Vomit Vixen

I want to talk about the girl in high school who would give anyone who asked a blowjob but would then vomit the moment she started.

I’ve been trying to remember her name and I can’t. It was the sort of name a child of Bethesda, MD would have. Pam or Monica or Amy or Tanya or something.

We have this really cool hiking trail now – the Capital Crescent Trail – that all the yuppies jog on but, back in the day, it was an abandoned railroad spur. The line vanished into the gaping maw of a tunnel beneath the Air Rights Building (so called because the railroad owned the ground rights). This tunnel was black, foreboding, and full of a homeless that lived year around in the joints between buildings. We’re talking super spooky. In fact, in the last days of this rail runnel before it was gentrified, there was a string of murders that we in Bethesda must never talk about.

Right next to this horrible nightmare tunnel was, of course, a playground. Because where else would you put a playground? There were probably OSHA rules keeping the builders out of the graveyard.

Pam (we’ll settle on that name) would hang out at this playground, sulkily spinning on one of the swings. As far as I know, she never attended a single class. In fact, I’m not 100% sure she went to school.

Our high school had an open campus so, every day at lunch, thousands of teenagers would be belched out into Bethesda. We’d grab philly cheesesteaks at Philadelphia Mikes, or go to Tastee Diner, or go to the eatery at the Metro and load up on Sbarro and fast food garbage. There were delis scattered around that would serve up sandwiches. It was probably the only thing I actually enjoyed about high school – getting the fuck away from it for an hour and, if possible, getting into trouble. And those of us who sought trouble, courted disaster, and reveled in chaos would often use that lunch hour to explore the town. We’d duck down alleyways, visit headshops, hang out at playgrounds, and dare each other to run through the dark rail tunnel.

It was during such a dare that we met Pam. We all knew about her, of course. Pam was legend. Whenever someone lost their virginity, it was with Pam. And it was always there, in that playground, which she inhabited like some sort of sprite in her sacred grove. As far as I know, Pam never stepped past the boundary of that playground. (There are some who argue that she was a ghost, but they must never have taken advantage of her services.)

She seemed well-off. She had extensions in her hair – long, flowing tresses that would change color from time to time. She had a sweet little round face, and always wore this short skirt that was like a hippie dress cut just above the knees. She always wore boats – suede or leather – that reached almost up to her knees, the glimpse of her milky white legs between the boot and skirt barrier enticing and strange to behold. She’d wear men’s shirts, unbuttoned to show a healthy amount of cleavage. I was fascinated by the delicate little mole that sat right on the curve of her right breast. Her lips were full and, from day to day, would be painted odd colors. Never red, and never goth black. More bubblegum freakout. Her hands shook ever so slightly, as if she were constantly wired on caffeine. Or…something else.

Whenever we rebel children would come to explore the dark rail tunnel, Pam watched us intently. She would pause in her languid spins, holding herself and her swing still with her feet, legs spread. If we lingered, casting shy glances at her, then she would leave her swing and meander over to the tall fence that separated the playground from the railroad. She’d weave her fingers through the links and press her face to the fence like a prisoner and make low, hissing sounds until we finally turned our full attention her way.

The first of our group to get his dick sucked by her was Alex. We weren’t there. He told us all about it the next day, saying how amazing it was and how Pam had told her to “send more boys.”

Rumor is that Jason was next. He was equally effusive about her ability.

We went down as a group one day, and she said it would be real cool if we all lined up with our dicks out, so we did. She started with me. She took my cock in her hands and cooed, “You’re a big boy,” and then she dove right in. It was amazing. Without any hesitation, she swallowed my dick until it touched the back of her throat. Then, casually, without any sort of distress or alarm, she vomited. It spewed through her nose and leaked out the sides of her mouth. Then she pulled away, leaned to the side, and continued to vomit an immense stream onto the mulch.

Now, I don’t need to tell you that this was upsetting. Especially if you’re an introverted 15 year old getting his very first blowjob. I haven’t been able to cope with blowjobs since, as a matter of fact.

I turned up towards the overcast autumn sky and opened my mouth in a silent scream, my arms rising up, palms upward. I held this position for several long heartbeats as, with a horrifying gagging sound, Pam cleared her throat and then said, “Whew! Which one of you boys is next?”

Finally, I became aware of my friend tugging at my sleeve, and, slowly, as if I were immersed in jelly, I turned and looked down at him.

His eyes, wide and worried, gazed up at me. “Um…dude. We need to go now.”

Pam had worked her way down the line and was currently gagging on the last penis. Everyone was covered in vomit. How long had I been staring into the sky?

I shook my head sadly as I looked back at my friend. “There is no return.” I intoned, my voice harsh and broken.

I skipped the rest of the day and went home. I showered eight times, and cried through it all, and went back to school the next day with my head hung low in shame. Alex, the first of us to get serviced by Pam, had the locker next to mine. He glanced over at me, barked a quick little laugh, then slammed his locker.


I shuddered, then answered with an emotionless, “What?”

“You have a turn with Pam?”

I nodded, numb with horror.

“She puke on you?”

I closed my eyes, said nothing.

“It’s what she does. She puked on me. She’s puked on all of us. I fucking love it. I’ve gone back to her three times already. The last time I came instantly, like, right when she puked. It was amazing.”

I let my head rest against the cool metal locker, my breath hitching in my throat.

Alex looked taken aback. Then he patted my shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, man. It’s fun. Try it again.”

I made a little sound in the back of my throat, then turned and walked to class.

I never visited Pam again, but I know Alex was going three times a day by his senior year. He’d run down there in the morning, at lunch, and after school. After a while, the puking wasn’t enough and Alex insisted that Pam suck him off through the fence. He’d describe in detail how he’d jam his penis through the links of the fence, grab hold, and then instantly cum as soon as Pam took him in her mouth and exploded with gallons of puke.

In class, we would all catch whiffs of sour milk and vomit, and we’d glance nervously at Alex, who would smile a big toothy grin and point happily at his crotch.