The 7th Annual That's Shanghai Erotic Fiction Competition Winners

By That's Shanghai, April 4, 2018

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On March 24, the 7th Annual Erotic Fiction Contest returned to the M Glam on the Bund as part of M Restaurant Group's 2018 Shanghai International Literary FestIt was a night of perverse prose, enjoyed by the perverted attendees present. Special shout out to our panel: Ann James of Urban Aphrodite, Clara Davis of Unravel, Lit Fest author Osamah Sami and our very own Erica Martin for passing judgment.


A big thanks to everyone who submitted stories, and the final contenders chosen to stand up and read aloud their written word. First prize went to Patrick Merrigan for Spin Me Round Baby. Best audience reaction went to Yoky Yu for her untitled work. While Dave Alber raised the bar and mixed the media with Bedding Shanghai, a comic as literature (as erotic fiction). Check them all out below.


And a final thanks to Ryan Mcleod and the boys from Peddlers Gin, who got the juices flowing and supplied the prizes (as did hostess with the mostess Michelle Garnaut of M Glam and M on the Bund)Now, without further ado...

[Note: Some very NSFW language below]

Spin Me Round Baby

By Patrick Merrigan


I accepted payment as he looked at me indifferently. Almost immediately, he mounted me, already sweaty from the unforgiving, mid-afternoon Shanghai heat. His old balls and flaccid penis bounced against me as he tried to pick up momentum. He was woefully out of shape and could barely handle me, letting out grunts in between bouts of catching his breath. His flabbiness juxtaposed with my firm frame. Luckily, it didn’t take long for him to get off. Just a few minutes, maybe even less.

The rest of the clients during the day didn’t get much better. A young man in his 20s with a man-bun straddled me from behind. He was reckless and rushed. He held me tight and moved at a breakneck speed, seeming to just want to finish and get on with the rest of his day. 

A particularly loud man chatted casually with his wife while the lower half of his body was busy working on me.

A well-dressed businessman in his early 40s wasted no time in thrusting the expensive fabric covering his loins against me. He went slow and wore protection. A creepy looking old man slid his fingers along my rim before choosing to be my customer. He was frustratingly heavy and his stop-and-go tempo made me celebrate his discharge. Some men even had the nerve to use their phones while on top of me. A particularly loud man chatted casually with his wife while the lower half of his body was busy working on me.

This continued throughout the day. One by one they came up to me, always paying first. The duration of their time on top of me varied greatly. Most men didn’t last long at all, especially in this heat.

Her breasts were perky and delicate like two xiaolongbaos.

In the early evening, I was finally approached by a stunning woman. No words escaped her mouth, but her body did all the talking. Her breasts were perky and delicate like two xiaolongbaos. Her long black hair seemed to endlessly flow down her back and it touched my body as her thighs wrapped around me. She sat on me with her supple derriere. When that plump and luscious rump smothered me, it took me into another gear that I didn’t think I had. She arched her back and together we moved rhythmically as if we were one. She seemed to stimulate almost every part of me and I didn’t want the ride to end.

It was the absolute climax of a day in life as a shared bike in Shanghai.

Fuck. Here comes another fat guy.


By Yoky Yu


I was on road trip from Washington DC to California with my mom. (Yep, she's in this story). She was visiting from China.

It was right after I had broken up with my first real boyfriend. I loved him. He loved me. Somehow we didn’t have our happily-ever-after, even though we were together for seven years.

I had fucked no one else during those seven years. Sure, there were for a few instances of dangerous flirting and almost-kisses. When we broke up, I was 25. 

I felt so distant from my soul. I felt numb. I felt chasing the generous sunshine in California was my only medicine, but all that warmness was almost boring.

One day, we made a stop in Austin, Texas. We were not exactly the best travel companions for each other. So many unresolved and unspoken conflicts resided in our energy that being in the same car with her for six to seven hours every day became unbearable.

I wanted to play. I wanted to meet people. So I made up my mind and decided to sneak out one night.

It was mid-November. I was in my black jeans and a cute top.

I don’t remember a lot of details from that night because I got really drunk. But here is what I do remember.

Somehow, I left one live music junction to go to the next. A 20-year-old busboy was chatting with me. He had a cute face. A baby face, to be precise. You could feel the youth bursting out of his skin, his breath and his careless smile.

I wanted to get drunk and wild that night, so I did with him.

I was judging the hell out of me.

As a 25-year-old Chinese girl who never had a wild affair before, I didn’t need to like this boy at all. Somehow I trusted him, and trust was enough. He had a skateboard with him; he held my hand when we left for another bar after a few shots.

It was dark and cold. I was holding on to his hand like an obedient sheep. He was walking confidently.

Oh gosh, I don’t think I ever asked for his name!

“Wait here and I'll get a condom," he said, warmly ordering me to wait in front of the bathroom in a calm and commanding voice. I was tipsy. So I waited. I felt silly for waiting, but I did.

“What kind of good girl waits for a random hook-up to get a condom in front of a bathroom while her mom is back at the hotel?” asked my inner voice.

I was judging the hell out of me.

I thought that having so much pain within myself meant that perhaps a few shots of vodka and a nice boy might just heal the wounds a bit.

I grew up in China. You know how it is. I didn’t know how babies were made, didn’t have any boyfriends in high school and didn’t do anything sexual except masturbating or rubbing my clitoris on a pillow.

I wanted my pillow to have me roughly, but it literally couldn’t get hard.

I felt like coming to the United States was like opening a door... to my vagina, my feminine power and my yearnings for pleasure.

The next thing I remembered was him covering my mouth. "Shhh..." he kept saying.

After five to ten minutes, he came back. We went to the female bathroom. He put the toilet top down.

The next thing I remembered was him covering my mouth. "Shhh..." he kept saying.

Yep, there were other girls in the bathroom.

I didn't care that much. I quieted down but quickly started to moan. I couldn't stop my voice because my body wasn't under my control any more.

I could feel his hardness, confidently and effortlessly, go in and out of me.

It felt like someone giving me water when I was at my thirstiest. It felt like the best compliment you could ever receive from anyone. It felt like, at that moment, he knew something about my soul that I didn't.

It wasn’t me that he was fucking. It was my soul that he was accessing.

He was biting, sucking and licking my lips. He left a huge hickey on my neck. I must have cried a little. And the more he begged me to be quieter, the more excited I got.

Deep down, I want everyone to know that I’m a bad girl. And when I’m saying these words I feel like I’m in love, even though I don’t know his name and will never see him again.

After we finished, we snuck out of the bathroom.

“Do you want to do some cocaine?” he asked.

I smiled and said, “no, thank you.”

Ah... I'm still that good girl.

Do I wish that I had added him on Facebook or gotten his number? Not really. Sometimes the best sex you ever had is the sex that you can never have again.

Bedding Shanghai

By Dave Alber









More of the same next year...

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