The article about me published in last month’s Esquire Philippines is now online. Go read my interview with Gang Badoy and check out the art by Gamo Tuano. It’s so lovely!

This is Year 13 of the Birthday Nude tradition. This is one of the rare moments I get to sit still and reflect on what’s past and where I’m headed in the future. This past year I became a Pornsaint and muse to two paintings, one by Chelsea Greene Lewyta exhibited at La Galerie Provocatrice in Amsterdam and another by Karl Backman exhibited at the Museum of Porn in Art in Zurich. I am also in Suckpax 3, a collaboration between The Suckord and SideKick Lab on a pack of trading cards in which my pussy appears in scratch ‘n sniff ink.

The future? I’m at a crossroad. It’s not clear to me which direction I am taking. I’m taking down notes from my subconscious. See if you can help me figure this out.

Around my birthday I had a dream about Nick Cave. I’m sitting on a couch. Nick Cave sits on another couch next to mine. He leans over and says, “You’re never in any hurry, are you?” I feel like time has passed me by, and he is reminding me to seize the moment. I get ready to go on a date with Nick Cave.

I get in my van but as I pull out of the parking spot I realize I am on water. I drive the boat/van out of the parking garage and plummet down a waterfall. It takes my breath away. I remind myself to relax, everything will be fine. The boat/van is submerged for a moment, then is buoyant again.

I drive it across the water to a place that has mirrored walls. I check my reflection. I’m pulling a piece of luggage, wearing a loose dress and flowers in my hair. My hair is big and messy, like a bird’s nest.

I go up an escalator and find Nick Cave at the top, talking to two old men in Spanish. He straightens up when he sees me and gets a big table for all of us. I wonder what the hell I was thinking bringing my luggage with me.

Another dream: I have pencils in my hand and am poking around me at an invisible ghost. I finally feel an entity that resists like an invisible balloon that refuses to pop. I am frustrated by the dullness of my pencils. I woke up with the desire to sharpen all the pencils in the house.

Am I going crazy or am I going sane?

My birthday is coming up on the 7th. I tend to be introspective around the time of my birthday, but this year I feel it even more. I feel like a full grown baby being forced out of the womb because it’s time, but I’m petrified and don’t want to come out yet because I’m not sure where I’m going or what I want to do once I’m out there. And there’s so much out there.

I can’t stay here anymore. I’ve stayed longer than I should have. It’s comfortable and cushy here. Life is good. Why should anything change?

But the world is changing around me. My oceanside home is crumbling underneath me. We’ve given ourselves until the end of this year to move all our belongings, our art, our books, our dreams out of here. I hope this house can sustain us until then. I hope we know what we’re doing and where next by then.

“When I was born,” said comedian Gracie Allen, “I was so surprised I didn’t talk for a year and a half.” I suspect you will soon be experiencing a metaphorical rebirth that has some of the power of the event she was referring to. And so I won’t be shocked if you find it challenging to formulate an articulate response, at least in the short term. In fact, it may take you a while to even register, let alone express, the full impact of the upgrade you will be blessed with.
- Rob Brezsny’s horoscope for Libra, week of Sept 29

I’m keeping this little oracle under my pillow for the time being. I’m reminding myself that sometimes, maybe even often, it’s okay not to know. That life will unfold despite my not knowing, and that I can trust the steadiness of my steps and the strength of my instincts.

Okay, I did not know Jay snuck up behind me while I was in the shower and caught me on video singing “Blue Bayou” with a little hip sway here and there. *cringe* I’m a little embarrassed and feel like my privacy was violated, but since he started out the video professing his love for me… all right. My man loves me, that’s all that matters. You can all have a little fun at my expense.

Typically, I am the opposite of my mother. I am the Saffy to her Edina Monsoon. And Patsy? Well, that’s my dad. Patsy post-rehab, that is. My mom, though, is still her Absolutely Fabulous self. The last time I saw her she fanagled a photo opp with PNoy (Philippine President Noynoy Aquino) on a flight from SFO to Manila.

Believe me, I don’t Like being Saffy. I have moments of escape much like the decadence alluded to in the episode in Morocco. But for the most part I am a mousy girl, and I am willing to bet you wouldn’t notice me if I walked past you in broad daylight. Ok, maybe I’m not quite willing to bet the house. I do realize I have a low opinion of myself right now so let’s just bet m&m’s.

When I was in theatre school in NYC I once revealed to a group of actresses that I was thinking of getting a boob job. I was extremely self-conscious of my flat chest. I wore these horrible miracle bras from Victoria’s Secret, which not only had the uncomfortable underwire for pushing what little breasts I had upward, they also had a lot of padding to create the silhouette I wished I had. My revelation led to an afternoon of beautiful women, actresses, urging me to feel their breasts. I’ve lost sight of what point they were trying to make. Were they trying to convince me not to get a boob job by showing me that naturally full breasts can be lumpy, hard, saggy, insert unpleasant adjective here? I suppose they succeeded indirectly because I forgot all about getting a boob job and enjoyed the attention instead.

It was Jay who convinced me to ditch the padded bras. Before I dated him, I felt apprehensive when it came time to remove the bra and get in between sheets with a man. I felt like I had falsely advertised boobs where there were none. Here was a man who actually liked small breasts, and preferred them to the pendulous giganticus boobs most men tend to favor. After he posted nude pictures of me online, I learned there were more men like Jay out there. I learned I was beautiful just the way I was. I realized I didn’t need to change a thing. I set my perky nipples free.

Eventually I got my big boobs when I became a mother. They were so raging huge I couldn’t fit into any of my clothes. During the first week or so after giving birth I wore Jay’s shirts and overalls. After my breasts got used to supply and demand with my baby, they trimmed a little. I loved having big boobs. I loved being milky. Too bad I didn’t have more time to show it off back then. As my kid shed her dependence on me, I too shed the mom boobs. Now I have more time, but less boobs.

Getting naked online has helped me appreciate what I have. At every stage of my adult life I have found people who made me feel beautiful and courageous. It has shaped my perception of my body and myself. It has helped me find confidence in my real life. It has given me a little secret something to daydream about as I live the daily mundane. So I thank you for Liking me, and for helping me Like me.

I opened the door. Her luminous skin was flushed, and she had a big smile on her face. I resisted the urge to smile back. Instead I said, “You’re late,” as I ushered her in.

I knew she had been looking forward to our meeting again. She had been here before, shy at first but after a warm massage and a thorough licking she opened up to me, legs clutched around my neck boldly pushing her cunt into my mouth with a need that was greater than mine.

She stuttered out a string of excuses as I led her to the edge of my bed. I sat and patted my lap, “Bend over here.”

Suddenly silent, she stood in front of me staring like she did not quite know what I meant. I looked up at her and patted my lap again. She put her belly against my lap awkwardly. I pulled her bottom closer to me, teetering her slightly off balance, as I pulled her pencil skirt up and her panties down across her thighs.

“Do you know what happens to people who waste my time?” I asked sweetly. She swept her long dark hair across the wood floor back and forth as she shook her head no. “They get punished.”

I gave her beautiful pink butt a loud slap. She shuddered and I shuddered. Her flesh against my hand excited me, but it was her offering of submission that made my heart race. My skin tingled from my head to my toes. I struggled to stay in the moment. Each succeeding slap against her butt was an effort to gain control of my thoughts.

I grasped her arm behind her, undid the buttons on the front of her blouse, pulled a bra strap off her shoulder and slapped the freed breast till the soft round nipple got erect. She whimpered a bit, glaring up at me. I leaned over and suckled it before I went back to spanking her. Her butt was starting to get a rosy hue.

“Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your back like a good girl,” I ordered. I went to my closet and picked out a silicone dildo, one that was long but not too wide around. I wore it in a harness and sat in front of her, my shiny cock pointing at her face.

I gathered her long silky hair with both hands, piling it at the top of her head and pulling her face to my cock. She knew what to do. She opened her mouth and let me fuck it, gasping in between thrusts. At some point I must have fucked too deep into her throat because her eyes watered and her chest heaved. I pulled my appendage out and helped her onto the bed.

I fucked her. Her cunt was so wet, my cocked slipped in easily as if it was sucked into a black hole. What I would give to have felt the soft moist sensation against a real live cock. I kept fucking her because she writhed and cried underneath me, full of want. I felt inadequate. And I tried to make up for it by fucking her. Hard and crazy.

I wanted to come so bad. I wanted to spray her face with sticky semen. Instead I kept fucking her until she begged me to stop.

“Please… no more…” she cried, pushing me away. I got up, whipped my harness and cock off me, and sat on her face. I rubbed my aching cunt on her mouth until I came quickly and collapsed on the bed next to her. My head was spinning.

When I woke up she was still next to me, sleeping soundly. I expected her to be gone by now. In fact I wanted her to be gone by now. I wanted to be alone.

I put my arms around her and snuggled in. She moaned softly. She smelled like sleep.

Click photo for more.

I’m having fun posting photos from the past decade or so at MAYCAM, in preparation for the relaunch on Wednesday, July 20. It’s been an incredible journey so far. Our earliest photos seem like it was just taken yesterday. I want to get all the photos and videos I have stored in my hard drive uploaded by Wednesday, then I can concentrate on making new memories for us.

It’s going to feel so good getting all of these photos out of my baul (vault) to be seen and appreciated. Some of them have not been seen since over ten years ago.

MAYCAM invitations will go out on Wednesday, July 20. Make sure you have confirmed your subscriptions by clicking on the link in your email confirmation by the end of the day on July 19. Invitations are by email only.

For the time being, I am limiting access to 20 members. The first 20 people who complete their transactions will gain access. Gateway will be via Verotel, a very trusted and secure payment processor in the industry.

See me at MAYCAM in 3 days!

Artist Karl Backman is having a solo exhibit at the Museum of Porn in Art in Zurich, Switzerland from July 8 to August 4. The paintings combine symbols of sex and violence.

I like the red swastika background. It’s a powerful symbol, adopted by the Nazi party from the ancient symbol for the sun. It was seen in ancient India and in Native American mounds in Tennessee. Check out the Wikipedia entry on Swastika:

The word swastika came from the Sanskrit word svastika, meaning any lucky or auspicious object, and in particular a mark made on persons and things to denote good luck. It is composed of su- meaning “good, well” and asti “to be” svasti thus means “well-being.”