“It’s total perfection.”

It started out like this.

I’ve become high on love.

I dream about sharing my feelings with him and it’s a long, terrifying jump to crystal blue waters below, that feeling of my breath being stolen on the way down, the slap of wetness beneath my feet, the subsequent rush and rise to the top.

In true 7th grade fashion, I admitted to him that I like him “a whole lot.” You might be rolling your eyes at that, but it was a big deal to me.

And I invited him to spend Thanksgiving with my family on the wings of a prayer and when he said Yes I felt as though I’d won the lottery. I feel blessed, y’all.

But my lips remain sealed. I cannot say the words that boom in my heart. Those three silly little words.

I’m waiting for something. For the universe to tell me I can handle losing him. For that moment when he looks back into my tear-filled blue eyes and says, “But I don’t love you, Hy. This is just a ‘thing’ we’re doing. I’m not going to love you. You knew that.”

When I feel strong enough to weather that, my words will tumble.

But in the meantime, I float along among the clouds anchored by his mighty cock, his sweet gestures, his wise words. He roots me on every professional step I take and supports me as I navigate my tangled and painful relationship with my exhusband. He is my number one fan.

The rest of our lives is business as usual as I keep my secret. I send him a daily pic and sometimes a series if I’m feeling particularly inspired and have the freedom and privacy to do so. The weather is turning here and I recently wore jeans for the first time in months. They were a little loose, but I felt sexy and began to snap away.

Click, click, clickity-click.

I strip-teased my way down to unzipped pants and exposed breasts. He was happy to receive them.


A day or two later, I dug out my red panties with the peek-a-boo hole tied with a thick, shiny ribbon. I was curious as to what the view was like and twisted and craned my body this way and that to capture a from-behind view.

Click, click, click.

I was pleased and sent those off, too. Again, he was grateful.


Days changed into nights, cuddles turned into sweet talks, expectations morphed into reality. We tangled our parts less than our hearts. It was sweet, fairy dust; glittery longing with no release.

Finally, finally, we carved out some time to lay down inside one another. Peyton was passed out and The Neighbor was over within seconds of my “all clear” text standing in my candlelit room in black gym shorts. I wore a black spaghetti strap night dress with little sprigs of flowers dusted all over it.

We stood facing each other and he took my hand and pulled me closer, dipped his chin and captured my mouth in a long, sweet song of a kiss. I breathed him in, he inhaled me.

I ran my fingers through his hair and he clung to my bottom and pulled me towards the cradle of his hips. I felt his hardness through the thin cotton of my nightgown; my right strap slipped off my shoulder and I pulled my arm out and let my breast fall out.

We moaned into each other’s mouths and I melted into his warm skin. Every cell of my being sang of love, my pussy pulsed and my breath caught as I realized we were beginning to make love to each other.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, “We haven’t kissed like that in a long time,” he observed.

“No, we haven’t,” I agreed, though I’d argue it was closer to never.

I looked into his eyes shrouded in shadow and then his parted lips and reached forward with my own and sucked gently and slipped my soft tongue to meet his. He removed my remaining strap and I stood only in black, lace panties, then he groaned and bent to free himself from his shorts.

He pushed me down on the bed and dragged my bottom to the edge, licked his palm and rubbed it on the head of his giant erection. He positioned himself at my hole and pressed into me. Nothing happened.

Our eyes locked as we both smiled slyly knowing his first push was always the best, my favorite of favorites.

He pushed harder and I began to spread for him. I gasped a little and smiled more broadly. His mouth mirrored mine and then my eyes fluttered shut as the head entered my body completely and the rest of him eased in as if my body were a hungry constrictor.

He kissed me hungrily as his hips began to move, my body completely lubricated. “You’re not wet at all,” he joked huskily in my ear.

“Nope,” I whispered back with a chuckle, “not at all.”

He kissed my neck and my jaw and sat up and pumped into me, his hands braced on either side of me. Each punishing thrust made my breasts jiggle like bowl-shaped domes of Jell-O.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly. “Flip onto your belly.”

I did as instructed, my feet planted firmly on the ground and he slipped back into me.

“Tell me what you see,” I said thinking of my red-panty pics.

“I see my favorite thing: your beautiful body, your curves, this,” and he ran his hands from my waist to my hips. “It’s total perfection.”

photo 1

I closed my eyes and let him plow into me and light me up from the inside. My heart sparkled in time with my G-spot, our skin slapped and our moans mingled.

We moved up onto the bed completely and he pinned my knees together as he rutted on top of me, grabbed my top-knot bun and growled into my ear and struck my flanks once, twice, three times.

I lost time, wanted to be somewhere else and nowhere else. Then we were spent.

“C’mere,” I heard him as if from far away.

He pulled me into his nook and I lay there feeling more satisfied than I had in days, recalibrated. My thoughts felt like warm honey, my bones willow branches.

“Let’s go out on the balcony,” I suggested. It was in the low 60s, a rarity in September here. We dressed in white robes, him in a long Egyptian-cotton shin-length thing with my name, “Hyacinth,” embroidered on the lapel (a bridal party gift of mine from years ago) and me in a little short white one.

And there, on a balcony chair cushion beneath my knees and the breeze caressing us both, I sucked and loved on his cock, his knees splayed wide and confidently in that way that men do.

It had been weeks since I’d spent any time on him and I was ashamed. I apologized and he told me it wasn’t necessary. I answered with more sucking and smiled around his girth.

Eventually, he called me off, said he’d gotten a little too sensitive. We walked back into my room and shed our robes and laid down beside one another, the ceiling fan puffed gently on us.

The night was still young so I rolled to my side and grabbed the vibrator, flicked it on and pressed it to my bare mound. TN kissed my neck and jaw, sucked on my lips and my nipple. I climbed the rise quickly and as his mouth returned to mine I began to splinter.

He caught my orgasm in his mouth as I whimpered and gasped into him.

I fell limp and he pulled me to him as he rolled onto his back. I surprised him when I grabbed his chubby cock with one hand and turned the vibrator back on while on my side.

It was a swift ride with my ear pressed to his chest as it rose and fell quickly; his cock grew in my hand as my orgasm approached, spilled out onto us and faded away.

In his arms I thanked him for saying all those nice things about me as he was fucking me. He said it was nothing, that he loved the pictures I sent him. “I think it’s especially sexy when there are things left to the imagination.”

“Really?” I said, dancing on the edge of a doze.

“Yeah, like that one in the series you sent me the other day where your pants were unzipped but your bra still on. That was damn sexy, by far my favorite of the bunch.”

I perked up a little at that, proud and pleased in equal measure.

“Well, I’m glad. I try to be sexy and not just raunchy.”

“You do a good job,” he affirmed.

I mumbled something into the warmth of his skin, wrapped in love and kisses and compliments and told him again how much I liked him. He squeezed me and said he had to go soon.

I don’t know if loving him more will make me braver or more afraid, but as I’ve been told recently I need to act like the grown up and share my feelings and I agree. Just a few more nights like this one and I might feel brave enough to try.

His favorite.

Friday, September 6th, is Boobday!


I sit in a ubiquitous Starbucks, the rising sun over my left shoulder, my hair alight with its rays.  I’m facing the steady trickle of caffeine-seeking people and I notice a tall man dressed in nice slacks and a light blue button down.  His black belt with its shiny buckle glint in the sunshine.

He looks at me from his place in line.  I shift a little, suddenly aware of my posture, kick off my flip-flops and tuck my legs under my bottom.  He’s extremely good-looking.  Why is he looking at me?

I look back down at what I was doing and feel a familiar stirring, a pulse in my vulva lips.

A minute passes and I feel eyes on me.  He’s at the creamer station now, his left hand noticeably ring-free.  His hair is dark and cropped close.  I imagine he smells clean and grown up.

I hold his gaze for only a split second, shy.  I wonder if maybe he’s noticed my Niners shirt.  Perhaps he’s a CA transplant like so many others in my city?   But he certainly can’t be looking at me.  My jeans are faded, my hair pinned back with bobbypins.  I look like a grad-student.

I draw my eyes back down to this interminable Boobday post.

And when I look up a third time, he’s disappeared back into rush hour, gone like a whisper.  I feel the haughty look of a missed opportunity and am chagrined.  Perhaps another bright and humming Friday morning  will prove more favorable.

I can only wonder.


Want to participate in Boobday? Read the guidelines and send me a pic. I don’t censor the images, so there’s no “making the cut.” That would completely defeat the purpose of Boobday. I want to provide a space for women (cis and trans, bi, straight, gay, skinny to fat) to expose themselves and feel proud of what their mamas gave them.

If you don’t include your Twitter handle, your post URL, and whether or not you want to be anonymous, I’m not going to do any investigating, but also won’t assume anything, so be sure to have all the info every single time! If it’s not in your email, it won’t be in the post.  No blog post required if you just want to post on mine.

Also, only post your Boobday pic on Fridays and always include the Boobday button in the post and a link back to me.

My tits:

Busy, busy, busy.
Go, Niners.

NOT my tits:

Bubbles would like to be anonymous. I think a lot of us would like to be a shower head.
A matching set to last week’s anonymous Freckles’ left tit.
Beck gettin’ busy. @beck42069
Panty Parade’s creamy breast with some faux fur.  @offgothepanties
Something a little different from my friends across the pond. @SilverdropUK
Anonymous Aussie has been sunning her breasts in the warm southern sun lately.
Sweet Kayla and her Teddy play peek-a-boo. @KaylaLords
KinkyMom would like to shock us.

Friday, August 23rd, is Boobday!


Today is a glorious day, y’all!  I quit my day job a day early yesterday, so I am currently sitting on my balcony listening to a busy weed-whacker and industrious, chirping voices from three stories below.  I’m wearing navy and green striped men’s pajama bottoms a dear friend of mine once left behind after an extended visit and a lace-trimmed white Gap tank top.  My coffee is quickly cooling off beside me like an angry woman.  I think this may be perfection.

This week’s Boobday feels extra special, too.  We have 11 gorgeous participants and all of them bring something different to the table.  I know we sometimes like to dismiss boobs (“You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” sort of thing), but the truth of the matter is, no two pairs are alike.  They’re like a fingerprint.

One woman’s aereolas may be large, another’s only as big as a quarter; some may glisten with stretch marks and other’s be unmarked; some may hang flatter than another’s high, pert ones; some may be perfectly symmetrical, others a little lopsided.

But they all feel the same no matter what the size, shape, or state: fucking awesome.

So here’s to another wonderful Boobday!  Thank you all for always making this happen.



What to participate in Boobday? Read the guidelines and send me a pic. I don’t censor the images, so there’s no “making the cut.” That would completely defeat the purpose of Boobday. I want to provide a space for women (cis and trans, bi, straight, gay, skinny to fat) to expose themselves and feel proud of what their mamas gave them.

If you don’t include your Twitter handle, your post URL, and whether or not you want to be anonymous, I’m not going to do any investigating, but also won’t assume anything. So be sure to have all the info I ask for every single time! No blog post required if you just want to post on mine!

Also, only post your Boobday pic on Fridays and always include the Boobday button in the post and a link back to me.

My tits:

Shimmery stretchmarks.

NOT my tits:

She’d like to remain anonymous. I’d like to curl up between her breasts.




Another anonymous posting. I love the composition of this one, the heaviness of side-boob, her tatts. It begs to be licked and nibbled upon.




Anonymous Aussie knocks this one the fuck out of the park. She was trying this shirt on in a dressing room and had difficulty with that one snap.




photo (1)
For her first time participating, Sassy Cat fills out a rainbow. @sassycat38




Beck loving on her giant titties.  And a rare face shot! @beck42069




Cee’s first time. I imagine I’m sitting on the edge of a bed and she’s standing over me.




Silverdrop lets a nip slip. @SilverdropUK




mail (127)_pantyparade
Panty Parade’s “courgar” submission for this week. I looove animal print. @offgothepanties




Kayla and her Mr. Teddy. So sexy, so sweet.@kaylalords




G says she’s been spending a lot of time in her garden this summer. That delectable tan line proves it. @curvymilfy




Anisa, her wedding ring, and her cleavage.

Friday, August 16th, is Boobday!


Another week has flown by, y’all. I’m breathless and excited because this past Monday I gave my two weeks’ notice to a silly little morning job that I started back in February that gobbled up every spare, creative moment and inclination I had.

Plus, I’ve also had the terrible problem of having a nightly visitor who cuddles and kisses on me — and frequently fucks the shit out of me — and so my usual night-time writing activity has also disappeared. That was a joke, by the way. Definitely not a problem!! Ha!

In any case, I have a lot of catching up to do. With all of you and your stories and lives and sharing more of mine. I can’t wait!



What to participate in Boobday? Read the guidelines and send me a pic. I don’t censor the images, so there’s no “making the cut.” That would completely defeat the purpose of Boobday. I want to provide a space for women (cis and trans, bi, straight, gay, skinny to fat) to expose themselves and feel proud of what their mamas gave them.

If you don’t include your Twitter handle, your post URL, and whether or not you want to be anonymous, I’m not going to do any investigating, but also won’t assume anything. So be sure to have all the info I ask for every single time! No blog post required if you just want to post on mine!

Also, only post your Boobday pic on Fridays and always include the Boobday button in the post and a link back to me.

My tits:

Ok, you’re right. I should participate, too.

NOT my tits:

Beck and her bruises. @Beck42069
Silverdrop gets some work done. @SilverdropUK
Cara and one toasty boob. @carathereon
mail (76)
She’s been tweeting about this pic and Panty Parade delivers! @offgothepanties
Ginger’s man submitted this one. I like to imagine he’s this much taller and this is what he sees all the time. Also, I do the same thing with my iPhone.
Ginger again, with her Daddy’s make-shift paddle.
These lovely tits work hard and play hard, from what I hear. @xlaux
Anon Aussie says, “Oh my, what strong hands you have!”

Friday, August 2nd, is Boobday!


Today I want to celebrate being alive, walking down my stairs each morning to a wall of sticky, loamy humidity, to being vexed, elated, tickled, hungry, itchy, sleepy, horny, shattered, and satisfied.

I want to celebrate being able to meet each need, to counter an imbalance, and to voice an opinion.

I want to be proud in my skin, accepting of my character, and never stop believing in the meaning of life, which — obviously — is meaning.  At least it is to me.

Sometimes I think what I do here is frivolous, silly, opportunistic, but then I think about the good I can do with it.  The teeny, tiny amount of good to the few I reach on occasion and I erase those thoughts and blow lustily on the little bits left behind which obscure the beautiful words beneath.

It’s all worth it.



My tits:

photo 2
A clear, sunny morning…

photo 3
… means revealing…
photo 1
… myself to you again.


NOT my tits:

SilverDrop being a good girl.



Panty Parade says, “I like this shot because it shows that I’m wearing a baseball jersey (I’m a huge baseball fan), but it’s also flirty.” I’d say it’s a lot more than flirty!




Emma brutalizes her pert little titties in the best possible ways.




Ginger and her friend had fun with yet another in the room.




This is Naughty Nic’s first submission. Apparently, she and I are of a mind this week.




photo (4)
Kayla killin’ it with the shiny objects and luscious breast.




Cara worried that this might be too much. I assured her it was perfect. She’s also a birthday girl this week. Happy birthday, honey!!




Molly rejoins us with this ethereal imprint, as if she’s pressed against glass.




Scarlett plays with fire.




I love this image for a lot of reasons. Just one of them being the weight of Beck’s breasts.




G says she loves participating in “massive boobage” each week.  I love it when she does!

Friday, July 26th, is Boobday!


I had a long conversation the other day with a young woman.  She’s barely in her 20s and the epitome of nubile.  And she hates her breasts.  Of course.

In her estimation, her 32DDs don’t look like they did when she was younger.  Her heartbreak was evident as she knew she was staring down the path of continued aging and her wish to look 19 forever would become more or less a joke.  I didn’t laugh at her.  I could feel her pain.

I felt my self-imposed gag order more than ever in that moment.  I wanted to show her there was a classy, respectful, cheeky place on the internet that showcases breasts of all kinds — and every week, no less!  But I was mute.  I cannot reveal my secret sex blog, even for the benefit of one affected girl.

She will have to come to the conclusion that her body is sacred, perfect in its own ways, without the small benefit of Boobday and its loyal followers and participants.  Hopefully, with age, she will come to see that our reverence of the preternatural 19 year old “look” is truly a farce and that men of all ages and around the world love us in all our stages of life.

Here’s to that girl.  I’m glad I’m no longer her.



My tits:

My heart really always will be in SF.

NOT my tits:

Dear Ella got shut down by WP this week. She wants me to tell you it’ll take a while before she can get back up. And, yes, the usual “pornographic content” was their reason. If this is porn, then we’re all in trouble.
G’s out gallivanting around on vacation, but she took this one last week for us. She called it “weird,” but I think it’s exceptional.
photo (15)
cAt and her sexy self.
Beck and her lollipop. And cleavage.
Scarlett and her scarlet nails.

Friday, July 19th, is Boobday!


It’s what’s beneath the breast this week.  My heart is broken, but it feels frozen and waiting.  Numb.

And then it loves continuously like the endless ticking of a second hand despite its wounds.

Such a fickle, strange, brave thing a heart is…



Wanna participate in Boobday? Go here and read the guidelines if you’re new and check for updates if you’ve been around a bit. 

My tits:


NOT my tits:

A powerful image from A Cheeky Aussie. “This is my very scared chest whilst the docs prod and poke me over why I’ve been fainting. Hopefully it’s nothing but I figured I might borrow your internet boyfriend for a bit of support.”
G’s on top of it: nothing sexier than a woman in a white button down. Follow her on Twitter here.
Cara’s trying to stay cool. @thereon_cara
cAt has risen from the ashes (F you, WP!). Her site is private, so you’ll have to ask permission.  @CatLusso.
Ginger gets tweaked. Hard.
“I’m on a date tonight & couldn’t resist sharing, with you too…”
The gorgeous Anisa. I want to say this is her first time, but I could be wrong.

I take advantage of the light.

Left column is evening, right is morning.

Last week I wore nothing but a white cotton slip and lay in the evening light which streamed in through my bedroom windows. My legs, somehow very tan looking, tangled in my white sheets and bedding.

My hands roamed over the curves of my body and I had the sudden little thrill of the epiphany that I was totally alone and within arm’s reach of my Hitachi. Oh, to be fully grown up and able to do as I please!

I switched it on and held it to my cotton-covered clit. I rode the vibrations up like the train of a roller coaster and came crashing down the other side in seconds.

The ceiling fan twirled silently above me, ever watchful and busy, but with nothing to say.

I sighed and smiled to myself letting a second epiphany come to me: I could take some late afternoon pics.

I clicked and moved, reviewed and clicked again. The light, I noticed, was almost identical to that of the morning which I am we’ll acquainted with, but it was different, warmer, longer. Like long desert shadows on my body.

I sent a few to The Neighbor and snuggled down to watch Murder She Wrote as the sun set completely.

I dreamed of nothing and everything, Jessica Fletcher’s perky, unflappable presence the dark backdrop to my dream reel.

Then I felt a warm heavy hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and there was TN, leaning over me and nude with an angry-looking hardon. He kissed my shoulder and the blue glow from my laptop blinked off as he snapped it shut.  He turned me roughly onto my back.

I felt as though I were still dreaming as he spread my knees with his own and sunk slowly into me. “How can you possibly be this wet?” He marveled as he felt my welcome.

I blushed. “I dunno. I came earlier…” I trailed off as he began to thrust in earnest.

He fell forward and nibbled my neck as I wrapped my legs around his cool, clean skin. My gauzy slip moved in whispers with us and maintained a strange level of modesty between us. I felt like a lusty, busty virgin.

He strained into me and contorted me for our pleasure. I cried out and bloomed once, then twice, panted and giggled, cried and begged.

He exhausted himself and collapsed on top of me, his erection stiff as ever, his semen stubbornly still in his body. I asked him of he wanted me to help him cum. He declined. “It’s not gonna happen tonight, I’m afraid.” I snuggled into his nook and squeezed him. I knew how he felt: frustrated, but still completely happy.

We talked some more and kissed. I drew patterns in his chest hair and let Faisal attack our feet; his mournful cries from outside my closed door finally answered.

He left soon after and I returned to my dreams.

In the morning, light streamed in soft and new. I stretched and felt where TN had been inside of me just hours before. I purred a little as I decide to take duplicate morning pics.

I studied the evening ones and copied my poses. Click, click, click. Soon followed by a long, hissing buzz, and a woman’s satisfied cries.

I sent him a few and rolled out of bed to get ready for my day, my night and day rolled up into a neat little loop of breasts, tangled sheets, and orgasms.

Friday, July 5th, is Boobday!


Boobday is getting more and more fans. Women tell me that they’ve “rediscovered” their breasts and now find them “beautiful” and “sexy” again. I cannot express to you how much this makes me beam and glow and smile. It’s so wonderful!!

I am beyond thrilled that Boobday can be a vessel to carry anyone towards more self-love and acceptance. I heard from one participant that it’s made her realize the depth of differences between breasts. There are — quite literally — infinite combinations of traits and plenty of people out there to love and appreciate them.

And to all you who have written me to say that you’re working up the courage to participate, I say to you to just relax and do it whenever you’re ready (if ever). I’ll keep doing this for as long as possible and will certainly let everyone know if I have to stop.

I don’t choose who gets posted and who doesn’t. If someone submitted something really beyond my comfort zone (like with an animal or scat or urine) then I would politely ask for a new photo, but other than that, whatever you submit, I’ll post so long as there’s a breast in it and it’s the point of the image.

All this to say, keep them coming, ladies! You’re unique and beautiful just the way you are. Every cell in your body has a story to tell. Let the voices be heard.

Oh, and Happy (belated) Independence Day, America!!



*Denotes first timers.

Wanna participate in Boobday? Go here and read the guidelines. Your email MUST include “Boobday” in the subject line and clear instructions on whether you are to be anonymous, or not. Also include your Boobday post URL or your blog URL, as well as your Twitter handle if you have one and want to be linked up. Please don’t make me look this shit up :) I’m about to stop doing that extra step for y’all. I’m a cranky Hy these days. xx

My tits:

You’ll see a whole collage of these in my next write-up.

NOT my tits:

*This is Panty Parade’s first pic for Boobday. I love the blur and the pale. Follow her at @offgothepanties.
photo (1)
*cAt’s first submission for Boobday. Sadly, she got policed by WP on the 4th and suspended. You can still follow her at @catrinolusso on Twitter.
It’s sweat and heavy-breasted Ginger, y’all! I’m a sucker for when the bra strap pulls away like that.
Beck is certainly displaying her kink. Follow her at @beck42069.
Lips & Tits
Our sweet Lola and HH also got suspended on the 4th by WP. But here’s Lo and her luscious — well — EVERYTHING. I hope they’re back and swell soon!
Scarlet and lots of lucky bubbles.
Look at what Kayla is giving us today!! Follow her at @KaylaLords on the Tweet Machine.
Our longtime participant, Anonymous Aussie. Those breasts look like butter!
*Another first-timer, MellowDee, let’s us peek down her top. Follow her at @__mellowdee__
IMAG0030_1 (1)
*Shalynne exposes herself for the first time to us. Follow her at @ShalynneSwings.
A prism decided to help out G this week. Superb. Follow her at @curvymilfy.
Emma toys with us in the best way possible. Follow her at @dirtylittlew.


Silverdrop making a sexy call. Follow her at @silverdropuk.


Friday, June 28th, is Boobday!


Not only is it Boobday today, it’s also Noodle Day!

That’s right, she’ll arrive this morning all bouncing curls and delicious accent and warm, soft hugs all for me.

I am so lucky to have found her in this crazy, fucked up world.

The Neighbor will hang with us later tonight, I think, though I’m not sure.  No blow jobs, no groping, no sex for a live audience this time.  We’re all a year older; I feel more shy somehow.  Bone weary, honestly.  I don’t feel peppy or perky or playful.  At all.

But, never say never and all that jazz.  I’m open to any kind of hedonistic dog pile the Universe wants to throw my way, let’s be honest.  Hyacinth isn’t dead yet!!

Enjoy the tits for today!



Wanna participate in Boobday?  Go here and read the guidelines.  Your email MUST include “Boobday” in the subject line and clear instructions on whether you are to be anonymous, or not.  Also include your Boobday post URL or your blog URL, as well as your Twitter handle if you have one and want to be linked up.  Please don’t make me look this shit up :) I’m about to stop doing that extra step for y’all.  I’m a cranky Hy these days. xx

My tits:

My tits and a love mark.

Not my tits:

Ginger says, “This is what happens when you lie flat on your back with ginormous boobs!” And then she got fucked :)
Beck, and a little something extra.  Follow her on Twitter: @beck42069.
Scarlet is “grabbed from behind.”
Our dear Anonymous Aussie and some incredible underboob.
It’s my sweet G and her lusciousness on display.
Silverdrop fresh out of the shower.