Enemas growing up from Mothers and Aunts

How many of you actually had to expel in front of your mother? I keep reading about them leaving the bathroom when it was time, but mine(and grandmother) would stay and basically order me to poop in front of them.

Hay pooper you usually did because she would start cleaning up stuff unless she did not hear alot of stuff coming out. You never flush until she seen your results. Sometimes sorry but you need another soapy enema until it is clear because you are to clogged. I did not like the till clear part. I remember getting 5 enemas once to settle her likings. 4soapy and 1 rinse. Most of the time it was 2 soapy and 1 plain.

My mom always had the enema can hanging on the wall in the washroom.

I'm convinced it was mom that pointed me down the path of erotic enjoyment with enemas. Although the enemas she gave me as a child and preteen were frequent, there was never anything sexual about them. She was always very matter-of-fact about the necessity for a good enema.

What she did however was to constantly talk to me throughout the procedure, telling me how good I was going to feel after the enema. As I was expellimg, she would tell me "now didn't that feel good?" As I was laying over the toilet waiting as she refilled the bulb for another one, she would comment that I'm taking a real good enema. When I was to recieve a bag enema for the first time, her comment was "this will give you a very good enema." To her, everything about enemas was "good." It didn't take too long to realize that enemas were good for me and that they did feel good. When it became time to self-administer, she would prepare the enema for me, hang the bag up, and tell me to take my time and take a real good enema before she left the room. As a teen, those "good" enemas turned into great masturbation sessions and my lifetime enjoyment of enemas.

Did my mother's enemas have an effect on me? Sure, I wish she was alive today and for her to again whisper in my left ear, "Mike, it's enema time, son. I have it ready for you!"

My mom was a nurse and gave a really good enema. I wish I could get one like that again!

Because the enemas I received as a young child were never unpleasant, and they certainly didn't hurt, I wasn't the least bit hestitant to try them solo when I went into puberty. At age 3 and 4, or thereabouts, I was too young to recognize the sexual gratification of enemas, but as I remember them, the well lubed nozzle felt good going into my butt.

Mother was definitely a positive influence on me where enemas are involved. The first few, between the ages of 5 and 8, were not looked forward to but they were necessary and I was glad for the relief. from the age of 8 on I yearned for and invented reasons to be over mothers lap getting her loving attention. This affair continued until my mid teens and I wish I could still experience the pleasue of a lovingly given enema.

Willy's experience is fairly similiar to mine as I recounted in #3 below. We can freely acknowledge now after the passage of years that our mom-given enemas were truly needed and left us feeling better, whether we admitted it openly or not at the time.

Mom was the 1st enema I ever received, let's say I took that initial exposure and ran with it.

A couple of folks have mentioned getting them for being cranky, and aside from constipation, I did receive a few mild punishment enemas. I say mild, because I don't remember them being painful or really uncomfortable. I think they were more to establish who was in charge. I would lay face down on my mom and dad's bed and my mom would come in with a small pitcher of warm water and a bulb syringe and give me the enema. I wasn't allowed to talk, and my mom usually didn't say much. I would be allowed to go the bathroom after a few minutes. I don't remember getting them that often for punishment, maybe once a month. As far as constipation, I usually got one a couple of times a month.

Mom gave me warm soap suds enemas with her red Davol enema bag. I had to lay across her lap the she covered with a pink fleecy soft thick fuzzy blanket that she had preheated by draping the blanket over a hot radiator. I got to love the smell of the warmed blanket and the Ivory soap and rubber enema bag. I wish with all my heart that i could go back to those days in the bathroom with my mom hearing her tell me to come lay on the niece warm blanket so mommy can give a nice warm soapy enema to get your bowels cleaned out. The enema is going to make you feel so much better.

My mother gave me enrmas soon after I was born I know because that I saw her give my baby sister enemas while she was a little baby. I screamed and cried and protested but nevertheless I received the enemas. It was a love hate relationship. I remember when I was 4 or 5 and she was giving me a bulb enema and I'm over her lap and got mad at my fuss and went and got the big bag and told me that I was going to be sorry. She was mad and gave me the whole enema bag and I will never forget how much it hurt.

My mother thought she was doing the right thing. I received punishment enemas if I stayed home from school and later tried to trick her into giving me an enema whenever I could. The enemas my mother gave me stopped when I was about 12 and she saw that I had an errection and ran out of the room. I have been giving myself enemas ever since. This was in the Fifty's and Sixty's and I remember that mom bought every new design of enema bag that was ever made and I loved using every single one of them. Addicted for life.

I grew up with mom putting me over her knee and giving me the old fashioned red bulb enema

I never outgrew my love for them and would look forward to that walk to the bathroom with her leading me.

Now as an older woman I still thoroughly enjoy the experience

LisaK, you opened the door for us, shared a bit, but it seems to me that there is a lot you could say on the subject of your post. If it is not too personal, and we do enjoy anonymity here, I would find it interesting if you shared more of 'your story'.

Kindly... Hermann

Almost everyday until I was 14, my Mom asked me if I did a BM, and if not, when was my last BM. Her side of the family was totally obsessed with everyone's BMs, and I share some of that obsession. My Mom's solution to any illness was an enema but she only gave me two enemas that I remember. In 4th or 5th grade, I had a bad sore throat and was in bed for several days and didn't eat much. About the fourth day, my Mom asked me if I had to do a BM and told me to sit on the toilet and try. After about 10 minutes, she checked on me and I said "No BM". She got out the red enema bag, had me lay on my side on the bed, and gave me an enema; I got on the toilet, did a BM and went back to bed. A few days later, I was still in and out of bed with the sore throat, etc, and Mom asked if I had done a BM since the enema. I said I had not, so out comes the enema bag and the process was repeated. After that, I started eating more and could do a BM on my own so no more enemas. On another occassion, I hadn't done a BM in about 4 days, and she made me sit on the toilet and eat prunes; if they didn't work, the enema would be next. However, I did a BM so the enema bag stayed in the closet. Mom threatened me with a enema on other occasions but, she didn't carry through.

Many years later, I occasionally give myself an enema not necessarily to help with a BM, but just for the enjoyment. My interest in enemas was further peaked when I get enemas from someone before she uses a strap on on me. The enemas are quite enjoyable, and we have a lot of fun with the whole process.

I received enemas from mom or aunt almost every month for as long as can remember. My sisters also received them and occasionally watched them receive their treatment. I especially liked watching my older sister receive hers with a adult enema bulb. I liked to watch the long black pipe inch it's way into my sisters rectum. Once I turned 9 years old I was on the receiving end of that adult bulb which neither mom or my aunt hesitated to use.

On one occasion I spent a week with my best friend's house as mom went on a vacation. I remember becoming constipated and my best friend's mother gave me an enema while the family was watching TV. They all knew I was receiving an enema which was very embarrassing.

I did like the enema treatments and some of the embarrassment became a turn on later in life.

The only family member who ever gave me an enema was my step aunt. Although secretly exciting at 1st, was disapointing as she was not happy about doing it and left the bathroom before i even started to expell it.

My mother has given me plenty of enemas over the years and on occasion so has my aunt. I become severely constipated from meds taken for asthma and the Dr has routinely said to my mother to give me castor oil followed by a series of high enemas. If I am not feeling well I sometimes don't like the series of enemas but when she is finished they are effective.

It is amazing how many things were cured by an aspirin and an enema when I was growing up. Mother always gave the best enemas and I am lucky to have had her give me one whenever I needed one. I wish she were still here to take care of me right now.

The aspirin-and-enema "cure" was as common in my childhood home as willy's and millions of other homes during the "golden age."

Ironic, isn't it, that nowadays aspirin is warned against for young kids, and the classic "good" enema is rarely given.

My mom believed an enema and chicken noodle soup would cure anything. I don't know if they cure anything but they both make me feel a lot better whether I'm sick or not.

I learned to love enemas on our bathroom floor, with the red colon tube inserted to the hilt, and the bulging red bag hanging above me. Then there was Mom's sweet face smiling encouragingly down on me, urging me to take my enema like a good boy. I remember the bitter sweet cramping , and later the erections that I tried to conceal. I never fought or complained about an upcoming enema, I looked forward to them with delicious anticipation.

The first enema I can recall with any certainty was given by mom on a big soft bath towel placed in the middle of her bed. The reason for the enema was that I had a desperate need to expel but the mass was too large to get out regardless of how hard I strained. I don't recall any pain or discomfort but the enema ended when some enemata leaked out and left a large brown stain on that white bath towel. After that all of my enemas were given in the bathroom over mom's knee while a subteen and on the commode after reaching the teen years. At first I had no great dread of her giving me an enema but the enemas were functional and I knew that they would do me some good.

One day I was enlisted to help mother give my brother an enema and my job was to hold the bag and raise or lower it as needed, my help was needed because mother needed both hands to hold my brother down and keep the nozzle in his hiney. To this day I can still vividly recall watching the nozzle go in and out of my brother because of his squirming and the sudden and desperate desire to be in his place over her knee. After she was through with my brother I surprised myself by asking her to give me one while the equipment was still out. That was the day, I now realize, that my attraction for enemas began. I hope that she thought my getting into puberty was the reason for the many times I complained about tummy aches but most of those aches were just an excuse to get some of her wonderful treatments. I still dream of her finger lubing me up and the slow and glorious sliding in the nozzle and the gentle movement of the nozzle while the water was gurgling in. I know mom was also a fanatic because the bag was always readily available, most of the time on the back of the bathroom door, and I once accidently walked in on her giving herself one. What wonderful memories.

My mother gave me bulbfulls from a 4 oz davol red syringe. I was only three when I got "hooked." That little devil was in the medicine cabinet for decades later , and never failed to give me a thrill when I saw it.

To this day I can still vividly recall watching the nozzle go in and out of my brother because of his squirming and the sudden and desperate desire to be in his place over her knee. After she was through with my brother I surprised myself by asking her to give me one while the equipment was still out. That was the day, I now realize, that my attraction for enemas began.

In spite of the great age difference between us, the circumstances of our "initiation" are absolutely identical.

I can't explain why, but I find this very gratifying.

Keep well!

I'm glad that I'm not alone in getting hooked at a young age with a 4oz bulb syringe. I was scared and hated it at first but at 9 or 10 began to bulb myself.

Pretty much the same here. If I had been sick for more than a couple days, my Mom would come and get me out of bed, and take me to the bathroom for a nice warm gentle Ivory soapsuds enema, with the red enema bag and black bakelite nozzle. It was just standard practice back in the late 40's and early 50's in our family.

I remember getting enemas from mom when i was young not sure my age but i would guess 8, she used a light blue bag with the standard enema pipe. I remember being scared until i realized i liked them. the procedure was the same there would be a towel on the bed i would have to lay on my back and pull my knees to my chest and wait for the lube and insertion. As i got older i was afraid i was going to get an erection but was able to control. As i got older the enemas stopped but i continued to use the enema bag that was kept under her sink, but i soon switched to the white douche nozzle. this would be my afternoon fun after school when i was home alone.

When I was a child, I got enemas or suppositories almost every day. My mom and my nanny were very concerned about my BM's and a suppository was the default before my everyday bath. When they ran out of suppositories, an enema with a red bulb and soapy warm water was the treatment. When my mom gave me the bulb, she always put me over her lap, and she pumped me very slowly, but firmly, so I had to get the full bulb. When it was my nanny, I had to bend over the bathtub, open my legs, and get only some half bulb. My nanny used soap to lube the bulb, and it was hot. My mom used Vaseline. I always cried, but I loved it.

I knew where the red bulb was, and many times I gave myself enemas and I think they knew that...