I don’t know if I’m a good person.

Am I a good person anymore?  Sometimes I can’t tell.

I can say with certainty that I’d help the little old lady in the grocery aisle reach her jar of spaghetti sauce or stop and help someone I saw on the street who’d collapsed.  I’d capture dogs running amok on a busy street and I’d happily sit with a lost child until his parents were found.  I care for Peyton with a tireless passion and all the love in my body and work hard to figure out my relationships with my sister and mother like a good daughter and sister.

But lately I have also been judgmental and almost incapable of keeping secrets (ok, one secret of one friend, which I shared with The Neighbor).  I’m fed up with the decisions my friends (and family) have been making which render them either miserable or powerless or both.  I am a woman of agency: if something isn’t working fix it or end it or stop bitching about it.  Leave me out of it.

I really and truly try to live by that motto, despite what it may have seemed like with my own life.  After all, The Neighbor behaved very badly in the past and many (many) of you thought I should dump his ass.

I was asked by a friend last week why I decided to stay with him through all of that.  We’re new-ish friends and we have only hung out 3 times over the past year.  Our dates are peppered with lots of personal revelations and artisan cheeses and she remembers our first meeting where TN was being distant and non-commital and probably a huge jackass — such a far cry from where he is today.

“What was it about him?” she asked me, leaning forward waiting for my answer. “How did you know things would change?”

“I didn’t,” I told her.  “I broke up with him 3 or 4 times, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.  So, I guess he made that decision in the end.”

“But you could’ve broken off contact,” she pressed, her bullshit-meter going off.  As a long-time singleton who has increasingly entered a black-and-white way of thinking when it comes to dating, she didn’t understand the complexities of our situation and why on earth I’d keep letting him back into my life, and she wanted to know my secret to what seems like a successful relationship today.

“True,” I admitted, “but it’s a lot harder to ignore a knock on your door than it is a text or a phone call.  And, to be honest, it felt good to be chased after.”

And there it was. Was I that friend not too long ago who exhausted her friends and their emotional resources like I feel my friends are doing to me now?

Add to that a growing sense that the friends I do have — many of my decades and longer friendships — feel strangely removed from me.   I am a satellite, distantly safe.  I’m not really all that involved and I kinda like it that way.

Growing up, my  mother taught me that to be a good friend you lavished attention and care on your friends, you never gossiped or shared stories, you exhausted yourself during birthday parties and important events and you were always available when needed.

Today, I realize that is a recipe for disaster because as beautiful a scene it is, it’s a flower-filled meadow with no fence.  When do you stop? When do you rest?  By my mother’s thinking: never; but by most other people’s: frequently.  Which then means you’re the only one going beyond the hills while your friends hang out at their fence replenishing their own resources and maintaining good boundaries and you feel gypped, or worse: unworthy.

So, I’m in a bind.  On the one hand I think I have a right to my compassion fatigue, on the other, I feel like a shit person and even worse, a shit friend.





Friday, September 26th, is T-SHIRT Boobday!


I gotta say, I’m LOVING this once-a-month thing for Boobday.  It feels fresh and fun and I couldn’t wait to do it!  More proof that with a little tweaking a solution may be found!

It’s late Thursday night and I’ve just sent The Neighbor some really filthy pics.  More filthy than ever, really.  Like, my fingers in my snatch.  *gasp*

I NEVER send pics like that because as generous as I am with my titties, I’m very, very shy about my puss.  Anyway, he’s working late and I thought I’d cheer him up a bit.

I’m happy to report it totally worked; he got a tickle in his middle.


Anyway, that’s my pre-Boobday night, how was yours?  A lot of you got very creative and I even had a submission from a newbie (Sin Doll) that inspired next month’s theme (not what you’ll see this month, but you’ll see it next!)!  Speaking of which…

Next month’s theme is VAMP, perfect for Halloween!!  Don’t over think it, friends, just do your VAMP.  It’ll be perfect!

Ok, without futher ado, I bring you T-SHIRT Boobday!



  1. Pics must be yours.  If you’re a man who would like to see his friend’s tits here, she must email them to me.

  2. Send pics to hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com with the subject line with that month’s Boobday theme no later than Thursday at midnight, your time.  If I receive submissions Friday, it may not appear on that month’s post.

  3. Please tweet about Boobday with the #Boobday hashtag.

  4. Please leave a comment on other Boobday participants’ blogs, as well as here.

  5. Pics can be of breasts in any state of dress.  Cocks and props are also welcome, but the woman must be the centerpiece.  Read the State of the Boob Union for more info.

  6. Anyone who identifies as having breasts is welcome to submit a photo.  This isn’t limited to the cisgender definition of a woman.

  7. You must link back to my Boobday page or my post for that day.BoobdayBanner

  8. Snag the code from the sidebar and paste in the TEXT tab of your post (if using WP), or copy and link to http://adissolutelifemeans.com/boobday.

  9. For every Boobday submission, send an email with all of the following info:

    1. an email with the theme name in the subject line

    2. an attached pic

    3. a sentence about why you chose this particular photo

    4. if you want to be anonymous or not

    5. a hyperlink or URL to your Twitter handle (if you have one)

    6. a hyperlink or URL to your blog post (if you have one and post, it must have my Boobday banner and a link back to me and only posted on the last Friday)

    7. make sure your phone and/or camera does not keep your location information! 

    Emails sent to me with all of this info plus the theme will be given preferential treatment.  I will not look up links.


My T-SHIRT tits:

Hy in a T-Shirt all black and white n' shit

Nothing hotter than a white t-shirt in my opinion.

NOT my T-SHIRT tits:


I told Dawn I have a pic almost identical to this. I’m just missing that hot blue bra.

I like colours everywhere,
I like colours, even in my underwear ;-)



@BeckandHerKinks is busting out of some kind of bad ass t-shirt right now.



Mrs. Warm Creme has given us an express pass behind the curtain. HAWT!

I am taking a bold step (for me, at least) and sharing something very private with your readers.



Anisa talks about split ends, but all I see is a motor boat opportunity.

This is my favorite t shirt to put on my boobs. Also, clearly it’s time to trim those split ends…


LO TSHIRT 092614

The lovely H.H. graciously shared this one of Lo with us. Mmm!



@Noodle is busting out for us!! All the heart emojis!!

Marian Green is popping her Boobday cherry. In a show of solidarity for this community that I long for us to have back, I’m revealing myself. True. I’m covered with a thin layer of white knit that is an old lover’s undershirt. He has forgotten that I have it, I’m sure. The smell of him is long gone from the fabric, but the memories remain. I took my time trying to capture a photo for this. It was important to me that it be “right”. Not too sexy… just me. I choose this one because it felt sensual and strong. You can see the strength in my shoulder and arm. But the pose is soft. I was thinking how much I wanted to be held as I took the photo, how lovely it would be to have a man I cared about rest his head on my breasts and wrap his arms around my waist.



@TheSinDoll’s original pic inspired my VAMP theme for next month, but I gotta say this pic is pretty inspirational, too.



I’d love it if all my t-shirts looked like this. You go, ‘Tis!

I had a favorite, he had a favorite, this was the compromise. lol

Apparently I’m not the only nurse fan out there.

@ThereonCara’s note about her pic said something about her love for nurses.



Kayla could fulfill multiple themes with this one: Stripes, Cleavage, SexyAsFuck.

Do you like zheees?



This is Anon for the moment until I hear otherwise. I’ll never assume y’all want to be “out,” just FYI :) Hot pic, no??

I didn’t have a tee shirt but I hope this will do.  God I love boobday!  Thank you for letting us celebrate just being us.



I am beyond words with this pic. LOOOOOOVE.

I took this photo from the POV of my computer screen. Sometimes when I write and get stuck, I squish my boobs together like one of those tension balls filled with sand. Helps me ‘re-focus’ and continue writing. And sometimes I squish them, well because I can.


LSAM inspired this month’s theme. God, I love this hot mama!  Follow her at @lsmblogger

Always showing my team spirit!



@KinkyBikerMom rocks her pretty t-shirt.

I got a new dressy T-shirt and love that it shows so much clevage!



Jade got creative for us and I’m so glad she did! Follow her at @piecesofjade.

I don’t actually wear t-shirts often, so I stretched the theme a bit and used my favorite t-shirty tank top, I hope that is okay.



Here’s our second newbie and she rocked it!!  Follow her at @sunshyne0915

I look at myself everyday without seeing me. A good like a sister best friend sent me your blog and told me she was entering a pic.

I playfully started taking pics and deleting one after another. Until I got comfy and began to ‘see’ me. Wow I’m beautiful. Not just the boobs but behind those boobs.
Thanks for helping me ‘see’
My name is La Shonna. I’m not anonymous. Ever. ((Hugs))”

Elle has a before and after for us. Here’s the hot-as-hell before…


Here’s the after.

In the t-shirt pic I’m wearing slutwear, something Coach had me go out and get so I could dress up like a hooker :) The second pic speaks for itself.


@BisexualMinx sent this in the middle of the night.  Everyone gets one Get Out of Jail Free pass for being late!

@BisexualMinx sent this in the middle of the night. Everyone gets one Get Out of Jail Free pass for being late!

Krystal called this one “Tunnel Vision.”

I have another reminder for you!

Here’s a chance to be a part of a community!  LSAM has graciously taken on hosting of this fun sex-blogger game, Never Have I Ever.

I’ve sent mine in!  Be sure to do something that you’ve written about lest we’ll never figure it out!

Have fun and hope to “see” you there!



PS: I reblogged this from my WP account already, but hadn’t put it up on my self-hosted one, yet, so some of you may be seeing this twice.

From LSAM (aka Caitlyn):


Reminder: Never Have I Ever This Friday!

I’ve already received a handful of entries for this Friday’s game, Never Have I Ever, but the more the better! So in case you missed it the first time, or if you don't judgejust forgot, this is just a friendly reminder to get me your entries before it’s too late!

So here’s the DL. Email me something you’ve never done. It doesn’t have to be sexually explicit, although most are. Think something up and get it to me before Thursday (lovesexandmarriageblog@gmail.com). On Friday, sometime mid-morning, the game will go live and will stay open until Monday at noon.

Come on. You know you wanna play. It’ll be fun. *nothing like some good old fashion peer pressure!*

Thanks everyone!

*hugs and kisses*

My houseboy does the dishes for me.

We laid in the dark, my birthday-Hitachi switched off beside me, Faisal purred on his chest.  “Thank you, Hy, for dinner tonight.  It was absolutely delicious.”

I rolled over, still in my orgasm hug, and kissed him full on his bearded mouth. “Thank you for letting me cook for you.”  We smiled at each other in the dark and I rest in his nook and played with his feather-soft chest hair.

I could have added many other Thank Yous:

  • Thank you for interrupting my blogging with your big, giant hardon and reminding me what’s most important.
  • Thank you for letting me push you down on my bed in my dark room and slipping you out of your underwear.
  • Thank you for letting me suck your big, fat cock.
  • Thank you for telling me how much you’ve missed my magical mouth and thank you for letting me sit silhouetted at your side and cradle your balls in my hand.
  • Thank you for flipping me on my back and shoving yourself inside of me, of rocking into me until I panted and cried out.
  • Thank you for sucking on my nipples, telling me to twist and grab them.
  • Thank you for getting my wand and growling deep in your throat as I writhed and moaned and cussed for lack of actual words.
  • Thank you for being a part of orgasm after orgasm.
  • Thank you for stroking my brow and kissing me like I’m someone special.
  • Thank you for being my muse.
  • And thank you for doing the dishes.
And for letting me take this amazing picture.

And for letting me take this amazing picture.

[Ed. note: TN Tuesdays is a semi weekly meme which will share more of The Neighbor with my Internet BoyfriendAll photos have his approval before I post them.  As always, he's eager to see what you guys think and has requested that I share any comments.]


I have a friendly reminder for you.

This Friday, September 26th, is T-SHIRT Boobday!

Please get me your pictures no later than midnight Thursday night (12 am Friday morning, technically). Don’t worry about time zones. Y’all know I’m in the US, so just get me something by 12 am PST at the latest. Super late stragglers may not make the post!

Here’s a visual to help you remember and give some T-SHIRT-Y inspiration.


Also, I know I’ve been a little MIA lately. That community post took a lot out of me (it was an emotional plea), but I am so warmed by the responses! You guys rock the shizz. FOR REAL. I’m so happy we’re all here together!

More real writing coming soon!



e[lust] #62 – What is “sex positive”?


Photo courtesy of Bawdy Bloke

Welcome to Elust #62 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #63? Start with the rules, come back October1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Sex Blogger Life: Real Talk <– Everyone should read Penny’s thoughts on this one

Selfies, Shame and Safety

‘Dress me like a slut and punish my cock’

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I live in a sex-positive bubble. <– That’s me!  I’m so honored! 

Wicked Wednesday: Silent Memories


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Are you guilty of slut-shaming sex doll lovers?

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Writing About Writing

Why can’t I write gay erotica?!
Cream doesn’t rise: the state of UK erotica
Coming clean about writing dirty…
The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

Erotic Non-Fiction

I’ve Collared Myself a Human Pony
Strapped Back In
View From The Bridal Suite
It’s a date (2/2)
Your Tears Make Me Wet.
Spanking – the ultimate mood changer

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Yes, I am a slut. So?
M feels that labeling myself “gay” erases him
“Appearance Not Important”
Traditional sexual consent vs bdsm consent
Bigger Doesn’t Mean Better!
All in One Person: Thoughts on Non-Monogamy
I Lust, Therefore I Am
Buddhism and Poly
The Great Outdoors
My Love Is Not About You #SameSexCouples
Thinking of You
Tantra Massage For Multiple Male Orgasm


Blogging: My Layout Pet Peeves
An Unpleasant Outing

Erotic Fiction

The Flight Attendant’s Return Home…
Kinky Cocktail Story Time: The Jelly Bean
Spanked Silent

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Quantification of Everything (Especially Sex)
Polyphobia – The New Homophobia


Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

For Submissives.
Protocols. I Want.
When You Can’t Trust Your Body
Masters Guilt
BDSM Is Not (the only) Kink


ELust Site Badge

I still miss Gillian: A post about community, acceptance, and art.

Certain kinds of people are attracted to the kind of blogging we do, our open sexual catalogs, real feelings, opaque details, fears of discovery.

We’re introspective and have things to say; we have a need to share and a reckless sense of hope that someone else out there might want to read what we have to say.

We crave acceptance and interaction, but are embarrassed to admit it.  I suspect we’re tender, creative, and equally shy.  We might might be wildly different in person, but one thing we all share is a need to connect.

Why not just write this all down in a journal?  Pulp and ink?  I’ll tell you why: community.

When I began blogging it was on a different platform many years ago.  Four, to be precise.  I barely remember the name of it, but I experimented with my anonymity.  I noted the sex and age of my child, for certain, and I even shared the URL with some of my lovers (Troy was a huge fan of reading about himself).  I might have even named my city and my profession.  Rookie mistakes, if you ask me.  I tore it all down when it stopped feeling like a safe place and for a few months I was blog-less, adrift.

I tried writing in my journal, the one I could cradle in my hand, but the words never flowed out of the pen-tip like they did out of my fingertips.

I decided to resurrect myself on WP and within weeks I blindly stumbled upon Gillian Colbert’s Black Door Press blog, a special haven of sex-positive, creative writers and journalists.  (If you Google it now you get nothing; enough time has passed that it’s slipped through Google’s fingers.  It’s just a heap of bones in my memory.)   There were people there who were cloaked in anonymity — just like me — for fear of losing their jobs or their husbands and wives, of being labeled a pervert, immoral or an asshole.

But something magical happened in her sphere: No one judged. 

Instead, we entered each other’s blood stream and felt the pain, the loneliness, the bleak and starving strains on the heart.  We cajoled, but were objective; we didn’t hold a punch, but we were quick to kiss and hug, make sure the other knew it was born out of love that we questioned this or that or stated clearly that it wasn’t for us.  We gave creative feedback on fictional works, played with each other’s art.

Gillian was the arbiter of it all.  She bore her soul to us like no one since or ever before.  I’d never seen anything like it.

She cracked herself open right down the middle and showed us all what she found to be the ugliest parts of herself and it only made us love her more.  It encouraged us to do the same: to be bold, honest, ugly as sin.  Fucking real and fearless because we knew — we knew – that no one was going to hurt us in our struggle, in our vulnerability and exposure.  It would not have been tolerated.  Period.

We were safe here.

Gillian was also a prolific writer.  Her internal schedule demanded that she write almost constantly. She had month’s worth of posts piled up and she once told me that whenever the comments began to pour in she never knew to which post they were responding.  It could have been something she’d written months before.  Yet they were always timely.  How did she do that?? I wondered.  I never learned the secret.

Her art was words.  She was a master and a clinician all at once.  A small-framed woman with a bob and a twisted mind who’d masturbate in the bleachers under a coat at her daughter’s soccer games.  She gathered us all up in her little arms and held us close and up to a standard I was proud to meet.  I was a member of this circle.  Not an elite one, but one that only required a desire to join and I was in.  I was so in.  I felt at home.

I participated in all the contests, the writing games.  Gillian came up with writing prompts, we’d pass around an erotic story and each add a paragraph and she’d publish the finished product.  She’d collect photos we’d submit — photos we’d never ordinarily share — and we’d play a guessing game. Who’s who?  No one had ever seen my smile before that game.  Only my tits and ass.

I want that back.  All of it.  Of course I want Gillian, too, but she’s slipped away into the ether, moved on to hopefully better things.  At least I met amazing, influential people through her black door.  Some I’m close with, others I admire from a distance, and some have followed Gillian beneath the dark waters of real life and blog-life expiration.  LSAM and Noodle, Nick (the commenter), Mike, too, Bi, Ginger and Cruel, Z, True, Cara, HH & Lo, AM, TheoJayne, Fay, Deviant Diaries, Cheating Whore, Gideon Jagged, Chris de Voss, Kyle Mew, Rincewind.  More whose names are escaping me at this moment — forgive me!!

Some have cryptic abbreviations in my head, others are fully named.  I don’t know what most of them look like or how they sound, but I know these people.  Their inner thoughts and turmoil, their humor, their lustful fantasies, their creative brilliance.  I know things about these people that they have yet to share with a real life person.  Others, through this community, have learned to open up and fold their two lives together.  Some continue to be artists of their own making weaving fantasy and truth with smoke and mirrors.  There’s also a lot of fun shit, light and free.

Those are just the folks I associate with Gill.  Since she left, I’ve met new people with new energy and without hesitation I can say that each one is another flower in a beautiful bouquet.  Everyone is still accepting; it’s like this inexhaustible reserve of love.  Where does it come from??

But before you think I’ve smoked some kind of hippie love bong and have lost my mind, not everyone agrees with me and my decisions.   I had many, many readers who thought The Neighbor was the devil incarnate and I should dump him, some think I’m a piece of shit for writing anonymously without consent, and still another wasn’t very happy with me for not talking to her first before I responded to a post of hers she had on a national platform.  By all means challenge me, but don’t judge me.  I may or may not end up agreeing with you, but that’s ok.  We’re not all the same person anyway, right?

Still: I feel accepted here and I like to think I’m diplomatic and open to all discourse.  Even if I come out on the short end and look a fool.  I’m not infallible; I’m just a writer.  Some folks aren’t going to drink my Kool-Aid.

However, because I experienced acceptance in the very beginning I continue to be free to be Hyacinth, separate from the woman I am in real life.  I don’t have to make sense.  I show my tits, occasionally my ass, I bitch and moan about my complicated relationship, I write erotica, I shout to the moon about being in love, I leave thoughts like droppings all over the internet, and I avoid the spaces where the tone is negative.  I don’t know the language of snark.  My inner compass rejects it, but I don’t reject the people who partake, I just steer clear and let them have their space.  I have my own, after all, and I use it for me.

This space, at once a playground and meeting place, is also a lens.  What I see in the bathroom mirror is vastly different than what my iPhone captures.  The community gets to see my frailty and responds with kindness because they know that being that kind of ugly couldn’t exist here.  There’s no oxygen for that animal in this place.  And I’m ok with being objectified because my sexuality is my own and it’s more powerful to have choice than be told I have none because someone might wank off to me.  Wank away, I say!  You have the same agency as I do, sir or ma’am!

Most revealing photo, yet.

Most revealing photo, yet.

If I had to guess, I bet that most of us want what I’ve described: community, acceptance, a place to do their art.  It’s within all of our reach, but we have to make it happen — it doesn’t just happen to us — and we don’t want snark or judgment.  That’s creative death, cheap thrills and empty wins!  We want love and respect, intelligent discourse, constructive feedback and thoughtful critiques.


LSAM, Cara, and Noodle wrote posts recently that reminded me of this.   Different takes on what seems to me to share the same heart.  If I may put words in their mouths: for LSAM she was close to Gillian and she has felt the cooling the most as Gillian’s sun faded away; for Cara she wonders where hers is; for Noodle she feels that our once tightly knit community has unraveled.

The enigmatic Gillian isn’t here to be our Bloggy Godmother anymore, so we’ve been rudder-less for two years — a freaking lifetime in Blogland — and while I believe it’s impossible to recapture that exact thing that she stewarded,  I bet we could come close if we tried.  It’s obviously not come naturally to me or anyone else to step into her shoes, but if we put our heads together we could patch it all back together into something just as wonderful.

Who wants to try?

I take a pic of him in the shower.

TN showering his hot bod

The Neighbor.

The Neighbor is a bold man, brave, loyal, and fierce.  He’s protective of my person and my people and he has a near zero-tolerance policy when it comes to betrayal.  He’s tough as nails.  A complete hard ass.  The toughest nut to crack I’ve ever known.  A true Cancer with his impervious outer shell and painfully soft insides.

And he’s beautiful, so beautiful.

The lines of his body are artful, yet utilitarian.  He doesn’t look like Michelangelo’s David, but if I had the skill I would carve marble of him for all to see what I see.  His symmetry, his densely muscled limbs, his compact virility, his cock, his bow-shaped mouth and pale blue eyes.

His male beauty is a departure from that image that leaps to our minds — cut, hairless, tall, thick-maned — but it is irrefutable nonetheless.  He walks with a slight bounce, his round ass pert beneath his denim, and his arms swing easily as though he were all alone.

I’d like to take all the credit, for having a good eye, but we are all only as magical as our muse.

TN looked surprised when I showed him this image I’d captured of him in the shower.  I’m certain he never saw himself this way, but it’s still him.  It’s still real.  It’s still beautiful and no matter what he sees, I see a David.


[Ed. note: TN Tuesdays is a semi weekly meme which will share more of The Neighbor with my Internet BoyfriendAll photos have his approval before I post them.  As always, he's eager to see what you guys think and has requested that I share any comments.]



I can’t believe I’m almost 40.

Hy's birthday body

I’m not usually all that concerned with my age, but for the last 6 months or so I’ve been a little unsettled about turning 40.  NEXT YEAR.

I felt silly to be freaking out 18 months in advance about an inevitable, non-life-changing event, but I’m rattled.  IT’S FORTY, Y’ALL.

That’s the decade that before she hit the 50s Oprah declared as the best everrrrrrr!  It’s the decade when fuck ups and regrets should be fewer and farther between, when we are financially secure and responsibly planning for our futures, when we are in stable relationships.  But when I think of my 40s I don’t feel anywhere near those ideals.  And the frustrating thing is, I don’t know why I feel this way.  I never put those kinds of pressures on myself for my 20s or my 30s.  I did what I needed and wanted to do and didn’t look back.

Hy's birthday body 2

I can’t help but think the pain of the divorce and the almost constant fear of financial ruin hasn’t run its course with me; I am beaten down, tired.  I’m letting stupid shit get to me.  Like turning 39.

I should be thinking about what I’ve accomplished in the last 39 years, not what I haven’t accomplished before 40.

I was a talented athlete, healthy, and strong. I swam fast and rode horses like I was born on horseback.

I completed my undergraduate work in 4 years at a time when everyone was beginning to do it in 5.

I procured jobs that reflected my interests or my desperation: cocktail waitress at a titty bar, Gallup pollster, swim-instructor, office temp, working-student, lifeguard.

Hy's birthday body

I got a Masters degree and launched a new career; I own my own business.

I partied like I had two livers, did lots of drugs, drank too much, introduced myself to strangers and made friends of anyone who crossed my path. I fucked all the boys and girls.

I loved, I laughed, I cried.  I lost friends never to see or speak to them again; I made lifelong family out of some.

I attempted a relationship with my father, but ultimately failed.  When he was dying, we were there, I was there.  I sent him off to the other side knowing I had given him his final gift of forgiveness.  A ruse, but a gift nonetheless.

I moved my mother closer to me and struggle to redefine our relationship; I fear for her health and shoulder the responsibility of her care.

Hy's birthday body

I made a child, grew it within my strong and healthy body, and birthed a perfect human — a miracle that was.

I became a mother.  A mother of a sweet, precocious, whip-smart little person who challenges every stupid thing I know about how things should be.  Through Peyton’s eyes, I see a new world, a better one.

I got married, I got divorced, I continue to struggle with the disappointment of who I chose to marry, but I am finding new resources within me that are carrying me through.

I fucked and sucked with wild abandon.  I fucked in pools and cars, against trees, with multiple partners both men and women, on top of washing machines, and in elevators.  I opened myself up to a real kind of sex I’d longed for and only read about in romance novels.  I became my own heroine, my own protagonist.

Hy's birthday body

I found a love that appears to combine all that I’ve learned with all that I know with all that I aim for.  And his cock is the perfect fit.

I buried two beloved pets and felt the unique pain that their absence creates; I replaced them with new four-legged love and experience the unique joy their presence creates.

I began to write.  And write and write and write and I met wonderful people through my words and theirs.  We crossed oceans and continents and came together in a community of camaraderie and sex and writing.  I found my tribe.

I became ripe with sexuality and desire.  I am injured and in pain, yes, but it’s like the freckles upon my skin: I notice it, but I don’t let it change me.

I am lush with curves, not at all skinny.  I might even be considered plump by some.  I am 39 and I have yet to beat down my desire for a smaller body, but I finally no longer crave a size 8 body.  I am good with my size 10/12, my DD breasts, my big ass.  In my 39 years I have learned to detach this body from my self-worth.

Hy's birthday body

I am a good person.  I am  a sum of so many things.  I am flawed, overly-sensitive, sometimes too critical, but I am also loyal and giving, creative and loving.  I am proud of who I am, but still see many things to improve upon.  It almost feels like I’ve just begun living because now I know who I am.

Each morning upon waking I turn to see the sun rising above the hill to the east and I stretch and I think of how happy I am.  No matter financial or relationship worries, no matter at all.  I am filled only with joy and hope and a feeling of wholeness.  Maybe The Neighbor is beside me or perhaps Peyton, I could even be alone, but what is really lying next to me is my sense of blessings and luck.  Faisal’s purrs punctuate my morning thoughts like clockwork.

Hy's birthday body

I can’t believe I’m 39, but I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.   I think I’m gonna like being this old.

Friday, August 29th, is Boobday!


Boobday is a place for us to honor breasts of all shapes and sizes belonging to all types of folks. All of us who are the owners of breasts know their magical powers, but not everyone gets to hear it. I hope this will become a place of support and praise.

Ohhhh, it feels so good to be back, everyone!  I’ve been excited to launch the new monthly Boobday meme and am so grateful for all the gorgeous women who chose to participate this month.

Going forward, every last Friday of the month will be Boobday.  All the same rules apply, all the same time limits, etc., but there’s a new banner, so please be sure to grab it and update your blogs!  You can grab the html in my sidebar or just right-click and save my image above.

Here’s the official word on the new Boobday, much as I’ve stated before in my State of the Boob Union:

I want Boobday to be about the art of our bodies, not the hardcore sex lives we lead.  There are other weekly memes for that.

I want the focus to be on your bodies, not anything else, so clean off your bathroom counters and look for the good light!  I am the curator of this meme and I have a certain aesthetic I’m going for.  Not sure what I man?  Just check out the archives for guidelines.  I will veto pics that don’t fit:

I’ve said in the past that so long as there were boobs in the pic, I’d post it, but that’s changed.  I will only post pics where the focus is the woman, not the act in progress.  Even if that act is all about the tits.  If you are unclear what this means for a particular week and theme, email me and we can discuss!  

Themed pics will receive preferential treatment in regards to being posted.  I’m not saying you must do the theme, but if you can, please do.  And the themes will be easy-ish.  Some may be more challenging than others, but that can be fun!

So please make a sticky note of the following for future Boobday submissions.  This is what I need:

  1. an email with the theme name in the subject line

  2. an attached pic

  3. a sentence about why you chose this particular photo

  4. if you want to be anonymous or not

  5. a hyperlink or URL to your Twitter handle (if you have one)

  6. a hyperlink or URL to your blog post (if you have one and post, it must have my Boobday banner and a link back to me and only posted on the last Friday)

  7. make sure your phone and/or camera does not keep your location information! 

Emails sent to me with all of this info plus the theme will be given preferential treatment.  I will not look up links.

The next Boobday will be Friday, September 26th, and the theme – inspired by LSAM’s submission this month – is T-SHIRT.



My OPEN tits:

Hy in her sheets

NOT my OPEN tits:



@KaylaLords has been busy lately, but she sent us this old favorite.

This week, I’m flashing back (hehehe, I said ‘flashing’).


DAWN 082914 OPEN

Dawn searches beautifully for her light.

For once, I enjoyed being photographed rather than doing the selfie thing.
We took advantage of the slightly open blinds to play with the sunlight, how it warmed my nipples and tummy. It is quite a pleasant memory :-)


BECK 082914 OPEN

@BeckandHerKinks shows off a stunning satin bra.


TAMI 082914 OPEN

@KinkyBikerMom gets reflective.



I love this image of @MollysDailyKiss. It reminds me of a cat.

I love this shot not just because of the boob but also because you can see the whip marks lingering on my thigh and hip.


LSAM 082914 OPEN

LSAM before.

LSAM 082914 OPEN

LSAM after.

M likes the way my nipples look through my thin, 1986 t-shirt.



@SassyCat38 has a little nibble with her nipples.

Tea time!



Anonymous Blonde rejoins the busty meleé this month with some decadent lingerie.

Even though I don’t participate often I was so glad to see the return of boobday, that I strapped on a corset and took some photos. This celebration of the soft mounds has been missed.



Beautifully painful.


CARA 082914 OPEN

Cara (@thereon_cara) sent in two pics, but this one was by far my favorite. She called it “early morning shyness.”



Tis get’s all Andy Warhol on us.

 Me and my many moods for one set of boobs.



Sweet G resurrects just for us! She’s alive, guys!!



Elle #1.


Elle #2.

Coach got involved this time. Attached are some fun pics. My post has a short video. We had a great time just having fun. Good to have Boobday back.

HH was the very first person to send in a pic and screwed up and forgot to flag it!! Thank god he emailed me to point out my oversight!! So, here’s the bewitching Lo! Enjoy!