A Night of Poetic Open Mic

A Night of Poetic Open Mic

We are so excited to reveal all about our first time with poets and organisers, Carmina Masoliver and My Hairy Vag and Me. On Thursday, 5th September, we will be hosting a cheap, cheerful and cheeky OPEN MIC night of sweet, poetic magic.

I shouted my Ex’s name is an evening of sex & bodies poetry. It promises to be “serving you some raunchy rhymes, horny haikus, awkward alliterations and orgasmic odes” from anyone who wishes to get up on stage.

The Featured Poet

“Sexually confident, socially awkward”, guest poet and witty short story writer, Emily Harrison, will headline. The former Saboteur Awards Best Spoken Word Performer has performed at festivals like Glastonbury and Latitude as well as loads of poetry events around the country. Her full-length poetry collection “I Can’t Sleep ‘cause My Bed’s On Fire” (2016) was published with Burning Eye Books and her recent collab with TrueTube Is the BAFTA nominated “Reply With a Full Stop If You Get This”.

The Organisers

Carmina is a South London poet and founder of She Grrrowls feminist arts nights. She has been performing, grrrowling and being longlisted for several awards, ever since she was first long-listed for the Young Poet Laureat for London, in 2013. She’s even written a chapbook, published by Nasty Little Press, and a She Grrrowls anthology with Burning Eye Books.

My Hairy Vag and Me is the title of an unabashed Instagram page, deluged with flowing pubes, crashing periods and ghostly discharge. A diary of poems and sketches, My Hairy Vag and Me is so accessible, the author/poet counts their father as a follower.

The Event

I shouted my Ex’s name will begin at 7:30pm on Thursday, 5th September. Please arrive no later than ten minutes early. Each open mic speaker will have a five-minute slot, so please time your piece appropriately. Tickets are only £5.00 and complimentary Prosecco will be available.


For more information and tickets, check out the Eventbrite page. See you there!


The Secret Teachings of the Kama Sutra – an evening with Seema Anand

Did you know that the famous “positions” were based on classifications of genitals sizes – how to make them more compatible to ensure true pleasure.

Did you know the whole book of Kama Sutra is based on the textures of vulvas – how to arouse women with different textures, what kind of pressure to apply, what food they like, even the perfect environment for their sexual pleasure? According to the Kama Sutra with every changing phase of the moon, the erogenous zones shift around the body. An accomplished lover was one who understood where the erogenous spot rested every night and how it should be stimulated for maximum arousal.

Written in the 4th cen AD the Kama Sutra was the first book to acknowledge the idea of women’s pleasure – their capacity to feel pleasure and their right to experience it – separate to and independent of a man’s pleasure. With great perception, it explained the difference: Men’s desire is like fire, beginning in the groin and flaring upwards, it is easy to ignite and easier still to douse. Women’s pleasure, on the other hand, is like water – starting at the head it flows downwards, taking forever to come to the boil and equally long to cool down.

A woman’s pleasure is complex and fragile, it was a skill that had to be learnt – (the Kama Sutra was written to teach men how to pleasure a woman) – what stories to tell before sex to arouse her, what conversation to have after sex to make her come back to your bed more readily the next time, with what kind of kisses to drive her distracted but not satisfy, with what kind of kisses to finally quench the desire. It even includes an entire Ayurvedic study on the different combinations of fingers that should be used to pleasure oneself. Each finger holds the energy of a specific element and each combination provides its own sensations.

Join Seema in an evening of decoding the secret teachings of the Kama Sutra on sensuality, pleasure and seduction.
Seema Anand

Seema Anand is a mythologist and storyteller specialising in women’s narratives. She is an acknowledged authority on the ancient erotic literature of the East. Ancient India believed that sexual pleasure was not just instinct but an art, the correct practice of which contributed to the wellbeing of all five senses and the development of the mind and the soul. It was essential for both the physical and mental wellbeing but could only be effective if understood properly.

“I believe that the erotic literature of ancient
India was written by a woman – it is the only thing that explains the detail, the elegance and the beauty with which the subject is handled, where pleasure becomes an art and sex a poetic experience…”

The Seema Sutra – on Pleasures of a Woman

Follow Seema on Facebook and Instagram


Creative Juices: Flora’s African Exploits

Today we welcome Flora Titian to Creative Juices! Flora has generously offered us all two free chapters of her second erotic novel in the Flora series. The chapters are juicy and suggestive, and highly enjoyable… *wink*

For more of Flora Titian and her writing, head over to her blog at www.thevelvetpurse.com.  Follow Flora on Twitter: @thevelvetpurse.

Chapter 1

I love airports, well actually I love travelling in whatever form it takes.  In my experience, and I believe I have travelled enough to be able to profess to have some, the journey can be even more interesting and exciting than the destination. It seems I always manage to meet someone who is willing to indulge my need to turn a mediocre voyage into an unforgettable adventure.  Take, for example, the time I took the ferry from Patras to Ancona; this had the possibility to be the dullest 24 hours of my life, instead, fate intervened and I got chatting to twins, Demetrius and Giorgos – funny, engaging and drop dead gorgeous .  Identical – in every way, as I later discovered – we decided to share a cabin, save some money, and have some fun.  Double trouble turned out to be doubly amazing and I was treated to orgasm after orgasm and shagged over and over again, until finally, even I, was begging to be allowed to go to sleep – as past lovers will attest, I never prioritise sleep over sex, but those boys were insatiable.  Thinking back that was a crazily intense journey, I was walking like a cowboy for about a week after docking in Italy, totally worth it though – kind of wish I had taken their telephone number or at least an address.

As I walk forward to the check-in desk I can’t keep the huge smile from my face, I am going to Africa, god, I am so excited right now.

“Good evening madam, passport please.”

Taking my passport out of my bag I glance up and find myself looking into the face of possibly one of the most stunningly attractive women I have ever seen.  Skin beautifully smooth and the colour of melted chocolate, her huge, dark, soulful, eyes are framed by long luscious lashes, with beautifully full lips completing the package – I freeze, passport in hand, mesmerised.  Aware that I am probably staring open mouthed, and no doubt blushing a deep red, I give myself a mental shake, look away and hold out my passport in her general direction.   Wow, she was amazing, I have to take another look; taking a breath I raise my head, only to have her eyes lock with mine and send a bolt of desire shooting straight down into my groin – okay, that was interesting, totally unexpected, but definitely interesting.  Still caught in her gaze I notice a smug smile playing across her mouth, this gorgeous creature is obviously well aware of the effect she has on other people, and I was proving to be no exception – urgh, I hate being predictable.

Now, I guess, if I had to put a label on it – which I don’t like to do – then I would refer to myself as heterosexual, and this is only because, up until now, it has been interactions with men that have got me hot and wet.  I have, however, never ruled out the possibility of having sex with a woman, in fact I have always thought it would be rather cool.  I mean I check women out all the time, who doesn’t, they are splendidly beautiful, but it’s more with admiration, or, yes I admit, sometimes jealousy; I might think wow she has got the most amazingly gorgeous long legs, or, oh my god I wish my tits were as big and perky as hers.  I have, however, never, had the thought – fuck me I would love to have that girl’s tongue lapping at my pussy – until today that is.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Her voice brings me out of my reverie and she is looking at my passport – not a great shot of me if I am honest.

“Although I think they are even more beautiful in person.”

Staring directly at me I feel my stomach drop and don’t have a clue what to say next.  Come on Flora, think of some sexy, flirty, come back, show her what you are made of.

“Your eyes are very beautiful also.”

She snorts with laughter and I feel as though I have just failed some kind of test, gauche girl rather than worldly woman.

“Well thank you Flora, that is very sweet of you to say.  Flora, you look like the kind of girl who usually travels business class.”

It is now my turn to snort, business class, yeah right, my mom booked this ticket for me, so I am just relieved that they aren’t telling me I am travelling in the hold; not that she can’t afford business class, just that she wouldn’t spend the money on me.

“An obvious oversight when booking the ticket I imagine.” She smiled and winked – wow great teeth as well. “I am upgrading you Flora, a gorgeous girl like you doesn’t belong in coach, you need to be relaxing and sipping champagne – with me attending to your every wish.”

Attending to my every wish. My heart starts beating quicker and I feel the flush return to my cheeks. My every wish – now that is definitely interesting.  I look down from her face and take in her white blouse, tightly stretched over impressively full breasts which are inadequately restrained by a lacy black bra, her pert nipples pushing enticingly out through the fabric. I know what I want to do, I want to run my fingers down from her throat, moving over her breasts and circling over those nipples, feeling them harden further under my touch. I want to slowly undue the buttons, enjoying revealing more of her, my fingers grazing her skin until I have opened her blouse fully, dragging it off her shoulders, I leave it halfway down her back; arms now effectively pinned against her sides I have full access and delight in pinching her nipples through the lace, my hands playing with each of her breasts, her groans of passion encouraging me.  Then, unable to wait any longer, bra straps would be dragged down to meet the blouse and her gorgeous tits, now fully exposed, would be mine for the taking.  Leaning forward and flicking her nipples with my tongue, emboldened by her moans I would take her breast deep into my mouth, alternating, first one and then the other, hands and tongue, hungrily feasting at will.


A high pitched voice from the side jolts me out of my fantasy and I look across startled.  Wow, fascinating, long straight hair, dyed jet black, and pulled into a bun so tight it gave an instant face lift, green feline eyes are beautifully framed by long eyelashes, black eyeliner and perfectly sculpted brows, this boy has some serious makeup skills, and those huge, red, pouty lips could give Steve Tyler a run for his money; unfortunately, the fake tan shade, pure orangutan, was just hideous.

” Sweetie, I get that you, as mighty Cabin Crew, are only slumming it on check-in for today, but there is rather a long queue building.  If I get this flight off on time, I please the Captain, and oh god how I love to please him.” Winking suggestively at me I couldn’t help but snigger. “So please, stop cruising the passengers and get a wiggle on babe.”

Seemingly unconcerned with the comments, not affording him a response, she leisurely attached the baggage tag to my case.  Holding out my boarding card and passport towards me, I reached out to take them, watching as her hand slid forward to touch mine.

“I very much look forward to seeing you on board Flora.”

No hint of a smile this time, her eyes held mine for what seemed like the longest of moments, and I felt my desire dripping out of me.  This woman had turned me on just by checking me in for a flight, what then would she be capable of at 30,000 feet armed with champagne and a hot sandwich – I was really rather keen to find out.


Chapter 2


Impatient to see her again, I distracted myself by wandering around the airport shops, trying on outrageously expensive sunglasses that I had no intention of buying, drinking endless Espressos, and finally ending up in Wetherspoons for a glass of wine and flirty banter with a rather raucous stag party.  Still ridiculously horny and very wet, I considered a quick trip to the bathroom, there was an hour until the gate opened, so more than enough time for an orgasm.  I found myself, however, in the unusual position of wanting to wait, to find out what she had planned for the flight; although for the life of me I couldn’t imagine how anything was going to be possible once we were on board, I mean planes were hardly suitable for private trysts, were they?

Sitting at the gate I suddenly felt insanely nervous, what if I had misconstrued the situation, what if she was just being friendly and I had wrongly interpreted the open warmth of an African personality, and presumed that it meant she fancied me; well, I was about to find out, wait finally over I joined the queue, eager, despite my fears, to get on board and see her again.  I found my place and marveled at how much room I had, business class was seriously the way to travel.  Unable to resist playing with the seat controls, I delighted in all the gadgets around me, and when my childlike excitement finally dissipated, I stared, absent-mindedly out of the window, a ground crew guy immediately catching my eye, fuck what a great arse – breath on my ear made me jump and I felt my body react as her perfume filled the air around me.

“How do you like your seat Flora?”

I turned my head towards her, her face inches from mine, oh those lips, so full and kissable, the urge to lean forward and snog her was overwhelming.  Several hours fantasising about what I wanted to do to her, and what I wanted her to do to me, had resulted in desire overriding all sense of appropriateness – of which, to be fair, I didn’t have much at the best of times.  Come on Flora, get a grip, you aren’t going to kiss this woman now, not with all these people walking past, reluctantly I moved slightly away and she stood back up into the aisle.

“Thank you so much for the upgrade, this is just the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, this seat is seriously amazing.”

“You are most welcome, I want you to be very happy and relaxed Flora, you have got a long night ahead of you.”

Leaning, once again, towards me, she placed her hand on my shoulder, her shirt falling forwards, giving me an unobstructed view of those glorious breasts; my breath caught as she slid her hand downwards from my shoulder, fingers grazing my nipple, before she slowly pulled away and stood up.  Panting and breathless with desire, my nipple tingled from her, albeit brief, touch, oh god I was totally at this woman’s mercy, completely in control of the situation she obviously had a plan of action, and I found this unbelievable hot.  Squirming in my seat, she stood there, staring at me, the intensity of her eyes on mine making me writhe with passion, desperate to be touched.  As if reading my mind she suddenly smiled at me.

“Soon Flora, very soon, I will give you what you want.”

Reaching up into the overhead locker she pulled something out and threw it into my lap, surprised I looked down, a denim skirt, what the hell? I looked back up and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

“It’s mine.  When the plane is in the air and the seat belt sign has been taken off, I want you to go to the bathroom in front of you, I want you to take off your jeans and knickers, and I want you to put this skirt on instead.  Can you do that for me Flora?”

All coherent thought now totally overridden by desire, I nodded, and she smiled.

“Thank you Flora, that will help me a great deal in making sure you have a very pleasurable flight.”

And with that, she was gone.

I didn’t see her again for the next half an hour and presumed she was busy helping other passengers and preparing for take-off.  Come on Captain Jack or whatever your name is, let’s get this bird in the air, the waiting was making me crazy.  Finally airborne, I sat, staring at the seat belt light, gripping the skirt tightly in both hands as though someone might come and take if off me, the ‘bing’ sent me flying out of my seat like a greyhound of out a trap and I dove into the bathroom and locked the door.

Staring back at me from the mirror was not the sexy goddess I had hoped to see, face flushed with lust, my hair looked like a birds nest from where I had been twisting strands around my fingers for the last few hours in frustration.  I splashed some water on my face and clawed through my hair, attempting to pull it back into some semblance of a style.  Needing to wee I pulled off my jeans and knickers and once finished I took my hand and pumped soap and water onto it, I wanted my pussy squeaky clean for the fun ahead.  Wow, it felt good to touch myself, god, I was burning hot and so wet, not wanting to wash away too much of my grool, I carefully patted myself dry and pulled on the skirt.  Fuck me it was short, I tried to get a look at the back to check my arse cheeks weren’t hanging out below the hem, but the tiny, blurry, mirror was hardly conducive for this and I had to give up.  Tugging it ineffectively down, conscious of my lack of underwear, I took a breath and let myself out of the bathroom, scurrying quickly back to my seat, jeans and knickers in hand.

So now what?  No sign of her.  The coolness of the cabin was chilling the wetness dripping out onto my thighs and making me even more aware of my state of undress.  Pulling my legs together I leant forward, hugging my knees with my arms.


She was back, finally.

“I like your skirt.  Can you sit back please so that I can take a better look at it.”

Letting go of my knees I sat back into the seat and let her inspect me.

“It looks great on you, a perfect fit.”

Reaching forward she pulled at the hem as though examining the cloth, I gasped, her fingers now achingly close to my pussy, instinctively I opened my legs, desperate for her touch.  My eyes closed in anticipation of feeling her fingers on me, and I groaned in frustration when I felt her hand move away.  Looking up I was met with a smirk.

“It isn’t going to be quite that easy Flora.  There is something I need you to do for me first.”

What the hell was she on about now, if it wasn’t for desire clouding my brain I might have got irritated at the delay, lack of patience being a constant struggle for me – sighing, I nodded, fine, whatever she wanted, I was going to do it.

“I want you to walk along this aisle for me Flora, nice and slowly, and keep going all the way along until you reach the back of the plane.  And then, when you get there, I want you to go into the bathroom, I want you to stick two fingers into your pussy and get them dripping wet from your sexy grool, and then, I want you to walk back here to your seat where I will be waiting.”

Oh my fucking life, she can’t be serious, this skirt barely skims my arse, I know that now as when I sat down my bare skin hit the seat and I had to hold on to the front to keep from exposing my muff to everyone.  If I walk along the aisle anyone paying attention is going to be afforded glimpses of my bottom – if not more.  Fuck.  What to do?  From the way she is looking at me this is non-negotiable, and then what, this just ends here, oh no, no, no, no, I am way too turned on now, past the point of no return, I have to keep going.

I nod, and she moves to one side to let me out into the aisle in front of her.  I turn to face the back of the plane, hesitating at the sight of all those people I need to get past, in an hour or so they would all, probably, be asleep, but now they are still settling, looking around the cabin, bored and in need of distraction.  I jumped as I felt a tug on the back of the skirt, fingers grazed the cheeks of my arse, and her breasts pushed against my back as she leant towards me.

“Your arse is incredibly sexy Flora, this skirt is just the perfect length to show it off, I think many of your fellow passengers will watch you pass by with enthusiasm.”

Desperately turned on I pressed back as her fingers became more insistent, now stroking deeper and grazing my pubic hair, but falling, agonisingly short, of where I wanted them to go.  As the hand was removed I had the irrational urge to stamp my foot like an irate toddler.

“Now off you go, I will be watching, and waiting here for your return.  Don’t forget what I need you to do with your fingers, if you forget you will have to walk back again, I will be checking – oh, and don’t dry yourself off in the bathroom, I want to see the wetness dripping down your thighs.”

A slight shove from behind got my reticent feet moving and I started walking self consciously along the aisle, after a few paces I looked back over my shoulder and was afforded a wide smile and a nod of encouragement, swallowing, I turned back and carried on.

Talk about a walk of shame, keeping my gaze firmly on the ground, I could feel people’s eyes on me as I approached, the shortness of my attire, I am sure, eliciting a plethora of responses, shock, approval, desire, distaste; I cringed feeling people swivelling around in their seats as I passed, no doubt wanting to see if the back view was just as revealing.  Well they wouldn’t be disappointed, I could feel the hem of the skirt skimming my bottom about three quarters of the way down, so my arse was most definitely out for all to see.  After what seemed like an interminably long walk I finally reached the bathroom and plunged inside.  Leaning my back against the locked door, I released the breath that I hadn’t realised I was holding, Oh fucking hell, I have got to walk back again in a minute – what the hell have you got yourself into Flora?  Could I be arrested for indecent exposure, after all I was in public and, effectively, naked from the waist down?   Concerns aside I couldn’t help but admit that it was rather intoxicating, knowing she was watching and getting off on other people inspecting me as I passed – god I love a bit of kink.  Remembering my other task I move my fingers onto myself and am shocked at how wet I am, grool is literally dripping out of me onto my thighs, just as she foresaw it would – am I that easy to read?  Pushing two fingers deep inside, my slippery wetness allowed easy access, and I groaned, desperate to stroke my now pulsating, rock hard clit, but instead, eager to return, I removed my fingers and resisted the urge to dry off my legs  – okay, time for the long walk back.

Surprisingly, instead of mortification, the whisperings, this time, make me feel sexy and powerful; I am enjoying  people checking out my arse, and the thought that they might, also, be able to see my hot, wet, pussy makes it even more of a turn on.  She is standing there, waiting for me, and as I approach I can’t help but smile and raise my eyebrows, triumphant in my daring.  She nods towards the seat and I collapse down into it, now what?

“Well done Flora, you did amazingly well, you had lots of admiring glances, and many people desire you now.  But they can only look, they can’t have you, you are mine, do you understand?”

Oh this is seriously sexy, I nod my consent, my breathing now shallow and fast, as feel my passion growing exponentially.

“Now did you do the other thing I asked you to do?  Did you put your fingers inside your pussy for me Flora?”

I nod, and she holds out a hand towards me; hesitating for a moment, unsure, I then put my hand in hers and watch as she wipes my fingers under her nose.

“Mmmm, you smell good Flora, now I wonder how you taste?”

Eyes never leaving mine, her tongue slowly licked the wetness from my fingers, and then taking them deep into her mouth, she sucked hard, causing me to gasp as a new eruption of passion exploded within my groin, and had me dripping, unrestrainedly, onto the seat.  Oh my god, okay, whatever I have said before, I was wrong, this is officially the most erotic moment of my life – well, you know, so far.  Feeling myself tense, I wonder if I might actually be able to orgasm like this – now that would be a first – to cum without any actual stimulation to my pussy, I close my eyes, edging closer to climax, as her mouth and tongue continued to fuck my fingers.

My eyes fly open as she lets go of my hand, and I sit their panting, waiting for the next move. Pulling my skirt up towards my waist, I am fully exposed for her perusal.

“Open your legs a little more for me please.”

I moved my legs apart, moaning in frustration – just touch me already.  Her standing there, looking my pussy, was unbelievably sexy, my lips heavy with lust were clearly visible under my pubic hair, now soaking and sticky with grool.

“Look how wet and swollen you are, desperate to be touched I imagine?”

I nodded frantically, “Yes please, please, I need you to touch me.”

Smiling she released my skirt and stood up, leaving me still exposed, throbbing and aching to be stroked.

“You are not quite ready for that, yet, but it will happen soon, very soon, I promise.  Now I need to do some work, but I will be back with champagne for you, just relax Flora – all things come to those who wait.”

It was seriously all I could do not to scream, this was torture, exquisitely seductive torture, but torture nonetheless.


Feeling inspired to pen your own sex fantasy? If you’d like to submit a story to be published on the Sh! blog, please hop on over to this page for more info on Creative Juices.

Creative Juices: And Eddie Still Makes Three

Creative Juices: And Eddie Still Makes Three

Hey there, thanks for joining us!

Today we’re excited to have Zak Jane Keir with us, sharing a teaser from her story And Eddie Still Makes Three from Rule 34, a brand new collection of weird & wonderful fetish erotica.

The book contains ten very different stories of uncommon desires and strange, lustful obsessions. Some are delicious, some will unsettle you, some might even make you cry…

Rule 34: if it exists, someone’s kinky for it.


AND EDDIE STILL MAKES THREE (extract) by Zak Jane Keir

It took over a year of occasional meetings – Jonathan was studying mediaeval literature, so he was never likely to encounter Noel in a tutorial or seminar. There were parties, though, and the student discos that set out to cater to those who wanted something other than rave or Britpop. Every so often, they’d run into one another, and there came a time where they really began to talk more. One or the other of them would bring up a news story featuring the Paris catacombs, or Kensal Green Cemetery’s open day, or some more subtle and sensitive horror film they had both seen but few other people had even heard of. Usually, though, any such conversations would be cut short by someone else – frequently one of the pretty Goth girls who Noel appeared to find so easy to get on with – and Jonathan would end up going back to his own room and lying awake, stroking himself, thinking of things he could barely describe to himself, let alone anyone else.

Much later, Noel would tease Jonathan about the night they got together, and about his previous assumptions that photographers and painters never read enough books. “Took you long enough to bring it up,” he would say. “We’d have had at least six more months of fucking each other stupid if you’d only mentioned the bloody book at the start.” Jonathan always countered with the perfectly reasonable point that Noel could have just as easily initiated that particular topic, but there came a time when it was far too painful to be funny. That was when they fully understood how little time they were going to have, and the idea of having wasted any in the past became unbearable.

They were sitting on the same sofa, at yet another party, and they’d discovered that both of them took their Gothic identities as far as loving some of the original Gothic literature, and were well away on The Mysteries of Udolpho: specifically, the idea of the skeleton behind the black veil.

“Bet they were all having a wank over it, though,” was the passing remark made by the girl climbing over them in search of more beer. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Weirdos.” Neither of them knew her, and neither of them ever bothered seeking her out afterwards, but they both remembered the comment because of what happened next.

“Well, I would, definitely,” Noel said, and the look in his eyes made it utterly unavoidable: Jonathan leaned forward and kissed him, full on the mouth. He drew back almost instantly, terrified of what he had done, expecting a punch in the face or, at the very least, for Noel to jump up and abandon him. But Noel simply said. “Finally. Shall we get the fuck out of here?”

They fled the party, giggling, holding hands, but it wasn’t going to be quite that easy.  Jonathan shared a room with a quiet but good-natured law postgrad, who he would have felt guilty about disturbing and Noel had a nosy landlady who didn’t allow overnight visitors. Still, it was early May and reasonably warm.

There was a little churchyard, apparently just a couple of streets away from the party, which had a reputation both of them had heard plenty about. Naturally, it was allegedly popular with various illicit couples, though no one ever admitted to going there for sex or even knowing anyone who had done in terms other than “My mate’s girlfriend’s ex did it on top of one of the tombs”.

When they got there, though, after a meandering stroll with pauses for kissing in shop doorways, there turned out to be locked gates and a high stone wall.  They looked at each other and Jonathan felt a terrible pang of loss and frustration, but Noel laughed, and pulled him close for another kiss. “See that nice dark alley down the side? Let’s go down there.”

Want to know what happens next? Buy a copy of Rule 34 and you’ll find out…

Feeling inspired to pen your own sex fantasy? If you’d like to submit a story to be published on the Sh! blog, please hop on over to this page for more info on Creative Juices.

Lips B&W

Creative Juices: I Make You Suffer

We’re very excited about this third instalment of Creative Juices; a sex fantasy called I Make You Suffer by Alexandra Grey. It’s a sassy piece, focusing on female pleasure.


At this point Alexandra doesn’t have a Twitter handle or website for you to visit, but we hope to have her write for Creative Juices again.


Until then, here’s her fantasy for you to enjoy!


 I MAKE YOU SUFFER by Alexandra Grey

I like to think about what it would be like if you wanted to fuck me, and I made you suffer for it.

We’re somewhere private, maybe a bathroom or cloakroom. Leaning up against a shadowy wall, there’s distant music and voices, but mostly we’re absorbed in each other. My back is against the wall and you’re grinding your pelvis into mine, and dropping kisses down my neck. I’m melting into the sensation – I’ve been drinking, everything is warm and a little fuzzy. You say ‘please…please…’ into my ear. I respond by laughing, not really taking you seriously. The kisses move back up my neck and you kiss my mouth, pushing my head back into the wall, penetrating me with your tongue until I sigh.

You move your lips back down my neck, down into my cleavage. Grazing the tops of my breasts with your mouth, almost instinctively, you move your hand up to press it against one of them and squeeze slightly. I laugh again, and push them away, and you make a little disappointed noise into my collarbone. The noise entertains me; I’m revelling in your neediness and the power I have over you. I place my hands on your hips, and pull them suddenly into me, making you gasp. As your hands go back to my body I take them and place them flat against my chest, just above where the curvature of my breasts starts, and I push them, sliding them down my torso, almost ignoring your reaction while I enjoy the sensation.

I lean back against the wall and look at your from under my eyelids. You take this as an invitation and lean in to kiss me but I dodge your mouth and turn away to accept your kisses on my neck. You’re becoming frustrated and you unconsciously ball up some of my dress in your fist, and at first I soothe you by starting to kiss your mouth – but it’s deceptive, and after kissing you deeply for a moment I pull back to see you looking hungrily at me. I bring my hand up to your mouth and slide in a finger, hooking it over your teeth and pulling you close to my face. ‘Did you want to…?’ I say. You nod insistently.

I push us off the wall and turn us around so that your back is against it and I’m leaning on you, pushing my face into your neck as I say ‘…No, we can’t…not here…’. As I’m saying this I grind my crotch into yours. I can feeling your cock under my pelvis, starting to get hard. You swallow and try to breath normally. You almost want to push me away, to end the frustration, but my hands are now massaging your bottom through your trousers as I make lazy circles with my hips, making you harder and unable to go back to the party. I pull back and watch your face as I slowly unzip your trousers, and slide my hand inside to gently rub the head of your cock through your boxers. You gasp and realise how dry your mouth is. You’re almost nervous, this wasn’t how you expected this detour to go.

My hand is warm and soft as I pull your cock out of your trousers. I start making lazy circles with my thumb around the tip of your cock. You stifle a moan. This encourages me, I’m enjoying your discomfort as if it was touch and I make it worse by gently stroking one of your nipples through your shirt with my nail. The noises you’re suppressing become more pathetic and insistent. You’ve stopped touching me, your palms are now flat against the wall behind you, more to stay standing than anything else.

I chuckle and pause, looking up at you. ‘Do you want to put your cock inside me?’ You can only get out a ‘yeah’ and I say ‘Just stay there. If you move, I’ll leave’.

Still with my body pressed against yours, while I look into your eyes, I reach down and slide up my dress. When I reach my waist, my dress gathered in one hand, I turn around and, hooking my thumbs into my knickers, slide them slowly down, bending to push them down my legs, and push my naked arse into your cock. You watch as your cock is enveloped by my arse cheeks when I straighten up. I lean back against you, feeling your shaft press into my arsehole and cunt, dragging my dress up further so I can run my hands over my nipples.

I bring my fingers up to your mouth, to wet them, and then rub them onto the tip of your cock. You’re still braced against the wall, and as I push the head of your cock against the entrance of my arse, rubbing it up and down where it’s most sensitive, you involuntarily say ‘oh god’. I smile and lean back against you, pushing the head of your cock slightly inside my arse. When you look down, you can see that my eyes are closed, my head is leaning back against your chest and one of my hands is slowly pinching and releasing one of my nipples.

You’re still not touching me, you’re worried that if you moved you’d fall over. Only the very end of your cock is inside me and you desperately want it to be more, and for me to move faster and give you some relief from this tension. But you can’t, you know you have to stay still, that I’m in control. While one of my hands is rubbing my nipples, the other has started circling my clitoris. The little noises of almost pathetic frustration that you’re making are turning me on, making me touch myself faster and bring myself closer to orgasm.

The movement from me pleasuring myself is causing me to rock back and forth on your cock and as it almost slides in further you whimper and gasp. As I orgasm, the muscles of my arse twich around you and you gasp for breath, unable to control your reactions, groping at the wall behind you and whispering ‘oh god, oh god’ under your breath as I come.

When I’m done, I exhale with satisfaction, and slide myself off your cock, pushing my dress back down. You hope I’ll turn around for a kiss, or to help you recover from my orgasm.

But I merely bend down, pick up my knickers, and walk back to the party, without even glancing behind me.

Feeling inspired to pen your own sex fantasy? If you’d like to submit a story to be published on the Sh! blog, please hop on over to this page for more info on Creative Juices.


Creative Juices: Do It.

Hello there, thank you for stopping by for the second instalment of Creative Juices!
Today we have a rough sex-fantasy by @Nookysemper, a hot & heavy story that’ll have you feeling juicy in no time. Just so you know, this story includes breath play & asphyxiation kink. If that’s not your thing, we recommend hopping off this page now…
But – if you love kink and you want more, head on over to NookyEverAfter (once you’ve read her story below, of course). Enjoy!

DO IT by Nookysemper

You’re on your back, forearms flat on the bed, fingers digging into the sheets, and he’s pounding you, like, really pounding you, hands tight on the curve of your waist, pulling you up onto his cock with every thrust of his hips. You’re curled up towards him a little, shoulders off the mattress, watching his face, waiting. His eyes flick up, and you don’t even say it, don’t even say anything, just raise your eyebrows a little.

Yes. Do it.

He’s panting hoarse, breathy. You can feel the quick flutter of his heart where your breasts are brushing up against his chest. He drags one of his hands up your body and settles it over your throat, fingers set together, slides it a little more so his thumb is wedged up in the crease of your jaw.

‘Baby,’ he says, and shifts his shoulders forward, lets the weight of his body press against your throat. He holds the pressure steady till you’re gasping, sucking hard for dizzy, thready breaths. You can feel him watching your face, watching it hard, and the feeling makes something float under your ribs. There’s a thrum of adrenaline in your spine and a red fog behind your eyelids, blurring your vision, and your senses scutter and dissolve somewhere between the slick weight of his cock filling you, no, fucking you, and this sudden suffocation, sensory obliteration.

He’s pounding urgently, now, making punchy noises under his breath. He lifts his hand for a second, holds it above your throat, and you have time for two ragged breaths before he clamps it hard over your face, not just your mouth but your nose too, and something in your brain stem fuses out. Your body is bucking against him, wild, something apart from you. The world’s red-dark and your spine is alight and his hands, his hands are hard on your face and his cock is hard inside you, pulsing, and the ropey muscles of his arm are locked and quivering, holding you down, holding your breath inside you. You’re past all thought, soul-sprung cipher of screaming flesh, and he makes a great guttural noise and comes, comes, comes.

Feeling inspired to pen your own sex fantasy? If you’d like to submit a story to be published on the Sh! blog, please hop on over to this page for more info on Creative Juices.

Creative Juices: Tonight

Welcome to the very first story published on Creative Juices, the hub for creative writers and lovers of erotic stories! Here is where you get your juices flowing, your mojos growing – and we’re hoping you’ll get off spectacularly too…

Today we’re sharing a **hot** fantasy written by our friend Candysnatch. Whilst she’s an accomplished (and dedicated!) toy reviewer, she has chosen not to include sex toys in her story, opting instead for fingers… Enjoy!

TONIGHT by Candysnatch

Staring into the mirror I survey the damage, face in disarray, hair a shadow of the curled perfection it was when I left the house. Tugging at the lash strips adorning my lids I flash back to earlier. So much flirting, so much sexual tension. Alcohol always makes me horny but being around her is hard at any time.

Slowly wiping away my carefully applied make up my mind tip toes through a slideshow of images. Her fingers intertwined in mine as we danced, her hand in the small of my back as we stood at the bar, the way she flicks her hair behind her ears as she laughs. I wonder if she’s sat in her bedroom removing the mask she wore this evening.

Finally, bare faced I begin to unpin my hair. Soft curls cascade around my naked shoulders reminding me of her touch. Her fingers lightly stroking down my neck as we grow ever closer. Girly chit chat laced with heavy sexual undertones. She bites her lip as I regale her with my latest relationship drama. I find it hard to drag my eyes from her mouth. I want to bite her lip.

My bedtime ritual is over. All traces of my glamourous façade removed I sit in front of my mirror as naked as when I was born. No pretence. No filter. Closing my eyes, I flick through the slide show, fast forward to the good bit. The moment when alcohol made me brave. When I could take it no more and kissed her.

Her perfume fills my senses as her soft lips welcome me. Gently responding, unsure at first. I trace my fingers up her bare thighs, relishing the feeling of her skin. Mimicking the moment outside of my memory I part my thighs.

Suddenly she’s hungry, and she’s mine. Her warm wet mouth opening to me, her hands in my hair as she lets down that final barrier. Sat in front of my mirror I touch my own warm wetness remembering her passion.

I reach up and softly cup my tits. Rolling and pinching my hardening nipples between my fingers. Desperate to recapture the sensation of her hands sliding under my bra, the lust courses through me as my nipples remember her delicate pinching touch.

I move to my bed, filled with heady memories. Picturing the look on her beautiful face as I slid my hand between her legs and felt the soaked cotton of her thong. Stroking her, teasing her. I suck my fingers, savouring the last remnants of her taste.

Gently stroking my dampened fingers over my aching clit as my brain offers me an audio playback of her delicate moans directly in my ear. A hotwire to my cunt. Plunging my fingers inside myself, echoing the way I fucked her. Curling my fingers up to meet her need. Come to me baby, come for me. As my climax crashes over me I call her name lost in the sensation of memory.

Feeling inspired to pen your own sex fantasy? If you’d like to submit a story to be published on the Sh! blog, please hop on over to this page for more info on Creative Juices.

Creative Juices Typewriter

Introducing Creative Juices

Welcome to Creative Juices, the online hub for readers, writers & lovers of erotic stories.

During a recent workshop at our Hoxton shop, where guests created their very own erotic fantasies, we realized that there is so much talent out there; so many stories that have yet to be written, read or told…

So we invite you, yes – you, to rev up your creative juices, put pen to paper and write down your erotic fantasy – pages that have been created with the sole purpose of getting you off. Because we think that other people will want to read it too. And get off to it.

We’re looking for straight, lesbian, gay, queer, transgender, fan fiction, vanilla, kink, outerwordly… Your fantasy could include only one person or a whole group.

Please note: there are a few things we won’t publish, and these are listed at the bottom of this blog post.

Here’s how to get your erotic fantasy published on Creative Juices:

18+ only: Writers must be 18 years of age or older and legally able to write, submit and read erotic material. All characters in submitted stories must be 18+. You must be the sole creator of the story you submit.

Hobby writers are most welcome to submit erotic stories. You can submit your story anonymously or with pseudonym, but please make sure to include this information clearly in your submission.

Professional writers are also most welcome to submit erotic stories. The stories can be full length or a juicy teaser if a new book is due out. If we stock your book on our website, we will link to it. If we do not stock your book, we will be happy to link to your own website or buy-links on Amazon.

Editing: Stories need not be perfect or polished, especially if you are not a professional writer, but submissions must be spell&grammar checked. We’ll provide space for new writers, but we cannot offer editing services. Ensure your story is in bite-size paragraphs as this will be much easier for the readers. No links or HTML inside stories please – these will be deleted.

Submission format: Please submit your erotic story as attached Word files (.doc), text files (.txt) or Rich Text Files (.rtf). If we are unable to read your story, we won’t publish it

Scheduling: Stories will be slotted into a rolling schedule and we’ll let you know when your story is due to go live. If an author has a book to promote, we reserve the right to publish their submission in accordance with their promotional schedule. Please remember that we have a shop to look after, so bear with us if it takes us a few days to respond to your submission.

Or – check your spam folder as we occasionally end up in there…

Images: You must hold rights to any images you submit alongside your story. We will not publish images of naked body parts (so no dick-pics please!).

Payment: No stories will be paid for – Creative Juices is a purely for the pleasure of creative writing and relaxing reading.

Refusals: We reserve the right to not publish a story if we feel it does not conform to the Sh! ethos: we will not publish stories featuring scat, incest, paedophilia, bestiality or stories with a strong rape theme. Our decision is final.

Creative Juices – may your well never run dry!

Creative Juices Submissions

valentine's Reading Slam

Valentine’s Reading Slam

Join us for a fun evening of aural frolics saucy enough to make ears burn and cheeks blush! There will be bubbles whilst you mingle and plenty of time to browse and shop our super collection of sex toys just in time for a fantastic Valentine’s Day.

We have a stellar line up for you: Zak Jane Keir, K D Grace, Charlie Forrest, Exhibit A, The Other Livvy and Ishmael Skyes are all ready with their hottest stories for your pleasure…

Date: Friday 10th February
Time: 6.30pm
Address: Sh! 57 Hoxton Square, London N1 6PB
Price: FREE

The evening is a warm up for V-Day so make sure to book your FREE ticket now and we promise you’ll come away with some great ideas! *wink*

Thrills & Chills Erotica

Thrills & Chills Erotica

We know Halloween has been and gone but we’re not quite ready to give up on spooks yet, so today we have no less than TWO thrilling, chilling erotic stories for you!

This first story, Monster Sex by Scandarella, came runner up in our Thrills & Chills Erotic Writing Story Competition (read the winning entry by Mia Midnight here).

Monster Sex is creepy and sexy, and if that’s your thing, you’ll love it!


Monster Sex by Scandarella

If you asked around, most people would tell you that falling asleep in the bath is a dumb move. It’s dangerous. You could drown, or freeze to death, or wrinkle up so much you turn into a raisin and get washed down the plughole, never to be seen again.

Okay, so that last bit isn’t entirely true. Wrinkling up is a thing, sure, but you aren’t in any danger of being swept away to the sewers. But if you fall asleep in the bath on Halloween… well, it isn’t what goes down the plughole you need to worry about. It’s what comes up out of it that should be cause for concern…

I’d chosen to avoid all things to do with All Hallows Eve this year, and had switched off all of the lights, plunging my whole house into darkness. The only light within my walls was coming from the two tea light candles I’d placed on the closed toilet seat, just opposite the bath. One was basic patchouli, the other a mixed fragrance called seafoam. An odd combo, I know, but it worked for me.

Relaxation had never been my strong suit, but I was tired and achy, so it didn’t take long for me to sink deeper into the steaming hot water and drift off, cocooned in billions of fluffy white bubbles.

I dreamt my usual rags to riches, shelf stacker to super-starlet dream of red carpets and rose petals, rudely awaking right before the part where I get offered the lead in the next box office shattering romance.

Two things settled on me at once: I was horny as hell, and something was moving against my right leg, just by the ball chain that held the plug. A roiling mass of bubbles started to churn right above where the plug would be, and the water level began to rise.

Backing up the bath a little, I stared in confusion. The gurgling said the bath was draining, but it was still getting deeper. It took me almost half a minute to decide I should really get my ass out of there, but before I could even put enough weight on my arms to lift myself, something began to coil around my ankles.

I could have screamed. I should have, in fact, but the way whatever it was felt against my skin, clingy, sucky, draggy… I liked it.

A flash of fleshy pink just beneath the surface of the water caught my eye, and I told myself it was just my foot. It wasn’t. I knew that for a fact, because I was completely incapable of getting my foot anywhere near my hips.

Suddenly, something wrapped around my waist and pulled me down into the water. My whole upper body was submerged, leaving only my nose and mouth exposed to the air. The coils around my ankles tightened, pulling my legs apart. They didn’t have to pull very hard. I was a willing participant in whatever this was.

Stinging rushed up my legs as something adhered to my skin then pulled away. They felt like a thousand tiny pairs of lips, and I felt them pop away one at a time, sure they’d be leaving little love-bites in their wake. They were getting closer to the tops of my thighs, pushing them further and further apart until I knew I was gaping wide. Bizarrely, I hoped that whatever it was couldn’t see. I didn’t mind it molesting me, but god forbid it looking upon and judging my untamed pubic wilderness.

One soft sucker wrapped around my clit, and my moan was shockingly magnified by the water that filled my ears. That was heaven enough, but then what felt like dozens of tiny pins started to prickle as the sucker twisted.

Teeth, I thought helplessly. They weren’t pins, they were teeth. That was a truly sickening thought, but it didn’t stop me from grabbing my breasts, from thrusting my groin forward and wriggling in encouragement.

That first tentative probe around my vagina promised good things. It spoke of gentleness, of care and consideration. So my scream almost deafened me when an almost endless, fat thing plunged into my pussy. I felt my belly bulge against my elbow, and screamed again.

In and out, over and over, surging and splashing water into my mouth, up my nose. I was sure I would be drowned, but the thing must have had the same thought. It lifted me quickly, spinning me in the air a foot above the water before dropping me back down.

I saw it, as I turned. At least I think I did. I saw something huge, soft and squishy looking, but with a peculiarly humanoid shaped torso. It wasn’t human, though. No human had enough arms to wrap around both of my arms, both legs, and both breasts while sliding a great length into my pussy, and now another into my mouth.

I gagged and writhed, praying for that one last thing. Pressure at my ass, then sweet penetration. The tentacles – yes, I knew what they were now – thrust in and out of me faster and faster until both they and my entire body convulsed with pleasure. My belly was filling with something salty, and I guessed that the new pumping pressure inside my vagina and ass were the same thing.

The water heaved once more, then I was on my back again, staring at the ceiling. Everything was still, as though nothing had happened. I might have believed that were true, if not for two things. The ache in my belly, and the little pin prick circle shaped love bite, just to the left of my right nipple.

So, if you should take a lonely bath on Halloween, beware. There’s no guessing what lurks beneath your plughole, waiting for a chance to cum out. There might be a thing in your bath, just waiting for you to doze off. But don’t lose too much sleep over it. You never know, when your thing comes for you, you might just like it.

The 2nd runner up, High Five by Angela Garrigan is clever and sexy, and we love how the author made good use of the word Sh!


Sarah felt a hand stroking her side. She moaned softly into her pillow and started to turn over. The hand insisted she stay put.

“But I…”

“Sh.” The hand continued its journey. Soft, insistent strokes traced the shape of her body. Short fingernails occasionally made their presence felt as they left faint, pink lines on her back. She felt her buttocks tighten slightly and then relax as fingers explored every contour and crevice.

Sarah gasped.  The hand teased her from behind before moving to caress her hip.

“Don’t stop, please,”

“Sh.” The hand traced her abdomen, once again the finger nails made their mark. She arched her back slightly as her breasts were stroked and squeezed. She lay still, her eyes closed. Her breathing caught as her nipples reacted to the touch. She squirmed a little as the hand took possession of both nipples at once. The caresses, gentle at first, progressed to more insistent, rougher handling. She moaned softly. She felt her nipples ache for more as the hand relinquished its hold.

“Oh, god, please don’t…” She whispered.


Sarah buried her fingers in the pillow, her breathing was ragged.  She could feel her heart beating. She let out a low growl as she felt the fingernails scrape across and down her stomach. She held her breath. The hand paused. She whimpered. It moved to her hip and continued down. She felt the fingers squeeze her thigh as they traced the shape of it. Rising now toward their goal, Sarah responded to their pressure and shifted to part her legs. Once again she tried to turn, but the hand restrained her.

“I want to kiss you.” She pleaded.

“Sh.” The hand cupped her. Sarah stayed where she was. The fingers travelled up and down, teasing her. She ached for more.



Sarah groaned as she felt the fingers explore her, as they grazed her clitoris and dipped into her wetness. She writhed as the passion built in her. She wanted this to go on forever. She wanted to come.  Every sinew of her being was focused on that hand. Its probing was relentless and Sarah felt like she was losing her mind.

The hand moved and Sarah gasped as two fingers slipped inside her. She answered the thrusts with her body and groaned when a third finger went in. All motion stopped.

“Oh Jesus, don’t stop, oh god…” She was barely able to utter the words.

“Sh.” The fingers began to move, curling inside of her, urging her on. There was a fourth. Sarah couldn’t speak, her breathing was ragged as she ground herself down onto the hand. The world ceased to exist. There was only Sarah and sensation. Only Sarah and the hand that had now balled into a fist inside her. Again, everything stopped. She had never felt anything like this before. She pushed herself onto it, bucking and riding, panting and sweating. She was being fucked like she’d never been fucked before. Every twist and turn, every thrust made her cry out. The passion bordered on delirium. She felt the orgasm build from deep inside of her. She roared as she erupted. She felt herself tighten around the hand as she screamed her release.

She lay there, breathless, unable to speak, unable to move. Waves of pleasure tore through her body, over and over again. Eventually she felt herself let go of the hand.

“That was,”


She felt it slip gently out and cup her, applying slight pressure at the same time. She closed her eyes and felt herself drift.

Sarah stretched. She couldn’t remember ever having such fantastic sex.  Mags must be honing her skills. She smiled to herself.

“I was out for the count last night, I didn’t hear you come in” She reached for her girlfriend. She wasn’t there.

“Mags? Hon, are you making coffee by any chance?” She called as she got out of bed. There was no answer. Sarah grabbed her dressing gown and headed down stairs.

“Mags? You’re missing out babe, come back to bed.” The house was empty.

As she tied the belt on her robe, she noticed the message light blinking on the ansaphone. She pressed the play button.

“Hi sweetie, I’m sorry, but I won’t be back for Halloween after all. There’s been a hitch in production. I’ll call you later. Love you babe.”

Sarah frowned. How could Mags still be on the other side of the world? What the fuck? Who was in her bed this morning? How was someone in her bed this morning? Was it a dream? No, don’t be stupid, of course it wasn’t. She walked slowly back to her bedroom. As she sat on the side of the bed, she noticed a book on the bedside table. She peered at the title.

The Ghost of Shoreditch. She turned it over.

 From the streets of Shoreditch to the mansions of Mayfair, Emily Hepworth plied her trade as a fingersmith. A notorious thief and womaniser, Hepworth vanished in 1888. The discovery of her skeletal remains, minus the right hand, raised speculation. Did she steal from one person too many? Did the killer cut off her hand before walling her up in a crypt in Hoxton? Was it revenge, greed or a jealous lover? Is she the ghost so many women talk about? This book explores her extraordinary life and mysterious death and answers many of the questions that historians have been pondering for decades.

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face as she opened the book. There was an inscription.