Friday, February 21st, is SIDEBOOB Booday!


So, we’re back to Friday already and it’s an epic day.  I never actually count the number of entries I get each week, but it feels like there are more than ever this go around.  I’m sure, in part, to the readers of JK and Sofia’s blog.

Which in some roundabout way reminded me that I’ve forgotten to choose a single participant each month to highlight like I did with G back in November (it took me 20 minutes to find that post; I couldn’t even remember what month that had been!).  I’ll be emailing one of you soon to tell us in your own words what it’s been like sharing your body with the Internet, so be ready!

Next week’s theme will be SUNSHINE, inspired by New Dawn’s submission this week and another old pic I ran across earlier in my hunt for that old post — and not to be confused with LIGHT Boobday.

And again, please feel free to email me Boobday theme ideas, just make sure to put BOOBDAY THEME in your subject line lest it gets lost.



Want to participate in Boobday?  Go here and read the Guidelines and State of the Boob Union to answer any questions, but this is the TL;DR of what I need each time:

  1. an attached pic

  2. a sentence about why you chose this particular photo

  3. if you want to be anonymous or not

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

  5. 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 Friday)

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



I look at this image and literally can’t believe it’s me…


The scarf was caught on Faisal.

The first one is my favorite, but I couldn’t resist posting a second one.  I like it when little everyday things show up in shots, but I’ll also be the first to admit my blog is nothing if not self-indulgent.

NOT my SIDEBOOB tits (click on images for click-thrus where available):


@Hubman38 submitted this with permission from @VeronicaASM. I wonder where he was leading her…

I love the curve of her breast and how the nipple is pulled taut



@Beck42069 has a PSA for us all.

Here is my side boob boob day image. It’s a reminder to check your armpit during breast exams.

The answer is YES!

@SilverDom says, “Silverdrop looks so pretty in pink against her pale skin. Don’t you agree?”



Yes, JK, it is hard to get your own sideboob shot ;)

I chose this one because I love the way the light plays on her breast and in her hair, and I’ll always enjoy a topless woman the most in the bright sunshine.



This is ‘Tis’ first Boobday and she sorta [kinda not really] got wrangled into it I think she nailed it.

Seeing how this was my first Boobday submission, my husband and I picked the picture out together. We selected this picture because we each liked how my nipple was peaking out from underneath my tank top, it was sexy and revealing but still left something to the imagination.



@KaylaLords, I love them, too.

I love my boobs from this angle.



@PiecesofJade tantalizes from the shadows.  And, YES, it’s definitely good enough.

I don’t have a lot of boob to GET a sideboob shot with, but my partner LOVES sideboob, so I had to try to get a pic especially for him. Unfortunately, since I am traveling I didn’t have the right “prop” (he adores the “accidental” sideboob peeking out of a blouse) but I thought this might be good enough. ;-)



New Dawn was tough for us and an inspiration.

This week, I was sick and contemplated not taking part.
And then this morning I was feeling better, and played around in my bed…

@kinkybikermom gives us oodles of sideboob.



@offgothepanties put this one to a vote.

I had three to choose from and Mr. Wonderful picked this one out  of the three. It’s a fun game I like to play with him.



@thereon_cara gives a glimpse as if we were a fly on the wall.

This is pre-workout so I was pulling on my sports bra to head out for a run.


Look at @CurvyMilfy‘s bowls full of fun. I want to take a long, long nap right there.

I love the laying down sideboob look. D snapped this pic after he had pulled my bra down and gave my tits a nice rough squeeze.



I tore my dresser apart looking for something like this to wear, but I’m not nearly as stylish. Goddamnit, I want all @BisexualMinx’s lingerie!

Pure, simple, SideBoob

Friday, November 15th, is CURVES Boobday!

hy_tits_bannerFirst, let me say I was completely blown away by the thought and care put into the images and words sent in this week.  You all make me SO proud to be a woman and to be Hyacinth, my alter ego.  I’m glad this blog has morphed into something outside of just me and my sex/love life.

Second, next week’s theme will be BLUE.

Third, thanks for following the new formatting rules.  Putting this together was a pleasure!

Fourth, I’m super excited that one of our smaller-breasted sisters decided to participate this week (thanks, Heather!).  We are heavily large-breasted most weeks and I would love to see more of the littles of us out there represented here.  Breasts are so pretty!

Lastly, I’ve decided that every month I’ll ask a Boobday participant to write a short essay (500 words or less) about what it means to her to share her body with the Internet.  This month, I asked G, of Filled and Fooled, the sweet and often self-conscious sex blogger we’ve all come to know and love to be my inaugural writer.

Here’s what she had to say:


Follow her at @CurvyMilfy on Twitter.

When you asked me to write about what it means to share my body with the internet, I was honored and excited for the opportunity.  I’m not sure I’ve ever said why I like sharing my boob pics. It took me a while to formulate an answer when it came down to it.  My reasons seem so primitive, so stimulus-response, yet so hard to explain.

When I first started sharing “boob pics” on the internet, it would produce a unique and sometimes rush-like feeling. Most often when I post a photo I’ve had to push past vulnerability, fears of all kinds, and my own rigid and outrageously high expectations for what I produce.  I push past the doubts because I know it feels good to create something that evokes a positive response, and it feels good to have sex appeal, and it feels good to project confidence.

So I publish, then dance between the fears and doubts and the memories of compliments and my momentary acceptances; pirouetting in the high of swirling emotions until the first notification.

What Boobday has done for me is evolved that dance, slowed me down a bit by cutting out some of the fears, and taken vulnerability out of the equation. We are all sharing our special qualities and our audience appreciates our differences.

As I slowed down it wasn’t so hard to see the beauty anymore. I am no longer chasing a high, I’m learning about human beings. Not everyone likes gigantic breasts, and huge nipples.  I sort of thought “the bigger the better” before, following these silly porn ideals I guess.  So, as I come to truly believe that my tits are great simply because they belong to me, I accept more of the things I don’t like about them.  And sharing them becomes less about a rush, but more about confirming I love myself.

This photo celebrates not only the obvious underside curve and pendulum-like boobs I sport, but it portrays the top of the cleavage curve, I claim it as distinctly “G”.  I know it may seem trivial to some, but I really didn’t like how the top of my cleavage always seems to curve a little to the left.  This dissatisfaction is probably a derivative of my long-ingrained belief that having a nice layer of softness over my body (i.e. being overweight)  isn’t a good thing.  So automatically I am inclined to be ashamed at yet another curve my body decides to take. But this photo shows that curve is okay.  My cleavage isn’t straight.  My breasts are fuller some days and saggier other days.  I now accept the fate and these facts that my beauty shall evolve (rather than fade), and I am no longer afraid.

Well said, G.  Well said.

Want to participate in Boobday?  Go here and read the Guidelines and State of the Boob Union to answer any questions, but this is the TL;DR of what I need each time:

  1. an attached pic

  2. a sentence about why you chose this particular photo

  3. if you want to be anonymous or not

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

  5. 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)



Curves upon curves.



@Heather_Cole1 on Twitter.

Why I chose this photo: I’m extremely self-conscious of my small breasts. When I see them in photographs, it’s challenging for me to stop the negative thoughts. So I snapped this pic in my kitchen (my favorite room) wearing my favorite apron. In this view, I can see the curve of the underside of my breast, the curve of my nipple and the curve of where my hip meets my waist. There are a lot of curves to love, and I’m working on loving all of them.


SilverDom took this of his lovely for us this week. It reminds me of the view of a planet, so perfectly curved.


Follow her on Twitter at @BisexualMinx.

I chose this one for your CURVE theme because the ‘fetal’ positioning of my body portrays a distinct curve while nicely exemplifying my female form!


Follow her at @KaylaLords.

Between my breast, nipple, and even faint curvy outlines of bruises, there’s nothing not curvy about this one.

bookworm_cleavageAnonymous Bookworm submitted two pics with different lighting.  I spliced them together to better see the contrast.  She says, “I love unexpectedly catching a glimpse of my curves when I’m doing something as mundane as lying on the couch reading a book.”

Anonymous_Aussie_pearlsnap_cleavageAnonymous Aussie says, “It’s all about the curves this week Hy….& don’t all boobs have the most delicious curves?  & yes I confess to pulling the shirt in at the back to show my curvy boobs.”


Follow her at @Thereon_Cara.

When I think of my body, I think of curves. I wanted to take a photo that showed not just the curve of my breast, but of that other asset I’m known for. So I picked the picture that showed that (I hope).

“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, 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.

I play with light and my breasts.


7:30 am light and lots of shadows.

Happy Mother’s Day, ladies.  Without our bodies, our curves, and the magical shit that happens within it we wouldn’t be who we are today.  I hope everyone has a spectacular day!


Sinful Sunday