just as quickly as it abated a real biggy came on strong.

Mum helped by firmly pressing my bottom...holding the washcloth firmly enough that I could feel her clenched hand....rubbed my tummy anticlockwise with the side of her palm...stalled breathing...the height of desperation passed...this time I didn't hang around to find out what was in store....literally bolted for the dunny...barely had time to get the seat down...The Enema was not gonna wait this time & so the unloading rocketed forth with gusto....oooooh ! that felt good...real good !!..then further smaller bursts erupted intermittently....feeling better with each offload.....but as so often can happen just when you feel its safe & sitting there head in the hands....elbows upon the knees feeling somewhat depleted...deep within a strong bellyache hit & rumbling down in "waves" came the cause of my anguish.

My first enema was given by myself at the age of about four. My mom told me what to do. She insisted that I take as much as possible. I probably took a pint but it felt as if I were going to explode. The results were amazing. Lol

I do not remember my "FIRST" enema because it occurred only hours after I was born. Mom was an enema user from early in her life and she told me that she had to give me enemas almost from day one. The first one I do remember was when I was still small enough to be picked up and carried to the toilet. I remember being placed on a table in the bathroom and having my legs held up high as though I was to receive a new undies. My older sister was there holding the bag for mom. I don't remember the sensations of the enema, but I do remember being picked up from the table with my mothers thumb in my rectum and carried to the toilet where she told me to push it out if I could. I do remember that the experience was traumatic but I do not remember the next one. Mom continued to either give me enemas or encouraged me to take them up until I was around 13 or 14. By that time I had bought my own bag which I hid in my closet. After mom found it she seldom gave me enemas or paid any attention to me doing it for myself. Like she did, I left my bag in the bathroom to dry for a few days. I do not remember anything ever being said about my having it or using it. It was just as usual as the tooth brush.

Not sure if i remember

Probably that mixture of pleasure and pain at the same time that I felt then. Didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time.