One event in my childhood that I remember very well was the day I watched a girl get an enema from her mother.
Karen lived next door to me and we played with each other often. Even though we had explored each other’s bodies via the usual route of playing ‘Doctor’ and the like, we had never experimented with enemas. This is most likely due to the fact that, at the time, I was very self conscious about the enemas that my mother gave me, because, as far as I knew, none of my friends even knew what one was! This however, was about to change.
One day, when we were about ten or eleven, we were playing cards in Karen’s house, waiting for her mother to get home from the store. When we heard her drive in the driveway, we both ran to the kitchen to help her unpack the groceries. As we were putting the food away, I happened to glance into the bag from the drugstore that she had set on the counter. Much to my surprise, I saw that it contained three Fleet enemas - the kind that my mother sometimes used on me. This was the first time that I had even seen an enema outside my own house! Karen certainly had never mentioned them before (possibly for the same reasons that I hadn’t). I decided not to say anything about it right then, even though I was dying to know who they were going to be used on.
I kept an eye on that bag though, and saw Mrs. C. put two of them into the hall closet, and take the third into the bathroom. It seemed to me that she was getting ready to use it on someone. I couldn’t help wondering who. Karen had two younger sisters, Chris and Colleen, perhaps they might be the recipients.
As I pondered this, Karen and I returned to our card game. We had only been playing for a few minuets, when her mother appeared at the doorway to the room and told Karen to come with her to the bathroom so she could get her medicine. Karen asked what kind of medicine it was, but all Mrs. C. said was that it was to help get rid of the tummyache she had been having. As Karen rose to go, her mother explained that it wouldn’t take very long, and that I could stay and watch TV until they were through.
I watched as Karen followed her mother into the bathroom. When I heard the door close, I quietly made my way over there myself. I was sure that she was going to get the enema, and I had never seen anyone else get an enema before, (especially a girl!).
When I reached the door, I listened quietly as Mrs. C. explained to her daughter what she was going to do. From what I could tell, this was the first time Karen had ever gotten an enema.
Luckily, their bathroom door did not close very tightly, and I was able to see in between it and the frame. As I gazed into the room, I saw Mrs. C. take a towel and spread it on the floor. She then told Karen to take her pants off and kneel on the towel. Reluctantly, Karen unsnapped her pants, tugged them down to her ankles and stepped out of them. Now, I had seen her naked on several occasions, but I was more exited now than I had ever been as I looked at her standing there in her flower covered white panties.
As I watched more intently now, Karen’s mother guided her over to the towel and had her kneel down. She then removed the enema from its box and placed it on the floor next to her. Karen eyed the syringe with a look of apprehension as her mother took hold of her panties and gently pulled them down.
From my vantage point, I had a side view of the whole operation. Karen’s mother positioned her in the classic ‘knee-chest’ position, which was something new for me, having received all of my enemas face down over mom’s lap. With Karen in this position, I had a good view of her face, but I could not see too well what her mother was doing behind her. I watched Mrs. C. pick up the enema, remove the protective cover from the tip, then put her hand on her daughter’s hind end. She gently spread Karen’s cute buttocks and placed the enema tip against her anus. Karen closed her eyes as her mother slowly pushed the nozzle into her. I heard her gasp slightly when Mrs. C. squeezed the syringe, sending the water deep into her bowels. When it was empty, Mrs. C. pulled the enema from Karen’s rectum and dropped it into the wastebasket. Karen immediately complained that she had to go, but her mother told her to remain where she was for a little bit while the enema did its work. While they were waiting I saw Mrs. C. gently stroking Karen’s rump to make her feel a little better.
After a couple of minutes, Mrs. C. told Karen that she could now go to the toilet. Wasting no time, Karen quickly go up and plunked herself down on the commode. I took this opportunity to sneak back into the other room.
When Karen finally came back into the room, neither she or I said anything about her enema, but at later times, we did do some experimenting. That’s another story though.