Why I Love My EnemasEver since I was a baby, I've had a terrible constipation problem. Starting from my infancy, my mother would solve the problem of her "colicy baby" by sliding the nozzle of a child enema bulb into me, filling me with water, and thereby unplugging me. My earliest memories are of being across her lap, a towel under me, my bottom smeared with lots of Vaseline, and the nozzle of the child bulb slipping in and out of me, each penetration making me feel more full of nice hot water.
As I got older, 5 or so, I remember getting a wave of naughty pleasure, every time I heard Mom say, "Honey, you need an enema." I'd get undressed, walk to her room, and there'd be a basin full of warm water, sometimes plain, sometimes soapy, and Mom would have a towel over her lap, the bulb all full of water, and the jar of Vaseline near by. She was quite open with the rest of the family, and our friends, talking about how horribly constipated I always got, and how thankful she was that I never made a fuss about taking my enemas. Sometimes, my sister would be with her when I got them, or even other relatives or friends of hers. This just made the pleasure that much more naughty, and fun for me.
I will never forget the day, some time after my 8th birthday, when Mom called out that it was time for my enema. I was watching TV with my sister, who was 12 at the time. When my Mom called me, my sister positively smirked at me, and told me, "Now, you're really going to get it." I asked what she meant, and just replied that I'd find out. I really liked my enemas, so I wasn't at all worried. Even when my sister followed me to Mom's bedroom, I was just happy to know I was going to get my enema. If my sister watched, which she frequently did, I'd just enjoy it all the more.
When I walked in, I saw not the usual bulb, but a full-sized two quart adult enema bag in Mom's hands. It was open-topped, and I could not only see a bit of steam from the water, but soapsuds were overflowing the top of the bag. I stopped dead in my tracks, and Mom saw how shocked I was. She spoke very reassuringly to me, "Honey, I think you're big enough now to take an adult enema. You don't need the little boy bulb any more. This is how I give Daddy his enemas. Will you try to take your enema like Daddy does for me?"
I managed to stutter something about how I'd try to be a good boy for her, and take it, which sent my sister into gales of giggles. She pointed to my pants and said "Look at him, Mom. He's going to love it as much as Daddy does." When she said this, I glanced down at my pants, and saw that my little boy penis standing up stiff and hard, like it was trying to poke out of my pants. This had never happened before, to my knowledge. I was a little self-conscious, but I knew that more than anything I'd ever wanted, I wanted that bag of soapsuds in my bottom. I silently got out of my clothes, listening to my sister's giggles, and slowly walked over to Mom. Since she didn't say anything to the contrary, I got into my usual position, across her lap, but this time, as soon as my little erection felt her thighs under me, I knew something wonderful was going to happen. I looked up, and saw her smearing Vaseline all over the biggest nozzle I'd ever seen.
The size of the nozzle scared me, as did the realization of how big the bag was, but I didn't want to protest. I knew I wanted it all inside me, and having my sister see it happen made the anticipation ever better. Mom finally finished greasing up the nozzle, and then, as she'd always done, pressed her slippery finger against my hole back there. It felt so good, as it always did, and I managed to relax. When she pressed the nozzle against me, I did what I always did for the bulb nozzle: I lifted my tiny butt up to meet it. I dimly heard my sister murmur "Just like Daddy" as the nozzle slowly stretched me, and slid in. When I felt it all the way in me, nice and snug, I looked up, met Mom's eyes, and told her "I'm ready to take my enema now, Mommy." She gave me a big smile, and for the first time in my life, I heard the most wonderful sound in the world: the clamp on the enema bag opening.
I couldn't believe how wondeful it felt, the hot soapy water filling my bottom in a steady stream. Mom kept asking if I wanted her to stop the flow of my enema, but I kept telling her no. I never wanted that flow to stop, it felt so wonderful. I'd taken about half the bag, and was in heaven, when my sister said "Move the nozzle, Mommy, like you taught me to do with Daddy. I know he'll love that." At that point, Mom looked at me, into my eyes, and I felt her start to slowly move the nozzle in and out of my bottom. That made it feel even more wonderful, though I'd never have believed that was possible. I instinctly started moving my bottom in rhythm with the nozzle, it felt so good. My sister shouted "I knew he'd like it, I knew it."
Just as the last of the soapsuds poured into my bottom, I felt my little stiff penis do something it had never done before. I squealed with pleasure, and felt my little penis doing something it had never done before, and it was something I knew I loved. My sister started yelling "He's squirting, isn't he? Just like Daddy does, isn't he, Mommy?" My Mom could only nod, as a puddle of little boy *** shot onto her thighs.
Mom closed the clamp after I took the last of the bag, and as she pulled the nozzle out of me, telling me I needed to hold it in for at least 15 minutes, so to just lay still, my sister gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and reminded me, "This was a soapy enema, so I hope you realize that after you've held it in, and then gotten rid of it, you're going to need another bag to rinse you out?"
I was never so happy to hear something in my life.