Emetophilia (a.k.a. vomerophilia): sexual attraction to vomit
Emetophilia is a sexual fetish in which an individual is aroused by vomiting or observing others vomit. When emetophiles put emetophilia into practice by actually vomiting, especially on a partner, it is called a Roman shower, after the supposed frequent induction of vomiting at Roman feasts.
For emetophiles, the sequence of "spasm, ejaculation, relief" in vomiting is erotically-charged.
Came across this + it just made me think of the forum! Anyone got anything more disgusting to add???
golden showers - been pissed over rainbow kisses - eating ppl out/been eaten out when the monthly is splashing about autumn colours - scat n piss showers
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Nic // LGBT Society Events Officer 05/06 // LGBT Assembly Chair 05/06 - NUS LGBT Society of the year 2006(winners) //
LUU honarary life member - Awarded 2006 // LGBT Assembly Mentor 2006 -Onwards.
Contact me at nicturner_85@hotmail.com
-- Edited by Rt hon NickyDyke85 at 00:53, 2006-05-13
__________________
Nic // LGBT Society Events Officer 05/06 // LGBT Assembly Chair 05/06 - NUS LGBT Society of the year 2006(winners) //
LUU honarary life member - Awarded 2006 // LGBT Assembly Mentor 2006 -Onwards.
Contact me at nicturner_85@hotmail.com
Ah, this remionds me of that essay with the erotic vomiting in. Let's see if I can find it...
Here we go: ----- A boy, twentyish, very skateboard, comes on the low stage at one end of the bar, wearing lycra shorts and a dog collar. He sits loosely in a restraining chair. His partner comes out and tilts the bottom's head up to the ceiling, stretching out his throat. Behind them is an array of foods. The top then begins pouring milk down the boy's throat, then food, then more milk. It spills over. [...] soon the rhythm intensifies. The boy's stomach is beginning to rise and pulse, almost convulsively. [...] Finally, as the top inserts two, then three fingers in the bottom's throat, insistently offering his own stomach for the repeated climaxes, we realize that we have never seen such a display of trust and violation. We are breathless. -----
While I wouldn't have thought such an extreme perversion could have found its way amongst my beaux, they served me snails last night. Out of sheer politeness I manfully shovelled in all twelve and, just as the last one refused to be swallowed (traumatising my oesophagus like a piece of slimy rubber), they decided not to eat theirs. It would normally take pure e-coli for my stomach to grudgingly relinquish food. On this occasion, however, the little molluscs were all too-easily diverted from their downward trajectory. I feel dirty.
No! He very much wasn't there. Poor lad. Although, from his choice of literature, perhaps he wishes he was.
If you must know, I made it to the bathroom. Discreetly.
After my gap year, I can now vomit like a pro. Silently, noisily, quickly, slowly. It's an art. Lucky, really, as I had emetophobia when I was little and am now cured.
