Weekly Enemas: A Cautionary Tale (with humor)

Heads up – I’mma talk about pooping, not in a sexy way. I’ll try to make it funny, though.

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Hello, my name is phi, and I like butt sex.

I have liked butt sex pretty much always. The way it worked with the partners I’d had in the past, including one guy who ONLY was into butt sex (as in, we only had vaginal sex once) and my husband who was a big fan of butt sex, was to let them know on days that I felt pretty good about it and what days I was less likely to be receptive.

‘Cause, also, Hello. My name is phi and I am frequently constipated.

The results of butt sex on the days that I was good to go was that it’d compact whatever was hanging out in the background and I’d have a few days of extreme constipation. Then the shit would eventually pass and we’re all good.

Now, a few years ago, I attended my very first GRUE and I sat in on a discussion about preparing for anal. In it, the lovely woman hosting talked about how she’d use an enema to prepare for a date during which she knew butt sex would or might be happening.

Up to this point, I’d only ever done an enema on two occasions: once when I was instructed to by my doctor prior to a colonoscopy and the second time when I mistook my gall bladder exploding for severe constipation and thought it would help.

I’d never really done this sort of thing as “prep” work.

So, after several years of unfortunate abstinence, the first time my current partner came over and I thought…”hmm, maybe tonight’s the night!” I went to the local drugstore, bought a couple of disposable fleet enemas and prepped.

He didn’t fuck me that night.

A week later, he was coming over again and I got super excited. For sure this time, right? So I used the second one.

He didn’t fuck me that night either.

After this, I decided to have a chat with him. We discussed if and when we would maybe/hopefully be having sex. I was pretty darned sure that the next time he came over, it would definitely happen.

And so it did. And butt sex was involved. Hooray! Bonus – I was able to poop the very next day! This was a revelation!

Anyway, at that point, I started ordering 6-packs then 12-packs of the fleet enemas via Amazon. Seeing as how he came over once a week, I joked that he could tell how invested I was in our relationship via my enema order.

And that was that. It worked pretty well. Every week before he’d come over, I’d clean out and then we’d do the sex and the whole two-days-constipation-post-anal thing stopped happening. It was a win-win!

Until a few weeks ago.

A few weeks ago, I was standing in the kitchen washing dishes (thankfully) alone. He’d just left, actually. And I felt the pressure of what I thought was a little gas.

It wasn’t gas.

Not at all.

I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say I had to get undressed in the shower and those panties are in a landfill by now.

After I told him about what had transpired, he mentioned having read or heard about something specific with fleet enemas having such effects.

My google search history is now quite interesting. I will save you the trouble.

One can become dependent on enemas. The fleet ones in particular do have some sort of ingredient that, over time, can cause the projectile response I experienced. Eventually, my research led me to some alternative options – namely, using a warm water “anal” douche, which the internet said one could find easily at any drugstore.

Well, it wasn’t that easy – but I did find it eventually, in the feminine products aisle – not in the butt-stuff aisle where I’d been looking. So, I bought it, threw it in my suitcase and went off to start my weekend.

Well, by the time we got to the hotel Friday night, I was…well, let’s say I was a bit anxious. I’d not had sex ALL YEAR (the year was a week old at this point). So I dispensed with the prep-work and we just….y’know, did our thing.

It was delightful.

But yeah, the whole next day I could sense that my butt would be off limits the following evening, which was kind of sad, ’cause the only thing better than butt stuff is public butt stuff.

So in between the end of the daytime event and the start of the play party, we went back to the hotel where I grabbed the still plastic-wrapped box and went to look at the instructions. In them, it describes this “smart and compact case!” that it comes with. I thought, oh, how delightful!

It’s a white plastic zippered bag.

Anyway, so I open the box and pull out this contraption and….

…it looks familiar.

I’ve seen one of these before.

As a child.

In my parent’s bathroom.

I used to think it was a balloon and that it was fun to blow air in and out of it.

I now understand my mother’s horror.

But, on the bright side, I also now understand the benefit of the smart and compact case!

In the end, (pun intended), it didn’t really work out that well that night; but I think that has more to do with the environment I was in. I was in a hotel with a small bathroom, not my own home, and there wasn’t really a comfortable place to really figure out the best position for this thing to work.

I’ll give it another shot this weekend, but if you have any further ideas….PLEASE feel free to comment below. I want to keep enjoying constipation-free anal sex without the…uh…explosive consequences.

tl;dr: weekly fleet enemas after a about a year can lead to projectile diarrhea and/or dependence. If you need to google this for yourself, the keywords that finally got me where I needed to go were “anal hygiene.”