Enemas have been a major part of my life since the age of twelve, and I would very much like to know if the evolution of my own feelings are a common thread. One of the realizations that I've come to terms with over the last few years is how close to the line of incest some of my experiences have gone, and I wonder if this is a common feeling in the enema experience.
Not that I would change anything at all in my experiences. If anything, I realize how much of a catalyst I was to the growing intensity of my adventures, almost from the very beginning. Is this a common thread as well?
So to beginnings...
The enemas began that summer, arriving quite unexpectedly. It was probably coincidence that they seemed to explode at the same time my own sexuality was suddenly exploding. Everything began with my mother's best friend Carol, who had been in my life so long I had started to call her "Aunt Carol" even though we weren't truly related. She and Mom were probably bonded by the fact that both were single parents. Carol had a daughter, Susan, who was a year or so older than me. They lived outside of Annapolis, Maryland on a secluded piece of property, in a house that seemed like a mansion to me compared to the apartment that Mom and I shared.
Carol had always been a health fanatic, and that was probably the very beginnings of the whole topic of enemas. Apparently she had been converted to the idea and had been giving them to Susan for a while, and that summer she finally convinced Mom that it was time for me to start. Carol was few years older than Mom, and I guess had adopted the more dominant personality in their friendship. I remember Mom explaining the whole concept of an enema, trying hard to remove my fears. And I honestly don't ever remember being afraid. Susan had mentioned them in passing a few times that summer, and without really understanding them, all I gleaned was that Susan didn't seem to mind them too much, though she didn't share many details.
One factor which probably lessened the intimidation factor for me was that I had always been raised with a casual attitude about nudity around the apartment or Carol's house. Both Mom and Carol liked to sunbathe naked in the secluded back yard, and Mom had never made an issue of covering herself in her bedroom or coming out of the shower. I don't think I had really paid much attention until that summer, but I do remember spending a little more time watching them both sunbathe and connecting that fact to my increasing number of erections.
I knew that stroking my cock when it was hard created some pleasant sensations, but I didn't yet connect the process of masturbation to actual orgasms. I don't think I'd actually had an orgasm, but I think I had started to come closer during my fumbling.
The day of the enema arrived on a steamy Saturday in July. Late in the afternoon, Mom called Susan and I in from our romping and told me to take a quick shower to get clean for the enema. I remember Susan giving me a smirk as we went into the house, but at that point I didn't have any way to understand her amusement.
Mom escorted me into the guest bathroom and made sure I took a thorough shower. I didn't realize it at the time, but we were establishing the basics of what would be the enema ritual for many years to come. Mom toweled me dry and then took me by the hand and led me into Carol's bedroom. A towel had been laid on the bed with a pillow in the middle, and Mom walked over and patted it, telling me to lie down on my back. Then she explained that I would be pulling my knees up to my chest so that my hole would be exposed. She propped the pillow under my hips, lifting my ass higher and helping me to pull my knees toward my chest. At that moment, Carol came out of her bathroom carrying a bowl in one hand and an enormous red plastic syringe in the other. Mom must have felt me tense at the sight, because she immediately began to reassure me that I would barely feel it going in once I was relaxed.
Carol sat down on the bed between my wide-spread legs, and I watched as she dipped her finger into a jar of Vaseline. She smiled down at me and I felt her fingers spreading my cheeks a little wider. I must have gasped when her finger touched my anus the first time. Once again Mom was quick to reassure me, but I wasn't the least bit afraid. Just the opposite. I was immediately amazed at how incredible it felt to have my asshole slowly and gently rubbed. I was in heaven! But what I was quickly realizing was that my cock was also responding to the sensations at my asshole. I tried to tighten my abdomen to fight off the feeling of a raging erection that was coming on, and Mom must have thought it was fear because she again stroked my forehead and told me to relax.
Now I had had erections in front of Mom and Carol, and even Susan before. I was often partially erect when Mom bathed me. But somehow this was a different situation. I had never been throbbing right in front of her for more than a few seconds, and my cock was quickly inflating to a stiffness it had never had before. In spite of my efforts, the sensations rising from my asshole and tightening testicles won out, and my cock continued to rise toward a full erection.
I held my breath as Carol continued to massage my hole, and then gasped when she slowly began to penetrate me. If the sensations before were incredible, these were absolutely amazing! Within a dozen heartbeats, my cock was throbbing and twitching on my stomach. I was staring at the swollen head like I'd never seen it before, and in truth, I'd never seen it like THAT before. I closed my eyes, half-expecting for Carol and Mom to stop the enema when they realized my cock was going to stay completely hard. But instead, Carol simply continued to work her finger around inside my asshole, and Mom continued to stroke my forehead and my thighs. They didn't seem to mind at all!
It's hard for me to really describe what a revelation that was. And it also quickly insured that I was going to love the enema experience from that moment forward. Carol lubricated me for another few minutes, and I could have stayed there all night long. I gave a sigh of disappointment when she finally pulled her finger out of me, and I watched with a little trepidation as the nozzle of the syringe took its place at my hole. But just as Mom had promised, it penetrated me without any discomfort.
Then I felt another incredible sensation as the warm water began to flow into my bowels. Carol went slowly, and I know now that she was mostly just getting me used to the feeling of the enema rather than trying to do a real therapeutic procedure. Within a few minutes, Mom helped me off the bed and into the bathroom. I was ready to release the moment I sat on the toilet, and never even cared that both Mom and Carol were in the room with me. I was also amazed to discover the feel of the water flowing out of was very pleasant. So pleasant in fact that my cock stayed rigid and pointing up at my face the entire time I sat on the toilet.
When I was completely empty, Mom wiped my ass with a washcloth and led me back into Carol's bedroom. I was instantly pleased to discover that an enema involved several fillings, and I didn't need any coaxing to lie down and pull my knees up to my chest, exposing my asshole once again. Carol didn't spend quite as much time lubricating me the second time around, but my cock seemed to throb harder this time, as if I was more able to enjoy the sensations. When I had finished emptying the second time, Mom led me into the bathroom and steered me into the shower. Then she stripped and got in with me, as if uncertain I'd be able to stay on my feet.
And truthfully, I was in a kind of mental limbo. My cock was still rock hard and my head was spinning. I felt the warm water running over me, enjoying the feel of Mom soaping my body. I remember especially enjoying her touch as she washed the crack of my ass and my cock. In fact, I jumped when she stroked my cock with a soapy fist, and she stopped and looked at me for a minute. Finally she just smiled and said, "I bet that felt good," and finished rinsing me off.
Once again, I didn't know it at the time, but another part of the enema ritual was being formed. The entire experience was one of unexpected pleasure and surprising revelation. Even then standing in the shower with her, I knew that a doorway to wonderful experiences was being opened, even if I barely understood much of what had happened.
So that's the beginning.
The first enema experience was a catalyst of many things in me. Perhaps these were changes already in process , and this first experience simply accelerated the process, but I was immediately aware of differences in the way I felt and acted. Most obvious to me was the sudden fascination with my own body, and much more specifically, my cock and my asshole.
My attempts at masturbation were still fumbling and mostly ineffective. But I was displaying an erection nearly all the time I was naked, and very often stroking it as well. Susan certainly noticed my perpetual stiffy, and used it to torture me quite often. She quickly taught me an important truth about an erection...that it felt very different, and much more exciting, when someone else was doing the stroking.
That became an effective way for her to get me to do whatever she wanted; and almost instantly effective bribe.
"I'll rub it for you," she would smirk, usually after finding me stroking off in some corner of Carol's house. "But only for a little while..." She must have been born with an instinct to limit the amount of pleasure to give me with her hand, because her offers always seemed to come with a time limit.
It was also shortly after that first enema that I started paying much more attention to both Mom and Carol when they were naked. At home, I found myself drawn to the bathroom whenever Mom was using it. As I mentioned, she had never been in the habit of closing doors, even when she was using the toilet. So I found myself wandering into the bathroom and starting a conversation while she was in the tub, or sitting on the toilet. I don't think I really understood the reasons for my increased interest...only that somehow it was much more exciting to be around her when she was naked.
At Carol's, I started to pay much more attention when Mom, and Carol, and sometimes a few other women were sunbathing naked, or nearly naked. I discovered a few places, both inside and outside the house, that had perfect vantage points to watch the back patio behind the house, and would invariably end up stroking an aching erection as I watched. In a vague way, I also began to sense a difference in the levels of my arousal as I spied on different women. Almost as if a different kind of button was being pushed if I was watching Mom, or Carol, or one of their friends. One in particular produced incredibly strong erections in my cock, so much so that it even surprised me. Bonnie was a little older than Mom or Carol, taller and very thin. What intrigued me at the time was her apparent understanding of what was happening in my jeans every time I saw her naked. She had a certain way of smiling at me that always seemed to cut right down to the deepest, most embarrassed part of me. She was probably my first true experience in lusting after a female, and those feelings would play a significant part in an adventure soon to happen.
Susan also quickly discovered my new-found passion for spying on the women, and being Susan, used it to her advantage all through my teenage years. She caught me at the window in the den that looked out over the patio one afternoon, busily stroking my erection as I stood mesmerized by the sight of Carol oiling her slender ass and legs.
"Spying?" Susan had asked, knowing the answer as I blushed from head to foot and turned around.
There was no way to hide the huge boner jutting out from between my thighs, and I had long since learned with Susan that you didn't talk her out of an obvious truth. I was caught, and she would decide the punishment. And then an amazing thing happened...there didn't seem to be a punishment. Susan simply joined me at the window, taking note of what I had been watching, and very casually wrapped her fist around the head of my cock. She pumped me for a short while, and then gave me a look which connected us as unspoken partners in some private crime. Then she went running off without another word, leaving me with the feeling that I'd just learned something without knowing what it was.
But she was much more demanding when she discovered my fascination with my own asshole. It was only a few days after the first enema that she caught me in the bathroom, bent from the waist with my ass towards the mirror, trying to watch and push a finger in my rectum at the same time. My goal had been to re-create the incredible sensations that Carol's finger had created during that first enema, but the results were definitely not the same.
"You can't do it yourself," Susan had said, announcing her presence in the doorway. She laughed and came into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She had obviously been spying on my efforts for a while, because she was carrying the jar of Vaseline that Carol had used to grease her finger during the enema. "And you have to use this stuff..." she continued, shoving the Vaseline into my face.
She adopted a sudden air of authority as she sat down on the edge of the tub and said, "Turn around and bend over."
I must have hesitated for a moment, because suddenly her eyes flashed and her voice sounded more like Mom or Carol as she repeated, "Turn around and bend over!"
And I did, very meekly. But my cock which had been mostly soft during my own explorations was now throbbing quickly to a full erection. Susan pushed her greased finger against my hole, and I grunted in recognition of the sensations I had been trying to re-create myself. I knew instantly that she had been right...you just couldn't make yourself feel these feelings. I was learning another lesson about human sensuality without really knowing it, but it quickly added to my certainty that enemas could provide sensations that you couldn't find anywhere else!
"Feel good?" Susan asked, a smirk in her voice as her moved her finger around in my ass. Her touch was much rougher than Carol's, and she wasn't very good at finding the spots inside of me that triggered the most intense sensations, but I was in heaven just the same. Suddenly she stopped and told me to turn around, and when I displayed my throbbing cock, she just laughed, as if she had just learned something from the experiment as well. She was still smiling a superior smile as she breezed out of the bathroom, leaving me with a hard cock, greased hole, and the still-vivid sensations of her finger inside my ass.
With all of these changes, I was obviously very much anticipating the arrival of me next enema. No one had mentioned any kind of a schedule for the enemas, except to vaguely say they would happen "every so often". But I had no idea of what "every so often" meant. Once a month? Once a year? I even tried to get the answer from Susan, who had only laughed at my obvious interest.
"You liked having your butt cleaned out?" she giggled.
I just stared back, letting my erection be the obvious answer to her question. But beyond that, she either wouldn't or couldn't say. I was forced to wait until I could muster the courage to broach the subject with Mom. It had been about two or three weeks since the first enema when my arousal finally pushed me over the edge of cowardice. Mom was in the bathtub one evening, and I eased in and took my usual seat on the toilet. I had carefully constructed an entire diversionary conversation in my head that would ease into the topic of enemas without Mom being aware. In the moment I sat on the toilet, all of that cleverness vanished and I was left with a few seconds of awkward silence and a blurted out question of how often you were supposed to get enemas!
I was mortified at my ineptitude, but Mom only laughed.
"Did you enjoy your enema?" she asked, but I think she knew the answer already. "It's about time for another, I think."
And with that my heart was racing. I had quickly fallen into a pattern that would stay with me for the rest of my life...anticipating my next enema experience. More than that really. I began to plan my next enema experience, and that outlook became a factor in all the adventures to follow.
