I think having enema equipment easily accessible in the home was a major factor in many of us becoming interested in enemas at an early age. I know for me it was big. While not openly displayed, the enema bulb was kept under the sink in the bathroom. Anyone getting a spare roll of toilet paper, bar of soap, or tampon would probably see it sitting there in the corner.
When my sister and I were little girls we often took our bath together. The bubble bath soap was under the sink, and seeing the enema bulb there we sometimes took it into the tub with us to squirt water at each other. A couple of times mom came in and she would say, “Put that thing away, it is not a toy.” Of course both of us had been on the receiving end of it several times, so we knew what it was for. Then one time my sister ended up on hands and knees in front of me in the tub, and I squirt some water directly at her little hole. She giggled and threatened to fart in my face, so I refilled the bulb and this time touched it directly on her little hole. I expected her to pull away but surprisingly pushed back slightly and the nozzle slipped into her, so I squeezed the bulb. She still did not pull away so I refilled the bulb and squeezed in another one. Then she turned around and grabbing the bulb from my hand said, “Now you.” At first I hesitated till she threatened to tell mom what I had done, so I let her give me two bulbs of bathwater. Then it was a fight to see who got to the toilet first, getting the floor pretty wet. While I was on the toilet she put the bulb away. We did that several times. I am not sure if mom ever figured out what we were doing, but she never said anything.
Once we got older we did not share the bathtub, switching more to private showers so while I suspected she, like me, was using the bulb on herself I had no proof till one night mom and dad were out. I heard water running in the sink, too long for just washing hands, so I figured maybe she was washing her hair. I opened the bathroom door to see my sister standing at the sink with the bulb in her hand. Her jeans and panties in a pile in the floor. Calmly she said, “In or out, but shut the damn door.” I went in, closed the door, and sat on the edge of the tub while she gave herself several bulbs before sitting on the toilet. She then gave herself several more, and before sitting on the toilet again handed the bulb to me saying, “I know you do this too when you are home alone, so no secrets here.” I proceeded to give myself a very pleasant couple of fillings.
None of this could have happened if that enema bulb was not conveniently kept under the sink. I think it would be rare for someone to become interested in enemas if they did not have access to anything to do it with.