I don’t think I can live without enemas. By enemas, I mean all anal play. I am starving to speak about it AND, if possible, DO it with someone. I like to have all kinds of anal stimulation: introducing vegetables, big ones, long ones: keeping my anus gaping, going to work with something in it: doing my jogging or bike riding while plugged. Once, I filled my belly with 2 liters of water and got on my bike. Surprisingly, after the first moments of fighting the urge to expel, it was quite bearable and very enjoyable.
I used to playing anal games with myself when I was very young. First it was with color pencils (children often receive twelve pencils in the color box). Well, I would introduce one, then another and a third one. I would push the fourth pencil between the first three, without hurting the soft inner flesh. And so on, stretching little by little my anus. I did the same with candles. Now I AM quite large and can handle quite sizable objects.
I am not really gay or bi, (i.e. men don’t excite me), but it is far easier to find men willing to play anal games than women. I met some men and did realize many fantasies…. I even went so far as to have one hand buried in my ass. It was done very slowly and delicately. The feeling is really great. One must experience this. It was the strongest orgasm I ever had, while being fisted… It happened three or four times when I was on travelling around France.
All these anal games, are accompanied by enemas of course. I read the introductory chapter of J.Knox on this subject. He says that people on the planet may be split in two categories. Those who have a positive impact of their first anal training and those who have a negative one (i.e. when their parents were toilet training them and they first learned sphincter control). I myself do not really remember this period. But, what I am sure is the use of enema tools by my mother. (metal enema can , 1 liter and 2 liters, bulb enema, vaginal and anal nozzles, vaseline etc…)
Of course, when I was ill, liver illness because of too much chocolate eating, she used to give me light enemas with lukewarm water. It WAS really enjoyable even if at the end, it caused some pressure on the liver which made me beg her to stop the process. On second thought, I am not sure that enema was really the appropriate treatment for liver illness.
Anyway, I loved the feeling of my anus greased by her fingers, the nozzle introduction, the pressure building in my bowels, the
stimulation of my sexual organs and prostate, the gurgling noise of the last drops, the expulsion and the smell and the relief. All of these sensations were present and contributed to the experience. I remember my illnesses with pleasure. My mother used to feed me vegetable soup and enemas. I also remember the injections, especially penicillin ones which were painful. My aunt was our family doctor. They boiled the needles to sterilize them, I remember.
The memory of those enemas! The orange hose and dark ebonite nozzle; that special “ caoutchouc” (rubber) smell; the pressure in my stomach; the “ Please stop!” and “It’s nearly over.” Dialogue; the running to the bathroom, half naked, in front of everybody. I suspect that my sister (4 years older than I) watched the whole session. I would run holding my buttocks tight, even putting a finger in my ass, trying to reduce the leakage. Then the long moments on the john, water splashing out noisily.
I also remember peeping through an upper window when my sister was having her own enema and vaginal douches. She really seemed to enjoy them judging by the way she stroked her vaginal lips, closing her eyes … Usually she was lying on her back, legs widely opened, in her room, her bush and the pink of her cunt lips were in full view. She would place her buttocks on the edge of a special basin, shaped for this purpose to collect waste water flowing from her vagina… What a vision! How it made my heart beat! Once, she forgot to lock the door , I don’t think it was deliberate. I entered the room. She had hooked
the enema can on a nail, one meter higher than the bed and she was lying on her back, resting on her shoulder bones, her legs in the air, her knees close to her chest . She was as usual, holding the nozzle with one hand and was moving it in and out of her cunt lips. Maybe she wanted to fill her vagina with water … I don’t know. Of course, all this vision lasted for only a fraction of second, just enough time for me to apologize and close the door but long enough for the vision to fix itself in my mind and it is still in there. Of course we never spoke about it.
The last enema my mother gave me happened when I was 16. I had a kind of food poisoning, at least, that was our diagnosis.
The fact is that when I got up, I nearly fainted. Well, I thought that this would be an apportunity to have an enema given by my mother! I was conscious of the quasi incestuous situation, but she agreed to give me the treatment. I still remember how my heart was beating as she greased my anus etc…. I never dared do it again.
I have also given myself enemas, since childhood, using my mother’s “tools” or the shower hose, in the bathroom. Once or twice, I managed to do it in my room comfortably lying down on my bed, with the danger of being caught by brother or sister or parents…. When I was camping with my boy scout group, I always managed to install a hose that I could put close to my anus and have my enemas.
But all this is overshadowed by the two enemas I gave to my wife one day when she was constipated. I told her to lie down on her left side on a bath towel and lovingly pushed my hand under her buttocks, parting the cheeks with my fingers, letting her marvelous wrinkled anus appear. Mmmmm. I greased it delicately with vaseline and slowly introduced the nozzle, asking if it hurts etc….
I have never been able to exchange these experiences with anyone until I found E-Sig and Waterluv on the Internet. Even so, I was mainly a “lurker” but little by little I decided to write to the enema community and here I am, having found friends or at least, people who want to talk and share experiences. There is so much more to this special activity than its sexual aspect