Join me and Felix at Bites & Kisses! It is forever under construction because dear Felix is forever busy, but it is where I am putting my writing now :D

Relocating

 Still under construction, but I'm moving from blogger to bitesandkisses.com due to consistent access issues and content removal

 have some fantasy porn to celebrate

https://www.bitesandkisses.com/market-nights/

Anew

The walls were gritty and gray, full of grime–or were they green and full of slime? Devon wasn’t certain, but there was a definite smell in the air. Urine, or algae, or maybe both. And somehow, beyond that, was the stench of abrasive cleaner with an aggressive pine scent.

“The fuck?” he asked the air, and his voice rasped and broke.

Light streaked sideways through thick square panes of glass arranged like tile high on the wall, but the panes were yellowed and browned, some caked so thick that the light was reduced to a dim glow along their margins. The room was small as a cell, and the mattress under him had a surface that seemed to move with a life of its own. Up he sat, itchy and uncomfortable.

“Shit,” he breathed, when gravity made his head swim and his limbs felt too heavy to properly move. “This is real.” His fingers raked through his hair, nails digging along his scalp, eyes stinging. Not a dream. Not a dream, and that could only mean one thing.

because covid in the emergency room wasn't bad enough 

i was assaulted

my life upended in a matter of seconds 

-

years of multiple surgeries and painstaking recovery later 

i am going to try again 

to try again

Just A Sip

It was autumn now, and the days were growing shorter, but they were still unbearably long. Dark could not come fast enough for Joshua Orel’s liking. He busied himself unnecessarily, trying to make the hours of sunlight tick away that much faster. He collected rents for his family’s properties in the morning, he audited the ledgers in which he recorded said rents, and he took it upon himself to go to the afternoon market for the next day’s meat and milk–a task normally reserved for his part-time maidservant, Margaret.

By late afternoon, Joshua’d run out of things to do. His flat was clean, his laundry done, and Maggie had left his meal evening meal warm and waiting so that he had only to remove it from the cast iron cookstove that sat to one end of the modestly sized kitchen. He sat, languished, and stared at the light pouring in past the open curtains framing the glass-inset doors that led to his tiny balcony. He tried to read, but he couldn’t focus. Over, and over again, his gaze swept to the curtains, to the doors, to the bare metal chair and table on the narrow balcony, to haze of the city sky beyond.

Ah-ah-ah

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Good in Rope

“You look good in rope,” Nicholas all but purred as he admired his handiwork.

“Is that some kind of colonizing bullshit?” Mayank teased, the sly slant of his dark eyes and his wide grin giving him away. “White man power tripping over my brown skin in ropes?”

Nicholas raised his brows at Mayank and put his head on to one side.

“Don’t think I hadn’t considered it before,” Nicholas replied in measured tones. “I do try to avoid fetishizing people, but I think we’re safe in any case. You came to me, after all, and you asked me to tie you up.” He leaned close, his breath tickling at Mayank’s ear. “I could untie you if you like. A few little pulls and that harness will be so unraveled it wouldn’t hold a kitten.”

Normal

The first thing that Devon was aware of as he regained consciousness, was the cold air sliding across the back of his leg. The second thing was the pressure of his bladder. His eyes had crusted shut the way they always did this time of year, and moving to Florida hadn’t helped that any. He rolled to his back, knuckling at one despite the fact that it tore at his lashes and irritated his lids, and forced the other to open on its own. He’d pay for that later, but he had to see the body that belonged to the weight in the bed next to him.

inconvenient delusions

I think of you in the dark and the quiet, of your sly smile and cunning words. I think of the things you would say to me in the stillness of the morning, when all the world was asleep save for us and the stars. I dream of the trust that was born in those moments. Trust without pretext, or preamble, or.  pre anything. A spontaneous and consuming notion that birthed itself undeservedly between us.

It was so certain, that trust-- that trust. That trust that let you tie me face down on your scratchy wool rug the first time... the thousand times that followed. I can remember the smell and the feel of it on my cock as well as I can the smell of your aftershave and the way it felt when you tickled my slit with the corner of your nail. I knew, with absolute certainty, that you would always untie me. I knew that you would hold me, and kiss me, and let me stay outside of my head just as long as I needed.

What does that make me now? Alone, longing for that knowing again, unable to trust myself enough to even consider judging the feasibility of a chance encounter, let alone anything of longer duration? If I cannot trust myself to know just whom I can trust, is there anything at all left for me in the here and now?

But more importantly, how do I stop thinking of you every time I pull at myself in the shower? I can't even trust myself not to cum at the slightest scrap of memory- your cock cleaving me in two, your hips trying to hammer me through the wall, ugly yellow tile and all.

I think of you all the time, even in the light and the noise, but it's these quiet hours that undo me. It's these quiet hours that leave me bereft, aching and yearning.. for trust.

What are we but our vulnerable places? The places neither of us can see?
But i would tickle Your secrets with my fingertips,
and breathe life between whispered words.

i would caress the undersides of Your breasts
where the skin is tender and folds,
and lift the weight of Your belly
to nibble at each hidden hip.

What are we but these things we do
between the promises of what will come next?
And though i have oft held my lips to Yours,
anticipation sends me groveling for more.

i would drag my mouth trembling -
sighing, soft, and warm -
along the dark dusky curves of Your thighs
(the ones that You claim to hate).

What am i but kneeling before You? Lost in a sea of skirts?
But i would worship You with my palms,
pray hard with lips and tongue,
until Your breath cried Truth at last,
and Your toes touched again to the ground.

Depression

Depression. You see it in the media all the time. We’ve all come to learn the signs. Darkened rooms, the cold light of the television on staring faces, eating pints of ice cream, occasionally singing with woeful songs, and perhaps crying along with the lyrics. Mattresses on the floor in corners, the sun shining in. Too long without food, and perhaps crying over the cathartic drag of serrated blade through skin. We see these things in movies, or on television, and we know— oh, they’re depressed. 

For me, it is different. I didn't even recognize it at first. It’s a thousand breaths condensed into one that gathers any awareness— or rather, two incomplete halves. Inhale, as I settle into the chair by the window, book in front of me, cat purring under one limp hand. Sunlight slides slowly across the sunny yellow of the wall, dragging the shadows of leaves in a slow, natural compass from gauzy golden curtain to spring green crown moulding. 

Another lament

Oh, you guys! I miss having time to look at all the beautiful arts and read all the beautiful writings. I miss talking to my e-friens! School is such a time and energy suck, and starting in the fall I'll have clinic-thingies I'll have to do. It's going to get worse before it gets better, and I know that when it gets better it will be AMAZINGLY BETTER ... but I'm impatient.

Stay wonderful. I'll catch up when I can.   ♥

(I know I haven't been writing, but Spectre updates will continue to happen if nothing else.)

Hi mom

Hello random influx of new people! I welcome you just as enthusiastically as I do the old people. :D

I've had some inquiries regarding updates.

I would love nothing more than to sit around writing smut and posting it for all of you wonderful people to see, but I am afraid that I have not the time. I'm taking classes that require scads and scads of memorization. Chapters full of the stuff. It's a bit of an adjustment, considering I've never really had to study before. Well.. I suppose it could be the old age and not the memorization.

Still! Updates will happen. No, I cannot say when. Yes, I do prioritize donation stories. They come between "walk the dog" and "go for a bike ride you filthy slob."

To sum up: Welcome! You're welcome, I'm sorry, thank you, yes there will be more, and no there is no schedule. Except for Spectre, which updates every Friday.

I hope you're having happy sexy days and nights!

~m.a.

Heavy Like Water (a suggestive short)

After a summer of hellacious schooling and a near-death experience that left me more than a little shaken, I have finally found some time to regain my sanity and squeeze in some writing! (I'd like to thank A for that. Thank you!)

Here is a little short for Will as a reward for his donation. Thank you so much for your kind contribution! Hopefully Baal lives up to your expectations. :)

----

For how long had Uriel been living in the darkness? How long had he been so unbearably hot? How long since the song that had once filled his ears had been turned to crawling whispers and curses that crept along his spine to shred his thoughts to tatters?

An instant. A breath. The falling of a grain of sand from the webbing between Puriel’s eternal fingers. Longer. So much longer still. But even the passage of a mortal second was too long.

Bored and looking for something to whet your palette?

I've been missing writing. So badly. But then, I am the lunatic who chose to take two lab classes condensed from 18 weeks to 6 weeks.

So! As an olive branch, I offer you this m/m bloghop. I know there are things on that list well worth the price of admission, and hopefully there are more than not. There are prizes to be had as well, if you're into that sort of thing. :)

I will likely pursue the links myself in August, when I have reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

(My writing may be sparse at the moment, but Spectre will continue to update on Fridays!)

Piety Update!

First! Look at this fucking amazing shit that Felix did to our site: Avenier.org. Talk about gorgeous.

On to Piety...

Current update is here!

Entire thing is here!

This story is full of horrible, horrible things. Violence, slavery, rape, peas... Okay, not peas because I hate peas. Don't read this if the previously mentioned content squicks you! 

Piety Update

Current update is here!

Entire thing is here!

This section contains dubious consent, bondage, spankings, elf tears... so on and so forth. Piety as a whole contains violence, themes of slavery, and rape. Please do not read this story if those things upset you. Or do, but.. I did warn you.

----

On another note, I'm pleased to say that we've been managing our Friday updates well @ http://www.spectrecomic.com. I've had some questions regarding the exact time of update. We do not have the page load automatically, so it updates when Felix gets a moment in her day. The RSS feed updates when I get a moment in mine. Sorry for the ambiguity, but "Friday" is as specific as we can get!

Thank you to everyone who has supplied feedback and support. It is very encouraging.

♥ ~m

I will sing for my supper.

I have been receiving many, many, manymanymany... many requests for more pieces of Nasr & Devon work.

I've been forthright in responding that they are not high on my priority list at the moment. I am, as we all know, a very busy bee.

However! Sites don't host for free, and eventually Felix and I would like a printer. So, as a donation incentive, every time we hit the $40 mark I will write another Nasr & Devon short for everyone's enjoyment.

----
Caveat time! This is separate from the $20.00 donation award of picking a theme for a smutty short. I just don't have enough time to put out two stories for the same money. If you do donate $20 or more, I will contact you to find out if you'd like it to go toward a theme of your choosing, or toward the Nasr & Devon pool. It is possible I could incorporate your theme into the Nasr & Devon story, but no promises.

We'll have a tracker up soonish.

Piety Update!

Have a few more pages to round off Chapter 14.

Current update here.

Whole thing here.

This story contains themes of slavery and violence, as well as consensual and non-consensual sex. Please do not read it if you are uncomfortable with those things.

pdf mashup, gogogo

Okay! The Piety .pdf has been dealt with, and now includes the current update.

The html version is repaired as well.

Thanks for your patience. :D