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Bare Essentials: The best of Nude Magazine

22 Sep

Nude magazine was a internationally distributed indie and counterculture magazine which ran for 7 years. Catering to a wide range of art sub-cultures from street art, comics, illustration, pop fiction, photography and film, the mag presented some of the best original work coming out of the UK from 2003 to 2011.

Bare Essentials: The Best of Nude Magazine is available now for pre-order for £11.50 (a discount of £3.49 over the publishers price of £14.99)

Photography – Tom Bianchi

4 Aug

Tom Bianchi is a prolific American writer and photographer who specialises in male nude photography, and has had several books, poems and essays published over his career.

Being a gay man gives Tom a keen eye on what makes a good male nude photo, with his work consisting of well built hunky men having fun with each other in front of the camera!

If that sounds like your kind of thing, you can get a copy of “On The Couch: Volume Two”, one of Tom’s best photography books from our webshop:

Book Extracts – Penalty Fare

27 Jul

Here at CCK we want to share something special with our customers. We will be taking extracts from our favourite books, and posting them here on the blog. That way you can get a taste of the kind of stuff we offer, and can decide for yourself whether you like it or not. Hopefully you’ll like them so much, you’ll want to buy the book for yourself!

Our first extract comes from the Best Women’s Erotica 2008. The story is written by Jacqueline Applebee, a name well known to us as she was a regular at CCK when it was still open. She would come in on a regular basis to read out her stories for fellow customers to enjoy and give feedback on.

And so without further ado, read on!

Jacqueline Applebee

It was supposed to be my punishment. I’m sure the train guard thought it was only right and just that I should introduce my lips to his hard-on, as penalty for traveling on the railway without a valid ticket. He had given me a simple choice; I was either to pay a week’s wages as a fine, or I was to give him a blowjob the next time we met.

I guessed he didn’t know how little I earn.

That’s why I found myself on the 8:30 service from London Paddington to Bristol Temple Meads the next Friday morning. I waited quietly in my seat by the aisle as the train pulled out of the station in a series of long slow jerks. At first I wanted to find him, to try to keep control of the situation, but I couldn’t move; I was far too nervous. As the onboard speakers crackled to life, I wondered if it was his smooth voice that I heard, welcoming everyone to the train, telling us all to observe the safety notices and that no smoking was allowed.

Ten agonizingly long minutes passed before I saw him at the other end of the narrow swaying carriage, checking tickets, collecting money and pointing the way to the buffet car in an efficient manner. Dressed as he was in his dark uniform, the crisp pressed trousers, jacket and tie made him look severe, almost intimidating. He seemed taller, more solid than before and for a split second, I was hesitant that I could really do this. Then I started thinking that he wouldn’t even remember our sordid agreement; he probably wouldn’t remember me.

And as if he had heard my thoughts, he looked ahead and he saw me; the only black woman on the train by my estimate. I stood out from the pinstripe suits around me and amongst all the stiff uniforms of gray and white, I was like a big black target, dressed in my colorful West African outfit, chunky silver jewelry and a headwrap topping it all off. If I couldn’t move before, I was frozen to the spot now.

Once our eyes met, he zeroed in on me, marching quickly through the carriage and ignoring the other passengers who held out their tickets for him to check. He slung his portable ticket machine over his shoulder as he reached my seat and he yanked me out of my chair, without even breaking his stride.

His big firm hand clamped down as a solid weight upon my shoulder and I half stumbled ahead of him. Other passengers looked at me with sympathy; they were probably thinking that I was going to be thrown bodily off the train for breaking the rules and I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to look at anyone we passed. I was directed in hurried silence to the front of the train, to the first class carriage where no one sat.

As we reached the private toilets there, I saw a sign on the door that almost made me smile. OUT OF ORDER was taped up in big red letters. I suppose that what we were about to do could be considered out of order, but I was just too horny to dwell on it.

You see, this was my choice, my dream; to be so naughty that I simply had to be punished. It had taken three trips to get into trouble and believe me when I say I had tried. But no one checked the tickets on the first journey to Oxford, the train guard on the second trip to Bath Spa took pity on me and said he’d overlook it. It was only on the third journey that I got lucky at last; this guard actually took me aside, leaned over me and told me that there was more than one way to pay for my crime. He had stared at my chest the whole time, with twinkling blue eyes lapping up the sight of me as if I were completely edible, and then he said he’d always wanted to try out a black girl.

I almost came on the spot.

Don’t get me wrong; I think of myself as being reasonably smart. I know I’m not supposed to like things like this, but I do. I like them an awful lot. And just the thought of what was about to happen made me feel so damn hot! Because even though I can look as exotic as you like, I’ve never ever felt it.

Really, not ever.

I was born and brought up in East London, talk with a Cockney accent when I get excited and the closest I’ve got to the tropics is buying a tin of pineapple chunks in my local supermarket. So when my need to be bad gets tangled up with my need to feel like a sultry dusky maiden…well it’s not too hard to work out why I jumped at his yummy proposal. He might have some island beauty stereotype floating around his head and tugging at his groin, but I have my stereotypes too and they make me hunger for firm pink skin, blue veins snaking around hard muscles and hair that is soft and straight.

Big strong men who look like Viking warriors make me gaga with desire. Getting them to notice me is something that I’ve worked long and hard at.

Back on the train, I inhaled deeply as the guard reached around me. I could feel his hot breath against the back of my neck, making me shiver with anticipation. His scent caught my nose; his cologne was crisp, masculine and underlined his attributes.

He used a little funny shaped key to open the door to the restroom and then ushered me inside with a firm push. I glanced around nervously; the room was not large and neither of us was small. I looked back at him with a hint of uncertainty; he was a big handsome man and my layers of bright African cloth hid my voluptuous curves. I didn’t know if we were going to fit, but he smiled at me-a lazy crooked grin that let me know that he’d done this before—-and then he promptly squeezed in behind me.

As the door shut, I caught a glimpse of the bright green countryside as it blurred past the window outside; I saw the freedom of open spaces that I didn’t want. I’d much rather be locked up thank you very much.

We finally made it in, although we had to dance in a tight awkward shuffle to get the door fully closed. For a moment, we both stood there in the confined space, looking at each other. Then his hands moved to his thick belt and he quickly undid the silver buckle. I took it as a cue to sink to my knees and lifted the hem of my bright yellow dress as I stooped down.

The stale damp smell of the toilet was worse down at this level but I tried not to notice. I heard the slow metallic slide of his zipper and I forgot everything else as the sound hypnotized me. His dark uniform trousers dropped to the floor, pooling around thick strong-looking calves, with a mass of fine blond hairs decorating his ivory skin. He was more than ready for me and as I caught my first sight of his cock, it seemed as if there was even less space in the room than before. His large thick crimson dick radiated heat that I could already feel against my lips. It bobbed with the trundle of the train, standing in front of my face like it was a third person in the room.

I pressed my warm face to his burning cock, rubbed my cheeks, my lips over the smooth surface until I felt a hand on my head, stilling me. I heard his low voice; the first thing he’d said to me.

“Train’s due at Reading station in five minutes.”

I got the hint-make it quick, no fancy stuff. I could do that.

I looked back up at his cock and opened wide. I conjured up the taste of salt and placed my lips against a bead of his juice leaking from the tip. He shivered against me and I smiled as I descended on him further. I sucked steadily and slowly on his length and he gasped, almost stepping away from the intensity.

The weight of his hefty cock made my tongue bend beneath it. He felt immense inside me but I wanted it all. I licked the head with short urgent laps and the train began to shudder with me’, keeping pace with my tongue. I closed my eyes, breathed out and swallowed him deeper in slow wet gulps just as we entered a tunnel. The only reason I knew this, was be- cause my ears popped and when I swallowed again from instinct to relieve the pressure, he made a strangled noise. I felt his strong wide hands fisting the fabric of my headscarf and he pulled me forward even more.

My gag reflex is something that I have learned to live with; I’ve practiced on bananas and jumbo hotdogs, pushing them against the back of my throat, half swallowing them and then pulling out before I choked. So when I relaxed my jaw muscles and drew every last inch of him into me, I was as prepared as I could be. I sensed his surprise at this and he surged in- side, growing impossibly harder against the roof of my mouth, stretching me to the limit.

I cupped his heavy hot balls and he went up on tiptoes, straining in the swaying room. Both of his hands were now buried in the cloth that covered my head and they were no longer guiding me, but rather he was using me to steady him- self. I was half glad that he lost control so quickly, half proud of my abilities.

My slow in-and-out motions made him grunt like a bull, my nibbles made him pant like a horse and quick twists of my swollen lips made him gurgle low in his throat. He was making so many appreciative noises and seemed to be enjoying the experience so much that it was only when we felt the pull of the brakes that he suddenly stiffened against me, swore out loud and practically popped himself out of my hungry mouth.

I was amazed at the speed with which he moved, he was tucked in and dressed almost before I could pull off the blueberry condom that I had sneaked on with my first kiss to his cock.

He disappeared out the door and within moments I could – hear his breathless voice announcing the next station, warning passengers to please mind the gap between the train and the platform and reminding them that we were due in Bristol at ten o’clock.

Even though the train was stationary, I still felt the strange swoon wash over me; the feeling that I was still moving, still roaring through the countryside on this pleasure train. I felt my knees start to ache, but I wasn’t about to move from my position. I wrapped the purple condom in a tissue and fished just under the edge of my headwrap for a strawberry flavored one instead. That just left the mint and vanilla ones scratching at my scalp, reminding me of the possibilities.

The jerk of the train as it got going once more sent a sudden welcoming jolt to my clit. The strong series of motions as the locomotive gathered speed threatened to pull my orgasm from me, from my overexcited body and right down to the thundering wheels below.

Within seconds he came back into the room, looking at me with surprise, as if he’d thought I wasn’t going to be here when he returned, but I wasn’t done with him yet.

“Drop ’em,” I said cheekily and he laughed and lowered his trousers once more.

This time I was fully relaxed and eager to have him in my mouth again. My previous actions had made me even more of a slut than before and I was very pleased at my progress. I was determined to suck this man dry, to have my fun.

He seemed more desperately horny than earlier and after a few enthusiastic kisses, his cock grew back to its rock-hard status, gliding into my mouth smoothly and deeply.

The guard became more vocal as he reached his peak, grunting out garbled words and curses as he thrust into me, using my mouth for his sweet sordid pleasure. I was torn between reaching up to pull him down by his dangling tie and staying where I was, to get off on the rumbling between my legs.

I thought briefly about how my brain got addled when I was horny but it was worth it, as being bad felt so much better than I could have ever imagined. Every part of me tingled and vibrated with the train and I gripped the base of his cock and felt him almost topple over.

My decision was made and I lowered myself down further until my pussy was directly atop the shaking floor. I came quickly with a muffled shout around the cock in my mouth, the orgasm rattling my body with a pounding, roaring sensation that thundered through my bones, like the speeding train I rode in.

The guard’s ticket machine was still strapped to his back and it made a noise as loud as both of our cries as he jerked against the door, his jagged movements accidentally pressing the buttons on the device while he rocked into me. I sucked hard, drawing out his come in full strong motions and he groaned long and loud, flicking his hips in sharp shudders. I felt the condom swell within my mouth, tasted strawberry milkshake and withdrew after a sweet blissful moment.

I banged the back of my head against the washbasin as I clambered up stiffly; my knees were killing me and I was damp in places even I was surprised at. He sighed out loud and looked completely spent, but was quick enough to see me put the second condom in some tissue. He reached down and gripped the head of his cock, swiped a drop of come that had leaked out and held it up to me as if to dare me to lick it from his thick fingers, but I had other plans. I wanted a mark from this event, apart from the bruise to the back of my head. I wanted a reminder that it hadn’t all been my sex-crazed imagination, so I offered my hands to him and he knew what to do; he smeared a white dribble of his come across my wrists, dabbed a drop behind each ear and stroked the last of it into the cleavage of my breasts.

We both smiled in a conspiratorial way as he adorned me; we both knew that I would wear him like perfume all day, would carry a part of him back home to the East End of London.

“That was cracking,” he exclaimed in a lazy satisfied voice.

“God I could get into so much trouble for this, could get myself fired…” he paused and then winked at me, smiling broadly. “But you’re worth it sweetheart!”

He turned to the door and was about to leave when suddenly a long beep rang out. A concertina strand of tickets ejected themselves from his machine; four singles going all the way to the end of the line.

Maybe we’ll do that next time.

So what do you think? Did it light a fire within your loins? Have you ever fantasied about sex on a train? (or done it in real life?) We want to know! We want your feedback!

While you’re at it, if you liked what you read feel free to pick up a copy of Best Women’s Erotica 2008 on our webshop:

Book Corner – The Erotic Engine

13 Jul

There has always been an eternal desire to digitise the erotic experience. Be it via words, images or video, the next logical step is a more interactive experience that closes the gap between the content and the user, therefore removing the problem of a reality that fails to live up to our expectations.

From the intricacies of realistic rendering of the physical human form and their environments, to something as specialised as the infamous “Boob jiggle” physics, Pornography has been a driving force for the development of technology.

The Erotic Engine is a new book by Patchen Barss explores the concept of taking sex beyond the real world, and into the virtual world. With the advent of computers there have numerous attempts for bedroom/homebred coders, videogame developers and even the Porn Industry to tap into the “virtual sex” concept.

Other topics in the book go into subjects like Virtual Environments, comparing porn games to porn movies, user immersion, and the value and desire for the product. The writer also got to interview one of the leading porn stars in the world turned successful business woman, Jenna Jameson. She is in the unique position of having a virtual version of herself that has taken over her place now that she no longer performs in front of the camera herself.

Having said she was “done with porn forever” in August 2007, Jenna now has “Virtually Jenna” to fall back on. Virtually Jenna is a software/game that allows the user to play with a computer generated avatar of Jenna within a virtual environment. You can do whatever you want with her and make her wear whatever you want in an almost infinite number of choices and combinations, giving the user the experience they want.

Suffice to say, there’s a lot of interesting topics in this book for those lovers of tech and porn!

The Erotic Engine is now available to buy from (extra shipping costs may be required if buying from outside the US)

We are hoping to get our copy soon, but in the mean time if anyone has read it, could they drop us a comment on what you thought of it? Your feedback is greatly appreciated!

CCK: your Service Provider…

31 May
two figures, one serving, other recieving in an erotic take on tennis and jousting!

Madam Quintain by Julian Murphy, 1998 (c)

It won’t be long now…the season of love, racquets and balls known as Wimbledon will rally round the the country. As an alternative service, we thought we would put up a seasonal pic. Here it is! And now…CCK staffer Royston has put together the following few words on the subject for this blog:

Bristol born, Julian Murphy is unique in his style of artwork in that he specialises in turning inanimate objects into very sexually suggestive pieces. Julian’s work, dubbed “Tantric Pop Art” cleverly bridges the mental gap between normal, everyday utensils, tools and devices, and plays with the idea of the viewer seeing them in a more kinky perspective. He has gained many awards and is critically acclaimed around the world for his work, having had many exhibitions in and has featured in magazines like GQ, Elle and Design Week.

You can find his work on our CCK webshop. We have “The Singular Art of Julian Murphy” and “Objects of desire”. The sporting pair pictured above are part of the postcard gallery of objects: very reasonably priced, very available…go on, why don’t you? Follow the link to the Open season

Barbara Carrellas ‘Urban Tantra Professional Workshop’ in the U.K!

18 Apr

My, we are a lucky bunch in good ol’ Blighty. Barbara Carrellas, author (of  ‘Urban Tantra: Sacred Sex For The Twenty First Century’ and ‘Luxurious Loving: Tantric Inspirations for Passion and Pleasure’), sex educator, theatre artist, sex/life coach and workshop facilitator, will be holding one of her amazing workshops in the U.K!

To say Barbara Carrellas is multi-talented, and an expert at what she does could be considered an underestimation of her skills. Designed for, but not specifically restricted to, those who work with sex and sexuality, the ‘Urban Tantra Professional Workshop’ will benefit all who attend it. Barbara Carrellas shows you how to make the most of Tantric and BDSM techniques to enhance your (and your clients’/students’) sexuality, meaning and understanding. The workshop will help you with your professional goals, how to get your message across, and how to be a better professional success in the world of sex and sexuality.

Whether you work as a pro-Domme, Tantrika, sex therapist or educator, or indeed something else in the sex field, this workshop will be of great benefit. The week long coures aims to be of specific use for each participant’s needs. The ‘Urban Tantra Workshop’ will help, inform, support all participants, and open up a new way of thinking and practicing all that is possible. Barbara Carrellas’ unique way of thinking, educating, her expertise, and her way of communicating these ideas, will provide all who are lucky enough to attend the workshop a wonderful, new insight to their work, their clients/students, and their personal development as sexual, sensual beings.

To give yourself the chance to attend and participate in this life-enhancing, awesome workshop, contact Hayley Caspers at . It will take place from 15-20th September this year, at a stunning location. The chance to meet and learn from one of the most successful, interesting, knowledgable and unique minds in our wonderfully sexual, sensual and kinky world, should not be missed!


Photo by Barbara Nitke

13 entries from the updated OED

25 Mar

The Oxford English Dictionary has recharged itself.  Here is a personally selected bunch of words which may (or may not be linked in some way to coffee…cake…or kink. Enjoy.

Cream crackered.



eton mess white chocolates

Eton Mess: file under cake

Eton mess.

Doughnut hole.

Muffin Top.

Couch surfing.





cartoon of domesticated godess

single? dom? Esticated goddess?

Domestic goddess.

Rubber ducky.

Rude boy.

Rude girl.

Runaway sexual selection.

World Book Night: reading, with kinks

3 Mar

How about this for an idea?

book, hanging from a noose, with light for reading!

you still have to turn the pages...

CCK World Book Day Exclusive: excerpt from “Power Over Power” by Emerald

3 Mar

From “Power Over Power” by Emerald, published in Please, Sir, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Cover for "Please, Sir", published by Cleis Press

“Dominic let go of my hip and slid his hand across my stomach, up over my breasts and finally to my throat. ‘Everything you’re looking for, Jackie, you already have inside you.’ The tone of his whisper had changed, and I barely had time to process the words before he whipped me around, forcing my mouth open with his as he kissed me again. He held my hair in a fist of steel and moved his other hand back to my body, lightly brushing my rib cage. He pulled away and I watched the slow movement of his fingers, gliding like honey running over my skin.

“I whimpered desperately. He hadn’t even touched my pussy, and I felt close to a kind of climax of which I didn’t know the meaning. It felt like a near euphoria combined with a vague but deep fear that together seemed to be pushing tears seriously toward the surface. ‘Dominic,’ I pleaded. My voice trembled like a blade of grass in the breeze. He looked up at me.

“I realized then what he was doing. He was making me wait, making me feel, making me experience every single nuance, every detail, everything that was in me, in my body, rather than slamming it all away.

“And suddenly I wondered if that was what having power over power meant.

“The tears flowed out of me like an orgasm, fully beyond my control, my breath turning to a silent sob that felt somehow calm, even peaceful, as I felt a space open up in me I wasn’t sure I had ever felt before.

“Dominic’s eyes stayed on mine. The wave moved through me, and Dominic dropped his finger to my clit. I gasped and climaxed as soon as he moved it, orgasm bursting forth in a rush so overpowering I almost felt I would lose consciousness. Steady, unabated screams pulsed through me as Dominic held my gaze as well as my balance with his unyielding grip at my neck. When it was done I fell limp, my entire body slick with sweat, legs shaking and hanging like string over the stack of mats.

“Dominic lowered me onto my back and let go of my hair, then backed up and retrieved my purse. Hands shaking, I reached and fumbled through it in my horizontal position until I found the little zippered pouch. Extracting a condom from it, I pushed it into his hand.

“I heard the package rip open and my purse drop to the floor as Dominic backed up. He slid me up farther on the stack of mats and leapt lightly onto them, pushing between my legs. My eyes were closed, and I opened them as he hovered above me. I was far beyond words, knowing only what was in my body.

“‘Breathe,’ Dominic whispered again as he dropped his body onto mine, plunging into me and grasping my shoulders as his breath rushed against my ear. He thrust into me with rhythmic strength as I lay like a doll, sprawled powerlessly across the hard foam beneath me. Dominic pumped hard, holding my hips solidly. His breathing changed as he thrust just a bit harder and came inside me, my body like a deflated balloon, a beautiful, motionless receptacle for his come.

Excerpt from Power over Power published with permission from the lovely Cleis Press. At CCK, we carry lots of Cleis Press’ titles, including Yes, Sir, the earlier book in this series of short stories of male domination and female submission.

Olivia De Berardinis Artwork and Books at CCK

3 Mar

American Geisha, by Olivia

Olivia De Berardinis has been a highly sought after and well respected artist for over 30 years. Famed for her pictures of vamps, cheesecake, pin-ups, Bettie Page , Dita Von Teese and her erotic art, we at Coffee, Cake and Kink are proud to be her only European importers. Our customers are able to buy cards, T-shirts and books showing her exquisite work.

Maid Bettie, by Olivia

Bettie's Shoe, by Olivia

If you are a fan of beautiful women in beautiful poses, drawn and painted by an artist who is at the top of her game, Olivia’s work is for you. With our range of stock, you can send that special someone a card, luxuriate in one of Olivia’s stunning books or even wear her designs on a fab T-shirt.

Gumdrop, by Olivia

cover of "Let Them Eat Cheesecake", a book of Olivia's artwork