Tag Archives: erotica

Unhook Yourself with Marc Almond

9 Jul

So. It’s No Bra Day today. It’s up to social enterprises like CCK to rise to the occasion and say something (ahem) uplifting. Fingers at the ready…

icon at 55

chest a song at twiliiiiiiiiight…..

Marc Almond returns to the O2 Shepherds Bush (fnar fnar!) Empire five years after his triumphant gig for his fiftieth birthday. I guess that would make him fifty-five then. Anyway, the show’s at 8pm; doors open at 7: and it should be a good place to unhook your bra whilst nobody is looking. (best to do it in the ladies loos…don’t tell anybody it’s my idea!)

Ticket prices are 19:50/27:50 plus the usuals. You can pay in cash at the door from 4pm. Or online at www.ticketweb.co.uk


Shepherds Bush Green, London W12 8TT  tube: Shepherds Bush bus: lots of them

Parking: between 6pm and 12 midnight at Westfield Shopping Centre…just £3 for O2 customers. Check for entry and exit points and read up on the rules..

Drinking: 21 and over. Bring and ID.

day on bra

surely you can see this is a responsible adult

Younger ones welcome, but bring a responsible adult. Like what you see pictured above. You know it makes sense…don’t you?

Darkroom – The obsessions of Bob Carlos Clarke

15 Sep

In honour of the late erotic photographer Bob Carlos Clarke, The Bob Carlos Clarke Foundation and The Little Black Gallery are seeking donations to make a film based on his life and work.

They’re looking to make a minimum of £75,000. Anyone who donates £100 or more will get their name listed in the credits, and anyone who donates £5000 or more will be listed  in the credits as a Executive Producer.

Details on how to donate can be found on the following link:

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:


Mutantes (Punk Porn Feminism)

3 Apr

Showing at the BFI London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival,  ‘Mutantes (Punk Porn Feminism)’  is a documentary about the sex positive feminist movement, as seen by the activists, sex workers and performers. Virginie Despentes (director of the film ‘Baise-Moi’ amongst others) has interviewed a wide-range of pro-sex performers, academics, film makers and activists across the U.S and Europe, notably France and Spain. With clips from various porn films and performance pieces interspersed throughout, this winner of the CHE ‘Derek Oystan Film Award’ at this years’ LLGFF, is thought-provoking, entertaining, sexy and informative.

The list of interviewees is extensive, starting with Annie Sprinkle, who always manges to raise a smile and challenge prejudice in an enlightened and humourous way, Carol Queen and other women from the early days of the pro-sex feminist era. We follow the changes, growth and expansion of ideologies from the early 1980s to the present day, demonstrated by the views, activism and porn produced by the punk porn movement’s new radicals in France and Barcelona. The way the shift in feminist thinking has occurred over the decades shows how there is constant change as our understanding of gender, femininities and masculinities and sex itself is constantly challenged and built upon.

This refreshing, provocative film has many instances of humour, politics and what the pleasures and limitless expectations of sex is all about. It will leave the viewer with much to think about, as well as the memory of some hot films, which I am sure you will want to remember the titles of. Some of these clips have not been widely seen before, and will leave you wanting to seek them out to view in full. It also helps you rediscover some lost classics; I, myself, had forgotten the joys of Lydia Lunch’s fishnet clad ass as well as Tribe8’s ferocious BDSM influenced live performances. Strong, intelligent women, with a pro-sex, ethical feminist stance and aesthetic, that will hopefully counteract what is unfortunately an often misogynist porn industry, can only be a good thing. Let’s hope we get the chance to see more work from the punk porn feminist movement, and open up all our eyes to what is possible.

Fishers of Men

25 Mar

Having delighted many a fan of muscular men with previous photoshoots for their clothing ranges, Dolce and Gabbana have not disappointed said fans again. Steven Klein’s photoshoot for Dolce and Gabbana’s spring/summer collection has a Spartacus-come-Sicilian fishermen theme. Grappling with ropes, netting and chains, as well as each other, (which I am sure we are all quite familiar with, in one form or another!) the mixture of smooth, pretty boys and hairy, rugged-type models get all sweaty in their range of warm weather wear.

Fashion photography is reknowned for using kinky, erotica-themed ideas. In this particular shoot the muscular homoeroticism fair ripples off the page! If you are a connosseur of such imagery, you should check out Coffee, Cake and Kink’s selection of Ulli Richter’s photography, which gives a few, hard lessons to any imitators. (Especially my personal fave ‘Hard Labour’. There’s no messing with these men!).

Hard Labour

Hard Labour

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.

From A Top Writer – ‘Boy In The Middle’

3 Mar

Patrick Califia is one of my all-time favourite writers. He is an incredible wordsmith, able to write both fiction and fact in a way that both draws the reader in and informs you. His erotica is some of the hottest writing you will come across. Boy In The Middle is another of his compelling, sexy short story collections of polymorphous perversity and hardcore, sexually charged scenes. Califia has a way of taking the reader right into the story. He has the ability to describe place, character and atmosphere so well, you can’t but help feel a part of it.

cover for "Boy In The Middle" by Patrick Califia

Boy In The Middle has such a collection of differing characters and set-ups that I defy anyone not to get some pleasure from it. Whatever your kink, fetish , gender or sexuality, Califia caters for you in this book. His writing will  surprise you, in being able to turn you on to a story, scene or character you may otherwise not have thought you’d be interested in; such is the power of his imagination. I recommend anyone who enjoys erotic fiction to read this book. Allow yourself some time to indulge and immerse yourself  in it, because it will be hard to put down. Oh, and if you’re reading Boy In The Middle in public, be aware that its effect may leave you needing to find somewhere, for a ‘quiet, private moment’!

Staff Pick: Fanny Hill & A Night in a Moorish Harem

2 Mar

I have to admit to a penchant for vintage erotica – from true classics like John Cleland’s Fanny Hill, through to more obscure titles, such as The Scarlet Library’s reprint of  A Night in a Moorish Harem, first published in 1890.

A Night in a Moorish Harem is very much a product of it’s time; the setting is colonial, imperial and sexist. But it doesn’t pretend to be anything other than a rollicking tale of sex and sex and more sex. The Scarlet Library’s edition is illustrated by Harry Douglas, just enough to prompt the imagination – his colourful sketches are as erotic as the words on the page.

The tale takes the form of several stories within a greater story, told to a marooned English sailor by the inhabitants of a coastal harem; the women take turns telling their saucy tales as well as taking pleasure from the sailor himself – the stories winding into the narrative smoothly. Each could be read as a stand alone vignette; I can dip into the book as well as read from cover to cover.

Illustratin by Harry Douglas

Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, better known as Fanny Hill, is a longer novella – it tells the story of Fanny, a country girl who travels to London for work, instead falling into the trap laid by a brothel-keeper, turning her into the titular woman of pleasure. Fanny tells her own story, beautifully written with glorious attention to Fanny’s own pleasure;

“I gazed at it, I devoured it, at length and breath with my eyes directed intently to it, til his getting upon me, and placing himself between my thighs, took from me the enjoyment of its sight, to give me a far more grateful one in its touch, in that part where the touch is so exquisitly affecting… I felt with too great a rapture of pleasure the first insertion of it, to heed much the pain that followed; I thought nothing too dear to pay for this richest treat of the senses; so that split up, torn, bleeding, mangled, I was still superiorly pleased and hugged the author of this delicious ruin… I lived but in what I felt only.”

Fanny Hill has been published many times over, in many forms; The Scarlet Library have reprinted it in the two volumes it was originally published as, with glorious illustrations by Erich von Götha. The scarlet covers make for a sensuous, vintage feel, keeping the erotica under wrappers that only hint at the delight within.

I love these books; they were among the first erotica I ever read, and have since become firm favourites (to the point where I own multiple copies of Fanny Hill), and the centre of my still-growing collection. Even if vintage erotica isn’t your kink, they are still worth enjoying – and you never know, they might just be the start of a new adventure.

An alternative (and slightly early) Valentines

2 Feb

An erotic literary salon, Velvet Tongue, hosted by Ernesto Sarezale, will be held on the 6th February in Bethnal Green. With a line-up of acclaimed writers (including Jonathon Kemp, a favourite of mine!), reading selections from their most enticing works, the evening will also have an open mic slot. So, if any of you friends of Coffee, Cake and Kink have a short story, poem or other piece of kinky, erotic writing you would like to read to a most appreciative audience, this is your chance to shine.

We all love a bit of erotica, to get us in the mood for the run-up to Valentine shenanigans, so what better way to spend some time with like-minded folk. Well worth a trip to E2, with a venue suitably tucked away under the arches (for that especially ‘seedy London‘ feeling!). Details can be found on the Velvet Tongue website.