What was your first enema like?

I don't know if it was my first or not but I was probably 4-5. That afternoon mom had taken into the bathroom to see if I could poop which I couldn't . Some time later my sister and I were watch tv or playing , she came in the room and said Jane come with mommy please. We went to her room she helped me out of my clothes and I was given a fleet in the diaper position. I can remember crying on the potty because I was so cramped up.

Not a clue, as it was too long ago, but it couldn't have been all that bad, since I still enjoy them 67+ years later.

The very first enema I remember was at age 3, over Grandma's knee. Mom was in the hospital having my baby brother. Not sure why Grandma thought I needed an enema, but she used an infant enema syringe. Not a memorable moment, but that was my first.

All I remember about my first enema is that it HURT! It was given by my mom and I was about 5 years old. I hated enemas but I got them whenever I had a fever. My sisters also got them when they were sick and I know my parents took them too. I don't know how much my mom gave me but the cramps hurt a lot. I'm not sure why it started hurting the second she unsnapped the metal clip, but it did. I cried and she kept telling me to relax and it wouldn't hurt, but it always did. To this day the word relax reminds me of taking an enema.

After a few years my enemas got fewer and farther between and my curiosity piqued at the site of the bag hanging in the bathroom. By this time my mom used it regularly because of her reaction to various medicines she was taking. When home alone, I began experimenting and found that rather than hurting, an enema gave me very pleasurable feelings. Filling the bag excited my private organ and the whole process felt really good.

After a few times doing that I was hooked. In all the years since learning the joys of enemas as a teen, they have been a part of my erotic and healthy life. Just the feeling of being filled with any kind of solution and holding it for a while brings a great sense of pleasure. Learning more and talking with others who enjoy enemas has added much to the enjoyment of life in my later years.

Traumatic, first I was chased then stripped, and there was the part of a forigen obeject entering me and finally the allergic reation to what my grandmother had put in the solution. Thats the reson I do not like enemas to this day.

Like many here, my enema memories stretch back to age 4, although I'll concede that I might have gotten a small flush or two from a small bulb earlier. I must have shown signs of need when Mom asked how I was feeling. I said OK, but she detected something wrong and sent me to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, producing nothing in a few minutes when Mom picked my up, carried me to my bed, placed me on my back with legs spread and with Granny's help held up a two-quart enema can at least half full of soapy water . I cried and struggled but most of the can must have gotten into me because I had two evacuations a couple minutes apart on the toilet . mom could see that I needed what I got, but wish she had given me a least a little explanation beforehand. It might have made my future enema episodes easier to accept.

Living way off the beaten path, a mile from another farm, There was non stop work. Mom and dad taught us the comforts of an enema reward. They started off showing it to be fun with laughter and games with kisses between them, till one of us kids poked their butt out for a treat too. Soon as that caught on, mom even offered enema rewards for being helpful. With a bulb full, out i'd go, tending to the livestock and barn with a tune of happiness with me. Ours was not just a squirt then blow, but something special from mamma, that was a savored favorite of everyone!

Don't blow it, save it.

This week, i discovered this way is even a part of Ayurvedic culture.

I've posted before in other threads but why not here too? I was 5 and in the hospital for a tonsillectomy, not long after getting settled in and mom left for the night a nurse came in with a cart. I remember the steel can and red hose, she took the can over to the sink and put water in it then hung it on a pole attached to the bed. I screamed like she was trying kill me when she tried to put it in my butt, but I settled down when realizing that it's not bad at all. Then the water started and the rest is history! I don't know why at 5 years old I found it pleasurable but I did. I told mom about it the next day without all the details, After getting home two days later I told my older sister about the experience and she told me that she saw mom do it to me 2 or 3 times with the "red squeeze thing" when I was in diapers. I don't remember when we started sharing our play but it was after we moved to the farm and enemas seemed to become more frequent. I think meemaw was behind the increased treatments, but that was alright with me! The 50s were full of interesting events! It wasn't until later in life that I understood that in the 50s enemas were standard treatment as soon as you walked through the front door of a hospital no matter what you were there for!

I haven't a clue. I do remember my two younger brothers getting enemas.

I was 25 Years old and lived in my first home on my own without a roommate .

I cut the bottom of a PET bottle off and taped a gardenhose to the bottleopening. I pulled a wetsuit on and worked the gardenhose one leg upwarts until it went into my butthole. Then I filled water into the funnel made of the bottle. I was surprised how great it felt when the water went into me. Bottle up: The water floats in. Bottle down: Out goes it again. Simple but amazing…

Not long and I bought professionell Stuff.

But first time is allways unforgetable…

H.

The first enema I can remember getting was from my grandma when I four or five years old. We lived with grandma at the time and she was giving me an enema laying across her lap in the bathroom. She was hold the nozzle in place with one hand and controlling the flow with the other. I can remember looking up an seeing the enema bag hanging up as it flowed into my tummy. She made me hold it for a little while when the bag was empty, then let me up to go. As I was on the toilet, she fixed a second enema for me. When I finished on the toilet, she put me back across her lap for the second enema. It was shortly after that that grandma taught moms two younger sisters how to give enemas to children using my brother and I as her teaching aid.

I do not remember the first enema I got. I was a toddler and it was given with a small bulb. But, I do remember the first one I was given with Mom’s Rexall Victoria Combination syringe. It was so loving and warm. Mother made that enema very special. She even made me a small bed of quilts that I was allowed to lie on as she gave me that enema. She even included a pillow. I think I was maybe 9 at the time..

It was in the hospital when I was thirteen.

I think they might have expected me to be upset so it was given by a male nurse. He'd actually stripped me down and helped me get into the gown. He was giving me a check-up when the orderly came in with the big disposable enema bag full of white water. I'd never been given one but knew what it was. They both started talking and laughing but not being mean.

The nurse got things ready while the orderly got me ready and in position. My gown came off. He said it would just be in the way. When the nurse was ready the orderly held me in position. The nurse patted me over my tightly clenched butt telling me to relax down there. I'd never been more embarrassed in my life. They told me it wouldn't be all that bad. I relaxed. The nurse quickly put in the tube and opened the clip. If the orderly hadn't held me, I'd have jumped off the bed.

Once it started they started talking about baseball. I loved baseball and was on a team. As the bag emptied it became more difficult to keep up my side of the conversation. The water was started and stopped several times while I cramped. It seemed to take hours. By the time I'd taken half, I was miserable. Before it was done I'd practically begged them to let me go. Then it was over. The orderly had to help me up. He helped me to the bathroom. After the first whoosh, I felt better.

When I finally cleaned up and went back to my room there was another full bag hanging on the stand. I almost started crying. They calmed me down by telling me it wouldn't be as bad as the first one. Told me not to worry.

They cleaned me out with three then gave me a laxative. The next morning they woke me up with the same routine. It was even earlier. I groaned when I saw the big full bag on the stand. The nurse said he was sorry to wake me up for this. It didn't stop him from giving me enemas until the water was as clear coming out as when he put it in me. By the time he finished, I'd never felt so empty and it felt like I'd been passing sandpaper.

*****

I reread this and it got me thinking back to that first time. Just being sent to the hospital for tests upset me. My Mom couldn't stay with me so I was by myself. I was really upset. That probably wasn't an unusual situation for the nurse and orderly. They worked fast which sort of knocked me off balance. After the nurse had stripped me down he did the usual things, BP, temp, and listened to my heart, lungs, and belly. I'd been through that by the doctor a hundred times. He talked to me and I settled down some. Then the orderly came in with the enema. It was the worst surprise ever. I'd literally never been more embarrassed.

Then everything happened so fast. It upset me so much I almost started crying. The way they acted made a big difference. They were so casual about it and talking and laughing. I was a skinny kid. There was no way I could stop them. I never had a chance to object. It's odd but the way the orderly held me still was sort of comforting. There wasn't anything enjoyable about getting cleaned out in the hospital though.

It was horrible traumatic experiance ever

Hated them since then.

Instant hands free orgasm.

My Sister in law feels the same way @DrC and for the same reasons. A real shame for such a pleasurable experience.

My first enema was not pleasant at all. I had been sick for a couple of days. Fever, headache, tummy ache, constipated. Mom came into my bedroom and proceeded to administer a soapy enema. I can still remember the smell of the Ivory. I remember it being very crampy and uncomfortable. I don't remember much more than this because I was so young 3 or 4. When it was all finished I did feel better, fever was down and I was able to get some much needed sleep.

My sub tried making my first enema experience as pleasant as it could be, for a constipated pregnant woman. He went slow with the filling and let me get up when I felt the need.

I vaguely recall getting enema when I was young. So when I got into late teens I started to do enema. My first enema was with a red bag bought from the store. I had basic idea on how it worked so I got it setup. There want much place I could set the bag up so I had it higher than my head with pillows hold it. Then the magic happened when I heard the click on the stopper. The feeling of it filling me up got me very aroused. I wanted to finish the bag but due to height of the bag it was very slow. I got the bag and squeezed it as hard I can got most of it in. Now mind you this was me trying to hide this in my bed room so I had the covers over me. Then after I rushed to bathroom with bag looking around corners to see if I'm clear.

My first enema was a much dreamed about anticipated experience. I had fantasized about getting an enema from about the age of 6 when I had walked in on my 5 year old female cousin about to get an enema from her mom. Her mom made me leave and from then on the thought of getting an enema from my mom stayed with me until I turned 9 and blurted out to my mother, "mom, can I have an enema". I couldn't believe I had said that. We drove up to the corner drug store where my mom purchased a 4 oz bulb enema. When we got home, mom put a towel on the floor and proceeded with my first and only enema from her. I was in heaven and still fantasize about that enema today

My Sister in law feels the same way @DrC and for the same reasons. A real shame for such a pleasurable experience.

If my grandma would have approched it differently and if she handn't been so agressive and harsh...like a mention in another thead. It would of been a whole different story.

My VERY first one, I was an infant and don't remember anything. I'm told I screamed very loudly!

I have posted more than once about the first one I can remember when I was 4

I only have a dim memory of getting my first enema. I was 2-3 years old and I remember my mom and grandmother making preparations though I don’t recall the actual enema. The first I remember clearly was around age 12. Overheard my mother’s very attractive friend telling of giving her little girls enemas and giving herself one. I had to try it. Having the house to myself a few days later I found the infant syringe. I filled the sink with warm water, used some skin lotion for lubrication. I clearly remember inserting the nozzle and giving it a squeeze. At that moment it seemed that memory brain cells shouted, “You have felt this before.” And so it began. I became an enema enthusiast.

Very traumatic and hurtful

Lying face down over a rubber crib at three or four years old while mom & grandma forced a pint or more of soapsuds up my bottom while I struggled and cried. Looking back to that earliest memory, I am amazed how quickly what was once painful & scary became my greatest pleasure.

I got my first enema in a children's hospital prior to X-ray examination of my hip at age 6. The nurse was using an enamelled white irrigator. I was surprised by the tingeling feeling as the enema entered my rectum - I had to let it flow in and felt the warm liquid filling my tummy. I liked the procedure from the first beginning and was therefore looking forward for the next enema.

The process actually involved three separate enemas.

In the late summer of 1959, my parents noticed that my right shoulder blade was turning perpendicular (inward) from the rest of my torso. Idiopathic dorsal scoliosis was quickly diagnosed, and three months later, I entered Geisinger Medical Center (Danville, PA) to undergo the body-cast-and-spinal-fusion procedure commonly recommended at that time.

Applying the cast, (from the top of my head to just above my knees), took about an hour, during which I thought I was being baked alive. My first enema (a disposable) came a few days later, from a young male nurse who was as put off by the process as I was.

I'll always be able to tell you who won the '60 Rose Bowl (Washington over Wisconsin) and a couple of days later, I got another disposable, this time by a young woman who let the cat out of the bag and told me it was "for your operation tomorrow"; I hit the panic button until I was told "It's just to look at your back", and the trusting soul I still was at the time swallowed the story whole.

The next morning at 7, I found myself on the operating table, smarting from the intravenous anesthesia needle just put through my wrist, and silently vowing to go down fighting. My recovery was as fast and complete as could be expected, but three days later (a Sunday evening) two mature ladies came to my bedside and informed me that I was to get another enema -- but this one would be "the kind you'll get at home" -- Whaaaat?

The two ladies used a metal irrigating can instead of a disposable and informed me that the water would be more soothing - warm and soapy. I can't recall whether my own little "water works" (it wouldn't be used for anything but piddling for another four years) took any notice physically, but I felt very little pressure until one of them prodded my stomach and advised "better stop -- he's getting pretty full". I expelled and soon felt far better than I had in quite a while.

Both of the two ladies were called away for a few minutes, which gave me an opportunity to examine the device which had penetrated a very intimate part of my anatomy yet left me much more comfortable. I never needed an enema after I returned home, but in another year or so, I'd learned about enema bags from a mail-order catalog, and when I found one stored at home around the time my sexuality made itself known, decided to experiment on myself.

Bulb enema when I was a child

I can't remember a historically accurate date, but sometime during my fifth year, mom came into the bathroom to check on me after I sat on the toilet too long for her.

With the words "It probably won't work" she got to work on the sink and suddenly it smelled of curd soap.

After some screaming and nagging, there were some fillings of a red rubber bulb in my intestines, which caused cramps and just wanted to get out.

I'm sure these processes played out beforehand, but only consciously from that time onwards.

The first I remember was one I gave myself, after finding a bulb under the sink in the bathroom. I used warm water and laid on my stomach. I don't remember it being a large enema, but the very warm water caused one thing to lead to another.