Do you think you gave away your secret liking of enemas to mom?

I was a sickly kid; I had digestion problems when I was young and I did not go the bathroom all that often. I remember going to the doctor an getting an enema in his office from a nurse. I also got them at home allot, maybe once a week on average.I remember my mother has a douche bag always hanging in her shower, but she did not use it on me. My mothers choice for enema equipment for my enemas was a enema bulb. I got to the point where I did not complain about enemas from my mother I really liked them.

Herein is the subject of this new post. I can remember moaning when my mother would put the bulb into my bottom and squeezed the water into me. I think I even moved back against it when she was squeezing it into me, I did not realize I was giving myself away during these multiple bulb sessions. I do remember my mother seems to move the bulb around while the nozzle was deep inside of me. Like I said I think my mother knew I really liked how she gave me those bulb enemas. She never tried the bag on me when I was a kid. Yes I bet she knew I liked that time and she tried to make it as good as possible for her only child. I do not remember from what age I first got them and for how long exactly, but mysteriously they stopped about the time I noticed I was getting an erection during the frequent enema sessions with mom.

Anyone else have similar memories?

Mom found one of my nozzle's under the bed when I had moved back in briefly back in 93' and just layed it on the dresser and never asked me about it, I was so embarressed to say anything, wonder if she was happy to know that she had made me into enema lover from all those enema's as a child?

This is a really old thread but let's see if we can resurrect it. I never gave anything away because I always hated them. It was clinical for me but not for all. Do you remember mom knowing you got excited. I've heard from some girls here that fought them mightily until that switch got flipped and then they couldn't wait for the next one. What about you?

Its very clear I like them now with a partner but I didnt really get them growing up.

My first was in hospital which was not a terrible experince but the setting made sure there was zero arousal with it (rightly so).

It was only a girlfriend of mine that actually got me interested in adult life.

My first was in hospital which was not a terrible experince but the setting made sure there was zero arousal with it (rightly so).

Just curious, was that the typical childbirth enema?

I remember well, after my first two enema's with a combination Sear's Force Flow syringe I was hooked. I would sneak them at my grandmothers house until I got caught.We had to borrow it.

About two weeks later my mother came into my room while I was reading boy's life magazine and gave me this brown paper bag that had a Crest Combo Syringe in it(believe it or not I still have the box and 3 nozzles ) She told me I was Iold enough to use it on myself and did not to need any help. As they say the rest is history.

As the only boy in four siblings, I think my mom figured it out from my lack of complaining when she told me I would be getting an enema. All four of us got Ex-Lax Friday night. It usually made us poop first thing Saturday morning. My oldest sister and the second youngest, just one year older than me almost always got a good BM; Lisa, my second oldest and I both got constipated and frequently had to have a suppository, or an enema because our Ex-Lax didn't get the job done. The two "normal" sisters would complain and sometimes throw tantrums if Mom said an enema was coming. Lisa, like me, never complained, and usually accepted the soapy water willingly, if not enthusiastically. I'm sure Mom caught on, and would frequently prescribe enemas without any suppository for us. She would also ask us if we felt constipated on other than enema days. She certainly had to know that we always said yes, and didn't hesitate to answer yes when she would say, "Do you think you need an enema?" She would always ask the other one if they needed one, too. I don't remember ever saying or hearing Lisa say "No." When I was twelve, and Lisa was sixteen, Mom asked Lisa to give me my enema, because she had to go somewhere. After that, I usually got them from Lisa, who was more that happy to give me one any time I asked for one.

Just curious, was that the typical childbirth enema?

No it was pre laprascopy phosphate enema.

No it was pre laprascopy phosphate enema.

That must have been some time ago. I bet they don't even give them now. My wife had to do some Fleet enemas before her hysterectomy butt that was early 80's. I'll bet they don't do them for that anymore as a prep either.

Was around a decade ago so not that long really. I think for laptascopic ops some sort of prep is done to collapse bowel and cath the bladder to limit chance of injury doing instrumentation. But I could be wrong.

I evolved from a hate to a love/hate of enemas from mom.

When I was young I'd not be happy about being told I was going to get an enema and sometimes a spanking was necessary. Early enemas were given over her lap, pretty much how she'd put me for a spanking and I'm sure the pants-down, then OTK routine for an enema wasn't made any better with the association.

As I added birthdays I found while still pleading with mom I didn't need an enema, pleeeease don't give me an enema, there was a growing excitement about it too. Aside from the obvious penis flag pole response, mom was able to pick up on other things. While my mouth might be genuinely claiming I'd had enough, no more please, the sort of moans that came out sometimes, and the rolling of my bottom and even moving backwards into the nozzle were indicative of my yin/yang feelings.

When I was older still I knew mom was aware of my yin/yang feelings. "Don't be silly," she'd say. "You know you need a good enema. They're not THAT bad, are they?" I'd say, "I still don't think I need one," and she'd say, "I think you do and if you just relax and let me give you an nice enema without fuss you know all that warm water can feel quite nice … so, let's do it."

I never liked them and always threw a fit. I sure like to give them though. Go figure.

I know I did when in 2nd grade I asked her to give me an enema, never got it or any other enemas from her.

No I didn't give it away! But my naughty erection pressing into her thighs while over her knees sure told her the exact unspoken truth.

Thereupon I was never to go OTK again and told calmly to take my own enemas from then on; whenever needed. She left the bathroom and nothing more was ever said to me about it.

Well…what's a sexually curious boy to do? Follow Mom's instructions of course. So I began a lifetime of enema play!

I don't think my Mother ever had any doubt that I loved taking enemas…. from the get--go… Mom told me once when she was alive that I used to snuggle down on her knees and coo when she put water up into me with her small red bulb syringe.

That’s an interesting question. Our mom hated getting an enema herself, however she gave me and my siblings enemas at the drop of a hat. In the 40’s & 50’s enemas were common place and ordered by family doctors for a variety of reasons, for both kids an adults. We never gave her any trouble or fussed to much when it was enema time. In fact, on a few occasions, one would even asked too be given an enema, knowing the other two would be given one as well. When mom gave one of us an enema she, as a rule, gave all three of us an enema.

I have to answer the question this way. Relative to her, we three loved enemas. And I say this because, we overheard her mom giving her an enema, after we’d been put to bed one evening. She was fussing so much our grandmother had to threaten to give her a spanking with a hairbrush, if she didn’t settle down.

It really wasn't much of a secret. Mom's enema ritual required full nudity, so when getting up from kneeling over the side of the tub or up from laying on the floor with a belly full of soapy water, my erection was in full view. All her “enema” talk during those sessions taught me to relax, breathe slowly and accept the water. She was right….it feels good to be cleaned out. But at some point I became self-aware and would try to hide my erection. After a few of those she suggested I was getting old enough to self-administer.

Mom knows. We're close, and I can't keep secrets from her. She's had G.I. issues for years, but I didn't pay much attention until I started having them in my 20s. She started seeing my syringe hanging to dry in the bathroom when she was visiting. Funny thing, I was embarrassed at first to tell her.

I believe my mom figured out my interest as the bag was sometimes wet from my enema when no one else had taken one. She never said a word about it.

Mama, I think never had any doubts about my use of the enema bag. She tried to stop my use of her syringe by hiding it from me. But, I found it and after a while she caught me using it. This time, she cut it up and threw it away in the trash. But, that action did not stop me. I bought my own! But, she found it and hid it from me. Unable to find where she put it, I asked her where she had put it. She eventually showed me. She had put it in a large silver pitcher on the top shelf in my bathroom above the washing machine. I climbed up on it right in front of Mom to retrieve it. Mom reached for it once I had pulled it out of the pitcher. I gave it to her and she proceeded over to the sink and got my enema ready for me. In fact, Mom gave me 3 enemas from that bag that afternoon. After that Mom gave up on me not taking enemas. In fact, she even put a hook up in my bathroom to hold my enema bag on.

Your hard and dripping pretty much says it all

Consider this situation- I had learned that if I complained of a tummy ache, mom would ask if I thought an enema would make me feel better. I would answer, “maybe a small one.” I did not complain about getting an enema.

Mom had given me an enema with the bulb and left the room while I was on the toilet. As soon as most of that was out, I used the bulb to give myself another. I am standing at the sink, bulb in hand, when she walks in, thinking it was time to clean up. I am speechless, but she says something like, “Oh, I thought you were done.” And she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Could there be any doubt in her mind that I liked it?

There was no doubt. My Mom was right there when it happened.

There was no way to hide my erections from mom as I had to strip naked sitting on a stool and walk over to where she was sitting and lay over her lap and plant my penis in between her knees,as I got older and longer it became more difficult to bend my penis down in between her legs and she would comment that there was no way I could slide off her lap now my penis would hold me back!

Yes, one day I asked mom if I could have a enema. She said yes, got her enema bag that she kept under the bathroom sink in a brown paper bag. (I found it on my own earlier) She filled it up for me, but left it hanging and left. I had to slide the nozzle in myself and start the water. When I was all done, she asked me if I felt better. That was it. I was hoping she would have put the nozzle in, but I had to do it. Still, I got to have something up my butt!

As posted on this elsewhere in Zity, I KNOW I gave it away. The second time she felt my tumescent pre teen penis on her legs while I was OTK for bulb enemas, she dismissed me afterwards. Telling me to take enemas on my own. And I sure did.

It was hard to hid it. For my enemas I was naked laying on my back on a towel on the bathroom floor. Impossible to hide my penis in that position. From about 6 years old the warm water would press on my prostate and make me hard. I had NO CLUE what was happening, I just knew my penis felt “funny”. Once during my enema it felt especially stiff and I guess my mom noticed it and said “stop that it is nasty”! I honestly said stop what? I was not consciously doing anything, it just happened.

I often wondered to this day. I had constipation problems and was no stranger to being given an OTK enema. If she did she never said a thing. If I complained of a stomach ache, she would always ask when did you move your bowels, followed by a warm soapy ivory enema!

I don't think it was ever a secret that I liked them. I have no memories of ever disliking them or even protesting being given enemas. As I have written elsewhere, my memories of enemas are all pleasant and as best as I can recall I welcomed the feeling of those warm soapy enemas (and rinses) flowing into me and the subsequent releases into the potty chair.

I don't know the reasons for those enemas. It may have been my battles with ear infections and tonsillitis that were the “reasons” for my enemas or it may have just been her method of preventative treatment. It was years later, when I was able to understand the equipment she used, that I realized that what she actually inserted into me was a colon tube and that she held it in place while the enemas flowed out of the bucket. I don't know how deep she threaded that tube into me.

In any case, they came to an end when my mom and dad separated and divorced as I turned seven years old. I ended up living with my dad and there were no more given enemas after that.

Of course, I have sometimes wondered what my mom got out of those enema sessions or if, and how long, they would have continued had the divorce not happened. It may have been her upbringing that this was what good moms did. It just never occurred to me to ask her about it later in her life or mine.

Most kids think they are smarter than their parents, and they will never know what they are doing when they are gone. But there are signs. The syringe has been moved, it is still wet, and why doesn't Cheryl complain anymore when I tell her she probably needs an enema?

Looking back, I am pretty sure mom had her suspicions, but the incident that pretty much confirmed it all happened when I was twelve. School was out for the summer, dad was at work, my sister at a friend's house, when mom announced she was going to do some shopping. I told her I didn't want to go along. Some time after she left, feeling a bit bored maybe, I decided I wanted an enema. I had quite a bit in me when I heard mom come home. Much earlier than I expected. I emptied the syringe and put it back beneath the sink and sat on the toilet. I pushed out some of it, but as you may know, sometimes not all of it comes out at once. Mom was calling for me so I wiped, flushed, and went to the kitchen where she started to show me some things she bought for me. My guts began to churn as the remaining enema water wanted out. I excused myself and made a dash to the bathroom. After several minutes when I came out, my mom asked me, “Did everything come out OK?” She knew exactly what had happened. I don't remember her ever offering to give me an enema after that morning. I guess she figured that if I really needed one, I knew how to do it myself.