Friday, December 9th, is Boobday!

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I want to take Boobday to the next level and am contemplating a name change.  I worry that “Boobday” makes it sound less beautiful, less important, less impactful.  But maybe that’s just me?

So, having said that, I need your help!  If you have a second, please answer these questions (you can pick more than one answer for the second poll) and I’ll go from there.  Hopefully more than one person shares their answers!

Keep in mind what my mission is for Boobday:

To provide a safe place where women can display their bodies to both feel empowered and to empower others, to embrace body love and positivity and eschew body shaming,  and lastly to show that confidence, sexiness, and health come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and origins. 


Ok, guys.  Lets get to gettin’.

Here are our 2 regular lovely ladies for your viewing pleasure.

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

  1. If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
  2. Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

A little of the Southwest for you…

NOT my tits:

Sandy shows us how what a nipple + suction syringe look like.

10hrs together yesterday with the boy toy. Many erotic pics. Only one of my boobs :-/

Sweet Kim couldn’t remember if she’d ever sent this one in before. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t!

Hanging free 🙂

Click on the thumbnails below for more beauty and awesomeness!


They hang just like this.

Instagram-approved.


They also come complete with nipples.

Too nipple-y for IG.


And a smirk.  

[Ed. Note:I sent this to Luke yesterday because he has a thing for hosiery.]

I still have hope.


I have been sick for most of 2016. It began in January with a fever of 103 and is ending with laryngitis and tight lungs, the diagnosis of which will be determined this afternoon in the doctor’s office.

I am exhausted.

I have lost my muse, my cat, by many accounts even my dignity — let’s not even discuss the White House — but I haven’t lost my hope.

I hope 2017 is better than ever.

I hope that little ember I feel continues to grow.

I hope my heart continues to swell with love and light.

I hope to grow my bank account.

I hope to build stronger bonds with my loved ones.

I hope we fight to keep the world progressing.

I’m not hiding anymore pretending to have it all figured out. I’m struggling, working hard, fighting back. Everything has burned to the ground, but there is new life. It’s the way of things.  I’m still alive.  I’m still doing the things I love.

I gripped the balcony railing on the 21st floor as the owner of the condominium buried his face in between my cheeks. The city lit up below me and the cold breeze swirled around us, his wet tongue and puffs of breath hot on my skin. His moans of pleasure matched my own.  I imagined it was Luke and smiled.

I enjoy men in new ways, brighter ways now. There are no ties which bind, no words that bond. I am free as a bird and light as a feather.  This is fun again and without the stench of desperation flogging me on.

He had me keep my boots on when we came inside and made sure I noticed the sliding closet doors which were mirrors when I undressed and laid down.

He was hard and felt good; he loved my pussy, came quickly, and promptly fell asleep. I did too.

Just before dawn I crept out of bed and opened the blinds which faced east and watched the rose gold light spill into downtown like phantom lava. The reflection on the buildings sparkled and where the light met the night was a beautiful dark hue of blue, like my eyes in the dark I imagine.

I redressed and woke him up to say goodbye. “I have to take care of the dog,” I explained to his unasked question.  He’d mentioned earlier in the night that he wanted to have champagne and brunch with me.

In the long elevator ride back down I looked at my reflection. I saw a woman who never stops looking, who never gives up. I saw her hope.

I also saw a woman who lives her life as largely as possible.

This year may have tripped me up and beat me down with all its curve balls, but it hasn’t erased the core of me: an artist, a lover, a good woman.  I am tougher than 2016.  I am still here and I’m not going anywhere.

Friday, December 2nd, is Boobday!

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Happy Friday, y’all!!  In case you missed it, my dear friend Molly has released the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2016 List!!  Go check it out and spread the love!  I can’t wait to read and meet all the new people!!

Hope you guys have a brilliant first weekend of December!!

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

  1. If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
  2. Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Doesn't everyone do this after a shower??

Doesn’t everyone do this after a shower??

NOT my tits:

For a first time submission, Devon fucking nails it. So much to love about this.

For a first time submission, Devon fucking nails it. So much to love about this.

Hope all is well in your world this week. This is my first submission. Caught a glance of myself in one of my fave pics as I changed and thought I had to try and catch it.

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I would love to snuggle up with Sandy. So warm, so soft...

I would love to snuggle up with Sandy. So warm, so soft… Also: BEST PART OF MY DAY ALWAYS.

End of the day, setting the girls free

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Think about this: It's spring where Kim is! Loving her tan lines!

Think about this: It’s spring where Kim is! Loving her tan lines!

Good Morning Boob World 🙂

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Miss Ellie is gettin’ nice and freaky. I love the shapes of her hair against her breasts.

This was the first time I really enjoyed using nipple clamps!!

Click the thumbnails below to see who else is strutting their stuff!

 


I’m not all ice and black heart.

Luke and I have been talking every single day for weeks now and it is this lone connection that reminds me I have a soft, gooey center beneath my icy demeanor.

For almost two years now my world has been a landscape of slate and black.  Jagged, torn edges that have left me bereft and alone.  The Neighbor’s abrupt departure from my life shone a light on how I have avoided intimacy my entire life, how its light scorched me like the sun upon a vampire, and in the ensuing months I have bumbled along self discovery and acceptance: I have intimacy issues.

Me, who opens up and shares the most intimate of details of her sexual life with virtual strangers.  Me, who entertains gaggles of friends with her lewd stories and tearful sharings of dead fathers and complicated mother relationships.  Me, who bares her body for tens of thousands of pairs of eyes and who elicits both hateful and lustful responses in equal measure and weathers them all with unapologetic and not not disdainful aplomb.

Yes, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

I’m a motherfucking mess.

Man after man — 14 this year alone, I think, plus the handful that I haven’t mentioned — have added to the bleak illustration of my life, some post-apocalyptic land where even the lightening bug’s glow is dim.   None have given color, none have inspired.  I have been free of a muse for too long, drained of inspiration and weighted down by the pressure to impress and be loved by the masses, but I am feeling color seep back in.  Because of him.

We may never meet.  We may never touch.  We may never taste one another, but what has happened is a tiny little fire has been lit inside.  The tiniest, just ever so, like the little diamonds in the slim band upon my finger.  It is there.  I can feel it.

I am no longer filled with dread when I think to write and the words spill out of me much like school children down the sidewalk after school: freely, with some joy, and with purpose.

I tease him about talking to me — he’s far too sweet for the likes of me.  “You’re a smooth talker,” he replies.

“Tell that to me when you’re between my legs,” I say.  “Then I’ll believe it.”

He persists in smearing color on me.  “You’re a great person.  You need to appreciate that.  I know there’s a big heart within that ice block,” he laughs.  Then adds, “For the record, you’ve never seemed as cold as you think.”

I’ve been cast a bright line to the old palette I used, rich in color and light.  His kindness, his ever-present warmth, his sweetness.  After years of grey to see this sliver of color I find myself almost afraid.  Afraid to reach for it, afraid to believe in it.  But I can’t deny that it’s there.  That little ember, ever so small, lit within me.

And I can almost breathe again.

 

My little diamonds.

My little diamonds.

Friday, November 25th, is Boobday!

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Sorry for the late posting!  There was literally no way in hell I could have gotten it up unless I’d written it 2 weeks ago!  This week has been balls to the wall; I’ve barely even slept!

Anyway, I hope all my fellow Americans had a lovely Thanksgiving Day and many thanks to everyone for being so wonderful to me throughout the last few months.  I’m beginning to feel more like Hy and this blog is becoming more and more attractive to me.

Lots of turkey love from me to you!

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

  1. If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
  2. Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Rounds above bars.

Rounds above bars.

NOT my tits:

Long lost Anonymous Aussie is here looking divine!

Long lost Anonymous Aussie is here looking divine!

Love Friday, the end of the working week & time to let it all hang out, literally.

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Kim hunts for the perfect thing to wear.

Kim hunts for the perfect thing to wear.

Deciding what to wear, hence the peek of my open cupboard😊

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Sandy getting cozy.

First morning in the new apartment.

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Sexy sexy Selina in her LBD.

Sexy sexy Selina in her LBD lingerie.

I’m thankful for black lace nighties!

 

Click below for other hotties!


You’d never guess.


Honestly, you probably wouldn’t expect this to come from the woman that is me you’d see on the street or in the grocery store.   The woman with her hair tangled in her purse strap fumbling with her phone.

I’m just your average woman, quite plain, mostly unassuming.  You might notice me if I bumped into you because I’d be sure to apologize, but I’m otherwise remarkably forgettable.

You’d never guess I was capable of a photo like this.  You’d never guess what lay beneath the clothes and social graces.  You’d never guess who I really am.
You’d just never guess.

And I like it that way.


Friday, November 18th, is Boobday!

hy_tits_bannerBoobs.

Givers of sustenance to our children and pleasure to our lovers of all genders.  They’re inextricably linked, yet distinct.

When my baby suckled it was a deep, rich pull from within.  A surge through my nipple then a little release into obscurity.  Looking down at that face I felt ancient and powerful, complete.  This is what they were meant for first and foremost.

Or maybe that’s wrong.

Maybe they are there for pleasure, to lure in a man to create the life in the first place.  A siren call to touch and suckle again and plant their seed deep in my body.   A tidy circle.

The complexity between sex and nurturing confounds many, but they are a dual reality.  I don’t understand why we fight against the truth: breasts are both sexual and non-sexual.

Want to know how to tell the difference??  Ask the woman.

A woman is sexualized throughout her lifetime for doing the most mundane of things.  A woman who is breastfeeding does not intend to titillate, she’s feeding her child.  Likewise, a woman who is wearing swimwear, a fitted shirt, a berka, a turtleneck, a plunging neckline all while having breasts is simply conforming to the costume of her culture.   What’s the weather like?  What’s her mood?  What does her religion say?  To assume she is attempting to excite is an easy excuse to react negatively towards her.

We’ve progressed to a complex system of arousal based on exposure that really does nothing to avert or slake a man’s lust.  A woman’s body is not the tinder to a man’s spark.  His imagination and power is.  In this sense cleavage or a nipple is as tantalizing as an ankle or a lined eye; we can’t control it!  A woman cannot ever in her lifetime avoid being the object of a man’s lust, nor is it her responsibility to do so; it is his job to manage it and behave humanely. 

So here I am ranting on about breasts and why they are both sexual and non-sexual.  Even without a babe to nurse I use my breasts in a non-sexual manner.  I use them for warm, squishy hugs with children — I remember well the hugs from my mother with my face in her warm bosom.  I walk proudly and with confidence so younger women may see that all shapes are beautiful.  I discuss consent and victim shaming as they pertain to women’s bodies and bared breasts being an oft discussed topic.

In any case, this is by no means the end of this discussion, but just some things that have been on my mind.  I will continue my little mission to defuse the negative aura surrounding breasts and bring a sense of autonomy to our bodies, but so long as people can’t find distinct places in which to categorize breasts and nipples they will always fall into the one — sex — and they (we) will forever be considered inappropriate.

No matter what we cover up we are sexualized and very often against our will.  Hiding our bodies feels more like a capitulation than a solution.  It’s why this meme means so much to me.  Take it off, show it off, do your thing.  Not only do you not have to look a certain way, but you’re also allowed to share whatever you please of yourself.

Perhaps it’s a sexual event for you or perhaps not.  For me on these days there’s an allusion to sex — I’m often semi-nude, after all, and I hope to inspire — but it is not an invitation or even a proclamation.  It is most simply a woman’s form, unadorned, and exposed.   Both a sexual being and non-sexual.  All woman.  Interpretation is art, violence is choice.

Love you guys.  Keep doing your thing.  There is no shame in loving to show your body.  Absolutely none.  Nor is it a call to abuse you.  It’s a beautiful place, this complex, tricky thing we call our body and the more we stand up for our rights to do with it as we please, the more it will feel normal to do so.

xx

Hy

[Ed. Note: I changed a few words to better delineate my meaning.  I know how confusing it is for some to see me expose myself and then seem to say “Don’t be aroused,” but that’s not what I meant and I hope my few word changes have cleared that up.  To be clear: You may be aroused, but that arousal (of penis or ire) means nothing about me as a human being and is not an invitation to act upon whatever feelings you might have – be that violence or vitriol.)

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

  1. If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
  2. Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

 

My tits:

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Simple.

I chose this photo because it’s of a woman standing in front of her window.  Nothing more, nothing less.

NOT my tits:

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Sandy with all her warm curves.

A lazy day.

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JULIE 111816

Please welcome Julie to our community! I love this photo, the lines, the shapes, the colors. It’s wonderful!

Today when looking at my boobs, it appeared for once, they actually matched!  Often lefty is bigger than righty, but today the girls were twins!!!

Click below for more of my sisters in this fight:


Friday, November 11th, is Boobday!

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Today is also Veteran’s Day, a day when we collectively reflect on the sacrifices of our brothers and sisters who join the Armed Forces.

It’s also the first Friday of a new world.

So I’ll keep it simple and just say that I love you all — so very much — and thank you to those who have served this incredible country.  Sometimes I don’t think we deserve it.

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate:

1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR

2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.

Also, just as a reminder:

  1. If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
  2. Tell me why you chose the photo you sent

And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

One foot in front of the other...

One foot in front of the other…

NOT my tits:

KIM 111116

I love Kim’s curves.

YAY!! For Friday and boobs 😆

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SANDY 111116

Sandy flops it out for us.

One for the road. Ha!!

Click on a thumbnail below to see who else is playing along!


I know we need the shadow.

We need the shadow to see the light, to see where we begin and end.  One defines the other and are therefore bonded brothers.  Foes, but friends, too.  Necessary compliments.  Bitter medicine.  

But I had no idea so many lived in the darkest of shadows.  

It’s not so much a disappointment as it is utter devastation.  Shame.

I am so ashamed.

Will people look at me and think I hate them because of the color of their skin?  Because of where they were born?  Their accents?  That I don’t think they’re as American as me??

I will cast my light into the darkness and do my part.  I will rally.  I will fight.  I will love.  I will accept.  I will fucking smile.

But I am afraid nonetheless.  

My rights to my body are on the line, my ethics as a globally conscious human dismissed, my safety as an inhabiter of Earth at risk, my care about the planet mocked.

This is a very long, very dark shadow indeed.

I take comfort in knowing that shadow cannot exist without light, that there are millions upon millions of people who are struggling to come to terms with this new reality and who are with me, shoulder to shoulder.  No, we aren’t dreaming, unfortunately.  This is real.  

But so is the light.  

I didn’t expect to share this, but it inspired the words, so…