May Ling Su

I like this photo because it shows two aspects of Jay’s personality: the ratty cuffs of his worn out old sweater and his amazing hands.

Jay wears this ratty old sweater all the time. I was there when he bought it at the summit of Mt. Washington. I’m constantly amazed at how long he and I have been together, and this sweater is a reminder of it. I remember we hiked up all 8,000 feet of it, and he rewarded himself with this sweater once we got to the top. Going down we took the cog, and he tells me how amazed he was that I could sleep through the loud winding chug of the antique coal train.

I’m an old-fashioned girl. I judge a man by his hands. A good man knows how to use them, whether it’s wielding an ax to cut firewood, or running his fingers down my back when I’m feeling achy. Jay’s hands can do many things. He made me an engagement ring out of a large uncut opal (my birthstone) set in sterling silver. He plays several instruments and writes music. He’s painted several paintings, photo backdrops and sets, illustrated comics and animations, sculpted clay, fabric and whatever else. He’s pretty fucking amazing! And a talented lover, he has me craving his touch right now.

Jay talks about how he wouldn’t want our baby to be an only child. I keep saying I don’t want any more, I’m ready to move on. The truth is I loved being pregnant. I loved giving birth. I am a superhuman babymaking machine!

I enjoy breastfeeding too. I’ve been doing it almost two years now, and although it’s difficult now with the teeth I still keep doing it. My nipples are sore most of the time, but they feel like SuperTits to me. It’s a miracle elixir, my milk, and my baby deserves nothing less. Self-weaning has begun, and I’m looking forward to getting my time back, but I sure would miss SuperTits.

Here’s a look back at SuperTits: Evolution via boobcam:

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When googling an old lover’s name, I wasn’t prepared to learn that:

1. the once hot young sexy boy is now jaded and balding.
2. he never found anyone as hot and sexy as I still am.
3. he wishes I was dead.

To protect his identity, I am not linking to the actual page on which I found him. He is now a pastor at a Born Again church in the Netherlands. At the church’s website, he published an essay about an ancient Korean story. He didn’t mention that the story closely paralleled his life.

In the story, a great Korean warrior fell in love with a famous entertainer. Everyday, the warrior came to the young woman’s home, until his mother became aware of his escapades and compelled him to end the relationship in favor of his position as a military leader. The warrior obeyed his mother, choosing “obligation over obsession.”

After a day of military training, the warrior fell asleep on his horse and woke up at the entertainer’s home. Out of habit, his faithful horse had taken him. In great emotional distress, the warrior killed his horse right then and there. The entertainer, heartbroken at what he had done, took his sword and killed herself. The warrior went off to the mountains and continued his training in seclusion. He ended the story justifying the righteousness of the warrior by his commitment and sacrifice, “a life that embodied the true martial artist.”

The story left me feeling sad. The horse is one of the most loyal and noble of all domesticated animals, and to a warrior an indispensable ally. When a warrior rides with his horse, they are both prepared to face danger, possible death, together. When the warrior killed his horse, he killed the part of himself that is most pure and true. This is why his lover could not bear to live on after this. She could not survive the loss of his soul.

It would be easier for him if I had died. I have a feeling he is still celibate, a total waste of a big cock. It makes me wonder what would happen to him if I revealed myself to him as I am now. May Ling Su, the famous entertainer, very much alive. Would it ruin his life to see me exposing my body and my sex on the global stage? Or would it fuel his mission to evangelize against “youthful pleasures?” Does celibacy preclude masturbation? I wonder if his hand, like the warrior’s horse, goes on automatic pilot when he sleeps. And when it does, I wonder if I am in his dreams.

Before Aphrodite jiggled out of her scallop shell cocoon, she bathed. Soaking in prisms of mother of pearl, feeding on quick-fleeting salt crystals on the floor of her tub, rippling her liquid bridal chiffon with golden comb-teeth fingers.

High tide hides an island. Low tide uncloaks. The moon draws her hips forward and back, closer to the sky at sunset, then deeper in the ocean at dawn until it’s time once more to arch her back.

Petals whisper out of her navel, perfuming her island and its secret, folded into oyster blankets… her true name.

Jay set up a blanket and pillows on our backyard deck. Reminds me of those times in New York City when he’d take me out to the roof or the porch on a really hot night and we’d fuck all night under the stars.

We’re both coughing and sneezing, and the cool night air helps clear out the sinuses. I bundled up in blankets and cuddled with him on the deck. The baby monitor is on, humming white noise. Everything is damp from the lagoon mist, but it’s so rare that we find the time and space to fuck loudly, so we don’t care. I let it out while I took it in the ass. Jay seemed to go on forever.

Surfing around Adult Friend Finder, I nearly peed my panties reading this profile. OMG!!! Is this guy for real or what? I mean, it’s so wonderful that they’re still having a hoot at their age, but he’s mean, the way he talks about her. I don’t even know how to feel about this. I’m laughing, then I feel like I shouldn’t, which makes me laugh even more. Jeezus.

Sex Art by Mister is hardcore classical figure painting.

Thinking XXX DVD is coming out. Go get it, bitches!