At the age of 7 I travelled by ship to South Africa from England with my parents. When the ship docked in Cape Town, it was there some days while heavy cargo was unloaded. A 'nice man' volunteered to go exploring with me - a small boy's heaven. But he was a paedophile, and chiefly interested in my penis, which he fondled whenever we were hidden from view (often). I thought nothing of it at the time, and he didn't manage to turn me on or I would have remembered that as being pleasant. In fact, I wondered what he found so fascinating about my willy. I didn't! That left (I think) no scars.
In my university days, a group of us went drinking, and when the pubs shut, found ourselves in the fairly agreeable company of some guys we met, who said, "Come to our pad, we've got private supplies." We went; and went on drinking. I passed out and was taken to bed and raped. While not entirely oblivious to what was going on, I was certainly paralysed enough to be unable to do anything about it other than try to push his dick out of my arse. I wasn't successful; but neither was he, despite jerking furiously in between taking dips in my bum. Also drunk, I guess. He never did cum. But a part of me actually liked it! However, when I awoke and he was kissing me, I discovered from my violent dislike that I was not gay at all. Was I abused? Yes, but...I hardly defended my honour, did I
That did not make me an enema addict. I was one already and had been for years. But I certainly felt pretty used and dirty afterwards, and an enema ASAP was in order. At the time I had never even had a girlfriend. Girls terrified me and I wasn't sure about my sexual identity at all. A negative experience, I now think it helped me a lot! It showed me that I'm straight AND anally aroused.