What was your first enema like?

It was the beginning of a lifelong desire I can't find the words to describe the feelings I get from enemas and anal stimulation dissolve must have been triggered and my first enema as a young child

I was usually bent over, receiving a long skinny glycerin suppository,

If that didn't work within a few minutes, the bulb came out, the basin was filled with very soapy water, and the injections started.

Later, I graduated to the enamelware irrigator, full of soapy water, hung on the wall hook, with the attached rubber rectal tube.

Always good results with that equipment.

I was around 12 , i discovered an 8oz bulb syringe buried in the back of the bathroom closet and i asked my older sister what it was and i remember i couldn't wait to fill it with water and stick it in my bum , now i must have not been very bright back then because i didn't know you filled it by squeezing it to draw the water in and i remember pulling off the nozzle and filling it from the faucet and it took for ever , anyway once i stuck it in my bum and squeezed the bulb it was a feeling like no other and i instantly knew i would be doing this every time i went into the bathroom and once i discovered you filled it by squeezing and drawing the water in it was like i discovered the reason why we are here on earth , People we are really lucky to have discovered the love and beauty of the enema , it's like my god people have no clue what they are missing , those poor souls

Christmas night I gotten pulled out of bed, along with my older brother (5 & 6 years old), into the bathroom where mom was holding a red bulging bag and a long red hose.

A gift wrapped item that had been opened that morning from under the tree. When I had asked what it was, mom had replied, “ you will find out tonight”!

Well I did find out what is was while sitting on the toilet, with a pointy, stick like thing up my butt, which i had to hold in place, since it was coated with cold cream and slippery. I distinctly remember the metal click sound and the feeling full and needing to poop, when i told mom she said “ hold it in or you will get the “belt” ! So I hung on for about half the bag and then heard another click and told to pull out the stick thingy. Now poop, she said…and boy did I ever.

Interesting however, that Christmas experience has led to 72 years of enema fun and games! 🤪

Mine was a good experience. The only thing which might have helped was an explanation of what was about to happen, but being 4 or 5 years old, I probably wouldn't have understood anyway. That being said, I was led into my grandparents bathroom and helped out of my clothes. Being fully naked, I was then told to lay down on the bathroom floor, face down, ass up. If I remember correctly, the bag was already hanging from the towel rack, not even a quarter full. The enema tube was then slid into my butt. It was an unusual feeling, but not uncomfortable. Then my grandmother clicked open the hose clamp to let the water run into my clogged colon. It was only a couple of pints, but I felt full. Once enough water poured into me, my grandmother closed the hose clamp, pulled out the nozzle and told me to get on the toilet to expel. To my great relief, the water came out along with the waste that was clogging me up. I never felt better as my belly quit aching. From then on, I liked enemas. I never complained whenever I got one, as I knew how I would feel after it was over.

The first thing I remember well was when I was 6 years old. My aunt brought me to the reception, but it was too late, the reception had already ended. She asked the nurse to do what I was prescribed, the nurse refused. I looked at the pear on the table, orange with a thick white tip. Somewhere in my subconscious, thoughts about its appointment flashed, but for some reason, out of childish naivety, I rejected this and thought that I had thought of it.

I thought it was something neutral, like a massage or cupping. I myself came up and asked the nurse to do this with me. She seems surprised by this. She said that I was a very good boy, stroked my head and that she would give me a procedure.My aunt smiled too. The nurse grabbed me under the armpits and put me on the table with my stomach. She pulled up my T-shirt, and even then I didn't think anything of the sort.

Then she pulled off my pants along with my panties. And then she just took it, spread my legs apart and pulled me to her. She undressed me and did all this with very familiar movements, she often had to do this with children. It was very unexpected, discouraging. I experienced great embarrassment and burning shame, which intensified even more when, looking around, I saw a smiling aunt and a nurse holding a pear. She, apparently, as usual, took one cheek away from me and quickly inserted a pear. I didn't even have time to react. In the intestines rumbled, rumbled, and in the priest it began to itch. I whimpered and even cried a little, but not from pain, there was no pain, but from shame and probably from itching in the ass too.

My aunt and nurse consoled me. It looks like someone was stroking my buttocks. The nurse after several infusions took a break and again. This went on for about 15 minutes. Then they got a pear. I was taken off the table, I crossed my legs, it seems, in order to cover at least a little member. Although there was a toilet, they put me on the potty. It was very humiliating. They watched everything that happened.I went home upset. I knew that I was scheduled for a two-week treatment. Although I was not told, I suspected that the treatment would always be like this.

I have said this in other posts. My first memory in my life was being given an enema. I was maybe 3. I vaguely remember a blue rubber bulb with a black tip on it sitting on the sink in the bathroom. My parents stripped me and laid me on a large towel on the bathroom floor. I was not alarmed at all as this was normal when they changed my pants and cleaned me up. I giggled as my mom tickled me. It all was normal. Then I felt them wipe my bottom. Again I was still not alarmed at all. I felt a cool sensation between my legs which was them probably putting Vaseline or something like that around my butthole. Still I was not alarmed much. Then it changed quickly. I felt something being pressed up my butt hole. I reacted as you would expect. I fussed and cried. As I fussed I started to bounce my body on the floor as I cried. I still vividly remember bouncing up and down while fussing trying to get what was in my butt hole out. I remember it was a feeling I never forgot. It was like I was shockingly doing the F ***ing motion at this very young age while I was being given an enema. I really believe even if this memory is foggy at best I got hooked from this day on from this experience. I know it sounds odd but its how it all happened for me. It was all imprinted in my brain from this point...

I've mentioned getting lots of super strong bulb enemas made of Ivory flakes that was dissolved in very hot water,,,, As I grew older I became aware of the enema bag and knew it was only a matter of time before I'd be getting it. Oh, if only to relive the scene of that first time of being called into the bathroom and instead of seeing a bulb sitting in the sink; but to see instead the open-top red fountain syringe hanging from the shower rod! I'm not sure why, but my reaction was one of inward defiance; telling myself I was going to defeat that enema. Crazy, funny to think... So rather than protesting I simply followed orders and got into position on the bathroom floor, and closed my eyes. I remember the different feeling produced by a nozzle connected to tubing... and of course hearing that "click" of the metal clamp being snapped open and the pop of the enema solution being to flow into me! What clearly stands out is how as it began to go into me, I thought "oh this isn't bad, I can take this" .... I kept thinking that but then the cramps began and....

The earliest I can recall I around age 5. I recall being naked laying across moms lap while she injected hot soapy water into my bottom using a 16 ounce douche syringe. I liked the feeling of the big nozzle stretching my small anus. At the age of 5 I only got 3 bulbs but the volume increased as I got older. I loved the feeling of being naked bot that ended when I began getting erections. Then I received my enemas laying on my tummy.

A bit of a disaster, actually. I was sixteen and doctor recommended a tap water enema and she gave me directions on what to buy and how to do it. I was extremely nervous as I had never had one and at the time there was an ewwww factor for me. Got the bag filled with warm water, check. Purged the air out, check. Lubricate the nozzle, check. Lie on a towel on my left side, check. Insert nozzle... wow... weird... intense, but check. Open the clamp.

Nothing's happening... oh wait.... oh my god... I HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW. I pulled out the nozzle; forgot the shut off clamp; sat on the toilet; saw the huge wet spot growing on the towel; it had to wait for nature; flush; rush to the bag and it falls off the shower handle where I had hung it. Two quarts of water everywhere.

I cleaned everything up and tried again. This time it went a little better. That was the start of a life-long relationship with the enema bag.

Ooo. Very special, from the school matron. She was very thorough, but also gentle and kind. I ended up squatting on a large china chamber pottie with my bowels very definitely moving. The start of, now, almost sixty years of klysmo.

I was once told by mom that I had a prolapsed rectum when I was a toddler. And that's why you should always pay attention to a soft bowel movement.

I can consciously remember enemas from around the age of five.

The first enema I consciously received was because of a picture book and not because of a constipation. I retreat to the toilet in the bathroom as I felt safe there to be undisturbed by my two brothers who often teased me.

Eventually Mom looked in and asked, "Are you okay?"

Me: "Yes, yes!"

Mom: "yes, yes?" ; and disappeared. But only to reappear after a few minutes with her dreaded enamel bowl filled with the horrid milky broth.

I had to kneel down in front of the toilet, mom sat down on the closed toilet seat, took the red one-piece rubber bulb out of the cupboard... despite my violent protests and shouting, everything happened very quickly...

The rubber ball wandered between the enamel bowl and my asshole until the whole soapy broth was in my intestines, which all wanted to throw up again quickly.

Afterward, Mom always gave me two equal-sized enemas with plain water. I liked them because the burning in my ass subsided.

Today my red witch and I act out these situations from time to time. Ever since we came across the OHN soaps, even more often

I don't remember my very first enema because it probably happened when I was 2 or 3, based on what I saw happen with my younger brothers. But there are several other "first enemas" that I do remember. I was about 8 when I first gave myself an enema. Mom had given me a small enema and set the bulb on the edge of the sink and left the room while I sat on the pot. Seeing that bulb just sitting there was irresistible. There was still water in the sink so after I got rid of the water she had given me I refilled the bulb and gave myself another squirt or two. My first bag enema was when I was 10 and staying at grandma's while my youngest brother was born. She only made me take about half of the bag but it was still the largest enema I had to that time. I liked it! Of course I remember the first enema my wife gave me, and I gave her, after lots of coaxing with a little begging and some alcohol too.