Sylvester and Max are jacking off in my garden!
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My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!
Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”
Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!
Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.
They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!
I should hurry along, Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!
I hope yours does, too! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!
As Halloween approaches and the souls of the dead prepare to walk the earth, any number of my friends are preparing to dress up and wander the streets in the dark. Actually, now that I think about it, most weekends many of my friends spend their evenings doing precisely that regardless of the time of year.
I was conferring with Sylvester in my kitchen, examining a few articles of lingerie, trying to decide what best to wear for my Halloween night party. I finally decided on fishnet, stiletto heels and a bodice, with a steampunk look. Perfect.
I asked Sylvester what he planned to come as.
“I think Donald Trump, if I can find the right costume.”
“At this late stage, I’m not sure you’re going to be able to find a giant dick costume!” I said sympathetically.
At that very moment Amanda, my wife’s unbearable friend, arrived at the door and knocked so hard I felt sure the roof would cave in. She has all the grace and delicacy of a garbage truck.
She barrelled in, coughing and spluttering like a diesel engine that hadn’t been run in a while. Amanda then went on to tell us of the latest disaster to befall her. Amanda was coming by, fresh from her gynecologist. Now, if there was ever a job that requires a strong stomach, being Amanda’s gyny would be the top of that list. Apparently Amanda was in the midst of an exam, had a coughing fit and one way or another the poor man was taken off to hospital with a broken wrist!
I will spare you the details, but it was all rather distasteful. Then, just to make matters worse, Sylvester let slip that he was coming to my party, which so far we’d successfully kept secret from Amanda. She then promptly invited herself to the event!
Reluctantly I asked what she would be coming as.
“Well,” she said, expansively. “I think I’ll come as that CNN broadcaster that looks like me.”
Sylvester and I looked at one another, puzzled. I was thinking, maybe Lou Dobbs, but he’s with Fox now. Maybe Wolf Blitzer?
“You know,” she persisted. “The blonde. Megan whats-her-name…”
“Megan Kelly?” I asked.
“That’s her,” said Amanda.
“Oh,” I said. “The likeness is uncanny.” Megan Kelly looks about as much like Amanda as a carrot resembles plague.
“Well,” I said. “If you stand next to Sylvester as Donald Trump, all you need do to look like Megan Kelly is wear any form of period costume.”
But, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I recently had a delightful email from Brandi, in Yakima, WA in which she enclosed a great face pic which she had touched up using an app called YouCam Makeup- Makeover Studio. I’m sure we all appreciate a good touch up, don’t we? So this week I am offering a free membership of my Little Black Book to the best retouched Halloween pic which uses YouCam or another similar makeup type filter. Keep in mind that any pics you send in may end up on the website – so don’t be surprised if I place them there!
Have a wonderful Halloween, and at this time of year – when so many of us are having so much fun – spare a thought for Amanda’s gynecologist!
As you are probably aware I lead a strange and varied existence. Since Angelina has returned to Los Angeles, I’ve been very busy and had a houseful of friends today. As luck would have it my personal trainer, Sebastian, brought a friend of his over for my workout, and we opted to do something a little different. She was a delightful little thing and came to teach a yoga class.
This was wonderful, as I’ve recently bought some stunning new leggings, which when worn with a little pink tee shirt combines to make a lovely simple outfit. Misha, the yoga teacher also had cooked a delightful curry, which we enjoyed and then sat about talking for about an hour before laying out a few mats and beginning the class.
Now, I should point out that Sylvester, my mechanic, who had dropped by to help me with some lubrication issues, is something of a stranger to Yoga, but having enjoyed some curry, decided to join our little class. I also had Ali, my Syrian gardener join us. Bernard my photographer, happened to have come round for tea, still recovering from being Tazered and having a heart attack, also joined us. It really was a full house.
Max, my neighbors 19 year old son, who I must say I find spending far too much time goggling at me, also took time to join us. It was quite a lovely group. I have on many occasions lately, noticed how Max has been looking at me. I think he’s given himself one too many selfies lately, if you get my drift. Can’t be good for the eyesight!
Sylvester shifted uneasily as he took up a ‘warrior 2’ pose, and Misha cooed that yoga is all about fluid movements. Bernard glanced at Sylvester, who lurched into another position, and grunted that the curry was taking care of the fluid movements – and quietly slipped off to the bathroom.
Ali was looking off into the far distance, very serenely, enjoying every moment. When Sylvester returned he adopted a pose that resembled a shed in a car park, more than it did a yoga position. That said, his body is very muscular. Almost Neanderthal, actually.
Max, positioned behind me as I adopted a forward fold from the hips, stared with adolescent lust. I couldn’t help thinking of the many handed god Vishnu, and how Max wouldn’t mind being him about now.
We did enjoy the class and as it wrapped up Misha told us all how she loved the yoga lifestyle. She teaches and also has a small business selling soaps and perfumes. She’s a very creative young lady.
“I’ve even released my own fragrance,” she commented.
Looking very uncomfortable with the situation, Sylvester added that he had as well, and hurried to the bathroom once more.
Life really is never dull!
If you have not already signed up for the Premium Program please consider doing so. I have some great exercises and tasks in there for all my gurls. Before you know it you’ll have your ankles behind your ears and be enjoying fluid movements of your own!
I sincerely hope you are enjoying the news I share with you. You can participate and comment even more at http://FionaDobson.com
You know how it is. You all get ready, make sure you’re prepared. Everyone takes the proper precautions – you know what I’m saying.
And then it always goes like this. One person just always, always finishes too soon. They’re way out there on their own having so much fun and then they’re done. Yes, it’s the same every time.
That’s why I never like playing threesomes at my local golf course. Sylvester and I are out there trying to find our balls, and Sebastian, my personal trainer, has already finished and is left polishing the shaft of his 9 iron.
As you can doubtless tell, Sylvester, Sebastian and I are out having a last round of golf before this glorious summer comes to an end.
Bernard is recovering from his heart transplant at home in his bed, though I have noticed since he got the heart of a middle aged African American woman he has started behaving very strangely. He’s made an appointment to meet Amanda, the queen of tweed, and show her his ‘Mamma’s recipe for apple pie,’ and he’s join the local Baptist church choir. They were very confused when he said he wanted to sing in the soprano section.
I’ve always found teeing off in a group of four very much more satisfying. I also like to get off first, so I can feel them all coming up behind me. I’m sure you know what I mean.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you tonight. It’s just to tell you I’ve recently added a new feature to my Premium Program. I’ve always had a great collection of tasks and hypnosis files for my CD friends and members. Now I have added some great new material to the Premium Program for those crossdressers who have a partner who you’d like to bring into your CD activities.
Yes, I’ve put together a special short empowerment course to help your wife or partner (of any gender) take a more dominant role. This fun series of self hypnosis recordings stimulates a more dominant aspect of the subject to emerge. Over the course of several nights they listen to hypnotic instructions that are sure to engage their more dominant self. This, coupled with a powerful set of ‘subservience’ instructions for you – and it’s a powerful tool for anyone wanting to engage their partner in some of their crossdressing.
I know you’ll love it. It’s yet another great reason to upgrade to Premium Program if you haven’t already.
Before you ask, yes, Bernard had a heart transplant, a suitable donor having been found, apparently from Baton Rouge. They wouldn’t tell me much about the donor, they get a little funny about that sort of thing.
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can learn what happened to Bernard HERE. I will get around to telling you about our maginificent new crossdressers in a moment, but first a little of what’s been happening in my life!
Naturally, Sylvester and I hurried through to see Bernard the moment he regained consciousness after the surgery, but we got held up by Sylvester wanting to have breakfast. He usually eats a full grilled breakfast at the start of the day.
“I have to get some meat inside me!” He protested.
I must say, I felt much the same way. I had cereal.
We hurried through to the ward from a nearby restaurant. As I walked into the private room I’d arranged for Bernard, at the hospital, I found him sitting in a floral gown, reading a Harlequin Romance novel. Bernard was more of a Sports Illustrated kind of guy, so I found this a little surprising.
I must say, from the moment I walked into the private room, I felt his energy had changed. I am very sensitive to such things. It’s as though I can feel something, right inside me. Perhaps you know the feeling.
“Oh, Bernard,” I said. “I am just happy there’s something deep inside you pulsating and throbbing away, pumping life through your veins.”
I am sure he blushed. I can’t think why.
Sylvester looked at Bernard and said in his gruff mechanics voice, “So, how you doin’, buddy?”
“I feel wonderful,” said Bernard. “I guess there must have been something wrong with my heart for quite a while.”
“What’s it like getting a new one?”
“Well, strictly speaking this one’s second hand.
Reconditioned. Some poor soul who died in a car crash… It feels magnificent. Praise the lord, I feel reborn.”
I looked at Sylvester, frowning. That sure as hell didn’t sound much like Bernard.
“It was extaordinary,” Bernard went on. “I had this strange experience during the operation. Like I was being drawn into the light. And I felt this powerful movement really deep inside me. In the core of who I am.”
“Yes,” nodded Sylvester. “I know what you mean. I’ve had that. It was probably gas.”
“Shut up,” I snapped at Sylvester.
“I feel,” and at that moment Bernard looked vacantly off into the distance as though deep in some private thought, “changed.”
“Changed?” I asked.
“Changed.” He said, seeming to savor the word.
I sensed I was talking to a very different person. I suppose surgery does change us, but this felt somehow different.
By the time we left the hospital Bernard’s face was buried once more deep inside his romance novel, a couple of bike magazines and a Sport Illustrated left untouched by his bedside. I must say it is all very odd.
I will keep you abreast of developments.
Here I am getting this post ready for you in the hotel, on a hot evening here in Chicago. I hardly know where to start, so much has been going on. I suppose I should start by telling you all about Sylvester and the other night.
I wiped my chin and said to Sylvester, “Oh, my goodness!”
It took me a moment to catch my breath. “It wasn’t as salty as I expected. I can hardly believe the quantity!”
“My tool is almost worn out!” Said Sylvester. He held the pliers, and dabbed his face with the napkin. Eating east coast lobster at a fish restaurant in Chicago is a great pleasure, but a very messy one. What did you think we were doing?
Sylvester was wrestling the last bit of lobster meat from within the claw. What a character he his. Always with a tool in his hand! As I am sure you know, he’s my mechanic and friend. We flew down together to visit Bernard in the hospital who was recovering in hospital..
I should explain. If you followed last weeks email you’ll know that Bernard managed to get himself Tazered in the arrivals lounge of O’Hare airport. That is far from where the drama ended.
He was rushed through to the hospital, and there – to my horror – they found that Bernard, who had become so excited by certain aspects of my physique, was in the middle of a heart attack. I had thought he looked rather like a freshly landed trout as he convulsed following his Tazering, but not being familiar with how one generally responds to a Tazer, I thought this quite normal.
Even the police officer who gave Bernard the jolt looked quite concerned. He even showed up in the hospital as Sylvester and I were visiting. Bernard was still unconscious, and here we were three days later.
The police officer walked into the private room I arranged for Bernard, and held out his hand. “Officer Speltman,” he said. “You can call me Sparky.”
“Sparky,” said Sylvester. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah… They gave me that nickname at the academy. It kinda stuck…”
“Well, Sparky,” I said, “I’m Bernard’s friend. I’m sure he would be grateful you came and visited. If he were, you know… conscious.”
“I’m sorry he got the jolt. I didn’t really have a choice in the circumstances.”
I took the business card Officer Speltman offered and said I would call him when we had further news. Then Sylvester and I went and found a hotel, and a fish restaurant at which to have some dinner.
“I still don’t quite understand why Bernard didn’t get up when the cop told him to,” said Sylvester.
“I think he was concerned about his clothing being… disarranged. He was in a state of some excitement.” I felt awkward telling Sylvester that Bernard had a prominent erection and was concerned about embarrassing himself when he stood up. “Let’s just say he was hard at work, when it happened.”
The following morning I had a call from the hospital with the worrying news that Bernard was extremely ill and that the hospital was doing it’s best to locate a heart for a transplant. I am, of course, quite shocked – as I am sure you are. I will keep you informed. (See what happened next by going here: http://fionadobson.com/bernard/zipper-job/)
In the meantime, I have a very special self hypnosis file for you tonight.
This file is all about taking it to the next level, so join me in a lovely relaxing self hypnosis exercise and have a listen. And of course, I will be sure to let you know about developments with Bernard.
First of all I’d like to say that I hope you are loving my programs. We have over 2500 gurls enjoying my helping hand… Wait, that sounds a little wrong. If you are not already in one of them, you should sign up today. Anyway, I thought I’d share what I’ve been getting up to this week.
My gardener, Ali Ibrahim, pulled into my drive way in his Smart Car this on Tuesday. He’s been doing some topiary in my garden. With him was Sylvester, my mechanic. Now, Sylvester is a very large man and seeing him struggle out of Ali’s tiny car was rather like watching a man get out of an overcoat that is three sizes too small for him.
“I had no idea you knew Ali,” I said to Sylvester.
“I don’t. He gave me a ride from the highway. My truck broke down, again! Very kind of your friend Mr. Ibrahim to pick me up.”
The irony of this was not lost on me.
Sylvester was speaking very slowly, so Ali would understand him. So slowly, actually, that one might assume he thought Ali had some extreme form of learning disability. Sylvester was, of course, unaware that Ali had been a professor in a university in Damascus until eighteen months ago.
“He just pulled over and offered me a lift, and it turned out we were both coming to your place.”
“How fortuitous,” I said. Sylvester was looking a little dubiously at Ali, who in turn was smiling happily, as is his nature.
Sylvester took me aside and looking a little worried said “he keeps saying he can’t get his whores in his car.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s very small.”
“Car no good for hoes,” said Ali, catching my eye, and nodding and smiling happily.
“Yes, Ali. I’m sure,” I said smiling.
I turned to Sylvester and said, “Ali is struggling a little with his English, but I think he’s trying to tell you that he doesn’t like the smart car because he can’t put his rakes and hoes and spade in the back. He’s got his small tools for working in the garden, but his large tools get… stuck. But you’d know all about that.”
Sylvester sniggered and turned to Ali and said, “Hoes, eh? Well come by my shop in the morning, ok?”
Ali smiled his enormous smile and nodded enthusiastically.
When Ali showed up at my place the yesterday to continue his work on remodelling my bush he came with the most extraordinary collection of tools on the back of his Smart Car. Sylvester had given him a nice new gun rack, salvaged from a car that had been written off.
Ever the inventive soul, Ali had fitted it and now uses it to carry his hoes and rakes and larger tools. And we all like larger tools.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing. There’s just one more week to go in which you can sign up for the Premium program, and get Free membership in My Little Black Book. So, if you’d like to save the $24.95 membership subscription simply pay the $35 subscription for the feminization program and then email me to let me know you are upgrading and I will set you up. This offer ends on the last day of the month.
Sylvester’s giant erection.
“It took three of use, heaving and panting and sweating to get my erection up,” said Sylvester, my mechanic, sitting at my kitchen table and sipping tea from my finest bone china. Like many of my best friends he just appears in my kitchen sometimes. Like a big sweaty mechanic genie.
“I’m sure it did,” I said sympathetically. “Now, just tell me again, this ‘erection’, what is that again?”
“It’s the new sign outside my store. Really beautiful, big and shiny. People can see it for miles.”
“I don’t doubt it, “ I said, my imagination reelling.
“You did?” I said, surprised. “Ion the parking lot?”
“My back! It’s bloody agony!” He clutched his lower lumbar region and winced.
“Poor Sylvester!” I was at my most sympathetic. When an enormous erection goes all wrong I know how difficult things can be. It can get out of hand very swiftly.
“So, I wondered, maybe you could…”
“Sylvester, I am telling you for the very last time! What goes on between you, your boys and your big shiny erection really is your business and I really don’t want to come between you!”
“No! I’m trying to ask, do you know a good chiropractor to help with my back?”
It so happens that I am quite well connected in that department. As I told Sylvester, I happen to know Dicky Longstaff personally.
“Dicky who?” said Sylvester.
“Longstaff. He does all the big names. They say he’s behind some of the biggest boys in TV and film too. Often, I’m told. He has many celebrity clients.”
“Longstaff, you say. That sounds familiar.”
“You’ve probably heard his radio adverts. You know the one! “I’m Dicky, and I’ve got your back!”
Sylvester looked mildly relieved and I told him I would get on the phone as soon as I’d finished this email.
So, the reason I am emailing you is to say that at last the Fiona Dobson website is finally alive. My neighbour’s son Max has been beavering away – his words not mine – in his bedroom, emerging only for food, and finally he’s got it up. Go and see it at http://FionaDobson.com as admire his work!
He’s up there day and night laboring away at his computer. Such a diligent boy. At least I think that’s what he’s doing up there.
If you’re thinking of joining the Premium Program, let me know. Now is a good time, as you will also get free membership of my Little Black Book, at least until the end of June, when I’ll be offering that as a separate $24.95 subscription. So, Carpe Diem, as I always tell Max. Though to be quite honest I’m not sure that’s what he’s been seizing!
A little something extra.
Sylvester, my mechanic, throws the most enjoyable parties, though sometimes they really do get quite out of hand. On one evening recently he had a rather fun night during which one of his friends decided they were intent on cornering me and plying me with drink, in the hopes that they might do unspeakable, but delightful things to my body.
“If you think you are going to get that in me,” I said to his friend, “you’re very much mistaken,” as he tried to press yet another drink on me.
“But, darling…” He oozed.
“Don’t ‘Darling’ me. If you think I’m swallowing your…” I was at a loss for words. “… your nonsense, then you must think I was born yesterday!”
Well, this evening I have something very special for you. This weekend I am starting a little thing I call Playtime With Fiona. So, if you’d like to play along have a listen HERE. It’s a fun little exercise for those of you who are a little concerned about dressing in public, or who are just starting out in their crossdressing journey.
So, have a listen and let me know if you enjoy it. The best way to show you liked it is to share it or post comments on Soundcloud.
By the way, I still have about 40 places available in Fiona’s Little Black Book. Currently these are free, but as soon as it goes over 200 entries it will become part of the paid program, so if you want to get into it while it’s still freeemail me saying you’d like to be listed in my Little Black Book. If you’d like to read about it, you can do so here: http://yes-sadie100.tumblr.com/flbb
Thinking about upgrading to the Premium Program? Email me and I’ll get it organised for you!