Saturday, July 03, 2004


Sex Image Sex story

Barf Buddies II

They'd met at someone's party, and hit it off immediately, in a
friendly sort of way. Donna gave Sam her phone number, and he
called her a few days later and took her to the movies. That was
just a generic "getting to know you" date. Although Donna's
behavior was perfectly reasonable and respectable, Sam got the
feeling she had a concealed wild streak - that under the right
conditions, she might be likely to try almost anything. So on
their second date, Sam set things up for the first test in
determining whether she could be induced to participate in his
own, most secret, fetish.

Sam was an emetophile. He got off on women vomiting. The sight,
the sound, even the smell, of a woman puking her guts up made
him unbearably horny. For a long time he thought he was the
sickest weirdo on the planet, but then he found people on the
Internet with the same kind of fetish, and learned that it had a
name. Among the other emetophiles in alt.fondle.vomit, he was
known as "SamSpew". They exchanged stories, true experiences,
and pictures of women throwing up. There were even a few women
in the newsgroup who shared their own vomitous experiences.

Once Sam had realized that his "kink" was nothing to be ashamed
of, he had started trying to find women who would barf for him
in real life. At first, he tried dating women who drank a lot.
True, they also threw up a lot, but he soon realized that the
problems associated with alcohol abuse made them less than ideal
partners. He went out with a bulimic/anorexic dancer, but her
emotional problems were just as bad as the alcoholics'. He
didn't want a girl who was that messed up - just a girl who
would indulge his fantasies and puke for him once in a while.

Donna did seem very open-minded about most things. Sam planned
to find out just how she might cope with the connection between
vomiting and sexuality, but he knew he had to approach it in a
subtle manner. So he set up their next date with special

He took Donna to an all-you-can-eat barbecue restaurant. Donna
had a healthy appetite (unlike the anorexic!), and wasn't afraid
to show her enjoyment of the food. With only a little urging
from Sam, she ate two big plates of barbecued pork, sizzling in
its bath of spicy, smoky sauce. Sam passed her the cornbread to
sop up the sauce left on her plate, then ordered them both big,
gooey ice cream sundaes for dessert. "I'm stuffed, Sam - I
couldn't swallow another mouthful!" Donna said, as she licked
the last little bit of hot fudge from her spoon.

"Just wait - I have something else very special to show you. I'm
going to drive you to a place where the scenery is absolutely
breathtaking. You can see the whole of the valley, and if we
hurry, we can be there just as the sun is setting. It's very...
romantic," he said with a grin.

Sam flung his sporty little car along the winding, hilly road to
the top of the ridge. The country road was very bumpy, and Donna
hung onto the handle alongside of her as the car jolted and
twisted. Sam glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; was
she starting to turn pale? Finally she said, "Er, why are you
going so fast?" He replied, "I want to make sure we get there
before sunset, so you can see the view." They drove over a
series of rises and dips in the road, like a roller coaster.
Yes, she was definitely starting to look pale, and little beads
of sweat were visible on her forehead. Sam smiled to himself;
his plan was working!

Donna made a small sound, almost like a moan. Sam responded by
gunning the car through a quick set of S-turns in the road.
Finally, Donna said, in a strangled voice, "Stop the car, Sam, I
have to throw up!"

Sam pulled over to the side of the road, and Donna opened the
door on her side and tried to stand up. "Uh... 'm carsick...
gonna throw up... so dizzy... please help me..." She gagged, and
leaned forward. Sam put his arm around her so she wouldn't fall,
as she moaned, "Uurrrp..." She retched, and her whole body
heaved in Sam's arms. He began to feel aroused as she gagged and
retched, harder this time.

Donna brought up a mouthful of bile and spit it into the weeds;
then another, deeper spasm rocked her, and she spewed up a
copious wave of puke. She moaned, and gasped for air, and
"Bleaauurrgghh!" she threw up some more. Sam had his arm around
her middle, and squeezed her stomach gently, trying to
synchronize his pressure with the rhythm of her vomiting.
Another huge stream of chunky vomit gushed from her mouth, and -
after a sobbing, gasping breath - another, and another. She made
loud burping and gagging noises as she brought up each new wave
of spew. With every heave, Sam grew more and more excited. Her
body rocked convulsively in his embrace, and he knew she must be
able to feel his rising erection as she leaned against him. She
clung to him dizzily, gasping and heaving and retching and
puking again, with tears streaming from her eyes. It took a long
time for her to empty her stomach of all the rich, spicy, greasy
food she'd consumed, but finally it all lay in a reeking puddle
on the ground. Donna dry-heaved a few more times, but her nausea
was wearing off now that she'd unloaded her stomach and was not
in a moving car.

Sam had some paper towels ready, and helped her wipe her face.
She was shaking, now, and still a little breathless, and seemed
perfectly willing to let him hold her for a while longer. In
fact, she almost seemed to be enjoying his embrace. Then she
looked him in the eye and said, "I could feel that you were
getting excited. I know you still are. I'm not offended... but
what's going on?"

The honesty in her tone of voice led Sam to tell her the whole
story. He told her about emetophilia, and how it was no stranger
than a lot of other "kinky sex" scenes. He said how he hoped she
was open-minded enough to accept this idea. She listened,
without getting angry or upset, and an interested look, almost a
smile, began to show on her face. He started telling her about
alt.fondle.vomit, and his fellow Internet emetophiles of both
sexes. "And on the Internet, I call myself 'SamSpew'..."

Donna burst out laughing, even though it almost made her gag
again. "Oh, my God! I'm 'Barfarella'!"

Sam had to laugh as well. Under her Internet nickname,
Donna/Barfarella posted intensely graphic descriptions of her
adventures in erotic vomiting. They'd even swapped a few private
messages in email. But he had never expected to meet her in real
life! He hugged her closer, while his erection strained against
the confinement of his clothes and pushed against her body.

Donna responded by kissing him passionately, plunging her tongue
into his mouth. Sam tasted the sour, bitter "puke breath" in her
mouth, and it only made him even more excited. He caressed her
breasts through the fabric of her t-shirt, and felt her nipples
already as stiff as his cock. She moaned again, but this time
with pleasure, not nausea. Hands went inside clothing, and
pieces of clothing came off, and they sank to the grassy ground
next to the still-steaming puddle of Donna's vomit. Sam found
that she was dripping wet and ready for him. "It always makes me
horny when I throw up, even when I'm miserable..." she
whispered. "And it made me horny, seeing and hearing and
feeling you..." he replied. Then he plunged inside her, and
neither of them bothered to talk any more. Within moments Sam
was fighting to hold back his orgasm. Donna kissed him again;
her probing tongue still tasted of vomit, and that drove him
over the edge. Donna arched herself against him and came almost
at the same moment, her body convulsing almost as if she was
puking again.

The next time they got together, Donna invited Sam to come over
to her place and just hang out and talk for a while. They were
both eager to discuss emetophilia, and talk in person about the
things they'd discussed so often on the Internet. "Sam, I know
it gets you hot to watch me throw up, and I love being able to
'put on a show' for you and give you such a turn-on. And you
know that the act of vomiting gets me hot, too. But, if you
remember some of the things I've written as 'Barfarella', you
know that I get turned on watching someone else puke, just as
much as doing it myself."

Sam was a bit hesitant. "I don't know, Donna... I've never
thought about throwing up myself. All I've ever thought about
was watching and listening to someone else. Still, you have a
point... it would be kind of selfish of me if you always did it
and I just watched..."

Donna said, "Why don't you let me teach you? You might find that
you enjoy it too. If you don't, I won't pressure you, but how
are you going to know until you try?" Sam had to agree with

"Okay, then. Let's take our clothes off so we don't get them all
messed up, and then we'll go into the bathroom." Donna took off
her shoes and socks, then quickly stripped off her blouse and
her slacks, then her bra and panties, and stood there naked. Sam
took off his shoes and socks, then his shirt and pants, and
hesitated a moment with his boxer shorts still on. Donna raised
one eyebrow, and Sam took them off too. He followed her into her
clean, neatly kept bathroom.

"Uh, what do I do?" asked Sam. "I'll show you," replied Donna.
"It's really pretty easy."

She turned on the water in the sink and adjusted it to lukewarm,
and had Sam feel the temperature. "Like dishwater. It's
disgusting all by itself." She filled the glass and drank it
all, then filled the glass again. "You have to drink more than
you want - really force yourself to drink as much as you can,"
she explained, as she drank several more glasses of unpleasantly
warm water. He could see what an effort it was for her to
swallow down the last glass or two. He could also see how it was
filling her up; she was developing a visible bulge at her
midriff as the water distended her stomach. Sam found the sight
of her overfilled belly surprisingly erotic.

Donna knelt in front of the toilet and lifted up the seat. "Now
you have to trigger your gag reflex until you throw up. Don't
just stick your fingers down your throat a little bit and then
stop. You'll want to take them out of your mouth, but don't.
Keep them as far down your throat as they'll go, and ignore the
feeling that you're choking, and keep making yourself retch
until nature takes over. Like this..."

She leaned forward over the bowl and put her hand into her
mouth, with her first two fingers extended. Her hand went in
almost to the wrist, and she began making deep, wrenching
gagging sounds. Her body rocked with each heave, and a little
bit of spit drooled out of her mouth around her hand. But she
kept her fingers down her throat, and kept gagging, harder and
harder. Then she urped up a modest cupful of liquid, which
splashed into the toilet with a promising sound. If Donna had
been looking at Sam, she would have seen his erection rising to
the occasion. But her eyes were closed with the effort she was
making. Her fingers stimulated her gag reflex continuously, so
she couldn't stop retching. The next wave was a full, copious
spew. Liquid gushed past her hand and ran down her arm, landing
in the bowl and splashing onto her tits. After another wave like
this, she took her hand out of her mouth, but continued to throw
up several more times. She gasped and tried to catch her breath
for a few moments, then said in a strangled voice, "I'm not
through yet. That wasn't all the water I just drank." She put
her fingers down her throat again and began the process anew.
Naturally, it didn't take her as much effort to start vomiting
this time. Several more large, satisfying waves of puke gushed
out of her mouth, over her hand and arm, onto her chest, into
the toilet. Sam saw her stomach muscles contract with each wave,
making her whole body spasm again and again. He was hornier than
he'd ever been in his life.

Donna forced herself to heave a few more times, but finally
there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up. She sat back,
still gasping for air, with her face and arm and breasts all
slimy with the liquid she'd regurgitated. She looked at Sam,
seeing his raging hardon, and grinned. "Not quite yet. Now you
try it," she said breathlessly.

All Sam really wanted to do was fuck her, right then and there,
but he forced himself to wait and do as she'd asked. After all,
he told himself, she was catering to his fantasy, so it was
only fair for him to cater to hers. He went to the sink and
filled the glass with warm water the way she'd shown him.

One glass of water, two glasses, three... He paused, but Donna
said, "You have to drink until you can't drink any more, and
then drink a little more than that." He forced down another
glassful, but when he tried to drink the next, he almost gagged
on it. "That's the point," Donna giggled.

Sam knelt in front of the toilet, in the same position Donna had
used. She hadn't flushed, and the evidence of her puke was right
there in the bowl in front of his face. Sam found this both
arousing and disgusting. He poked his fingers down his throat,
gagged slightly, and instinctively pulled his hand back. "No...
you have to put your fingers way down your throat and keep them
there. Here, I'll help you." Donna knelt behind him, with her
vomit-smeared breasts (with very erect nipples!) pressed against
Sam's back. "Put your fingers down your throat again." Sam did,
and began to gag again. Donna gripped his forearm and held his
hand in place, making sure he didn't stop gagging himself. The
smell of vomit on her hand, and in the toilet in front of him,
was the final stimulus Sam needed.

With a deep burping sound, Sam heaved violently, and brought up
the first wave of his own vomit. Donna kept his fingers firmly
in place, holding onto his arm and pressing herself against his
back. "Bluurgghhh..." Sam threw up again, harder and more
copiously. It ran down his arm and Donna's together, and mingled
with hers in the bowl. His body rocked back and forth, and Donna
squirmed against him from behind. Sam couldn't stop puking, even
after Donna let go of his arm. Wave after wave of spew
splattered into the toilet and splashed on his front. His hard
cock bumped against the porcelain every time he swayed forward.
"Blurrrrp..." and he puked up the very last bit that was in his
stomach. A few more retches and dry-heaves, and he knew he was

Donna was still clinging to him from behind. Her nipples were
rigid against his back, and her vomit-smeared hand slipped down
to Sam's equally rigid cock. He turned around shakily and
embraced her. "God, Donna, I've never been this turned on before
in my life! Thank you!" Her only response was to moan, "Oh, Sam,
yes! Now!" He thrust himself inside her, finding her wet and hot
and almost desperately eager for him. In a few moments Sam felt
himself on the brink of orgasm, when Donna gasped, "Oh, God,
Sam!" and raked her nails down his back. They came together,
Donna's convulsive internal spasms driving Sam to simultaneous
waves of ecstasy.

For a minute or two they lay there, naked on the bath mat,
catching their breath. Then Sam said, "My God, Donna, this is
the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me! To be
actually living out my fantasies with a woman like you!" Donna
replied, "Me too! I never thought I'd find anyone whose
fantasies matched mine!" They sat up awkwardly, neither one
wanting to let go of the other, and sat leaning against the
bathtub, hugging each other tightly. Then, as Donna reached over
to flush the toilet, she said, "This is so crazy, but so
wonderful! We're not only lovers, we're 'barf buddies'!" They
hugged each other and laughed.
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