Added: Arianna Sim - Date: 18.02.2022 14:01 - Views: 32649 - Clicks: 9532
I have enjoyed enemas as long as I can remember, and my memory of the first one is knowing that I knew what was coming, anticipated liking it, so there had to have been more prior that I don't remember. I didn't want breakfast one morning, and as a result was given an enema.
I didn't like the feeling of it going in that much, and I didn't like holding it either, but once I was exploding on the toilet I loved it, and was hooked for life. I, too, have been in love with the enema bag for as long as I can remember. However, my first enemas that I remember being given to me by my Mother were given to me by a small red bulb. They were ok There was only one insertion and the water flow Mom would often sit on the toilet and rub my tummy while the enema bag released its contents down into my waiting rectum.
After that first enema, I often faked constipation just to get Mother to give me another. I suspect Mom knew I was faking, but she did not disappoint me either I only got one punishment enema and that was because I ruined a retarded neighbor's bedroom floor by scratching "Mom, will you please give me a big, soapy enema! Am I hooked.? Well, yeah! I only received one enema while growing up.
But that was all it would take. My mother used an adult nozzle on me and it was instant love the second she slid that nozzle in my body. The enema became a passion and something I have relished for decades. It took me several years and many sessions with mom before I realized the how intensely pleasurable an enema could be.
A memorable syringing with the bulb that triggered a dry orgasm was the hook for me. Don't know about "love at first enema" but I have some doubt that I would be here if my parents had not engaged in some enema play at some level from fairly early in their relationship.
Not exactly sure WHEN it started, but my parents knew each other before my dad got his drivers. He's the older by about 2 years and I strongly suspect but can't prove that their relationship had turned sexual by the time Dad got to that point. So I'm not going to say "Love at first enema" but I can say that it didn't take long after the relationship developed before there were enemas involved. As I have said in other thre here, neither my sister or I can remember a time when we did NOT get twice weekly enemas. She is older, and says I got my first bulb of Ivory suds the day Mom brought me home.
At any rate, although neither of us hated them, we did not like them, either. SInce we had gotten them since earliest memories, we just accepted them as a fact of life. Our enemas were done together, in our grandma's bathroom.
Mom moved home after my father died. I realized I loved then when Sis reached puberty and confided that she really loved them, and wanted to give them to me. I realized that I really wanted her to do that, and that I First time enema stories to give to her, too. It was the beginning of a beautiful fri"E"ndship which has lasted lifelong. I got First time enema stories bulb enema when I was very young probably 4 or 5.
I was sick and my mother gave the bulb enema. I did not dislike or like it- that was my only enema every given to me to this day. Fast forward to when I was 13 and very much at the early stages of puberty and masturbating a lot. I always liked to snoop in my parents bathroom and they had an enema kit in the vanity under their sink. It did not take long before I had to give First time enema stories a try with the douche nozzle.
It definitely was love at first insertion. I have loved enemas ever since and maybe more now than ever. I got enemas when I was a. They were embarrassing and not comfortable. They stopped at puberty. However, I stilled liked things up my ass. My grandfather lived with us off and on, and left his enema bag in our second bathroom. When he was away, and my folks were out, I tried out his gear.
I managed to avoid the mistakes my mother made too much too fast. It was definitely love at the first filling. Thereafter, I enjoyed every minute of each one, and still do to this day. I very vaguely recall a very few enemas from my RN mom as a kid, maybe at most, but also vaguely recall enjoying them. The first time, I laid down wearing rubber sneakers major kink for meinhaled the rubber aroma even stronger kink from the bag and pushed the larger douche nozzle up my rear until I climaxed. The next few times, I started filling the bag with larger and larger amounts of water until it was full and gave myself enemas on the bathroom rug, often climaxing before the bag was empty.
Mom's was probably 1.
When I got my own bag in my 20's, it was After reading a lot of s on Zity over the last two years, I've gradually increased my usual to After those first few enemas with mom's latex bag, I never looked back. My earliest memory of being given an enema was when I was around 4. I remember being over my mother's legs and looking at the little hexagonal black and white tiles on the bathroom floor. She told me to pant like a dog to make it easier to take.
That was the start of my anal fixation and when I was around 10 I found the enema kit and took the douche nozzle to play with. I loved inserting it and moving it in and out. However, it wasn't until I was living on my own many years later that I could fully indulge my enema fantasies.
What is it that you find so objectionable about taking enemas and why do you partially hate every enema you've ever had? Given those feelings, is it really necessary for you to keep taking them? There is almost always some pain somewhere at some stage of the process, and there is nothing you can do. Control of your bowels is one of the first things you learned in life, about the time you learned to walk.
Once that enema starts flowing, that aspect of you is in control of an inanimate object. The thing I hate more than I love is the unpredictability. I've had enemas where the third round was not necessary, and I've had enemas where the third round still expelled completely brown, using the same preparation same bag, same formula same position. I have had cases where I could have kipped the third enema and cases where it was the sixth First time enema stories that finally ran clear.
I was in my early 20's when I gave myself my first enema. I was hooked instantly! They just feel so good! I cannot remember my first enema, but apparently I must have gotten hooked very early on. I remember at age 6 or 7 giving myself an enema one morning, and something with the bag must have given way, because I hollered out the bathroom window "Dad!
And I still think enemas were the main form of nurture, if that's what it is, that my mother gave me. Got nothing else but verbal abuse -- about anything and everything. I never disliked enemas. I remember my dad being very gentle in giving me my first one, even letting me insert the nozzle by myself. And I felt good after everything was finished. Sometime later I saw him giving himself an enema and another time, my step-brother, so I accepted it. And since it made me feel better afterward I enjoyed it and ever asked for another when I felt bloated or constipated.
LisaK have you ever tried just taking one enema, masturbating First time enema stories an orgasm, and then closing the enema bag for the day? Then maybe it would be more love and less hate than the 3 to 6 enemas you take now? Both my sister and I were raised on weekly, and First time enema stories twice-weekly enemas. They started before we could remember, and we never hated them.
I would not go so far as to say we loved them: they were just a normal part of our lives. Sis was 12 and I was 10 when she asked me if I was liking them, and said she was. We started giving to each other when Mom wasn't home, and the rest is history! The first enema that I remember was when I was barely 5 years old. I don't recall the reason, but I supposed I was constipated.
Regardless, mom decided I needed one. I was stripped naked, placed on my back, and was given the enema on a bath towel spread on our tiled bathroom floor. I did not take too kindly to having an enema, kicking and screaming, as my 26 year old mother, called for help. Dad was not even 30 then and still had all of his hair. That was probably the first I heard the word. My father was a reluctant participant in this, but nevertheless into the bathroom he came and knelt down by my head and held my flailing legs back next to my ears. Unable to move my struggling subsided and my bawling slowly became a tearful whimper as I accepted my fate.
I tilted my head to look down past my stomach and between my legs where my mom was stirring a 2 quart white enamel can of warm soapy water with a 4 oz davol infant bulb enema syringe. It was a red bulb with a black nozzle. A year later I would learn that mom also had an 8 oz bulb syringe identical to it.
On the floor next to the enamel can, was a large opened round top jar of Vaseline. My mom wielded the enema bulb skillfully as she sat there, legs crossed on the cold floor. She filled the bulb and I heard the familiar sucking sound of the ivory soapy water being sucked into the bulb. Then she dipped a finger into the vaseline and lubricated the black nozzle liberally. Then she massaged the residue petroleum jelly on her left index finger onto my clinch pinked anus. As dad held my legs up and back, my buttocks were spread widely, and I was totally exposed to my mother.
Helpless and venerable. She circled my hole slowly, then she pressed her finger into me. I resisted. Then she withdrew it, and plunged it in again. I was not sure what to make of that feeling. It was new to me. Pulling her finger out and wiping it on the towel she then defty placed the nozzle of the bulb syringe against my well lubed asshole. That sucking sound again! I felt the warm water fill me. I begged her to relent, but to no avail. She withdrew the syringe and refilled it. Over and over 3 or 4 bulbs of warm soapy water were injected into my bowels. As she filled my ass up and and the pressure built, I started to cramp.
Finally she withdrew the nozzle and set the syringe aside. She lightly swatted my butt and told me to hold still and not to fight her. I took deep breaths and held it for what seemed at eternity but was problem less than two minutes. Mom nodded to my dad and he swept me up and sat me on the toilet.
Dad quickly left. My ass was wet and slippery from Vaseline and soapy water and I almost fell into the bowl. I didn't weigh more than 45 lbs at the time so I had to brace myself by holding onto the toilet seat with my hands. The enema came gushing out. I sat there for maybe a half hour.First time enema stories
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