There's A Name For People Like Us

It wasn't that Sarah had never flown before - she'd been to New York on 
the air shuttle a number of times, and once even to Washington. But the 
Boston-to-Seattle flight was certainly going to be longer than any flight 
she'd ever been on before.

The stewardess showed her to her seat, near the back of the plane, next 
to a window. There was only one other seat next to her, and very soon 
another young woman about Sarah's age took it. They sized each other up 
without looking as if they were looking at each other, the way women do. 
Then the pilot announced that they were ready for departure, so they 
fastened their seat belts and prepared themselves for takeoff.

Once they were in the air, Sarah took a paperback book out of her purse 
and tried to pass the time by reading. About an hour into the flight, 
however, the plane hit some rough air and began to bounce around. Soon it 
seemed to Sarah that the words were bouncing around on the page; it made 
her feel dizzy and more than a bit ill, so she closed her book. The plane 
continued to bounce and jolt as the flight attendants began serving the 
meal. Sarah opened hers, but the sight and smell of the airline food 
revolted her. She handed it back to the stewardess and asked for a plain 
Coke instead. She sipped the cold, fizzy cola slowly, hoping it would 
settle her stomach.

The air turbulence grew worse, however, and as it did, so did the 
turbulence in Sarah's stomach. She had only drunk about half her soda, 
but the fizz made her burp, and when she did, she tasted bile at the back 
of her throat. She handed her unfinished drink to the stewardess who had 
come back to clear away the dinner service. 

Now Sarah was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm and sweaty; she 
reached up and turned the air nozzle towards her face, opening it as far 
as it would go. The plane continued to buck and jounce, and she sat 
looking straight ahead, trying hard to ignore the sour, queasy feeling 
steadily building up in her stomach.

The woman in the next seat looked at Sarah. "You look a little pale. Are 
you all right?" she asked.

"It's just all this bouncing around. The air's awfully rough tonight," 
she replied. "I'll be okay as soon as we hit some smoother flying."

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help..." the other woman said. "By 
the way, my name is Callie."

"My name is Sarah. Thanks, Callie, but I'm sure I'll be fine." But Sarah 
really wasn't so sure. Every bump and lurch made her feel worse. The cool 
air from the vent wasn't making her feel any less hot, and she could feel 
sweat trickling down between her breasts. She felt completely wretched 
with nausea, and desperately hoped the feeling would go away.

Instead, she continued to feel more and more nauseated. The pilot 
announced that they would have to change course to avoid some even worse 
weather, and the plane banked steeply to the right. This dizzying tilt 
was more than Sarah's stomach could take, and she retched, frantically 
grabbing for the airsickness bag. She didn't get it to her mouth quite 
fast enough, and the first wave of her spew spilled down her front, 
soaking her blouse and pooling in her lap. All around her in the plane, 
she could hear and smell other people doing the same. Half the passengers 
must have been getting airsick, although Callie seemed unaffected. But 
the stench of vomit, and the sounds of others throwing up, sent Sarah 
even further into uncontrollable nausea.

She threw up again and again, barely able to get her breath between the 
spasms. She sobbed miserably - "I've never felt this awful in my entire 
life!" she thought. Her eyes and nose streamed with tears, adding to her 
discomfort. She couldn't even keep from making horrible retching noises 
as she puked. At the same time, she felt ashamed of herself. Ever since 
she was a girl, somehow throwing up had made her feel, well, aroused. 
Sexually turned on. Even though she didn't enjoy being sick at all, it 
was making her hot. "What kind of disgusting pervert *am* I, anyway?" 
Sarah thought. Surely she must be a sick, twisted psycho - no sane person 
could get a sexual thrill from being so miserable! She felt disgusted 
with herself, and the thought only made her even sicker.

The barf bag was nearly full, but Sarah was still puking. Her seatmate 
wordlessly handed her another bag, already opened, and took the full one 
and sealed it shut. With more agonized retching, Sarah spewed several 
more waves of vomit into the fresh bag. That emptied her stomach, but her 
stomach didn't seem to know it was empty. She continued to dry-heave 
painfully, crying as she spit mouthfuls of foul-tasting bile into the 
bag. She felt Callie's hand comfortingly on her back, and realized that 
the other woman had already rung for the stewardess to take away the used 
bag, but she was heaving too hard to even thank her. Her throat was raw, 
and her stomach muscles hurt. Dimly, Sarah wondered if it was possible to 
actually puke up your own internal organs and die...

Just then the plane flew out of the turbulence and into smooth, clear 
air. As the bumping and bouncing subsided, so did Sarah's heaving. The 
pilot turned off the "fasten seat belts" sign. Callie calmly took the 
second barf bag from her and sealed it, and gave them both to the flight 
attendant. Sarah sat back, face streaked with tears, snot, and puke. 
Callie patted her gently on the back again and said, "There, you'll feel 
better in a few moments." The pat was so gentle it almost felt like a 
caress.

As Sarah slowly got her breath and her composure back, she said, "Oh, no! 
I'm such a mess! Look at me - I threw up all over myself!" The front of 
her blouse was soaked with vomit, and what had landed in her lap had 
soaked into the thighs and crotch of her slacks. Her face was streaked 
and smeared, and there was even puke in her hair. Sarah felt thoroughly 
ashamed of herself - and doubly ashamed because she was also feeling 
desperately horny. She felt as if everyone on the plane surely could tell 
what a dirty little pervert she was.

"Do you think you can stand up yet? As soon as you feel up to it, let's 
go to the lav and get you cleaned up," Callie said. With her help, Sarah 
staggered back the last few rows to the lavatory. Somehow Callie managed 
to wedge both of them into the tiny cubicle, and slid the door latch to 
"Occupied". She grabbed some paper towels and got them wet in the sink, 
and carefully washed Sarah's face with them. The cool water on her face 
made her feel quite a lot better. But the less ill she felt, the more 
acutely she was aware of her unreasonable sexual need. She hoped that 
Callie wouldn't notice and realize that Sarah was a twisted, perverted 
weirdo.

Callie moistened more paper towels and began trying to get the worst of 
the vomit off of Sarah's clothes. She rubbed industriously on Sarah's 
wet, stained blouse, stimulating her already-sensitized nipples until it 
was all Sarah could do to suppress a shiver. Then Callie began sponging 
at the vomit in Sarah's crotch, and Sarah *did* tremble slightly. "Oh, I 
hope she thinks I'm just cold from the wet clothes!" Sarah thought to 
herself.

"Tsk! Sarah, it soaked right through your blouse and into your bra! You'd 
better take off the blouse and let me clean that up too. C'mon, it's just 
us girls..." Sarah took off her blouse, and Callie began wiping her puke-
dampened bra. Sarah's nipples were achingly erect, and she hoped that 
Callie would also blame that on being cold and wet...

Callie tossed away the wet paper towels and unashamedly caressed Sarah's 
breasts through the damp cloth. "Oh... I see you're feeling a *lot* 
better," she said in a husky voice. "I'll bet some of that wetness in 
your pants isn't vomit, either..." She brought her face close to Sarah's, 
obviously intending to kiss her. 

"No... don't...I've got puke breath..." Sarah protested, trying to turn 
her head away.

"It's all right. I don't mind. I kind of like it, actually..." and Callie 
kissed Sarah passionately on the mouth, delicately poking her tongue in, 
almost as if she were savoring the sour taste of bile still left in 
Sarah's mouth.

Sarah broke the kiss. "But... " she began. How could she possibly explain 
to this woman, when she didn't understand herself why throwing up always 
made her horny?

"Shh... I understand. You get turned on when you throw up. I do, too. And 
I was getting almost unbearably turned on watching *you* throw up. I'm SO 
glad we both feel that way!" Callie reached around and unhooked Sarah's 
bra, took it off her, and cupped Sarah's breasts in her hands, rolling 
the nipples between thumb and first finger. Sarah moaned at the 
stimulation.

"Oh... but how... why... what?" Sarah was very confused. She had always 
thought that she must be the only person in the world who got sexually 
aroused by puking. And Callie had hit on another secret shame of Sarah's 
as well: the spectacle of other people vomiting sickened her, but it also 
turned her on, nearly as much as when she herself threw up.

Callie seemed to be reading Sarah's mind. "You're not the only person who 
gets sexual thrills from vomit. There's even a name for it: 
'emetophilia'. There's a name for people like us: 'emetophiles'." She 
took one hand away from Sarah's breast and slid it down inside her pants; 
she smiled as her fingers encountered Sarah's sexual wetness.

"You know there are people who get off on piss or shit?" Callie said. 
Sarah nodded - she'd heard of these perversions, nearly as well-known as 
bondage and S&M. "Well, getting off on puke is just another kind of 
sexual thing. I guess some of us are just born this way."

Callie kissed Sarah again, teasing her sex with one hand and tweaking her 
nipple with the other. Sarah moaned once more, unconsciously writhing her 
hips as Callie's fingers began to explore between her labia. Then Callie 
took Sarah's hand and made her touch *her* inside her panties. Sarah was 
only slightly surprised to feel that Callie was just as wet and eager as 
she was. She kissed back with sudden passion, and began trying to match 
Callie's caresses.

This time it was Callie who broke the kiss, but only in order to start 
nibbling on Sarah's nipples, first one, then the other. Sarah began 
fingering Callie's clitoris rhythmically, and plunged her other hand 
inside the other woman's blouse. Callie wasn't wearing a bra, and her 
nipple seemed to pop right up into Sarah's hand. She caressed it lightly 
with her palm, in soft circular motions, and was rewarded by hearing 
Callie gasp for breath.

With the two of them crammed into a tiny airplane lavatory, there was no 
room for them to even take off more of their clothes, let alone attempt 
oral sex. They were both almost too horny to care. Eagerly they fingered 
each other, their sexual excitement feeding back on itself. They had to 
take turns kissing and nibbling and sucking each other's breasts, the 
space was so cramped. Finally they settled for just stroking each other's 
pussies while kissing passionately (not caring about puke breath!), 
tongue-fucking each other's mouths as they finger-fucked each other 
below.

Sarah was the first to come; she barely suppressed an orgasmic howl as 
she thrust her pelvis against Callie's hand. Callie kept fingering her 
clitoris, and Sarah kept coming and coming, just like she'd kept puking 
and puking before. Finally, though, she was spent. Callie slipped her 
hand out of Sarah's pants, trembling with need. Sarah pulled up Callie's 
blouse and sucked hard on her nipple, plunging two fingers inside the 
other woman's eager vagina... and Callie gasped and shuddered, and came, 
arching her back and straining in the confined space.

After a few moments, the two women giggled breathlessly. "See? You're not 
alone, Sarah. You're not some kind of perverted freak. There are lots of 
others, too - there are men who get off on women puking. There's even a 
newsgroup on the Internet about emetophilia." Sarah could only shake her 
head. She'd never dreamed that anyone would understand, let alone share, 
her unusual sexual feelings.

They had to take turns trying to wash up in the tiny sink, and in the 
process they managed to use up most of the rest of the paper towels. 
Sarah put her damp bra and blouse back on, and they left the lavatory. 
Callie had her arm around Sarah's shoulders, as if to help a still-woozy 
friend back to her seat... but Sarah was smiling...

By the time the plane landed in Seattle, the two women had exchanged home 
addresses and phone numbers, the places they were staying in Seattle, 
email addresses... and life stories. And Sarah felt an enormous, soaring 
sense of relief. For the first time she could remember, she didn't have 
to feel ashamed of her "perverted secret" any more. As they collected 
their baggage and went their separate ways, Sarah called out, "Thank you, 
Callie! Thank you so much!"