Sins of Digestion

Sequel to "Holy Water." The third and final part of my Unholy Trinity fic series featuring a priest doing the three P's -Peeing, Pooping and Puking.

Warning: This fic contains vomiting scenes.

A knock on the door caused Father Mike's heart to beat faster. She was here. How he loved these Friday night meetings with Jane, his secret lover, who was much younger than him. He'd been committing these acts of sin for six months now.

"Come in!"

Jane entered. "Good evening Father," she purred, in a voice that could stir the most stubborn of loins. She paused as she saw him reclining on the leather Chesterfield settee. He stood up and let his unbuttoned cassock open slightly, and expected her to gasp, but of course, it didn't shock her in the slightest.

"What am I to do with such a naughty priest?" She smirked, realising he was naked under his cassock.

"I've cooked us a beef curry," he said. "Shall I pour you some wine?"

"Hmm. First I need to build up an appetite," Jane grinned, flinging her arms around him. He chuckled and pulled her down onto the settee.

"I have sinned and await my punishment," he replied, as she ran her hand through his silvery hair.

Slowly, she opened his cassock and ran her fingers across his chest, teasing his nipples, then circling his belly. Father Mike gasped and cried out in joy. His hard cock bobbed in front of her face, now merely inches from her lips.

"Hmm, how about I punish you here?" Jane giggled, running her tongue across the tip of his cock.

Minutes later, the priest was fucking her furiously across the Chesterfield with the vigour of a wild beast. After their frenzied coupling, Father Mike treated Jane to a plateful of his homemade curry. The priest indulged in rather too much wine, whilst Jane sensibly restrained herself.

A few hours later...

Father Mike moaned in his sleep. He tossed and turned, uttering pained sounds.

"Mike? Are you alright?" Jane whispered.

"Uhh. I don't feel too good," the priest groaned. "My stomach hurts." He squirmed around as his nausea increased.

Jane switched on the bedside lamp, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. Father Mike was on his side. He'd flung the duvet off and was clutching his abdomen. Though wearing nothing but his white underpants, he was sheathed in sweat. Cramps were assaulting him at an alarming rate.

"You're burning up!" Jane said. "Shall I get you some water?"

"N-no," Father Mike said, feeling his gut begin to churn threateningly. "I feel sick," he began to say, and his throat convulsed a little. "Oh God...I'm going to be sick."

The priest lurched and turned on his side, gripping the side of the bed. The colour had drained from his face and he looked dreadful.

Jane immediately took charge. "Let's get you to the bathroom, my love. Don't worry. I'm here."

Father Mike gurgled pitifully, saliva rolling out of his open mouth as his stomach did cartwheels. Jane moved to help him out of bed, but he grabbed her arm. He wasn't going to make it to the bathroom in time.

"I can't...Jane. Uhhhh! Blurrrughhh!"

He sat up, only to vomit suddenly, and rather violently. A copious yellow torrent exploded from his mouth, sprayed across the bedsheets, down his chest and splattered onto the rug beside the bed.

Jane raced frantically into the bathroom, seeking a receptacle of any kind. The small, plastic waste bin beside the toilet. She grabbed it and hurried back.

"Here Mike, use this," she said, placing the bin in his lap. Her poor, suffering priest was trembling, retching and groaning like a man in his final death throes.

Father Mike's eyes watered as the acrid aroma of sour bile and half-digested food assaulted his senses. More puke forced its way up his throat, flooding his mouth.

"Ummmf!"

"Let it all out Mike," Jane whispered, sitting beside him and gently rubbing his back and shoulders.

My Lord, he's so sick! She said a brief prayer.

He tensed, and vomited heavily into the empty bin. A thick, slurry of half-digested food splattered into the bottom of it like water gushing from a ruptured high-pressure pipe. Yellowish-brown and lumpy; the remains of the curry all-too evident.

"That's it, Mike," Jane said. "You're doing great. Get it all up." She'd never seen him ill before and certainly never imagined she'd witness him throwing up like this. She was concerned, but not repulsed by the sight of her beloved priest puking violently. She loved him too much. Nothing Father Mike said or did could ever repulse her. He certainly was vomiting a hell of a lot though; the plastic bin was half-full already, and his regurgitations showed no sign of ending.

A brief few seconds of respite allowed him to breathe. That awful, sour smell of acid was overwhelming.

"Oh Jane...I'm so sorry...how disgusting this is..." he gagged, yellowish bile and saliva trickling down his chin. His gut felt like a knife was being twisted inside it."

"Sshh, think nothing of it, my love." She planted kisses on his ear and neck, and gently wiped his mouth and chin with a tissue.

"This is...Satan's doing." He groaned and burped, feeling another load from his tormented innards about to make a bid for freedom. "Uhh...it's coming again!"

"Then you must drive Satan out," Jane replied, and just as he was starting to heave again, she planted a soft kiss on his lips.

It had the desired effect. The priest gave a loud and desperate retch.

"Oh God! "Umfff...!"

Father Mike vomited again and finally purged the Devil from his gut. A huge amount. Loud wet plops as his stomach contents joined the warm, steaming mass already in the bin.

It was over at last. Relief.

"Ahhh..."

Father Mike had filled the small bin to the brim with his vomit. Already, he was starting to feel so much better. A pleasant warm, wetness was spreading across his crotch.

"Let me take that for you," Jane said, taking the bin. Suddenly, she became aware of a hissing noise, and what sounded like water dripping onto the floor. The intense retching had caused Father Mike to wet himself; piss was rapidly soaking the front of his underpants.

Salvation.