Playtime With Fiona 5 – Come and check out my bush!

Such goings on about the place!

Few sights can be more disturbing than Amanda, my wife’s hideous friend, in a two piece bathing suit. It was this unsettling image that greeted me when I arrived home this afternoon following a photoshoot with Bernard at the advertising agency.

Amanda was in our back garden, trying to tan her body, in much the same way that if you leave a piece of leather in the sun it becomes hardened and cracked. As I let Hannibal, my little black and brown Dachshund, out into the garden to my surprise he sprang across the grass and made a leap to bite Amanda’s bikini bottoms. As you can imagine, Amanda’s scream was so shrill you’d think someone were cutting through concrete with a rotary saw.

“Get him away! Get him away,” she screamed. Never before has so much flesh been restrained by so little fabric.

I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, “Calm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.”

In response Amanda started to run round the garden, arms flailing, with a dachshund hanging from her bum.

“Hannibal,” I mumbled, as I took another sip of my margarita.

“He’s gone rogue!” screamed Amanda.

The last I saw of her she was flapping away down the street, hotly pursued by Hannibal, who doubtless thought it a great game. I suspect I’ll be hearing more about this incident later.

That however, is not the main reason I am writing to you. Tonight is a warm Montreal evening, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the latest Youtube version of Playtime With Fiona. This weekends offering is a special one, and a little unusual. I know you’ll love it. This weekend is also the perfect weekend to experiment with some lighter summer shades of lipstick, a summer shade of eye shadow, and of course some new outfits for the beach or lake.

Feel free to share some pics. Don’t forget you can always submit a photo for me to share on the website here: https://fionadobson.com/your-pics/

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona

Come and sit on my Zamboni.

Hi,

I am out of breath as I write this. I’ve only just got home after a most disturbing incident. I feel I have to write and tell you about it.

The day started calmly enough. I did my early morning yoga class, and then as I sipped a morning coffee I watched Ali, my gardener, picking figs from a tree I have in the garden. He really is a treasure, and as I went out to check on my bees, who are prodigiously working away producing honey, I could hear him humming a strange tune.

I am finding these summer mornings delightful. It’s my usual practice to wear something simple – a plain tennis skirt, some wedges, and a pastel top. I like to keep things very simple. My brightly colored nail polish sets it all off rather stylishly.

Ali glanced round and saw me in the garden and then fell into silence for a moment.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, and carefully selected a juicy fig and handed it to me. “Such a health food, and a perfect one for you.”

“I do appreciate healthy foods, Ali,” I mused as I bit into the succulent fruit.

“That must be how you keep so trim,” he continued. “And is it not written that it is easier for a fat man to enter the kingdom of heaven, than to pass through the eye of a camel.”

I frowned and said, “I don’t think it is written. At least nowhere I’ve read it.”

I do wonder about Ali’s English. He was a professor of botany in Syria, before the terrible crisis over there. However, since coming here he’s been studying English. I’m not quite sure where his difficulty with English begins and his sense of irony ends. I added, “However, that is a perfect fig.”

It really is peaceful in my garden. The ripe fruit and soft early morning sun on my face reminded me how very fortunate I am to live here. Canada is truly a blessed country.

Picking up my bag and cell phone I decided to make the most of the morning, and took Hannibal, my dachshund, for his morning walk. As I strolled down Huckleberry Close I got a call from Sylvester, who has been learning to drive the Zamboni at the local ice arena. He’s really becoming quite skilled. He called to ask if I wanted to have breakfast with him at a café nearby. Naturally I agreed. They do the most delightful croissants, orange juice and coffee. The mother of the family that runs the café keeps bees and brings in her own honey. It’s really most delightful.

And so as Marjory was leaving for work, rather than drive I asked for a lift and rode with her the three miles to the arena, where she dropped me and decided to join us for breakfast. I think that after some years Marjory is warming to me. She still finds me a trifle odd, but she’s been a lot more settled since she started dating my wife’s childhood friend, Amanda.

Marjory and I walked into the huge ice arena, and there across the rink was Sylvester driving the Zamboni. The cool air wafting off the ice was a welcome relief from the heat. When Sylvester looked up he recognized Marjory and I and stopped the big ice grading machine.

“Come on over,” he shouted across the ice. “You want a ride?”

I’ve never been on a Zamboni before, so Marjory and I gingerly stepped out on the ice and tottered across to the vehicle. For those not familiar with the Zamboni, it’s a vehicle driven on an ice rink to resurface the ice. We do this so that the hockey games are played on a very flat surface. Ice has small crenelations if not properly smoothed making it unpleasant to skate, and the Zamboni does the job very well. Sylvester has been learning the skill recently, and now does the occasional turn at the arena cleaning up the surface for the skaters, and preparing it for the ritual slaughter of foreign hockey teams that keeps Canadians so amused. Really, it does. And they just keep coming back for more!

I stepped up onto the vehicle, my little tennis skirt riding a little high as I did so. Marjory followed me, looking a little bemused, and then Sylvester was off and driving around the ice, leaving a smooth glasslike finish behind us.

Now, keep in mind this was very early in the morning, and through the large windows out in the deserted car park I could see Marjory’s solitary car. As we rode around the ice I noticed someone was doing something to Marjory’s little car. The next thing I knew, the car was pulling away toward the exit of the car park.

“Marjory,” I said. “I think someone’s stealing your car!”

She looked out of the window, and sure enough, she shouted, “My car! My car!”

With remarkable composure Sylvester swung the big machine around toward the huge doors of the arena. He hit a remote control and the doors slowly began to open. I have to say I was most surprised at the turn of speed the Zamboni then displayed. Accelerating toward the opening doors Marjory and I clung on to our swarthy friend as the Zamboni flew off the ice and started out across the car park.

“Don’t worry,” said Sylvester, his hair swept back in the morning air as we raced across the car park. “I’ll catch him!”

The little car was exiting the car park and moving out into the slow moving morning traffic. Sylvester piloted the Zamboni skillfully out into the road and we shouted after the car thief, who was becoming increasingly ensnared in the traffic as we maneuvered between lanes, to the surprise of other drivers.

While Marjory called the local police, I hung on to the Zamboni and Sylvester steered us skillfully between cars with startled drivers looking incredulously at us as we navigated down the road in the ice smoothing machine.  It’s really not the sort of things you expect to see on the morning commute in 32 degrees of heat (89 degrees Fahrenheit).

As the cars ground to a halt at the traffic lights ahead, a police car appeared and started cutting through the traffic. Marjory was talking to the emergency operator, who relayed her instructions directly to the police cruiser.

A moment later the traffic stopped, police car on one side of Marjory’s car, and Zamboni halted flush with the drivers side. Marjory’s little car was completely boxed in. It was at this point that I decided it might be wise to make myself a little scarce. With a smile to Sylvester and a polite wave to the car thief, who was trying in vain to open the car door, I slipped of the Zamboni and made my way to the sidewalk.

As I left I could hear the sound of other sirens. Likely this would turn into a dogs dinner of police and press and god knows what.

At that moment the appalling Amanda called my cell.

“What on earth’s going on with Marjory? I’m trying to phone her and it just rings and rings,” she said sounding both annoyed and annoying.

“Ahh…. Her phone’s probably in her car.”

“So?” came the reply.

“Well, nothing really…” I wasn’t going to get into that with Amanda.

So, next time someone asks you if you’d like a ride on a Zamboni, keep in mind it may not go the way you planned. So much for breakfast! I’m sure Sylvester and Marjory will be occupied for a while there. I felt it best to hurry home to my kitchen, where I am writing this to you now.

It’s been a very busy week here. Katia has been doing several coaching sessions with coaching clients. That seems to be going down very well. We’re also finding a great deal of new content appearing on the website. We’re extending our best wishes to Kelly, who is recovering from an operation you can read about here. You can pass on your good wishes by leaving a message in the comments. We’ve also got a new audio episode of The Making Of A Mistress from Katia, and a great story from Mollie Blake about waxing. This week we also carried a fascinating story about transvestites in Kenya.

I hope you’re enjoying the site. If you’re not, just come back a couple of days later and you’re likely going to find a whole lot of different content!

Have a lovely week,

🙂

Fiona

Hannibal the vibrating dachshund.

What a strange and disturbing week it has been. Sometimes it takes more than lipstick to keep that smile in place. And yet we do, and the world is still a wonderful place.

Some of you may be aware of my wife’s good friend Amanda, the queen of tweed. As you may remember, she stayed at our house sometime ago, while her house was being fumigated.

Well, Amanda had left a few things at our house and I agreed to take them over to her house. It was not so far off my track as I was walking Hannibal, my pet dachshund, so it was no bother. When I arrived at her house in the early evening the other day I was surprised to find I had arrived while she was taking a shower. She appeared at her doorway looking like a giant panda, in a black and white dressing gown and after letting me in, she asked me to wait in the living room as she slipped into something more comfortable. This was a thought that was truly disturbing in it’s own way, but for my wife’s sake I waited patiently.

As I waited Hannibal did his usual thing of nosing around the place. To my surprise he was preoccupied with something underneath her couch, and while Amanda got dressed in her bedroom. I waited patiently, listening to the snuffling sounds coming from Hannibal, until I was a little disturbed to hear a particular humming sound emanating from beneath the furniture.

A moment later Hannibal appear clutching what can only be described as an adult toy between his teeth. He was chewing it’s silicon form and seemed very surprised that it was fighting back, vibrating away in his mouth. To be fair, his surprise was understandable, the device being almost as large as he is.

Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of Amanda finding Hannibal playing with a personal possession, I tried to grab the object, but thinking this was a game he took off, running first into the kitchen and then into Amanda’s basement. I gingerly followed, cursing his minute form and enormous curiousity.

It was only when I cornered Hannibal that I could wrestle the object from him, at which point I heard Amanda’s enormous feet descending the stairs. I slipped the toy into my pocket and found my way back to the living room as Amanda walked in.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you, it’s simply lovely of you to bring these things over…” There was an awkward pause. I realized Amanda was staring at my jeans. I shifted awkwardly.

“Really, it’s no trouble,” I said. I like to wear tight figure hugging jeans, and usually a pastel tee shirt. It’s a fairly androgynous look, and I find it works if I am not dressing in my femme style.

“Goodness,” said Amanda, unable to avert her eyes from my pants. I glanced at myself and saw the clear and defined outline of the toy. To Amanda I must have appeared extremely glad to see her.

“I should be going,” I said awkwardly, my mind racing, trying to sidle toward the door, and noticing Amanda seemed to be getting between me and the only exit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’m seeing a new side of you. I am beginning to understand what Maggie sees in you. Perhaps you want to stay a while. A drink perhaps?”

Amanda’s eyes were unashamedly devouring my groin, drawn to my physique by the enormous toy in my pocket.

“I really must go,” I said, trying to hide my aparently enormous embarrasment.

“Oh, no. Before you do, I have that book Maggie was asking to borrow. Let me get it for you!” Amanda rushed off and in a moment I had pushed the device under the sofa, and was turning to walk to the door when Hannibal realized the toy was once again in play. To Hannibal, this is a challenge, first to find it and then to run around with it until someone catches him. To my horror he scurried under the sofa and just as Amanda returned, Hannibal emerged from beneath the furniture with a powerful buzzing sound, moving backwards across the hardwood floor being quite literally vibrated around the room.

“Hannibal,” I said, feigning surprise. “What on earth have you got there?”

There was an awkward chase, culminating in Amanda relieving a strangely satisfied dachshund of the object, and I grabbed the book and headed straight for the door, leaving an embarrassed and confused Amanda to her own devices – literally.

However that is not the main reason I am emailing you. I’ve just put up a new episode of “Playtime With Fiona” on Soundcloud. You can find all my Soundcloud posts HERE.

I’d love to see you in my Premium Program soon. I think you know you’ll enjoy it.

Fiona

PS. If you are not a full member think about signing up – http://genr8tor.com/membership/ . When I see payment go through I will start you on your path. I work though everyone’s messages a couple of times a day and work to get you moving quickly. I know you’ll love it. Email me to let me know you’ve upgraded.

Fiona.

Amanda’s cold snatch.

Hi there Gurls,

We’re experiencing a little bit of a cold spell here in Vancouver. I keep my house quite warm as I like to do yoga and workout in my large airy living room. Recently my next door neighbour’s twenty year old son, Max, has been joining me to do yoga and then study in the calm of this lovely room.

I was doing some stretches just this morning, when Max was there with his books.  He’s quite a diligent student, and is working on his Shakespearean era literature. He always seems to be here, with his nose pressed between the covers of a good book.

As I executed a perfect forward fold from the hips, I asked him if he had a favorite passage.

He looked at me thoughtfully, and then read from one of his text books:

When it lay fallow, smothered in dust,

Ignoble passion turned to lust.

And from his goodly wholesome thighs,

Came forth his manhood of great size.

And finding bended willing game,

He plunged himself into her frame,

With heaving buttocks and strong intent,

He thrust and ground till he was spent.

“Well,” I said, a little taken aback, “that’s very nice, if you like that sort of thing.” At that point I felt I should return to my workout, and did so until the next interruption – my wife’s appalling friend, Amanda phoning thinking my wife had returned from a business trip.

“I’m sorry, Amanda, she’s still in Costa Rica,” I said.

“I don’t blame her,” she replied. “Probably trying to get away from this cold snatch.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied.

“This cold weather.”

“Oh, I see. I thought you said…”

“It’s a cold snatch. Swept in from the north.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said and returned to my workout leaving Amanda to get on with writing this weeks breaking news for Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly.

Now, if you’re looking for some great gifts for yourself you may want to look at my special shopping list.  You can find it here.

If you’re already a member of my Premium Program you’re enjoying some great offerings. If not, perhaps it’s time to sign up!

🙂

Fiona

Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube.
Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?

Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!

If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:

Read the story – Clothes Maketh The Man

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Continue reading “Amanda’s cold snatch.”

Time for a Halloween touch up!

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!

🙂

Fiona