Enemas: From dreading to enjoying them

I recently had a cause to reflect on my attitudes toward taking enemas and it truly went from hating and dreading getting one to actually enjoying them. Up until age 7 or 8 I was given enemas with a small bulb syringe, but then my mother felt that I was old enough to get one from the bag. For several years the process was always the same: I'd be told that I was getting an enema, I'd wait in my bedroom as my mother would bring a saucepan up from the kitchen to mix the soapy water before pouring into the bag, and once everything was ready I'd be called. The bathroom door would be closed and there would be the bag bulging with its dreaded contents hanging from a hook on the back. I would be either in my pajamas or nightshirt; the bottoms of the former would have to come off or the if the latter then it would be raised to about my shoulder blades. I'd certainly complain and whine, but I always got the enema and it always cleaned me out.

Two things are probably true about growing up: I probably didn't get as many enemas as it seemed, and the quantity was much less, too--probably not more than a quart (I was well into my 20s before I ever took a whole bag). I think I must have been either 11 or 12 before I watched the whole process of Mom preparing me an enema. By then I had gone to the quiet submission phase and knew my fate, but the process had not changed and I was not happy either. When I was a teenager, the number of enemas dropped off drastically, but if I was sick or constipated it was still the expected treatment. Only once when I was in my mid teens and feeling rather awful did I ever ask for one, and by then I was getting them on my bed. There was a hiatus for several years when I didn't get any, but in my very late teens my PMS (although not known by that term yet) had gotten progressively worse each month and I would resort to taking a laxative; however, one month the bottle was empty and could find nobody in the sorority house with any I could beg. One of the seniors told me to take a small enema instead, which not only surprised me, but I wasn't enthusiastic about either. Debating the suggestion versus walking downtown to the pharmacy and back, I decided that the enema was probably a better idea. All I had to do was switch nozzles on my folding syringe and recall what I watched my mom do as a teenager. An hour later everything was done and I was feeling a bit better.

That was almost 35 years ago and I still do them, although now having gone through menopause I don't need one for PMS any more, but still enjoy one with some frequency. I certainly evolved from dread to enjoyment.

Emom,

I went through a transition between loving and hating getting enemas as well! My mom was a nurse and gave soapy 3H enemas (high, hot, and a hell of a lot). My bedroom was next to the bathroom and I would be laying naked on my bed watching my mom bring in a pan of water from the stove end fill the thin yellow open top enema bag that usually hung next to the shower.

I dreaded the next step but she would soon walk in holding the bag held high with the white tubing coiled around the bag under one finger and the nozzle sticking out to the side. She would tell me to lay on my tummy and pulled back the sheet covering me. She then let the hose drop on the back of my legs and I could feel the hot soapy water in the hose that would soon be filling me way past full. She would be teling me that it wouldn't hurt and that many people enjoy them but I knew better. In went her finger and was asked to clamp down and then relax several times.

Then out came the finger and in went the nozzle and was told to clamp down and relax on the nozzle like I had done on her finger. She held the nozzle in with two fingers one on each side of the tube and against that ring at the base of the nozzle and then would hear the metalic snap that sounded like a rifle shot and soon felt the hot water warming me from the inside. Then the first cramps would have me begging for her to stop but she would say "you have only taken a little bit and if I stop, I will have to give you another enema". But she would at least stop the flow for a while but was soon followed by the metalic snap and the enema bag would be filling me again and I began to sweat from the hot water.

At this point, I had a raging hard on and clamping and relaxing on the nozzle turned into my hips bucking up and down rubbing my stiff member on the sheets. After the bag was half full, she would say "now I am going to give you the rest of it" and would hold the bag as high and I would hear the snap for the last time knowing that I would be getting no relief. Soon I would hear the bag sucking in soap suds into the hose. But instead of being done, the nozzle was replaced with her finger again and was told that I needed to hold it all the while clamping down, releasing and rubbing. After I was told to go use the bathroom and release, the water was still quite hot and I was hard as flint.

I developed a love hate relationship with enemas which lasted many years until I finally accepted that enemas had become part of who I am.

Including myself, I think that many went from here went from enema dread to enjoyment , even if it took many years to pass through a "bittersweet" phase. Does this ring true with you as well?

I cannot remember when a started to enjoy getting an enema from mom, but do remember getting enemas when i was real young with my aunt and grandmother helping mom give me the enema. I can remember screaming to the high heaven and what an ordeal it was. I recall one time when i was about six or seven and i was constipated and setting on the toilet with mom sitting on the edge to the tub trying to coach me into having a bowel movement and telling me to push hard, but to no avail.

Mom then said i'm going to give you an enema so just set there until i get the enema bag ready. About ten minutes later my and aunt came into the bathroom with mom carrying the enema bag and a pink fuzzy fleecy blanket. Mom had auntie hold the enema and heated blanket while she undressed me and then sat on the closed toilet and draped the warmed fuzzy blanket over her lap and had me lay on her blanket covered lap. Auntie was holding the enema bag while mom put some vaseline in my rectum and on the enema nozzle and then inserted the enema and telling me not to cry and that it was just a niece warm enema to clean my bowels out.

I think at that time i began the feel how good it felt laying across mom lap on the warm blanket that smelled and felt so comforting and feeling the warm soap suds enema going into my constipated bowels,and mom and auntie telling me just a little more enema was the start of a love affair the the warm fuzzy blanket and enema that my loving mom and aunt was giving me.I will never forget that particular enema and the many more mommy enemas i recieved for years to come.I love love mom blankets and enemas.

My dread to liking took only a couple of hours. I was in my early 30s when I had a severe case of constipation. Nothing was working and I finally admitted my problem to my husband who immediately said that I needed to have an enema or otherwise go to the ER. We didn't have an enema bag and he ran out to the pharmacy and was back in no time. I had heard of enemas but never had one before and was nervous. After the first two, because that is how many I took, I was convinced that I had missed out on something all these years and have been a regular enema taker ever since.

Reading lots of our postings over time, I'm wondering if there is a common theme here. It seems like most/many of us hated/feared the treatments (enemas, rectal thermometers, suppositories, etc.) used on us while we were little. Then, at some point, that hatred turned into obsession or love of those items. I never had enemas growing up, but did hate things going in my ass - and then developed an interest in them later on. My siblings didn't seem to mind them, and, as far as I know, have no interest in them today. Was this true for you?

That was my experience.

hankb

Same here. Those early enemas were traumatic and left an indelible imprint on my psyche. That early hate and fear transformed into desire and need.

My experience was just the opposite. Whenever I had been ill for more than a couple days, the remedy was to give me a good series of warm ivory soap suds enemas to clean me out. These probably started somewhere around age 3 or so, and went until about age 7. My mother was always very gentle with the administration of my enemas, hence I never grew to dislike or fear them. I have to believe that it was this positive experience I had with enemas as a child that prompted me to begin self-administering enemas when I went into puberty. Been enjoying them ever since! If only my mother knew what a wonderful fetish she instilled in me!! 😃 😃

I hid, resisted, screamed, and eventually capitulated when enema time was forthcoming. My antics usually resulted in a few swats to gain compliance. Enemas were quite common for most maladies, and even an adjunct to toilet training. No BM...yes Enema.

I've indicated previously, that my subsequent enjoyment may have been spawned out of a survival instinct. I learned very early that I could facilitate a BM with a self administered dose of warm water. It was less traumatic and I didn't have to fib about having had a BM. Mom or grandma didn't need to know how I went, just that it had occurred.

As I discovered that enemas also produced some beneficial sensations, I was hooked for life. What a simple pleasure!

I think there is definetly a common theme. I too resisted the enemas when I was little. Like you I begged, pleaded, kicked, and screamed from the first one I can remember at about age five until my last at about age nine. But as much as I dreaded and hated them I was somehow fascinated by them. When I was around twelve and my parents had left me alone in the house while they went shopping I finally worked up the nerve to get out the bulb syringe. I had to see if it was as I remembered. I filled the sink with soapy water, filled the syringe and with shaking hands stuck it up my butt and squeezed the bulb. The discomfort I remembered as a child was sort of still there, but at the same time it kind of felt good. That was just the first of many enemas I would self administer throughout my youth and until today.

In many of my postings on zity I have used the word 'bittersweet" in reference to my enema experiences from age 4 (and probably earlier but not remembered), and I think I was not alone in that. The first few, delivered by mom with a hospital-type enema can were fairly traumatic, maybe because of a lack of pre-treatment explanation, I did grow to accept the inevitable, however, and even looked forward to classic enemas as an adult, especially those administered by a special friend.

I know this is true in my situation. As a small child I can remember getting Ivory soap bulb enemas from my mother even though I fought them to some extent. When I had to be hospitalized at about age 6, I had a nurse come in with an enema can and I fought and cried but she forced a large enema into me and sat me on a bed pan.

Before I left the hospital I was given another enema by another nurse who was very gentle. When I went home before I went to sleep at night, I would think of that hot enema being forced into me and would imagine myself being given enemas by a gentle nurse. Over the years I have given myself hundreds of enemas but always alone.

Went to an enema nurse and had many enemas given to me in one session and loved it. I still fantasize of being held down and given large hot enemas by nurses. My wife has no interest in enemas and I have kept most of my enemas to myself along with my fantasy's of getting them. Yes, I paid for an enema nurse but it was an item on my "bucket list". At my age it was great!

My experience was just the opposite. I actually loved the whole process starting when Mom first started giving me enemas. I even begged her to give them to me when her new doctor convinced her to stop giving them to me and start giving me either ex-lax, milk of magnesia, castoria ( her favorite - the children's laxative ), or Epsom salt solutions. I think she thought I was crazy, but the water going into me felt so good, I longed for the next one. As for Mom finally giving into my pleading to re-start giving me enemas, it was not because of my beggings. It was because I secured her Mom's help, my Mam-Maw. I think her advice finally convinced her to do once again give me one, which turned out to be three.

I would like to weigh in as someone who never really hated enemas, even from the beginning. Sure, when mom decided I needed an enema, I did the nominal whining that I did not need one but deep down I knew I did and would feel much better when it was done. I never got big enemas and never for no good reason so maybe that is why I never developed the dislike of them that some of you had. It was more of an embarrassment thing rather than dislike of the enema itself. By time I was ten I was giving myself enemas just because it felt so good. I never got to where I would ask directly for an enema but a few times faked a stomach ache to get one. I am sure mom caught on to that because she stopped offering me enemas. She knew if I really needed one I could take care of it myself.

This is true. I did not like getting enemas, but also had no choice. Later in life my wife helped me change my mind about them and now enjoy them. Growing up there was not any sexual connotation like there is now so maybe that is a key difference. I'll readily do an enema if I know that I get sex as the reward.

I do read of this as a common theme here, have a friend who describes much the same, but this was not my experience. I was 20 when first introduced to enemas by a girlfriend, and was immediately and forever hooked. My wife had never had an enema before the first one I gave her, so, I guess it's not a unanimously common theme to have developed the fetish from childhood experience. I was late to the game but have most certainly done all I could to make up for lost time. 😉

I cannot help but think that our mothers made our enema experiences unpleasant unintentionally, but they did it the way that their mothers back through the generations did it and taught their daughters to do it. I suspect that that is how things are done today with most enemas and other such things for children. I do not see any way of spreading the word to t he generality of mothers, so things are not likely to change.

hankb

I agree with hankb that moms were just keeping up a famlly tradition in how they gave enemas and viewed them as a health necessity, not as any form of punishment. Some of them, unfortunately, may have assumed that the child somehow understood what enemas were all about and didn't need an explanation to make the experience a happier one, or at least nothing to dread. That was the situation with me, and I suspect many others.

It seems to me that there are actually a couple of common themes. Both are valid. First, enemas can be part of a scenario of dominance or submission. I can understand being the giver of enemas that are meant to demonstrate to the receiver how one must be ready to submit and enjoy "giving back" pleasure to the giver by their act of submission. There is a great deal of intense eroticism associated with this act of anal activity.

A second theme is that of mutual surrender to each other. An expression of intense love and trust. The erotic component of enema play between lovers is multiplied by the very act of anal play and elimination. Think of how one must give permission to the other and how "the other" must respect the gesture. This THEME is very powerful, and if it is respected and used as a way to show love, it shouldn't diminish the participants, but rather cement a very private and powerful aspect of their love. It is also soooo hot !!

My mom never meant to make it an unpleasant experience. She just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, hence the bag held high and she was ignorant of air in the hose and using a lube. She, herself disliked them from her childhood and when the doctor ordered one she did it as quick as possible. Therefore, the intense cramps and tears. By age 8, I figured out by myself to drain the air, lube the nozzle and hang the bag lower. Then things got pleasant.

My earliest recollection about enemas was when I was quite ill with measles at age 5 . One thing my mother always told me I could do well was spike a fever! Well, on this occasion I did an exceptional job with fever topping out at 106F.

The doctor's immediate advice was ice water enemas until the fever began to subside. This certainly was not going to be a single small bulb enema, but bags full repeated over the span of an afternoon.

So, my first enema was one of ICE WATER! As was the second, third and fourth. To say it was unpleasant is gross understatement. As I recall, the cramping was unbelievably intense and the expulsions were explosive. Add to that I was nearly delirious from such a high fever.

It's a wonder that I ever became attracted to enemas at all. But I did! I just took the long road!

While my experiences with enemas were somewhat sporadic during my childhood, as I grew older I never really protested all that much when I knew one was in my immediate future. There was certain level of excitement that surrounded getting an enema. Then, the magic happened when I was about 13 and needed a little relief from a bout of constipation as a result of some prescription drugs I had been given for an infection. The tingles that occurred that afternoon in my early teens set the stage for a life of enjoying the "additional benefits" an enema can provide. From that point on, I have never looked back! I began self administering later in my teens and have never stopped.

Have fun and play safe!!

Deb

Growing up I was not especially fond of getting an enema, but I had eventually figured out that it was not worth the effort to fight getting one because no matter what I was. As a teen the number of enemas seemed to drop off, but then at age 16 I was badly bound up and remember asking my mother for a laxative. She told me she didn't have any at which point I asked her if she could give me an enema. I guess we all eventually grow up.

I never had any experience with it, I'm not even sure how I originally learned about it, but I feel like there was always some sort of interest.

I was more curious than scared of enemas before i got one in my teens

Enemas have to be just about the most unisex of all unisex things, Everyone has an anus and colon. The anal erotic people, male and female, enjoy enemas for the same reasons. They can be enjoyed by an individual, a group, a straight couple, or a same sex couple. Enemas are in my estimation, about the best form of recreation available to both sexes in total equality.

Enemas have to be just about the most unisex of all unisex things, Everyone has an anus and colon. The anal erotic people, male and female, enjoy enemas for the same reasons. They can be enjoyed by an individual, a group, a straight couple, or a same sex couple. Enemas are in my estimation, about the best form of recreation available to both sexes in total equality.

I totally agree! It's an equal opportunity activity that satisfies! Karma to you!

Deb

Thanks Debgurl, enemas can be enjoyed by man, woman, boy, girl. young or old and all in between. rich, poor, minority, all sexual persuasions, alone or in private groups, more public groups like E-fests. Enemas are totally non discriminatory. The sad part is the thousands through ignorance or stupid hang-ups that will never enjoy the benefits.

My experience is similar to Rock49 in that I never really disliked childhood enemas. I have always had anal fascinations but did not really include the enema experience until the erotic feelings appeared as a sub teen. The experience has only grown to be even more 'fulfilling' as time goes on.

When i first got enemas from my mother with a 4 oz. bulb, I was indifferent to them. But it wasn't long before I realized I liked them and would do them secretly. I thought Mom didn't know I was sneaking them, but she probably did and didn't say anything.