How I played with an enema alone at home

My parents were still at work when I returned from school, and I was alone in the apartment for some time. After coming home from college, I was supposed to make lunch, eat, wash the dishes, sometimes clean up, and then sit down to study. And then, in the evening, I could watch TV or relax in other ways. But I almost never completed my plan fully and on time. I was a big lazybones.

In the bathroom, in the cabinet, lay that very enema syringe I was so familiar with. It was used to give me enemas in childhood. It had been lying there unused for a very long time, and it really would have been

best to throw it away, but everyone had long forgotten about it, and it was just lying there.

One day, when I returned a bit earlier than usual, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. My thoughts were about sex. Then I remembered the enema in the cabinet, and I wanted to take it out to examine it more closely. I opened the cabinet door and took out the enema. The plastic tip on the rubber bulb was exactly the same as on the enema with a hose, which lay on another shelf in the same cabinet. I had never been given an enema with a hose, but I know that such an enema was once given to my mother.

I examined the syringe for a long time, especially the tip. The tip was white and smooth with a small hole at the top through which water was supposed to flow. It was divided into two parts, unequal in thickness—thinner at the end and more expanded toward the base. The base of the tip itself was bordered by a plastic circumference that rested against the rubber of the bulb.

I looked at this tip and it was scary for me to imagine that such a thing is inserted into patients' butts, although it had been inserted into me once. And I began to understand that I wanted to do it to myself. I suddenly wanted to pull down my pants, go to the room, lie on my side as I lay when I was given enemas as a child, and insert it into my butt. I don't know why I wanted this, but I wished to amuse myself in this way, and thoughts about it excited me. I imagined myself going and doing it right now. I was completely alone at home; no one was supposed to come home for about another 3 hours. And I decided to do what I had been fantasizing about so passionately.

I pulled down my pants with my underwear and lay on the sofa on my side, then I inserted the enema tip into my butt. The tip entering my anus gave me very unexpected, new, and pleasant sensations. I lay on my side, bending my knees and tucking them under my stomach. In this position, my buttocks spread apart a bit, and access to my hole was slightly opened. I slowly inserted the tip into my anal opening and listened to all the sensations I had at that moment. I felt how first the thinner upper part of the tip slipped into my hole, how it went deeper and deeper into my hole, and I even felt surprised at how long my anus perceived it compared to how I estimated its length when looking at it—it seems that when it's inserted into the anal opening, it feels much longer than it actually is.

I continued to gradually insert the tip further. It was simply pure bliss. I felt how excitement seized my anus, my entire perineum, and also my genitals: my scrotum simply shriveled up, and my penis was as hard as steel like never before. This entire area of my erogenous zones became covered in goosebumps, on which sweat appeared. My heart was pounding with all its might, and my breathing became deep and heavy. I felt that my mind was almost completely clouded, and I was being carried away from this mortal world of inconveniences and sufferings somewhere to the heavens in paradise. kkiss18.net I wanted to spread my legs apart to feel the bliss to the fullest, and I moved my bent knee upward so that my genitals were free.

I began to feel that the thinner upper part of the tip had already completely entered my rear opening and the lower, more expanded part of it began to enter. The difference in thickness of the different parts of the enema tip was very acutely felt by my delicate, excited anus. Then I realized that I had already inserted it completely and that it had ended and wouldn't go in further. The plastic ring was pressing against my skin around the anal opening. I froze in this position for a short while—with the enema inserted into my butt, lying on my side on the sofa with my legs spread apart, bent at the knees, and tucked under my stomach. And I became afraid that someone would enter the room now and see me like this. It was some kind of baseless fear because no one was there, and I knew for sure that no one was supposed to come anytime soon. Moreover, the door was locked from the inside, so even if someone came, they would have to knock on the door first.

I carefully pulled the tip out of my butt back. Pulling it out was not as pleasant and even, on the contrary, unpleasant. The enema tip pulled out of the anal opening was wet, and some of this moisture soiled the outside of my anus, which I really didn't like. After it was extracted, I felt a certain discomfort in my rectum. I brought the enema to my face to examine the pulled-out tip in detail. It smelled of the contents of my rectum, and its hole was clogged with a brown piece of feces. It was also visible that the tip pulled out of my butt was covered with some moisture. I brought the tip to my nose and smelled it. I know this might seem very strange, but I liked this smell, despite all my understanding and recognition of what kind of smell it was.

And I wanted to insert the enema into myself again. I pressed the bulb several times to blow out the clogged tip—a gray lump shot out of it onto the floor. Then I inserted the enema into myself again exactly as the first time, but now it wasn't as pleasant for me—after the first penetration, the tip somehow affected the walls of my rectum. Now I had a certain discomfort there, and the second penetration was not like the first one. Thus, the most pleasant was precisely the first invasion, or at least—the one that was the first after a long absence of external influences.

I got up from the sofa, put on my pants, and went to the bathroom to wash the enema tip. I washed it and carefully smelled it again to make sure it didn't smell. Afterward, I put the enema back in exactly the same position it was in before.

Then I started masturbating, as I usually did after school. After I finished satisfying myself, I went to another room to work on my project.

But the mental task for some reason wasn't progressing at all... I kept thinking about the enema. Nevertheless, that day I didn't do anything more with the enema. Mom came in the evening as usual and made dinner. She didn't even suspect what had happened with me when I was home alone. And I was very worried that Mom would discover the enema was wet and suspect something, although these were also vain fears because I had thoroughly wiped the enema, and generally, that cabinet in the bathroom was rarely looked into. When I took a shower that evening, I slightly opened that cabinet to make sure the enema was dry and that it was lying on the shelf in the same position as before. I did it quietly so that Mom (who had just entered the kitchen at that moment) wouldn't accidentally hear anything and understand that I was opening this cabinet—again, vain worries.

When I came out of the bathroom, I began to worry that Mom, through the bathroom wall, had actually heard me opening the cabinet door where the syringe lies, and that she would be interested in why I went there. I lay in bed, the light in the room was off, and the door to my room was closed. Mom was still doing something in the kitchen. I lay there and was afraid that Mom would actually look into the cabinet now and realize that I had indeed taken the enema from there today. But my worries were in vain. It really didn't even occur to her what I had been doing today.

God forbid any rumors start about my activities today! Probably, if they find out, they'll think I'm some kind of pervert or mentally retarded. Yeah, there probably aren't many guys like me who would think of shoving enemas up their butts. But, thank God, no one knows about this! I hope no one will know about it in the future either. I promised myself that I did this today for the first and last time, although I couldn't keep this promise to myself later on.

I still didn't have a girlfriend; I was still a virgin. This thought always troubled me greatly and made me feel inadequate. But it somewhat distracted my mind from worries about exposure. In principle, I actually didn't worry much about the fact that I still had no sexual experience, and soon the thoughts left my head, and I fell asleep.