Watching enema preparation

Would you like to watch your enema injection being prepared?

Please reply and relate any.explanation or history.

I'm a giver, not a receiver, but I always make sure my patient can clearly see me preparing everything. The look of anxiety on their face is a huge turn-on for me, and I wouldn't want to deprive them of those feelings! I admit I take a bit longer than necessary to get things ready. If multiple shots will be administered, I sometimes have the rest of them all ready laid out and ready to go, so that they can see just what they are in for...

The original question is injection preparation but the heading refers to enemas. I have no comment about enemas but watching injections prepared before I get them in my bottom is the one aspect about which I remain undecided.

On the one hand, seeing a beautiful nurse prepare a large injection can be frighteningly exciting but, on the other hand, bending over with pants down before it is prepared gives me longer to wallow in anticpation. A nurse once asked me if I wanted to wait outside while she prepared my shot and I replied, "So long as I can see it, it won't hurt me!" Most frightening (and therefore thrilling) of all is when a nurse enters holding the syringe behind her back so I can't see it and says, "Bend over, this won't hurt". Owing to her refusal to let me see it, I know it will hurt.

Jabbotuk, I suspect the OP didn't know where to post the question. Yes, this should have been on the enema forum, if the IP wanted to know about enemas. You can make the argument that the enema solution is injected, but I'm not buying. We've hot a lot of folks in the medfet forums, and injections to them are shots in the arm or butt.

OK, it is moved!

I always enjoyed watching my Mother prepare the enema for me. Only on a few times did she have it prepared for me prior to her waking me up and taking me into the bathroom. Just watching her turn on the hot water, then adjust the water till she had it not too hot and not too cold, was exciting to me. Then when she had the bag almost full she'd add a little ivory soap to the water, screw in the adapter plug, close the tube's shut-off, and shake the bottle back and forth. The whole procedure was an extreme turn on to me. I can still mesmerize myself just thinking about those days long gone. But, they are sweet memories.

There is no question that watching the preparation of an enema can have a profound effect on many of us. Some of the most memorable events as I was growing up, involved the preparation of an enema.

I watched intently as my mom prepared enemas for me. Sometimes they were prepared in the kitchen, with a pitcher being filled and the solution mixed, before it was transferred to the red enema bag.

Sometimes the enema was prepared at the bathroom sink as I laid in the tub awaiting my fate.

During a couple of hospital stays, the nurse prepared my impending enema at the sink in the room. There was no traditional red enema bag, but the disposable units were pretty ominous when filled to the brim with a milky soap solution.

One of my favorite observations occurred when an enema was being prepared for my older sister. The usual prep was at the kitchen sink. The quantity was rather large. My sister had plenty to say and the exchange with my mom was priceless. Even though she was going to get it in the end this evening, I still had chills and an adrenaline rush knowing it was her turn. My only regret was getting locked out of the bedroom as the nozzle was about to be inserted.

Watching my ex prepare an enema for me was quite a rush. The brisk movements and the frown on her face revealed her annoyance at having to attend to me again!

I guess I am a hopeless klismo, because preparing my own enema is enough to get my battery charged. The one and only enema I received as a child scared me to death. I thought my mother would never turn off the faucet. Now it seems "I" don't want to turn off the faucet.

When i give an enema i want the receiver to be all too aware of whats about to happen to them, so them being able to see is vital.

When im getting an enema, i too want to see everything, including the face of the giver, which is why i prefer taking them on my back.

Sse4fun, how old were you and your sister when you and she watched mom preparing an enema for her?

I seldom got to watch. If I was sick, I would be able to hear mom get the bag out of the closet, and then hear the water running, the bag filling, and the shutoff being opened to expel air. I could hear the medicine cabinet opening, which meant the bag would be hanging from it. THEN, I would get called into the bathroom, told to lay over her lap, hear the Vaseline jar being used, and then feel the nozzle being pushed in. When all was established, the "click" of the metal shutoff was opened, and the warm water started flowing. In summary, I HEARD it and could anticipate what was about to happen.

The use of enemas in our home was not a well kept secret. We lived in a 2 bedroom apartment with a single bathroom. I shared a bedroom with my sisters until we finally moved into a larger house when I was 12. Bathing, toileting, discipline, and most other aspects of life were not very secretive. My sister was almost a year older to the day. She got far more privacy and privileges.

I was 9 or 10 when I vividly recall the circumstances of my sister's enema that I referred to. While I was precluded from the actual administration, the prep was in full view.

On occasion I've watched my husband prepare my enemas if I'd like the solution mixed a certain way or an attachment such as a rectal tube instead of a nozzle if I'm feeling bound up and needing a higher cleanse. I must admit that my senses nicely heighten the anticipation while I'm watching.

When giving, particularly to my daughters, I usually encouraged their watching, even assisting in the preparation, because I felt it made enemas less mysterious and scary. My older daughter was the more comfortable with having an enema and I wouldn't be surprised if she, now in her 20s, has some of the same sensuous feelings of anticipation shared by her mom. There is definitely a connection between us.

I suppose that those special feelings aside, watching and observing enema preparations were quite educational in many respects. I have always believed I became an expert by a very young age. This, undoubtedly, contributed to my self administrations from the age of 6. Watching mom or grandma, as well as reading all available material and texts, gave me a pretty good understanding of the procedure.

That was most helpful in assuring that no harm was being done and that other calamities were minimized. I learned in a hurray that clips from the clothesline weren't adequate to hang the enema bag. I also learned about fluid dynamics and bleeding air from the tubing. Position, or height of the bag eliminated a "siphon" effect, as well as cleaning and drying after use were all essential factors.

Funny how a few of us keyed in on this rather unusual and simple pleasure.

Preparation for me now is no big deal. I do solo, so I'm not watching or waiting for someone else to do the prep. I rarely add anything to the water, so prep is getting the bag out, waiting for the water to get warm, and filling the bag. Nothing to get too excited about.

But 50 years ago, I'd be rock hard by the time I found the bag.

Growing up I rarely saw it being prepared as was normally all set up prior to being called upstairs or in to my room for an enema.

I think Vicki's comment however is certainly a better way to allow recipient to see the preparation and be more involved rather then just being a process they are on the end of.

Also makes it easier when and if they choose to self administer they know how its prepared.

Yes it's arousing

I remember one particular night, I had not been to the bathroom for I know at least 3 days. Mom had put me to bed an hour or so earlier, but I was too full of poop to drift off to sleep. I lay there on my bed trying desperately to make it into dream world, but I just couldn't do it. Finally, about two hours after I had been told good night, I got up, walked into our living room where Mother and Mam-Maw was seated watching television. I stood in the doorway that connected the living room with the dining room for about a minute before Mom noticed me standing there. Mother spoke to me before I could utter a word, saying "Mike, what are you doing up at this hour? Didn't I put you to bed a couple of hours ago?" I said "Mom, I am so full, I can't go to sleep." Mam-Maw spoke up saying "Mary, you need to give Mike some Castoria! He's constipated." Mom spoke back to her Mom, "Mom, do you really think I should?" Mam-Maw replied "I have been in his shape recently and it isn't going to get any better by itself." So, Mom got up from her seat and she and I went into the kitchen where she kept the Castoria. She took the bottle out of the cabinet, shook it, and then proceeded to pour the laxative into a spoon. She gave me three spoons of the awful stuff and then sent me back to my bedroom. I again tried to drift off to sleep, but, again, I was too full. I just lay there on the bed for I know at least 30 more minutes, before I gave up and again went into the living room where Mom and Mam-Maw was still watching late-night tv. This time Mom noticed me right away and said "Mike, I thought you were going to try and go to sleep." I looked down at the floor, and then spoke, saying "Mom, I tried, but I am just too full. Isn't there something that you could give me now that would make me go?" Mom just sat there looking over at me when her Mom spoke up saying "Mary, you could give him an enema." Mom looked over at her and replied "Mom, really?" Mam-Maw then replied "Mary, sometimes those things really do help out." Well, with that said, Mom got up from her seat, told me to go on back to my bathroom and she would be in there shortly. I started back toward my room, but stopped at the front of the doorway that connected my bedroom with the dinning room. I saw Mom walk through the dinning room into the hall that connected the dinning room with her bathroom. Soon, she reappeared in the dinning room carrying her red Rexall Victoria Combination syringe. I went ahead and headed toward my bathroom. Mom soon arrived as well. She handed me the syringe's red hose as she stepped toward the sink. I watched intently as she first turned on the hot water knob and then proceeded to adjust the cold water valve. When she had the water at the appropriate temperature that she wanted, she stuck the red hot water bottle into the flow and began filling the bag with that warm liquid. Within a minute or so, she turned off the water and asked for the red hose that I was holding for her. She quickly screwed the adapter plug into the bottle and walked over to the wall beside the toilet and proceeded to hang the bottle on the wall by its bottom tab. I, meanwhile, began to step out of my white undies. Then, I heard a soft bloop,bloop, bloop sound emitting from the syringe's hose as water began filling it. Soon, I was lying across the toilet seat, awaiting Mom's slipping of the syringe's black enema pipe into my rectum, which did not take her long. This was one of the best enemas I ever got and just remembering her filling the bag while I held onto the red hose gives me goosebumps. Thank you Mom....

I am a strong believer that the person getting the enema at very least should observe, if not participate in the preparation and set up.

It seems to help the injection and retention phases go more smoothly, and answering all their questions really helps with the cooperation issue.

As a child, being called into the bathroom with everything ready made the experience mysterious and a bit scary. Now grownup, it is exciting to hear my wife preparing my enema in the bathroom just off the bedroom.

My mother would sometimes make me stand and watch while she ran the faucet to get the water hot, pulled out a metal basin to fill, rubbed in the Ivory soap then filled the red enema bag. She knew I was standing there dreading what was to come next. My mother felt enemas were beneficial and I hated them. I think the watch her prepare and me standing in dread was a display of her dominance and me knowing resistance would do no good.

I suppose it is sort of odd, but I don't ever recall my mom preparing an enema for me. As I have said in other posts that my younger sister seemed to always be getting enemas and I do remember watching my mom at the bathroom sink preparing one for her. I never saw my sister get an enema because I would be asked to leave when Emily got there and the door would be closed behind me.

I too enjoy the filling of the bag and other prep work like spreading out a towel and getting out the lubricant. When I got barium enemas I got an erection watching the technicians preparing the bag and hanging it along side the exam table.

My parents prepared the enema without my even knowing it and then had unsuspecting little me come in, be surprised, and take it. Not a pleasant experience.

hankb

Even when I do a solo session, I am turned on by preparing the enema solution in a large pitcher, filling a big red rubber enema bag, having a small tray set up with Vaseline and other lubes, rectal thermometer(s), jars of suppositories, roll of toilet paper, and anything else I want to do a solo exam with, lying down on the bathroom floor, with my 4 quart red rubber enema bag filled to the brim, hanging on the IV stand, just waiting to slowly fill my colon with hot soapy water!!!

Hardly ever watched, but many times I heard mom preparing the enema. She'd ask me into her bedroom and have me lie face down on her bed with just my underpants on, and tell me she was going to give me a "nice, warm, soapy enema". I'd hear her in the bathroom running the water in the bathtub, then silence as the bag was being filled. I'd here her slosh around the bar of ivory soap in the bag. By now, my penis was getting hard as I anticipated what was about to happen. Soon she entered the room, smiled gently, then hung what seemed like a huge bag on the bedpost with soapy suds overflowing out of the top. Within a minute, she slid my underpants off, got me on my elbows and knees, face down, butt in the air, slipped a well lubed bare finger deep into my rectum, then the thick, black douche nozzle. She'd the whispered words, "Jonny, you're going to like this, aren't you?" Went I nodded yes, I'd hear the "click" and a sudden feeling of warmth would overwhelmed me as the enema began.

Enema time usually starts with mom taking the Rexall combination enema box out of the linen closet and setting it on the kitchen table along with a jar of Vaseline. When I was younger I got bulb enemas on the kitchen table. Enemas were always prepared in the Kitchen because the enema bag fit nicely under the faucet. . When I saw the box on the table I knew I was going to get an enema very soon, Knowing an enema was going to happen brought butterflies and some joy to me. Even as a young child I liked getting enemas. I never experienced the being called into the bathroom for an enema surprise. The kit contained three nozzles, an infant, an adult and a big thick curved douche nozzle. Mom would take the bag and hose out sometimes changing nozzles. Most of the time she replaced the adult nozzle with the smaller infant one, Once in a while she took off the douche nozzle. Sometimes I'd check out the nozzles, I remember asking mom about the douche nozzle, she told me it was for a deep enema. I was intrigued by this nozzle and wanted to try it. I told mom several times that I thought I needed a deep enema, or I wanted that nozzle. She never complied, except to say she would use the adult nozzle this time. So I watched carefully as she filled the bag, sometimes adding salt, or ivory soap subs. If it was soapsuds it meant I would get a second rinse enema, which excited me more. She expelled some water and smeared Vaseline on the tip, told me to take off my pants and bend over her lap, where she applied Vaseline to her finger inserting it deeply into my anus then rotating her finger. Then the nozzle went in and I heard the click and felt the water gushing in. When I was full it was a quick trip to the BR down the hall. After a leaking mishap, mom sat on the toilet and I bent over her lap. As I got older she showed me how to take toilet enemas, Where the bag was held by a hook on the wall, and I inserted the nozzle.

I loved being a part of the prep process. At the young age of seven I started giving myself enemas. I was already familiar with getting the bag ready. Mom and dad worked, Grandma took care of me and she lived upstairs, so I had plenty of time for enema play.

I got bulb enemas, OTK until age 8-9. I would be told it was "enema time", and to get undressed. Mom would get things ready while I stood naked and often erect, waiting for the enema. Sometimes I would help test the temp. of the water, get out the Vaseline, etc.. Mom knew I loved enemas and made them enjoyable for me.

I believe for me that the preparation for the enema is part of the erotic process. I like to hear the water running, the giver putting on the gloves, the soap or other solution being put in the bag or bulb syringe and then the prep finished, the enema session. I think the reg open-top bag with the soapsuds spilling out a little over the op or the bowl with soapy suds on the top and a thick liquid in the bowl is a great preparation for me I also like to hear the buib being squeezed and the liquid being drain into the bulb syringe.