♥ shhexycorin ♥

There’s a new artist in town and he’s quite simply the best poet of the age. His works are devastatingly emotive, using complex symbols and metaphors to convey the anguish of modern existence. His subject matter is diverse, but there is an artistic vision binding the poems together, giving the reader a glimpse of the man behind the words.
His name is SirSandGoblin and his new blog, Poetry of a Rapist, is winning fans all over cyberspace. I’d suggest you start reading him now, so that when the Queen makes him Poet Laureate you can be all smug andsay that you’ve been a fan of his for years.

I love this man. I’d rape him if he’d let me.

Superhunk Jack asked for an update on my search engine referrals, so I just had to give him one.

I’d like to think I could refuse him something, but I know really I can’t. And I know because he’s asked me to do some despicable things in his time.

Search engine referrals for August:

Wholesome cock-slapping fun!

Many’s the time I ran around the gardens of my master’s estate, hiding from the giant squishy penis that was chasing me… running into the maze, getting lost, only to find myself again.

If all children spent more time around fucking massive cocks, then maybe the world wouldn’t be so fucked up. Maybe people would be happy and all the nasty things that happen would stop.

There’s enough hurt in this world, why cause more?

Feel the cock, feel the love!
:)

I had a fucking fantastic time at this year’s Brighton Pride, the parade was fabulous with its Carry On theme and effigies of Barbara Windsor’s massive tits, I met the world’s oldest lesbian and some lovely nurses.

Who I didn’t meet, though, was my lovely Uncle Howard. Always the apple of Nana Corin’s eye, Howard came to the UK when he was just 10, sold as a sex slave to the British Royalty. So successful was he, that he earned his freedom just 10 years later - Time Off For Good Head, is the official term. Since then he’s been happily serving (and living off) the landed gentry, earning his fortune and being treated like a well-groomed pet, except they’d get fucked more often.

Anyway, he told me he was coming to Brighton for Pride and suggested we meet up at Preston Park, maybe take some Rohypnol together and go and sexually harass the boys in the Wildfruit tent.

Sadly I was fucking cunted off my tits by the time I got to the park - there was Rohypnol, there were boys and there was a tent or two, but there was no Uncle Howard! I spoke to him a few days later, when I got my voice back, and he said he’d missed me, but had managed to have fun by himself.

Or not quite by himself, he met these two American guys who introduced him to the game of Slap My Thigh! Which is really not about slapping thighs at all, more pummelling cocks until they’re black and blue, and seeping pus, but they like to keep the game sounding family-friendly.

After the fun in the park wound down, Howard took the Yanks back to his hotel room for a spot of anal-rape. Not that he particularly wanted to, he’s had bluer blood than that in his time, but threesomes were the thing at this year’s Pride and no gay with any self-esteem was going home on his own that night.

Nor was I, but that’s a different story.
;)

Uncle Howard and his cock-spanking Yank buddies at Brighton Pride, 2006

Shhexy Elephant Cunt

BigFrank is a wildlife photographer who could put David Attenborough to shame.

On safari in the petting zoo, Frank had been watching the bunnies humping for a couple of hours, getting hundreds of shots for some new HDR work he’s planning.

After feeding time at 4, the bunnies got tired, and Frank accidentally stumbled into the depths of the elephant enclosure, looking for somewhere to go for a wee. He was just reaching down for a leaf when Gertie, the matriarch, started rubbing her bits on Frank’s back in a clear state of arousal.

Pro-photographer to the very end, Frank risked life and limb to get this XXX shot of an elephant’s vagina.

Such a pretty cunt, wouldn’t you agree? GO FRANK.

An EXCITING new development on this blog is my new chatroom* where we can kick back, relax and enjoy some adult and robust conversation.

Yes, loyal fans, I’m proud to present the shhexycorin forum for your delight, amusement and inevitable intellectual stimulation.

Register for a username and get chatting! It’s going to be the most exciting thing on the internet EVER, I’d buy shares in me now, if I were you.

* Thanks to Sargant’s handy Wordpress extension called RS Discuss.

Recently, I’ve been fucking knackered: working my arse off day and night and dogging my way through the time I had leftover, getting mugged in the process. So I really needed a break and I snuck off to the beach to relax.

Whilst out there I met the lovely Isabella, a good Catholic girl with a desire for me so strong that you almost feel it poking you in the back when we danced…

Who’d have imagined I’d ever be possessed of lesbianic tendencies? Not me, for one! I don’t think I am now, it’s just that sometimes love comes along and hits you in the face like a wet kipper on market day. And Isabella was one such fish.

We met in a beach-front bar where the sangria was flowing like moonjuice. I’d had a couple of jugs and was feeling a little sleepy after a hard day of dogging on the beach, in the sea and off a cliff or too. Just as my head was about to hit the table, a sensual, husky voice told me I had the most beautiful buns she’d ever seen and asked if she might be allowed to butter them up later that night.

No-one has lapped my clam with such expertise.

Who wouldn’t fall for a chat-up line like that? Well, anyone would, I suppose, if Isabella had been a short, fat, hairy failed shoe salesman. Luckily for me, she was a beauty: a fine, voluptuous figure; a wicked sense of humour and a girly giggle that would have made me cream my jeans, had I been wearing them.

We spent every moment we could together. Fortunately, Spain is very relaxed about explicit behaviour in public - we’d just share a sunlounger each day, locked in a passionate embrace with our fists up each other.

I was so sad when I left, and Isabella went in some melodramatic lament - the pilot had problems taking off because the noise was interefering with his radar! Silly Isabella!

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.

I do love meeting new people online. Normally it’s just blokes wanting to have sex with me in carparks, or send them dirty pictures of my shhexy legs in thigh-high boots.

Shhexy Marie-Elizabeth, new bezzie.

But sometimes you meet a true friend and it was completely by chance that I bumped into Marie-Elizabeth on a knitting forum, of all places. Don’t tell a soul I hang out there, knitting is for sad fucking fucks, but money is tight and if I don’t want to die of hypothermia this winter, I need to make me some jumpers.

Anyway, I was asking for advice on purling the perfect neckline and this girl with the username Hot-ME started chating to me. We got shouted at for going off-topic (dropping a stitch, they call it!), so we swapped MSN addresses and went private.

You know how you just click with people sometimes? We’ve talked every day. Marie-Elizabeth and I are like that, we talk for hours about the many men we’ve shagged, the men we want to shag (yes, we both have a list) and what sexy clothes we’ll wear to get these men into the sack.

Bosom buddies, that’s what we are!

Not me, you, you filthy bastards. My search engine referrals for June are not going to attract corporations who would otherwise want to get Shhexy on their books. Would you mind looking for nicer things, please?

Thanks and kisses,

Corin.

Search engine referrals for June: