I was introduced to the enema as a young boy for various illnesses. When enemas were needed even though they was very uncomfortable, I learned to enjoy them without putting up a fight with my mother. My older brother Ron hated them and would always complain when Mom told him he was going to get one. As a result he usually ended up getting a bare bottom spanking for arguing with her. However, after he entered his teen years, he stopped fussing with her and took the enema without complaining, although he still hated getting one.

Since this story is about my brother, I guess I'll spill the beans on him about an incident that occurred when he was 18 years old. In 1964 my brother Ron was a senior in high school and was very popular with all the girls around school. He had a love for sports especially baseball and he was a member of the baseball team at the high school he attended. His games were usually held on Friday night and my parents and I never missed a game.

It was during one of his games that got him in trouble so to speak when my brother became ill and had to be taken off the field. He was in the dugout when he suddenly became nauseated and threw up. Mom and dad immediately went to his aid and after checking him out, they decided he was too sick to continued participating in the game and took him home. He went to the locker room to change and then met us at the car. He had recently obtained his driver licenses, but since his car was in the shop for repairs, he had rode to school with a friend that day the reason he had to ride home with us.

On the way home Mom had my dad to stop at a drug store and buy a bottle of anti acid for Ron to take with hopes it would ease his nausea which it did temporarily. However, by the time we got home he was feeling bad again and went in the house and went straight to the bedroom we shared and laid across the bed. Dad was working the swing shift, but before he left he went in to check on Ron and said he would call back later on his break to see how he was feeling and left the room.

After dad had left for work, Mom came in his room with the thermometer and put it under his tongue and told him not to talk so it could register. After about a minute, she removed it and it showed that he did have a fever. Her next question was when did he last have a bowel movement? Of course this question caught my brother off guard and because I was in the room also, he got extremely embarrassed and must have turned two shades of red. He cleared his throat and said I'm not for sure, but I think it was two or three days ago but I really can't remember. He turned and stared at me to see what my response was going to be and when I didn't say anything, he was relieved.

Mom told him that because he had waited too long to go to the bathroom, that was probably why he got sick and then told him that she was going to give him an enema right away to get his bowels to move. Ron's eyes widen to the size of quarter's as he sat up in bed and said, “Mom, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

She repeated her question and all he did was sank back in his bed with a dejected look on his face as though she had just given him the death sentence. He said, “Mom I haven't had an enema since I was a little kid,” and then waited her response.

When she didn't respond, he sat there in shock for a while without saying a word and then suddenly piped up and said that he was too old for those things and asked her was there another way?

But Mom said no it wasn't and told him that she knew what was best for him and that an enema would work faster and without saying another word, she left to go prepare the enema for him in the bathroom.

He gave me a dirty look and threaten me if I ever mention a word of this to anyone that my ass was going to be grass. I quickly promised him that my mouth was zipped and I wouldn't say a word about it, mainly out of fear of what he would do to me if I told his secret.

A few minutes later, Mom came to our bedroom and told him that she was ready for him. He looked over at me laying in my bed with this sad look on his face and headed for the bathroom where Mom was waiting on him. The house we lived in at that time had doors with keyholes and I had planned on watching him get it, but I had to wait a while before making my move. I could hear him and Mom talking and her asking him to take off his jeans (Levi's) and his underwear and to get down on the floor on his hands and knees with his head down. I knew then that I had better make my move now are I was going to miss the good part.

So without wasting any more time, I walked over to the closed door and knelt down and peered inside the bathroom. I was treated to the sight of my brother down on all fours on the bathroom floor over a towel naked except for a T-shirt with the red enema hose snaking from between his quivering butt cheeks. Mom was standing behind him holding the red combination hot water bottle up over his bare buttocks and holding the long white douche nozzle firmly in his rectum with her free hand. Ron's butt was moving up and down as little gushes of water sprayed out around the nozzle wetting the towel under him. I knew he was in agony because I had been in that same position three months earlier.

As I continued to watch, he moaned out loudly and grasp his stomach and told Mom his stomach was cramping bad and that he couldn't take no more as his anus clenched down tightly around the nozzle. Watching him get that enema caused me to get very aroused almost to the point of me ejaculating in my Levi's.

Mom continued telling him in a calm voice to stop fighting it that it would soon be over with and he would feel a lot better, but he just kept saying he couldn't hold on much longer and was actually started crying. However, the bag soon went flat and I heard Mom say that was it and pulled the nozzle out of his ass. I never saw my brother move that fast. He quickly jumped up from the floor sporting a huge erection, but didn't seen to care that Mom was looking at it. He slammed his butt down on the toilet seat and immediately begin farting and squirting water and shit out of his ass into the toilet bowl. Mom in the meantime, was over at the sink washing the bag out and totally Ignoring him.

He must have been in the bathroom at least 45 minutes expelling the enema before I heard the toilet flush and the shower come on. Mom had left him a clean pair of under shorts and a T-shirt on the counter before she left him alone in the bathroom.

That night while we were in our beds, I asked my brother was he feeling better to break the ice and then brought up the subject of enemas. At first he didn't want to talk about it, but finally gave in and told me that he was feeling better and that he never wanted another one and he never did.

I on the other hand, ended up getting two more from Mom before I left home. One for the relief of constipation and the other one to clean me out for some test I had to under go at the hospital. I still enjoy enemas and keep my bag hanging up behind the door in my bathroom until company come over then it's hidden under the bathroom counter out of sight until the next time.