Watching enema preparation

Watching my mom prepare it knowing it was for my sister, not me, was even more exciting

Those good times:

See my grandmother boiling water in the pan, adding some branches of chamomile. That smell overpowers me. To observe as she added soap, glycerin, baking soda, one tablespoon of salt and one of sugar.

With only memories, I feel a pleasure unavoidable.

When my mom would announce that she was going to give me an enema she would take me into the bathroom, undress me and place me on the toilet, giving me one last chance to try to go. I would have to watch as she got out the bowl and prepared the soapy Ivory solution, removed the bulb syringe and Vaseline from the bathroom counter and placed the towels on the floor by the toilet. I hated enemas as a child and having to watch her prepare everything only added to my anxiety and fear of the upcoming procedure. I would strain and strain to move my bowels as she got everything ready. Finally I would be placed face down on the towels and despite my protests the dreaded syringing would begin. She would repeatedly use the syringe on me until she was satisfied that she had squirted enough of the soapsuds up into me make my bowels move. I often felt that it would have been less traumatic if she would have had everything prepared before she took me into the bathroom and spared me the extra ordeal of having to watch the step by step preparations.

That's often the case when my wife gives me an enema. Sometimes she would prepare everything by herself, sometimes have me disrobe while she was filling the bag, sometimes she would ask me to help. I think this reproduces how her mother did it, my wife recalls some pride when young then some embarrassment when older being in the bathroom and preparing the instrument that would penetrate her rear...

I prefer that the person getting the enema be part of all the mixing and preparation. it is so much easier to get full cooperation that way.

My mom usually filled the enema can with her soapy concoction out of my sight, but one time she did the preparation in the bathroom while I struggled in vain on the toilet to have BM that I hoped would let me escape the dreaded treatment. I was soon legs up on my bed for the inevitable enema.

I think having the person watch as you mix their enema can increase the anticipation for both!

@Moppys_jalopy notes

I think having the person watch as you mix their enema can increase the anticipation for both!

Agree on “That”

For me, watching preparation certainly gets me up for impending treatment. If I can get my potential recipient excited in anticipation, all the better!

If a massage or some other attention like a few swats on a bare bum are desirable, then it's worth the extra effort.

I received many enemas growing up and I remember hearing and seeing the methodical preparation for all of them. These days prolonged, methodical preparation is a key to enhancing the exhilirating enema experience for both giver and receiver……michael https://en.zity.biz/gallery/image/212297

Back in the day, my old girlfriend and I had many role play erotic enema sessions. I always enjoyed sitting naked on the toilet watching her prepare soapy water in the sink and filling the bulb syringe. She would say something like “if we don't get a good result with bulb, I'll have to give you the bag…..”

Why just watch????

That enema is going INSIDE YOU!!

Be an active participant in the preparation!

My Mom would have ever prepared before I was called to the bathroom. So I never played a part in preparation when I was a child. Different story now when my wife and I use enemas. We usually prepare each other’s enema but she will sometimes instruct me to prepare my own and tell me I had better make it very soapy. If I don’t then I’m usually in for a several enemas. It just depends on the reason for the enema as to how we prepare.

With my ex it was both sometimes she'd bring me in the bathroom while she prepared it or I'd have to wait in the bedroom in til she called me in. I preferred to be in the bathroom with her at least I could see what was in store for me, with her I never knew I could be the bag or the bulb syringe or both

Yes….and no. There is some thrill watching someone else preparing it. However, laying there while you hear the prep being done and not knowing exactly what's happening can also be a turn on. There has to be quite a bit of trust of course…

The first enema I received from my ex was with a squeeze bulb syringe. She took me in the bathroom. I remember the first thing I saw on the counter was a jar of suppositories and a bulb syringe. She had me take my pajama pants off and sit down on a chair she'd brought in . She took a basin out from under the sink and ran some water in the tub and regulated it till it was to her liking. She filled the basin with water and dropped a bar of ivory soap in it .

She then put the basin on the closed toilet lid and told me to get up and bring the chair over next to the bathtub. She sat down in the chair and told me to get across her lap, she pulled me over so my head and arms were in the tub with my feet off the floor . . .I felt completely helpless and exposed. She put a latex glove on and reached in the basin and coated her finger with the wet ivory soap and said she was going to lubricate me with soap and give me a suppository, telling me it was a good old fashioned remedy for constipated little boys.

She pulled my cheek open and slipped her soap coated finger in me slowly moving it in and out. It didn't take long before it started burning, I tensed up and squirmed she did this for only 20 seconds or so . She then put a new glove on and inserted the suppository in me. She gave me 4 bulbs of the soapy water and that's all I could take she was going to give me another and I pleaded with her not to. She said since it was my first one with her she'd give me a pass.

After I'd expelled my insides and my bum hole were irritated she gave me 2 fleet enemas to rinse me out. Even after that I still burned back there for a few hours

I don't think I ever had the opportunity to watch. But, when I was sick, I would listen for the closet door opening, running water, etc. That anticipation, along with denying (sometimes) that it was being prepared for me, evoked a strong memory, which continues to this day. After convincing myself, as I laid in bed, I would get the dreaded call from the bathroom, and my heart would race and I would go into some kind of fit that I didn't need “it”. Then, without fail, I had to climb on her lap and submit!

I think that it would be very arousing to watch. I like a more “you have no choice in the matter so don't argue” scenario. Or one that is dubious consent like I don't really want it but because they are a doctor or authority figure I have to comply.

Ohhhhh yes….the preparation of my usual soapsuds enema by my care giver was a fascinating process that held my attention as I waited, nude, sitting on the side of the bathtub or, about 20 minutes later while expelling on the toilet.

I almost always received several enemas during our sessions in the bathroom, so I was well versed in the way she would stand at the sink while mixing a large glass pitcher of very warm water with a generous hand-full of Ivory Soap Flakes. She stirred the water continuously with a long wooden spoon until the water turned milky white with a head of bubbles floating on the top. I could hear my grandmother humming a happy tune softly to herself, absorbed in her work, until she was satisfied that she has prepared it “just right” for the purpose of purging my pre-adolescent body from the evils of accumulated poisons and wastes inside my bowels…. a constant obsession of hers throughout my childhood.

Over the next few hours, I would typically receive three hot and very soapy enemas injected high up inside my colon with a long red rectal tube that sometimes gave me hard cramps and made my anus burn when I expelled on the toilet under her watchful eye. She would lube my butt hole with gobs of Vaseline several times during my clean out with her finger probing deep into my rectum. This I liked very much. Once she had made sure that the water returning into the toilet was mostly soapy white in color with no trace of feces, a final rinse of cool water, salt and baking soda was prepared and a administered with me on my hands and knees to make sure that it filled my colon completely, until I was unable to take another drop.

Usually I watched my care-giver prepare four enemas for me during our sessions together….and each pitcher full made me tremble with anxious anticipation, knowing that I was going to be thoroughly purged - to the point of being filled to the brim and aching for relief, and I would be totally under her control, obedient to her will.

I remember, even when I was 3.5 years old, when my neighbor and my mother were preparing an enema for me in the kitchen. I did not know what awaited me but I was afraid. After my mother broke my enema, I always saw the preparations. Then I felt a mixture of shame and excitement. I remember when my mother prepared the water, then she filled the bulb with water. Finally she put on rubber gloves and rubbed the end of the bulb with petroleum jelly.

The most embarrassing, however, was the preparations for the enema in the hospital. I was in the room, and there was an elderly nurse and a student nurse. I was 15 years old and the student was 1-2 years older than me. The student filled the irrigator with water. I was very ashamed that she was doing this and that she knew what was coming next. I waited for her to finish and leave the room. It turned out that she was to give me an enema under the supervision of a senior nurse! She was wearing rubber gloves and I had to take off my pajama bottoms. I had to take a knee-chest position. I was very embarrassed that the girl could see my buttocks and genitals.

I have had a little fun with the opposite approach sometimes when I've given enemas. Like with one boy, I had him sit naked on a stool facing the corner in the kitchen while I prepared his enema. That way he was nearby and could hear all the preparations and the seemingly endless amount of water that the bag was being filled with, but would have to use his imagination to know just how bulging that bag was going to be and just how much he would have to take once he was finally allowed turn around.

At the beginning it was a bad surprised and saw only the red bulb when it was ready and already filled. Then time passing I loved seeing grandma preparing and knowing it was for me. it increased the excitement waiting for it

I have always been of the opinion that ‘ enema prep. ‘ of equipment and solution is as vital a component of an enema as is the ’ give / receive ‘ of said well administered enema . From my early boyhood days of home enemas , I assisted my mom from the enema syringe retrieval through the enema itself and all that entailed . I learned much here that put me in good stead when I began to administer my first enemas . Mom , ever the ‘ teacher ’ , was quick and kind to explain the proper solution composition , temperature and final equipment assembly w / ‘ air removal ‘ flush ’ ‘ from the hose to liberal lubrication of the rectal pipe prior to insertion . The ’ physics ‘ of ‘ bag height to pressure ’ was explained in detail as well . All was as I have indicated a ’ good learning experience ‘ from an early age in the privacy of our home . From ’ anticipation ’ ( mine ) to the ‘ to die for total enema experience ’ all began in the bathroom as per my above shared recollections with the ‘ enema prep. ’ .

Mom had me stand beside her as she prepared the enema solution, warm soapy water. She wanted me to learn how to prepare and administer my enemas as I got older. She also had dad watch, so when she was in the hospital and rehab he could give them to me. She trained him with bulb and bag. As I got older she coached me in preparation of the solution and then from outside the bathroom door guided me as I gave myself enemas.

@Buddy55

You wrote:

„…I hated enemas as a child and having to watch her prepare everything only added to my anxiety and fear of the upcoming procedure. I would strain and strain to move my bowels as she got everything ready. Finally I would be placed face down on the towels and despite my protests the dreaded syringing would begin. She would repeatedly use the syringe on me until she was satisfied that she had squirted enough of the soapsuds up into me make my bowels move. ..“

Hi Buddy,

Your descriptions match my own memories perfectly.

I hated those soap enemas too, and with a few exceptions, I always had to be present when preparing them. The rippling of the water, the dissolving of the soap in the water, the smell of the curd soap, the gurgling and bubbling when filling the bulb... all of that triggered fear and panic in me at the time. Today I get a hard just thinking about it.

I would like to turn the clock for one or the other enema during this time...🤗😎

@LisaK

#42

I would never have participated back then...

...but today already;👍🤗😎

Occasionally my mother would already have the enema bag filled and hanging on the towel rack when I was called to the bathroom. It was not a shock, more an acknowledgement of surrender, since it was going to happen. Since there never was a soapsuds enema without a rinse, once I had used the toilet, my mother would fill the sink and start ladling cupful after cupful of warm water into the bag.

More often, If I was called to the bathroom for a 'good enema' I got to see my mother fetch the box from the linen closet, fill the sink, swish a bar of Ivory soap around until she was satisfied it was soapy enough, then scoop cupfuls of solution into the bag until it was full and bulging. At that point I was told to undress and bend over the tub for my treatment.

She always prepared the second enema while I watched and whined.

jd

I remember one Saturday morning my mother came into my room after preparing an enema for me to wake me up. I had been bugging her for months to give me an adult enema…Up to that time, she had always used the small red bulb for my enemas.

Well, she succeeded and took me into my bathroom where I saw the Rexall Victoria combination syringe box laying open on the washing machine that was in my bathroom.

I, then, looked over to my right and saw the box’s red hot water bottle with the red hose hanging below it. On the hose was a silver shut off clamp and below that was the enema nozzle shiny with Vaseline on it.

I gave my Mother a big hug and she gave me the first of 3 enemas that morning.

After the warm water was all in me, my Mother instructed me to sit on her slop bucket so she could see if the enema had done its job. She also told me to come get her when I had finished my business. I did!

After Mom had inspected my business and pouring it into the toilet, she walked over to the wall beside the commode and took down the enema bag. She unscrewed the hose from the bag and turned on the water in the sink, adjusting the water temperature as it poured into the sink. Meanwhile, she handed me the red hose to hold for her.

By the way, I flushed the toilet and sat down on the toilet watching closely as my Mother began the preparations for my second enema.

First, I saw Mom slip the hot water bottle into the flow. It began to swell with maybe a pint or so of water in it.

Second, I saw Mother turn the water off and hold up the bag as if she were inspecting it.

Third, Mom asked for the red hose, but I reached up and grabbed Mom’s hand.

Fourth, Mom looked down at me and asked me “yes, Mike!”

Fifth, I looked down at the floor and then back up at her and said Mom, “Can you please put some more water into the bag?”

Sixth, Mom, again looked down an me, and asked “Mike, are you crazy?”

Seventh, I, again, said “please!”

Eighth, I watched Mother as she shook her head, turn the water back on, adjust the temperature of the water and then stick the red hot water bottle back into the flow.

As the water, again, began to fill the bag with additional water, Mother looked down at me, one more time, lifting the water bottle out of the flow and asked “Mike, is this enough?”

I observed that it was about 1/2 Full….

I smiling up at her and said, “Mom, can you please fill it up all the way?”

She, again, shook her head before putting the bottle back into the flow and filling it all the way up!

…. At which time she turned the water off and again asked for the red hose.

She screwed the adapter plug into the bottle and eased past me hanging the bag on hook that was above the toilet for that purpose.

Water immediately began to fill the hose. I could hear it … bloop, bloop, bloop!

I eased past Mom and took the knee chest position on the floor in front of the sink.

Mom sat down on the toilet and took the hose into her hand..

Soon, I felt her slip the nozzle back into my rectum.

Before, opening the shut-off, Mother leaned over to me and said “Mike, this is an awful lot of water, son. I can’t take this much! You know that you don’t have to take it all!”

I replied back to Mom… saying “I’ll let you know when I am full!”

With that said, Mother opened the tube’s shut-off and my second enema began.

Unlike the first enema that contained maybe a pint at most, this enema was way different.

How?

As the water filled my stomach, Mom: 1) began to gently rub my back and 2) also push in on my belly, and 3) She, also, began to hum one of my favorite songs.

A minute or so later, she shut the tube’s shut-off and asked me… “Mike, have you taken enough of this enema?”

I replied “Mom, I am doing fine… please continue!”

With that said, Mother, again, opened the tube’s shut-off and my second enema of the morning began anew.

As before, Mom continued her gentle back rub and probing off my abdomen as the enema continued to fill my stomach!

A minute or so later, Mom, again, shut the tube’s shut-off. This time she patted my back and said “Mike, I can’t believe it, but you took the entire bag! How do you feel?”

I began to stand up as she pulled the enema pipe from my rectum. I was really full and asked Mom to let me sit on the toilet.

Mom continued to sit on the toilet and she pointed back to the slop pot. I eased over to the pot and released my enema as Mother sat and talked.

When I asked for some toilet paper, Mom handed some to me.. and then got up off of the toilet, reach up, take down the enema bag off the hook, unscrew the adapter from the bag and turn the water in the sink back on!

I got up off the slop pot.

Mom, as before, handed me the red hose.

I sat back down on the toilet and watched Mom as she had done before..1) adjust the water temperature; 2) fill the hot water bottle. But this time, I noticed that Mother did not stop filling the bottle till it was completely full.

Yes, I watched Mom prepare both my second and then the third enemas of that special Saturday morning. What a turn on!

Since I’ve been enema solo my entire life (51 years of enemaplay), the preparation of everything (bags, bulbs etc.) has always been part the experience🤪🦄 The textures of a full bag, the scents of rubber and soap. I like to watch🤩

Depending on how you look at it I either had the best, or the worst, of both worlds.

Sometimes, especially if I was home from school ill, I'd hear the preparations, mom getting the bag out of the hall closet, water running in the bathroom sink. After a bit mom would appear at my door either inviting me to come to the bathroom, or with the enema bag in hand to tell me she was going to give me an enema. Sometimes, it was simply, "Tommy, come with me dear. I'm going to give you an enema." I'd follow to the bathroom and watch with anxiety, and anticipation, as she got the enema ready for me.