♥ shhexycorin ♥

Figging is the new dogging.

When the vicar comes a-knocking.

You all know what a big fan I am of alternative sexual practices, my recent all-time fave being the noble art of figging. In fact, I’d been so busy figging lately, that I’ve completely forgotten to eat.

I opened my fridge for the first time in weeks and there was a writhing mass of maggots crawling all over the 10lb gammon I’d put there back in February. Fortunately, I’d just been reading this fascinating article about a man who gets off on putting maggots on his cock. Genius!

What could be shhexier than shoving a few of those squirmy little critters up your genitals? I tell you, it makes going to church 300% more interesting. I even convinced the pastor to give it a go. He had a naughty little smile on his face during the whole of his sermon. Filthy Father.

It’s an interesting question… and one that cannot possibly have a definitive answer. There are days when you decide to try something new, but generally speaking we fall to the old reliables, the never fail turn-ons and tools that will get us off to the desired conclusion without too much trouble.

My guaranteed orgasm generators are a kitten (no more than 4 months old) and a box of tissues. I am a big fan of sex toys, but do prefer the natural touch. I won’t go into too many details, but I will present you with two facts and you can work it out for yourselves.

1. Kittens under the age of four months don’t have such rough tongues - friction, rather than ripping you raw.
2. Kittens like playing with tissues.

All Shhexy needs for a wank is a tissue and a kitten

So my question to you is this? What do you use to wank? A fish? Some geriatric porn? Your Mum’s dirty pants and a cast iron griddle? Do let me know, I’m writing a paper on wanking practices around the world and need YOUR help!

Thank you muchly,
Corin

This survey is conducted by the National Institute of Shhexual Science, all responses will absolutely confidential.

People always go on about how horrible the use of napalm is in war-time, but frankly, I don’t know what the fuss is about.

My Ma was a working girl in the brothels of Saigon during the war, as were most girls of her generation. She was a hard worker and had plenty of GIs who were big fans of her unique pelvic floor, it could pop a cock from twenty paces!

Being a prostitute has many hidden benefits, you might not get a pension and health-plan, but a good whore will have men of all sorts at her beck and call, preferably men of power, influence, or, at the very least, able to give you a hand when needs must.

My Ma was one of those whores. She was out on a picnic with a couple of her favourite clients one day for an al fresco gangbang. They had lunch and then got down to some hardcore fucking. Just as they were about to go for some aural double penetration, they heard the sound of planes overhead.

Like a shot, the General nipped back to his jeep and got some protective clothing for them all. Before the first bomb dropped, they were suited, booted and ready to get back to the matter in hand.

Drip-drip-drop little napalm showers!

My Ma described it as the best sex she’d ever had, multiple orgasms shaking her body, her screams echoing around the valley for hours afterwards. That’s some praise from a woman as experienced as Mummy Corin.

It makes me kind of sad that we live in such peaceful times. I fear I’ll never get to feel the rush of some napalm nookie.

:(

It’s not easy, you know, trying to be a dogger when you don’t have a car or a boyfriend.

I’ve been going to all the best dogging spots in Brighton, up Devil’s Dyke, down to Duke’s Mound, and near Telscombe Cliffs… but I have to get the bus (really not a good idea) or walk there. Which means I’m all out of breath and sweaty before I even try to pull.

Doggers are so fucking picky and critical, if a woman isn’t all spruced up and looking immaculate, they’re really not interested. So I try bringing a little beauty kit with me, retouch my make-up before getting to the carparks, I even got some portable hair-straighteners as my hair tends to go frizzy in the fog.

Some relief for the single female dogger.

So I’ve had no fucking luck for the last month, I keep walking round carparks, wiggling my arse at the blokes and couples in the cars… but no cunt will even look at me. And I’m so fucking horny, it’s driving me to desperation!

Then the other day, just as I was about to ram a fist up myself for some relief, I happened upon this naughty little tree that was ever so well-endowed. I sidled closer, he looked amenable to my advances and pretty soon I was bouncing away, having the time of my life!

I’ve always been dismissive of hippy cunts, it’s how I was brought up, but maybe they were right all along, tree-hugging is the best hobby a girl can have!

Those doggers can just fuck right off.

Aw, he got the whore flowers!

It’s all been a bit quiet on the whore front since the Whore Wars back in March. The police clampdown and curfew really put the dampners on the sex trade for a while, not to mention the alarming rise in violent attacks against Brighton’s prostitutes/.

But the working girls at Brighton’s most reputable whorehouse, The Playpen, aren’t the type to take things lying down and decided to whip up trade with a special offer that the men in this town (and a fair few of the women) are finding it very hard to resist.

The premise is simple, buy one prostitute, get one free. Or go twice with your favourite whore, at no extra cost. The cunts are queuing round the block to get their hands on this tasty bargain!

The upshot of it all is that the customers are spending a lot more quality time with the whores, are getting to know them as people and, funnily enouugh, are finding that these sluts are actually warm, funny people with a lot of love to give. We’ve had two marriages in the last month, there are several babies on the way. The whores are happier than they’ve ever been and, as a lot of them have been leaving their jobs to start families, unemployment in the city is at an all time low!

These two really hit it off, it started as business transaction, now they’re in love!

God, it’s great to be able to bring you some happy news from the world of Brighton’s whores.

Capitalism FUCKING ROCKS.

There’s currently a slavering, writhing mass of fat whores outside my flat. The fish & chip van comes on a Tuesday and the inevitable crush for a battered sausage normally kills at least one prostitute and winds several others. The bitches screech so fucking loudly that even the bastard seagulls are on at the council about them.

Fortunately, I have this XXX erotic video to distract me. It’s so shhexy, it has me rolling around on the floor with a 2 litre bottle of Lambrusco up my cunt. Mmm… bubbles…

This has it all, pussy, a spanking monkey and a ultra-violent bit of cock-fighting. ROCK ON! It’s like I wrote the fucking screenplay to this one.

You won’t read much in the Evening Argus about Brighton’s lemur population, but that’s because the editorial team are a bunch of racist fucks who only care about Brighton & Hove Albion’s determination to destroy the local habitat with their new football stadium.

The lemurs moved here after being driven out of their home because the natives disapproved of their shhexual proclivities and burned all the little lemur babies in a gross display of discrimination. They’d heard that Brighton was rather liberal and open to deviant sexual practices, and they weren’t wrong! They’re also notorious performance artists and, knowing of my skill in the field, asked yours truly to take some photos of their latest piece, the Super Shhexy Lemur Gangbang.

What a day! The lemurs were going at it hammer and tong for hours, taking each other in every possible orifice, but mainly up the arse. I think at the climax of the event there were twenty of them, sucking, licking and poking… I never thought I’d wish I was a lemur, but damn I wish I had a stripy tail and some wild stary yellow eyes…

Lemurs fucking each other senseless, the shhexiest sight I’ve ever seen

They were so pleased with my photographic work that, once they were done, the furry little buggers gave me some special attention of my own. God. I tell you, there’s nothing like a team of tiny primates nibbling at your cunt and tweaking your nipples. Best day’s work in months, ROCK ON!

I knew it. I just FUCKING KNEW IT. Those fat fucking sluts who set up a brothel up my street have been creating havoc in Brighton’s happy world of vice.

Never mind the mountain of litter, the condom shortage and the subsidence they’ve caused, these cheap heifers have declared war on one of the city’s most reputable establishments, The Playpen. This notable brothel has been plying its wares for many a year now and have won countless awards for impeccable service, including the Sussex Guild’s Business of the Year for five years in a row.

The fat slags have found it hard setting up their business with such stiff competition and so decided to mount an offensive against these kindly whores. They went to the Playpen the other day, armed up to the eyeballs and just started shooting. Luckily our favourite ladies-of-the night are always prepared and were packing their own pistols.

I tell you, it was like fucking Reservoir Dogs or something, bullets flying, no-one knew who the fuck was shooting who! Dead whores all over the place! The undertakers have been doing a roaring trade since, bodies keep turning up and they all want the most lavish coffins to be buried in.

Slut show-down - two whores about to shoot the fuck out of each other.

Not to mention that there’s now a fucking huge gaping hole in the market for prossies in Brighton, applications to the usual address please. No experience required.

My mate Theodore has been going out with this lovely girl for over a year now and I thought they were very happy together. Lately, however, he’s been making noises about how she doesn’t really make him happy in the “right way”. He’s also been saying that she really could do with losing some weight and that maybe taking her out for walks would solve the problem.

I thought this was all just a little glitch in an otherwise happy relationship, but I was horribly wrong. The other week he came out for drinks with us in The Essex. We had a great afternoon, talking shite, coming up with silly plans to cause mischief…

When he disappeared for a while, we thought he’d gone for a big shit, but it transpired that Ted had other things on his mind - he had his perverted eyes on the landlord’s mutt Megan and had decided to seduce her!

Theodore shoves his rancid tongue down Megan’s throat.

The landlord caught them at it and chucked us all out of the pub. I don’t know what to do now, Theodore’s one of my best friends, but I don’t want to see his bird get hurt by his philandering ways? What’s a girl to do?!

It’s also dirt cheap and fucking up my neighbourhood. This used to be a classy part of town, but ever since the Fuck a Fatty for a Fiver brothel opened its legs last month, things have started to slip.

They’re not just driving down prices, the type of client they attract are not your common or garden pervert, so the place is full of tiny mac-wearing man with wheelbarrows full of Happy Meals and talcumpowder. They give me the fucking creeps!

Fat whores touting their sloppy minges.

They’ve made things worse in other ways too - getting a takeaway curry now takes a minimum of three hours, the sewers are starting to overflow with the increase in effluence and condoms, and my the trees are all dying because their fat fucking arses are blocking out all the sunlight.

I tell you, whore-bashing has never felt so appealing.