I vaguely remember getting an enema when I was very young. I don’t remember much about it, except for having to bend over while I got a nozzle on the end of a bulb stuck in me, then a squirt of water, then sitting on the toilet. As I got older, the idea of water going up my rear end seemed unpleasant. I got this notion from hearing my older sister scream during the procedure along with hearing a few friends tell about how they got a hose stuck up their butt and how awful it was. I had seen a hot water bottle with a hose and several nozzles stored in a bathroom cabinet and the whole thing looked like something to avoid. Then when I was nearly 11, all this changed.
I had been sick for several days and one particular day, I was very ill, spending my time either throwing up or in bed. The only thing I could swallow was water. My mother was on the phone with the doctor’s office several times. Although I was beyond the normal age for it, my mother was so concerned about getting an accurate reading that she decided she should take my temperature rectally. So about three times during the day, I rolled onto my stomach with my pajamas pulled down, while she greased a thermometer with Vaseline, then gently slid it into my rectum. I got an erection every time.
That evening I continued to feel miserable and vomited several more times. Finally my mom came into my room carrying a bath towel. She told me that she’d talked with the doctor and he wanted her to give me an enema. I felt a sudden knot in my stomach as I thought to myself, “That’s where they squirt water up your butt.” Without explaining what was going to happen, she told me to get undressed from the waist down. I sat up on the side of the bed and pulled my pajama bottoms off while she spread the towel on the bed. As I got back into bed, she told me to lie down on my stomach. I did as I was told and she pulled the covers back up over me. At this point she said, “Now I’m going to go get the enema ready for you and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I was dreading what was coming.
Several minutes later she returned and I looked toward the door to see her walk in carrying the equipment I’d seen in the cabinet. The dull-red hose and black nozzle were attached to the bloated hot water bag, which was also a dull-red color and about half full of water. She also carried a jar of Vaseline. She put the jar on the night stand, then pulled the covers off me with her free hand. She laid the bag and hose on the bed, opened the jar and greased the nozzle, then returned the jar to the night stand. After the nozzle was well lubricated, she moved the hot water bottle so it was on the bed between my legs. “You need to be very relaxed for this,” she said. Then she parted my bottom and pushed the nozzle into my rectum. “It’s only a quart of water. The doctor said I shouldn’t give you any more than a quart.” With that, she raised the bag and opened the clamp.
I felt the sudden surge of warm water running into me. Although I’d been dreading it, I was surprised that it wasn’t unpleasant at all. It actually felt kind of good and I was suddenly aware that I had an erection.
She held the hot water bottle just a foot or so above me. “I’m going to give this to you slowly. That way it will be easier for you to take.” I just laid there quietly, getting my first “real” enema. As the hot water bottle drained, the pressure mounted inside me. After a while I told her I was feeling pretty full. She told me to try to take it all and said it was almost over. By now it wasn’t pleasant and I was tightening up to hold it. Finally she said, “It’s all done. I’ll take the hose out now.” I relaxed just a little while she pulled the nozzle out of me. I was in agony so I got out of bed and ran for the toilet. She told me to try to hold it for a while so the enema would have a chance to work. I expelled enough to relieve the discomfort, then held the rest for as long as I could. The next day, I felt 1000% better.
Just a couple of years later, I discovered the joy of masturbation. I remembered how aroused I’d been during the early part of getting the enema. One evening I was in the main bathroom getting ready to take a shower when I began to explore the cabinets. When I spotted the syringe (the same as before), I decided to try it out. I attached a nozzle to the hose, then ran warm water and filled the hose and clamped it shut. I didn’t want to fill the hot water bottle, I just wanted to try an experiment. I lubed the nozzle with a little Vaseline, then stuck it up my butt. I opened the clamp and raised the hose and the water drained into me. It felt as good as I remembered, so I turned the faucet on again and refilled the hose, lifted it again and got another squirt. I removed the nozzle from my bottom and cleaned everything, then carefully returned it to where I had found it. I masturbated, then expelled the small enema I’d just given myself. I did this once in a while, only when I thought I’d have enough privacy, but this was rare and the enemas were always very small. I decided to learn all that I could about enemas, and browsed any books at the library that might tell me more. I began to fantasize regularly about being given an enema. I wanted to experience it again.
Finally, the time arrived when I had several hours at home alone. By now I was about 14. After everyone had left, I went to the bathroom and got out the syringe. This time it was new equipment. The hot water bottle was pastel green and the hose and nozzles were white. I picked out the large douche nozzle, not really knowing the difference. I measured a quart of warm water into the hot water bottle, attached the hose and nozzle, then inverted the bag to force the air out, then clamped the hose shut. I left everything on the counter while I quickly undressed. I eagerly greased the nozzle, then hung the hot water bottle on a towel rack. I laid down on the floor on my side and carefully pushed the large greasy nozzle into my rectum, then rolled onto my stomach.
I’d waited for this moment for months. I was lying face down on the floor of the bathroom, poised to receive a full quart of warm water from a bloated hot water bottle hanging high above me, with a hose dangling downward to a douche nozzle that was stuck in my tight, puckered hole. At long last, I was about to get another enema, even if I had to do it myself.
I was breathing heavily, my heart was pounding and my cock was firmly erect. I reached back for the hose, took a deep breath and opened the clamp. The warm water rushed into me, spraying out the sides of the douche nozzle, quickly filling me with warm water. I was in ecstasy lying there savoring all the sensations from the enema, highly aroused. Before long, I was having a spontaneous orgasm. Without any other stimulation, I was ejaculating while the enema raced into me. By the time I recovered from my orgasm, I looked up to see that the bag was nearly empty. I closed the clamp, then rolled onto my side and withdrew the nozzle. As I stood up, I noticed the milky pool I’d left on the floor.
I’ve never forgotten the intense orgasm I had from the sensation of the warm water squirting into me. Ever since then, an enema has been the most erotic experience for me. Other things arouse me, but nothing quite like an enema.