Mirror Mirror

MIRROR MIRROR
“Mirror Mirror” holds some very special memories, as anyone who has ever shared the experience would probably agree. However, it also reminds me of the hardest part of my writing - finding multiple rhymes for “scrotum” and “throat”… in fact, I once wound up rhyming them together, and it remains the single most atrocious couplet I’ve ever written – “Want to see you in my throat/Watch my chin as it taps your scrote.” I can’t believe I even thought of that, let alone published it. And here it is.

Mirror mirror by the bed
Watching while I’m giving head
From the corner of my eye
I see my tongue trace up your thigh
Pause to tease your balls a bit
Take one deep and suck on it
Hear you gasp, I gently blow
Your hand keeps my strokes so slow
I grasp your cock and raise it to
My mouth; I plant a kiss or two
I watch my tongue so greedily slip
All around that velvet tip
I watch my jaw so slowly parting
As I take your helmet right in
My cheeks sink in as I start to draw
Deep on your shaft; and I want more
Want to see you in my throat
Watch my chin as it taps your scrote
See the expression on my face

As my mouth devours your heat and taste
See the shock flash in my eyes
When you flood me with your salt surprise
Then I want to watch as just a little
From the corner of my mouth trickles
And that’s the moment I want to freeze
In my mind – so camera, please
Catch that brief split second bliss
When your cum starts leaking from my lips
Catch the droplet before it falls
Catch me before I swallow it all
My eyes are wild and my hair’s a mess
But I call that picture HAPPINESS

Ambrose Horne - a Press Notice

eBook Review for the Adventures of Ambrose Horne by Chrissie Bentley
reprinted from rude words.com


Review by Korben Rushe

This might be controversial, but for me, the best erotic fiction isn’t all about the sex. With no pun intended, it really should be about the full package. And that’s what Chrissie Bentley delivers in this collection of short stories which sway from the poignant to the ludicrously funny. And that package includes – rest assured – lots of hot Victorian action!

Set in the era already SO dominated by that other fictional detective, Ambrose Horne does a very good job at establishing himself as the sleuth who takes a refreshingly different approach to uncovering the truth – more often than not a horizontal one.

When I started reading this book, I worried that after the first few stories, the plots would grow a bit samey or contrived (as they did in that TV programme Rosemary and Thyme – after all, just how many murders can a couple of landscape gardeners unearth?!) but thankfully this is not the case here. In fact, not only has the author managed to create a charismatic hero (who has a Bond-esque way with the ladies) and some entertaining and testing plotlines, but she’s impressively highlighted a social truth: that almost everything in this life comes down to sex, greed or both.

I can’t wait to read the next two instalments of Ambrose Horne.

I Love It When...

A little late for Valentine's Day... maybe I should save this verse for his birthday card?

I love it when…

You press down on the back of my head
To make me take you deep
You touch the tip to my closed lips
When I’m fast asleep
You cum when you’re not in my mouth
And I lick it off your tummy
You cum deep inside my puss
And suck it from my cunny

Ambrose Horne - Buy Two, Get One Free

To celebrate the publication of the third volume of Ambrose Horne's memoirs, Xcite Books present a very special and very limited offer... buy the first two Ambrose Horne collections and get the third one absolutely FREE!

Yes! The loin-lunging adventures of Victorian London’s most unconventional detective can be yours for one third off!

Armed with only his relentless curiosity for the darkest recesses of human sexuality, Ambrose Horne is the enterprising eroticist for whom no puzzle is too perplexing, no secret is too scandalous, and no position is too impolite. Now, gathered together for the first time in three volumes, The Erotic Adventures Of Ambrose Horne reveal fifteen tales from the Carnal Casebook of the Idiosyncratic Inquisitor, the Horny Holmes… the man who put the Dick into Private Investigator… the one-and-only Ambrose Horne.


EXCERPT:

THE STRANGE CASE OF THE COAGULATED CONUNDRUM

Sebastian Longfellow… few men have been so accurately named as he… raised himself from between his wife’s luxurious thighs and, in one deft movement, slid his stiff cock between her bountiful breasts. Her hands clasped his as they pushed her tits together so that he might fuck them; then reached around to his buttocks, to push his enormous tool towards her open mouth.



Stella’s jaw strained to accept the throbbing purple head. Not for the first time in their lovemaking, she felt as though tendons would tear before she was able to fully accommodate the object of her desire. But, as her facial muscles relaxed around the hot meat that she so desperately craved, so he felt himself being drawn in, filling her mouth with his brick-hard heat, feeling her sharp teeth grazing his shaft with a myriad delicious sensations.

He would not, could not, seek to enter her wholly. With close to ten thick inches of manhood at his disposal, it would be a skilled fellatrix indeed who could devour him to the root and Stella, though they had been married more than two years, had still to learn that particular secret. But she pleasured him regardless, her twinkling blue eyes gazing lovingly into his as she scanned his face for the first signs of the intense rush of pleasure that warned her to close her lips around the merest tip of his rod, while his thick cum slammed against the barrier of her teeth.

Longfellow, too, watched her intently, conscious from the expression in her eyes that, while she sucked, she also fingered herself, gently at first, but with increasingly urgency as the throbbing of his shaft communicated itself to her nerve-ends, and filled her sex with its own exquisite juices. And, when he finally climaxed, so would she, her body writhing beneath him as her other hand slipped off his cock, to let his semen jet where it would. It was a moment that neither of them had ever experienced with any other lover, a communion of cum that left both sated and exhausted, collapsing tenderly into one another’s arms to whisper the sweet, sweat-soaked nothings of two devoted lovers.

What a contrast that portrait painted to the furious gentleman who now paced around Ambrose Horne’s office, impatiently mumbling while his insurance agent, a tiny weasel of a clerk named Simpkins, conferred with the Great Detective by the dying light of a winter afternoon. “It is not a detective we require,” Longfellow snapped for the third time since the interview began. “It is a policeman, a court room and a hanging judge. What will the detective detect beyond wanton vandalism? And we already know that has taken place. It is the vandal himself to whom we should be attending, so that we might string him up from the highest gallows in the land.”

“So you have said,” Horne spoke up wearily. “But you have brought us no evidence that this vandal actually exists… nor, from the evidence before me, that any act of vandalism has even taken place. We must weigh up all the facts before we rush to any form of judgement.”

Longfellow wheeled angrily across the room, placing his face just inches from Horne’s. “No evidence?” He jabbed at the insurance report that lay on Horne’s desk. “Some of the most valuable postage stamps in the world have been destroyed. The 5c rose of Vancouver Island. The 2c black and rose of British Guiana. A pair of Trinidad’s legendary Lady McLeod imperforates….

“You, Sir,” he jabbed a finger at the wretched Simpkins. “You asked me what is stamp collecting, beyond the accumulation of so many sticky labels from around the world. And you, Mr Horne, seemed more interested in pedantically declaiming the erroneous Greek derivation of the word ‘Philately,’ than acknowledging the seriousness of the crime. But, when the Fellows of the Royal Society hear of this, and some jolly powerful fellows they are, it will not be your scorn upon which you choke, but the very foundations of all that you deem of value in this world.”

“And what do you consider the value of the damaged items?” Horne asked – then blanched as his visitor spoke a number in the thousands of pounds. “Furthermore, I can provide both written and verbal testimony to that fact. But I see I am wasting my time here. Simpkins? Convey to your masters that I revoke all my insurance policies with their company forthwith. And Horne? I will convey your regard to Mr Sherlock Holmes. I am certain he will take this matter somewhat more seriously than you.”

Horne bowed politely. “You must do as you see fit, as I am sure Mr Holmes will. Certainly details of your loss and, indeed, of any similarly valued items that have not been lost, will make a tasty filling for his assistant’s next essay in the popular press, and I am sure you will meet many new acquisitive enthusiasts as a result. I wish you luck. And, should you then require a less voluble detective to assist you in any matters that might ensue from those meetings, I will be as willing to help you on that occasion as I am on this.”

At the thought of the publicity that was, indeed, the inevitable consequence of any dealings with the ubiquitous Holmes and his loquacious biographer, Longfellow paused at the door. “I thought you dismissed my complaint?”

“No. I dismissed your contention that the term ‘Philately’ means what you claim it does – a love, ‘philos,’ for a pre-paid item, ‘telos,’ when in fact the correct construction of those words would be ‘atelophily.’ I do not dismiss the seriousness of your loss; nor, without having seen the items in question, or the room in which they are kept, do I dismiss the possibility that some form of malice has been perpetrated upon your collection. However, if you believe Mr Holmes offers you the best hope of bringing the felon to book, then my duty is to defer to your own convictions.”

Longfellow shook his head. “My carriage is outside, Mr Horne. Perhaps you would care to make your inspection this very day?”


Read the conclusion of this tale in The Erotic Adventures of Ambrose Horne

And then discover even greater thrills in The Erotic Memoirs of Ambrose Horne and The Erotic Return of Ambrose Horne. And if you buy two now, you'll receive the third for free!

Three great books, one great detective!

Deflowering David

DEFLOWERING DAVID
His name wasn’t really David. But everything else is the honest truth – and even while it was happening, it felt as though it rhymed. Probably the easiest verse I’ve ever written!

He told me that he was a virgin
That he wanted me to be first in
Which was fine because I was thirsting
For a piece of untouched meat

But oh what a shock, what a surprise
What a disaster awaited my eyes
Soft, small and flaccid, it disinterestedly lies
My poor piece of untouched meat

I froze for a moment, what could I do?
He was looking so hopeful, and I felt that too
And I knew if I failed, the poor lad would stew
Over his piece of untouched meat

I stroked its loose skin with a light moistened finger
Gave his ballbag a pinch (it’s okay, not a stinger)
Then stroked his soft helmet, and let my hand linger
On his piece of untouched meat

His voice was a whisper, barely a hiss
I strained to make sure not a word I would miss
He said “it might help if you planted a kiss
On my piece of untouched meat”

Was that a slight twitch? Or was I just dreaming?
I licked it again, my mind slowly scheming
How to get him erect and hot, get some creaming
From his piece of untouched meat

I used finger and thumb to so gently raise it
And I let my soft lips so delicately graze it
Let out a soft moan so he knew that I’d tasted
His piece of untouched meat

I opened my mouth and slipped in the end
I held his shaft straight so that it couldn’t bend
Then worked my jaw slow, made some ripples to send
Through his piece of untouched meat

I must have laid there and suckled for a good 20 minutes
I remember I’d almost decided to bin it!
And then my mouth realized there was something hard in it
Life floods his untouched meat

Now that is more like it! I thought as I wallowed
And opened my throat so he slipped in the hollow
I’m glad I was patient, I smiled as I swallowed
Every piece of untouched meat

I was tempted to stay, to blow all the way
But I’d promised that I’d take his cherry away
So I let him go with a plop, there’d be other days
Fed pussy his untouched meat

All of that happened a long time ago
What happened to him I really don’t know
But there’s one special memory that gives me a glow
I touched his untouched meat

The Erotic Return of Ambrose Horne

Xcite Books bring you the second COMPLETELY UNEXPURGATED collection of adventures by Victorian England's most unusual detective - AMBROSE HORNE!



Five new thrilling tales of mystery, suspense and, of course, MOUNTAINS of sex!

Click here to buy The Erotic Return of Ambrose Horne.

Click here to buy The Erotic Adventures of Ambrose Horne.

The Moment is Mine

THE MOMENT IS MINE
It’s not only the girls who can be reluctant. In fact, guys can be even harder to turn around!

“I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he said.
“Too bad,” I answered.
I wouldn’t want to start this
If I didn’t want to taste you
I might not want to keep you
But I sure don’t want to waste you
I want to feel your muscles tense
The pressure build inside you
I want to feel you hold me fast
Want you to feel me ride you
I want to feel that pulse and punch
As you ram your cock in deeper
I love the taste when we start out
But the end tastes even sweeter

I know I started slowly but
That’s just the way I do it
Tiny kisses, little licks
Before I get down to it
Licking my lips slowly
So your knob end slips in gently
Relax my tongue and flex my jaw
And your flavor floods and sends me
Sucking, seeking, fresh firm flesh
While you fill me to my limit
Then when you think I’ve done my best
That’s when I begin it

I love to hear my sucking sounds
Around my moans of pleasure
I love to hear you gasp and sigh
As my tongue swirls, seeking treasure
I love to feel your balls contract
As the tension starts to rise
I love to see the magic as it
Dances in your eyes
And when you reach the very edge
And try to pull away
I clutch your ass and hold you tight
I know what you’re trying to say

The first jet hot and thick delight
The second pumping, fills me
I swallow hard so I don’t choke
I hear my gulps, they thrill me
You shout my name, and God’s and more
Your hips pound fast and frantic
Your cum still floods, I feel like I’ve
Just swallowed the Atlantic
But when the waves at last subside
And you’re softening in my jaw
Oh shit, I sound like Oliver
“Please, I want some more.”

I hold you as you melt away
And lick away the drips
Feel strings of cum cling taut between
Your helmet and my lips
Feel it drying on my chin
Damp drips upon my breast
But the taste that thickly lines my throat
Hey baby, that’s the best
So next time you’re on a one night stand
And the girl gets on her knees
Just let her do it her own way
She knows what you both need.

Victorian England's Least Victorian Detective

When a Faberge dildo goes astray... when you are woken up by the spirit of your long dead wife... when your stamp collection is suddenly sealed to the table by a mysterious liquid... WHO YOU GONNA CALL?

Ambrose Horne, Victorian England's most discrete detective, of course.

Torn from the pages of the kind of magazines that his century would probably have denied even existed, and certainly doing things that polite society would rather die than indulge in, Ambrose Horne is here to fuck, suck, lick and flick his way through some of the most perplexing mysteries ever to haunt the civilized man.

Such as...

Who stole the secrets to the military's latest invention?

Why is the town filled with ginger haired children?

And... can ladies really squirt?

Find out in The Erotic Adventures of Ambrose Horne, available now from Xcite Books. And, coming soon, the Erotic Memoirs of Ambrose Horne and the Erotic Return of Ambrose Horne. Three great books, one amazing lover.

Ambrose Horne. yes, he's got it.

The amazing new book by Chrissie Bentley

Available now from Xcite Books.

http://www.xcitebooks.com/ebook/XB2046.html

F***king Australians

I remember having to study the settlement of Australia in school, around the time of their bicentennial. But we never covered this!

Sometimes I need

Sometimes I need him to pull my hair
Sometimes I need him to bite my breasts
Sometimes I need him to bind my hands
Sometimes I need him to pull open my legs
Sometimes I need him to make me to talk dirty
Sometimes I need him to call me a slut
Sometimes I need him to fuck without mercy
Sometimes I need him to lick till I scream

But right now I need a mouthful of cum
So where is he?