| Subject: Did you ever get more than you bargained for ? |
Author:
Dave
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Date Posted: Monday, April 10, 2017, 09:29: pm
Did anyone ever get more than they bargained for by asking a
nurse/doctor too many questions about enemas?
I did once, and here is my story :
Growing up in England during the late 50's, I got my fair share of enemas over Mothers knee from potty training right up till I was almost 5. They were all small volume bulb enemas
usually consisting of about 3 or 4 insertions per session.
I certainly had no love for enemas back then, in fact I always found them humiliating,scary and somewhat painful.
I was glad when she switched to laxatives, although I soon found that I was rather intrigued by the whole subject of internal cleansing,and developed a strange desire to know more about it. Maybe it was the way the enema seemed to totally invade me (body and soul) forcing my bowels into immediate action leaving me feeling weak and helpless.
(I suppose it was the kind of fascination one feels watching some dangerous animal from a safe distance)
Most of the time my mother had said very little, just greased my bum and squeezed it in. I felt a bit shy to ask questions, so I just kept my ears open to other peoples conversations.
By the time I was 7 my Grandma had become so frail and invalid that Mother hired a 'live in' nurse to look after her. Grandma didn't stay in the main house but in a small cottage at the bottom of our garden.
Sister Whitfield was a nice lady (about 25 or so) and I liked her a lot. One afternoon when I went to see my Gran
I was told to come back later as she was taking a nap.
I was about to leave when I noticed a strange object hanging up in the bathroom and asked the nurse about it.
She said it was a higginson syringe and explained that my Gran had needed an enema that morning.
Needless to say my interest was very much aroused,(she had started a thread of conversation and I was keen not to let it go) so I told her it looked very different from what Mother had used on me. She smiled and said "Its mainly used for older children and adults ". I ventured further and asked a dozen or more questions until she looked a bit puzzled and said "David....you seem very concerned about such things....whats wrong dear ? Are you constipated ?
My heart missed a beat! I felt for a moment like I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. My face went red and I managed to mumble " Um - a little bit...."
"More like a lot, I think " she replied putting her arm around me. "Its nothing to be ashamed of, you know, lots of children your age have that problem, especially with all the rubbish they eat nowadays...come now, lets take a look at you...."
To make a long story short, she gave me a thorough check up
including a rectal exam (which caused me to blush even more)
She said I was more or less ok, but my tummy didnt seem too
good "far too much wind down there".
I asked her in a trembling voice if she was going to enema me and she replied "I can't see any reason why not. It would do you a world of good and I think your mother would agree!"
I begged her not tell Mother for fear that I might get punished if she thought I was 'holding back'.
Nurse Whitfield promised she wouldn't and began to prepare the soapsuds. (At that moment I really felt like Id 'painted myself into a corner'. I had just wanted to talk about enemas, but I never planned on getting one !!)
I voiced my fears about the painful multiple insertions my mother had given me. I soon got re-assured "No David, I promise it wont be like that" She pointed to the nozzle
"Now listen, when I put this in your botty it stays there till the enema's complete, unless you find you cant take any more,but then you must tell me and I shall pull it out and let you 'go'."
I felt more confident. She made me kneel on a thick towel
resting my arms and head on the edge of the bathtub.
There was no need for more lubrication.She pressed the nozzle gently against my anus and waited for me to
relax. To my surprise it glided in painlessly and felt quite comfortable as the muscles clenched around it.
She asked me if I was ready and then began pumping.
There was nothing unusual about the first squirt, but as she continued and the enema worked its way deeper inside me, I
noticed a pleasant tingling ticklish sensation seemed to spread through my whole body.
I also noticed something else. My penis was starting to swell and become very stiff. About half way through the enema, a great wave of pleasure seemed to lift me up and carry me away! I didn't realize it then, but I had just experienced my first orgasm (albeit a dry one)
Shortly after that she stopped pumping ,reached down and gave me a tummy rub. She then asked if I could take more
and when I said ok, she continued syringing me.
After a while she stopped and said "Well, young man....you
should be feeling quite full by now, so I think we can all it a day."
With that she withdrew the nozzle and holding my bum tightly
closed helped me onto the toilet. I promised to try and retain "for at least 10 min" before she left the room, but my tummy was telling loud and clear me I never would!
She seemed satisfied with the results and remarked that there seemed nothing much wrong with my bowels.
"A bit lazy perhaps....I'd like to give you another one but
I think we should leave it for a few days and see how you are next week." She also said I was not to delay the call of nature no matter how busy I was was but to 'go' asap.
"Come and see me on Thursday at 3 o'clock"
That was a good time as I knew I'd be just back from school,
Mother would be at the tennis club and Gran would be asleep.
I never thought I could ever look forward to getting an
enema, and could hardly believe my sense of excitement as
the time approached.
When I told her I still felt as bit clogged up, she just smiled and said "I thought as much, thats why I'd like you to try and take a little more this time ".
It was probably just as well, because I didn't orgasm till the last few pumps (even though my erection began as soon as she lubed my anus). It hadn't quite subsided when she helped me onto the 'loo, so she must have noticed, but she made no comment.
This time she made no further appointments, but just told me
that if I had any more tummy troubles I shouldn't be shy to
come and tell her.
I decided to leave it for a while, cause I didnt want to make things too obvious (and maybe my mother might get to hear of it).
Maybe I left it a bit too long, because about a month later Grandma suddenly passed away.
Naturally I was grief stricken for some time and all thoughts of enema pleasure vanished from my mind.
By that time Sister Whitfield had moved on to another job
and I never saw her again (though I often fantasised about meeting up with her). Mother never gave me enemas again (though I did try in secret during my late teens) and it was many years before I finally met an 'enema girl' who was will ing to share my predelictions.
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