WINMX Assorted Textfiles/Ebooks.tar/Text - Health - Sex - My Thing About Vomit.txt

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"My Thing About Vomit" by Ralph T. Castle [Reprint of a confessional published in the 1970s.] PART ONE: The Early Days

It may seem perverse, even to readers of this newspaper,
that anyone could have a fetish about vomit. On the few
occasions when I have confessed my special interest in
this subject, I have been told, flatly, that it is
disgusting and there is something wrong with me. But
ever since I was sixteen years old I have been aware
that there can be special erotic feelings linked to
vomiting, and the act has become part of my favorite
sexual fantasies.

It all started when I was sixteen, with some teenage
friends outside the school auditorium where a typically
boring dance was taking place. In the space of three
hours I managed to drink three-quarters of a gallon of
wine (with frequent pauses to piss against the wall).
I became too drunk to stand.I then are a whole packet
of Ritz crackers, and then started throwing up. I will
always remember the almost creamy consistency of the
vomit resulting from the crackers dissolved in the wine
and stomach juices. My friends were disgusted to see me
literally rolling around in my vomit, as if I were
getting off on it in some way. What they didn't notice
was that, as drunk as I was, the experience gave me an
erection. In fact I think I might even have reached
orgasm, but I passed out soon after the stomach spasms
were over.

I thought about this experience a lot and realized it
was the primal thrill of gushing, of giving forth,
which turned me on. It was like ejaculating but much
more dramatic. And vomiting brought me into an intimate
contact with the juices of my body that were normally
contained and hidden. This, and the sense of turning
myself inside-out, was exciting.

So I tried to make myself vomit again, a few days
later, while sober this time. Unfortunately, it has
never been easy for me to vomit. I had to keep prodding
the back of my throat with my finger, and when I
finally managed to bring up a mere cup full of vomit
the muscle spasms (which I had hardly noticed while I
was drunk) were so painful that they ruined the
experience for me.

Consequently I abandoned the subject for a while,
though I retained a special interest in any movies
which showed people vomiting, and I thought about it
quite a bit.

Then, when I was at college, I was dating a girl who
was a yoga student and claimed to have mental control
of all bodily functions. I suddenly said, "I bet you
couldn't make yourself vomit just by thinking about it,"
 and as I spoke I had a vivid image of the juices
flowing from her mouth, and I realized, rather guiltily,
how much it would excite me to see this and, if
possible, touch and taste her vomit as it came out.

She was a competitive person, so she accepted my
challenge--provided that I would promise to take her
out to dinner afterward (!). She went into the bathroom
and kneeled down with her head over the toilet. For the
next fifteen minutes there was an endless, tantalizing
series of stomach spasms as she tried to will herself
to vomit. I crouched with my arm around her, my hand
surreptitiously touching her breast. I felt unbearable
anticipation mixed with fear, as if something forbidden
and dangerous was about to happen. And then, finally,
she did it. I saw the rich brown liquid flow out of her
very pretty mouth. Then, while she was still gasping
for breath, I couldn't stop myself from seizing her and
kissing her passionately, so that I could taste the
vomit. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and the tip
of it touched little food particles and partially
digested remnants of the lunch she had eaten with me
just a few hours earlier. The intimacy was beyond
anything I had experienced with her in our
relationship.

However, to her the whole experience was repellent,
and she pushed me away, saying that there must be
something wrong with me. She refused ever to vomit
for me again, and stopped seeing me soon after that.
My biggest regret was that I hadn't asked her to vomit
into a dish; as it was, she had quickly flushed the
toilet, taking all the evidence of the special moment
away.

I found it predictably difficult to meet any other
women who shared my interests. A year or so later I
was seeing a very overweight girl who had tried every
slimming diet there was. I suggested hopefully to her
that if she made herself vomit after dinner each night,
she would quickly lose weight. She didn't like the
idea, so I had to keep insisting on it, telling her
rather cruelly how fat she was.

Finally she agreed to my plan, just once. This time
I prepared properly for the scene. I covered the
kitchen table with a towel, and I set a large white
porcelain mixing bowl in the center. I draped another
towel across my girlfriend's large breasts, as a
napkin. She looked as if she was about to enjoy a
feast--except that the bowl was empty, and in fact she
was about to PROVIDE the feast!

She tried to back out at the last minute, and it was I
who had to touch the back of her throat--an act which
seemed just as erotic, to me, as pushing my finger into
a woman's vagina. While I tickled her throat with one
hand, I masturbated surreptitiously under the table
with my other hand, and when she finally threw up I
came at almost the same moment, in a mutual rush of
juices that made me flinch and cry out, the spasms
were so intense.

Luckily, she was too aware of her own discomfort to
realize what was happening to me. By the time she
recovered herself and wiped away the dribbles of vomit
from her chin, I had mopped up the evidence of my
orgasm and was quickly clearing away the bowl of
liquid. I had quietly stage-managed her diet during
that day, insisting that she ate a lot of beets for
dinner, and some rare roast beef--so that when the
vomit came up, it would be a very pretty purple-pink
color.

That night, I waited for her to go to sleep, and then
I crept out to the kitchen and poured her vomit into a
large glass jar. I brought the jar back into our
bedroom and stood it on the bedside table. It gave me
a very special guilty thrill to go to sleep beside her
with that jar of her very essence, captured and bottled,
standing close by. I felt I had stolen away something
altogether more precious than any act of a normal
sexual nature would have given me.

Unfortunately she woke before I did and when she saw
what I had done, she was so disgusted she terminated
our involvement immediately. It was all I could do to
stop her grabbing the jar of vomit and pouring it away.
Later, I confess I indulged in a very perverse act: I
used some of the vomit as lubricant on my hands, and
masturbated with it. I remember how the white come
looked amid the sticky purplish vomit--which, by this
time, was actually beginning to turn brown, since I
discovered vomit does not keep for very long, even when
refrigerated. It goes brown and starts smelling very
bad.

In the next few weeks I tried again to make myself
vomit, now that I realized how arousing the whole
subject could be. But the act was as physically painful
as ever, and in any case it was a poor substitute
compared to what I had experienced with my girlfriend.

So I turned to prostitutes. Inevitably, they refused
to have anything to do with me, when I told them what
I wanted. Their attitude was that they would do various
kind of perverted sex, if they were paid enough, but
vomiting was nothing to do with sex. It was plain
disgusting, and they couldn't do it no matter how much
they were paid. Actually, I think it was simply that
any person, no matter how degenerate he or she is,
needs to find someone else in the world they can
despise for being even more degenerate. And that's why
the prostitutes despised me rather than cooperate with
what I wanted.

Then I had a stroke of good fortune. By a complete
fluke--a wrong number phone call, in fact--I met a girl
 called Tina who had come to the city from the Midwest,
thinking she could get rich here. She had gotten very
disillusioned, had ended up selling encyclopedias door
to door, had even failed at that, and when I met her
she was broke and hopeless, living in a sleazy little
apartment in a very bad neighborhood.

Tina turned out to be one of the least attractive women
I had ever met. When we talked on the phone she sounded
sexy, but when I saw her I found she had extremely bad
acne, her face looked perpetually blank (her mouth
literally tended to hang half open), and she was
incapable of keeping up any sort of intelligent
conversation.

My first impulse was to try and leave as tactfully as
 possible. However, she mentioned that, in addition to
all her other troubles, she had gotten pregnant. One
thing came into my head at this point: MORNING SICKNESS!

To my great excitement I learned that Tina was, in
fact, suffering from morning sickness, and since it
had only recently started, she expected it would go on
for another couple of weeks. So I decided I had to
spend that night with her, even though I found her
physically repulsive. She had no objection--she seemed
to have no will of her own, in fact, which excited me,
because it implied I might persuade her to vomit for
me more than once.

I spent a very difficult night with her, and was only
able to have sex by closing my eyes and picturing what
delights dawn would bring. Then I woke in the morning
and felt her slipping out of bed to go to the bathroom.
I ran after her, just in time to stop her closing the
bathroom door. I insisted she should vomit into the
sink, not the toilet. She tried to resist, but I just
took charge, and she was too submissive and too overcome
by nausea to do much about it.

I managed to put the stopper into the drain while her
stomach heaved, and then, gloriously, all the juices
flowed. There was not a lot, because most of the food
in her stomach had been digested and moved down into
the intestines during the night. However, to my eyes
the liquid that did come up had an almost golden color,
and I marveled that it looked so attractive to me, while
she, the vessel from which the liquid flowed, was so
ugly!

As soon as she had vomited I kissed her deeply and
savored the bitter taste. Then, wanting to see how far
she would go, I asked her to suck my cock. She agreed
rather reluctantly, and kneeled down on the bathroom
floor. The idea of her mouth, wet with bile and stomach
juices, around my cock, was so erotic that I came
almost immediately.

After my orgasm I asked her to leave me alone in the
bathroom for a few minutes. When she had gone, I locked
the door. I then found a sponge, soaked it in the
vomit, and rubbed it all over my naked body. This
brought back my feelings of sexual arousal and within
minutes I was masturbating to another orgasm, wrapping
the vomit-wet sponge around my cock as I came.

From then on I spent every night with Tina. She soon
suspected that all I really cared about were our
morning sessions, but she was such a lonely person she
never refused me. After all, I was just about her
only friend, and I gave her money and brought food
each time I visited her.

I, of course, was experiencing pure bliss. I told Tina
that she had not been eating enough, and she should have
a midnight snack before she went to bed each night. By
this ruse, I was able to increase the volume of the
vomit that she produced each morning, and I was also able
to alter its color and taste, though not very
predictably. One morning after she vomited, I touched
it with my finger and licked it, and it tasted so
special to me it seemed too good to waste. So I bottled
that morning's batch and insisted on cooking dinner that
night--a beef stew, into which I slipped at least a cup
full of the vomit I had saved. Actually the culinary
experiment did not work very well; the result wasn't
very nice. But the idea of what I had done still
delighted me. We were both consuming Tina's essential
juices, even though she didn't know it.

Her morning sickness ended soon after that, and she
summoned enough courage to refuse me when I hinted that
she should force herself to continue vomiting just for
me.

So I left Tina, and for the past couple of years there
has been no one willing to satisfy my particular
desires. This is a pity because there are many more
kinky things I would like to do. For instance, if I
ever met a woman who shared my fetish I would have her
wear a small glass vial on a thin gold chain around
her neck, and in the vial would be a little sample of
her vomit, which we would renew each day. It would be
like a window into her inner workings, her essence. It
would also be a very special and exciting secret between
us, as to what the liquid was.

Also I would like to experiment more with different
diets to produce different colors and textures of vomit,
with different aromas and tastes. And I would be
interested in group-vomiting experiments. These are
just a few of the many topics which come to mind.

I do not know why I have this special obsession. I have
no other special needs, and my sex life is otherwise
normal enough. I know I would dearly love to meet
anyone else who has a similar interest in this much
misunderstood subject, so that we could explore it
together and satisfy each other in the process.

[This text was originally published about 15 years ago.
There is no information on the fate of the author since
then.]