My good friend Sylvester was looking very concerned.
“I really think I ought to get my junk out,” he said, sounding very distracted.
“Well,” I replied. “If you must!”
We were standing around a table in the greenhouse, in my garden. The smell of ripening tomatoes filled the summer evening air. On the table was a neat little pine box, containing some beautiful lures which Sylvester has made, as he is such a keen fisherman.
I inspected his flies, and i must say it did make me think I should keep my hand in. You may not think this to look at me, but I really do love outdoor sports, including hunting and fishing. I find the gentle rhythm of fly fishing very calming. Helping Sylvester sort out his fly fishing lures, and discarding those that are damaged or ineffective, is a periodic task I help my friend with.
That however is not the main reason I am writing tonight. I wanted to thank the many readers who have messaged me and commented on the series I put out recently about women who love to feminize their partners. In answer to the many requests, yes there will be further episodes added. In the meantime, feel free to use this link to enjoy the episodes that are already posted.
I shall be writing before the end of the weekend. Now, let me help Sylvester sort out his flies. I’m sure he’ll appreciate my attention.
I am always interested in the private lives of my
clients. While not wishing to be a part
of them, I am interested in the process of observing them. Understanding what makes them tick makes it
so much easier to help them.
I see myself as something of a therapist, albeit in an unusual
manner. As I was tightening a nipple clamp on Ian’s chest, I remarked that I am
here to help him, after all. A couple more turns, after the whimpering and the
wincing has subsided, when observed closely I can enjoy the process and help my
client simultaneously.
Dressed in a suspender belt, stockings, and heels I do
deliver considerable help – relief even – to my clients. I suppose at some
level that does make me a therapist.
“So, Ian,” I asked while adding a further turn to the clamp,
“why is it you’re looking so down in the mouth today?”
Crossdressing success starts with a desire to create a certain look. What’s your look?
“I can see his nuts from here!” said Bernard, looking through his long lens as he photographed one of the squirrels in my garden. As summer brings my garden into bloom and the wildlife welcomes this warm weather I delighted to see such a profusion of life here.
Regrettably Ali is still locked in mortal combat with several snails he thinks are eating some of my flowers. He’s decalred a jihad on them and is engaged in hunting them down.
In the meantime I thought you’d be interested in the new members joining My Little Black Book. We have so many new members this month, I can barely keep up.
What a strange day it’s turning out to be. Our members are all out doing wonderful things. Julia in Holland, one of my favorite members in our Whatsapp Group, has been out and bought some beautiful summery things, and nearby I know Lenni is having a garage sale.
Julia has been doing so well. She, like many of my members in the Whatsapp Group, shares some of her experiences and activities with other members of the group. It makes it a very supportive community.
This afternoon a few friends will be stopping by as the isolation period begins to lift. Lockdown here in Canada has been well observed and the results mean we are now able to begin very gradually restarting 2020. I, like most of my friends, feel that having a glass of wine in the garden with one or two friends is much more comfortable than going out to a restaurant, for the time being at least. It also gives us the chance to have a bit of a barbecue in the garden. Sebastian is hoping to treat us to his sausage later on. I am wearing a denim skirt, tee shirt and a lovely floral mask, and keeping things very simple.
Sylvester and Sebastian arrived a little while ago astride his enormous chopper.
Taking off his helmet he said excitedly, “Amanda’s going to drop by later. She wants me to check out her cans.”
“I’m sorry?” I replied a little surprised.
“Her headphones,” he said. “She says they crackle. She wants me to see if I can sort them out. It’s probably just a loose connection. They were very expensive apparently. Mind you that was in 1993. Still, I said I’d check them out.”
“Oh,” I said doubtfully. “I see.”
I have told Sylvester on more than one occasion that Amanda is in a relationship with my neighbour, Marjory the competitive lesbian eater. Or should that be ‘the competitive eating lesbian’. Well, as I’ve mentioned before Marjory is apparently quite a big noise in the world of competitive eating, although like so many sporting disciplines they are experiencing something of a famine this season.
“You should be a little careful,” I said to Sylvester. “Marjory and Amanda are together, as inexplicable as it may be. I’m not sure that you should be hunting in that particular briar patch. You might get pricked.”
“I don’t mean to be pedantic,” said Sebastian cutting in. “But, I’m not sure you can hunt in a brier patch.”
In the interests of contextual accuracy I rephrased my doubts to Sylvester, saying “I’m really not sure you want that bird in your hand. Better to leave it in the bush.”
Sebastian mumbled something about Sylvester having big hands and added that there are plenty more fish in the bush. I decided I should let it slip past. Instead I shot them both a look of disapproval.
“OK,” I said. “Let’s try this again. I don’t think, Sylvester, that you should have your snout in that particular trough.”
I think I may have to go in a moment. Sebastian has just got a call on his cell and let everyone know that Rainbow will be dropping by shortly and wants to show us her jugs.
“She’s only just got them out of the kiln,” he said helpfully. “She want’s to show us her pottery. It’s come on so well recently.”
Have a delightful weekend and if you’re one of my American members have the very best of Independence Days. To all my members, keep it real and stay distanced and masked if you can.
As you may know, my personal trainer, Sebastian, has a delightful sister named Rainbow. The west coast has many people named by well intentioned hippy parents, that have grown up to be very unlike their free wheeling parents.
While Rainbow is decidedly whimsical and likely in line with what her parents expected, not all my acquaintances are so well named. For example, Rainbow is a yoga teacher and perfectly qualified, being both gluten free and lactose intolerant. However, another friend of mine was blessed with the name ‘Swallow’ by her parents. If the swallow really is the bird of love, then one would hardly expect a corrections officer working in a high security prison to carry such a name and yet that is indeed where she has had a quite successful career.
On many occasions I find my disciplinary advice being delivered almost as a form of counselling.
I have been cooped up in this St. James’s apartment for the last two months, and have been enjoying catching up on correspondence and doing a few of the administration tasks I should have addressed months ago. It’s not exactly thrilling work, but to be honest I don’t mind it.
The apartment overlooks London’s beautiful St. James’ Park and the lake within. The location is made all the more poignant by the fact that the park is named after a hospital that once stood nearby, for the treatment of leprosy. Imagine, putting a hospital for a highly infectious disease in the centre of what was at that time the most populous city on earth. That sounds almost as sensible as holding a rally in Tulsa and expecting it to be a roaring success.
The soft sensation of nylon against my skin is almost the perfect form of foreplay. Pulling on the nylon stockings, and smoothing them up my leg, unhurried and luxuriously before a date is always enough to make me wet.
Perhaps it’s a response to my desire for something to
happen, or maybe it’s just a learned response. After all, most times I do go
out dressed in this manner I get what I’m looking for, so it’s only a matter of
time before my body, hungry for the lecherous and desperate touch of a lover, is
served to my satisfaction. You’ll note that I said ‘my satisfaction’. I point
this out as I do like to play a little game.
It’s been about five years now that I’ve followed a rather particular dating practice. I usually use one of the more popular apps, Tinder or some such, and there I will select a – now what should I call them – a project. Yes. I select a project. You know if you go to some of the apps you can even find me. Of course, I’m not going to make that too easy for you, as I really don’t want to give away all my secrets.
When Sylvester suggested I paint breasts on the back of my life jacket, thereby giving him something interesting to look at as he paddled, I refrained from the desire to beat him in the head with the paddle in my hands. We’ve taken to getting out and about in the nearby locality, as the lockdown here in Vancouver eases.
Being locked down I think I’ve done every gardening job on
my to do list, with Ali, and Sylvester has been helping with a few odd jobs
about the house. Just yesterday afternoon we were cleaning up an old chest of
draws that had been neglected. Some candles had burned down and damaged the
surface. We’re taking the finish back to the wood. I’ve been stripping while
Sylvester scrapes the varnish and wax off.
As we get a little more freedom I’ve started looking for interesting things to do outdoors as we continue a slightly eased lockdown. Getting out to kayak, or to sail (as long as we maintain distance) is ok. One activity we’ve found that works very well is sea kayaking. There are a couple of things worthy of pointing out about this activity. First of all, you can crossdress, wear a wig and anything else you want, once you’re out on the water no one is going to be able to either do or say anything about it. Another great advantage to be gained from this activity is the wonderful work out it gives you.
I have always felt that the more time my nephews spend dressed in
lovely girls clothes the more they behave in a polite, soft and gentle
manner. Isn’t that a nice thing to know?
Of course it is.
Well, recently one of my nephews has had a visitor, young Donald,
a really quite vulgar boy. He seems to
think it ok to push others around and one of my nieces recently came to see me
about him. Annette told me he had been peeking in her bedroom when she was changing,
which I found a most distasteful thing to do.
He’s also been picking on some of the other children
in the neighbourhood.He also refuses to wear a mask, which I find extremely
disrespectful. I am sure you’d agree, this is really not the way a young boy
should behave.
“If he’s unwilling to behave like a nice boy,” I said to Annette, “then
we can’t treat him like a nice boy.”
I thought about the situation for a moment or two, while offering Annette a small serving of frozen yoghurt.
Generally I find approaching things with an open mind is a good idea. Sebastian, my personal trainer, has suggested I take the same approach when working on my legs.
This morning I was walking on the beach and noticed some
litter in the dunes. It was just some detritus left by a parent, likely
overwhelmed by their excitable kids. Nothing to really be upset about. I picked it up and disposed of it in a litter
bin not far away.
I would have forgotten the incident entirely but for
something that happened later in the day. I’d finished the days work and took Hannibal,
my dachshund for his walk, and as I made my way through one of our beautiful
parks I noticed a young woman with a handwritten sign on her back picking up
litter. She had a stick and a garbage bag and was working her way through a
number of the people enjoying the summer evening. As I got closer to the young
woman I noticed the sign on her back read “Volunteer” in hastily scrawled hand.
I was curious and so walked up to the lady and asked, “what’s
the story?”
She replied very politely that lives nearby and she walks in the park every day, and doesn’t like seeing litter left around. She’d noticed that if she comes out now and then and picks up the litter now and then the people in the park notice her and start to clean up after themselves.
Sylvester, my mechanic, enjoys a good pounding now and
then. Don’t we all? And that’s precisely
what was happening the other day as I entered his workshop.
“What on earth are you doing?” I said, as I watched him
sitting on a stool, beating a piece of metal on an anvil.
“It’s called..” bang, bang, “contouring.”
The heavy blows were shaping the metal and shaking the
entire workshop. He held the glowing metal with tongs as he worked on it with
the hammer.
“Well, that’s not how I do it,” I replied.
“Contouring the piece,” he said as he continued bashing the
hot metal with a heavy hammer. Once satisfied with the shape he dipped it in a
pale of water and it gave a satisfying hiss, steam rising as it did so.
This did, however, remind me to post something for so many
of my members who are struggling with make up advice. I often steer clear of this, as there are so
many wonderful sites giving great make up tutorials. Most of these are run by
women who have been excelling at this since they were 7 or 8 years old, and I
realise they are much more accomplished than I. However, I do feel that so m
any of my members need a little guidance, I try to select the best ones to
reproduce here.
Contouring is also of special interest to my gurls. Most of us have facial shapes that are quite
masculine. However, with the correct contouring we can refine the shape
considerably. As my friends who are drag queens have demonstrated many times,
good contouring completely changes the way people see your face. In a busy club
drag queens, like high heeled feathered galleons sail across the dance floor
and we’re naturally in awe of their appearances, their faces sculpted like Greek
goodesses. Knowing something of these techniques is a valuable skill. While
many of us will never come close to attaining the skill levels some of these performers
have reached, we can do our best to improve our makeup skills, nonetheless.
Have a good look at the video above. I’m sure you’ll learn something valuable. Hopefully this version of contouring your face will have more positive results than using Sylvester’s.
“Swallow, Fiona!” said Sebastian, pushing me onward.
“But…” I protested, my mouth almost overflowing.
Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, added, “Go on, Fiona. You’ve taken more than a couple of mouthfuls already.”
She gave me a knowing look and whispered, “I know you love it really!” Then she lay back on her yoga mat in my garden, the soft fragrance of lavender wafting over us.
I should explain, Rainbow and Sebastian are at my place this morning and brought some healthy kale and ginger smoothies with them. I know how good it is for me, so even though I may gag a little, I manage to force it down. I don’t mind Sebastian and Rainbow coming over for breakfast as long as we enjoy it in the garden, and maintain a reasonable social distance.
“It tastes very,” I searched for words, “…healthy.”
It tasted so healthy I wondered if I was going to throw up. It’s not the first time I’ve been exposed to this recipe. To be fair, one does feel wonderful when one finishes drinking it.
Rainbow brings a couple of interesting points to her interpretation of yoga poses.
Sebastian is a very diligent personal trainer. This dreadful virus business has hit his business quite hard. He and his sister come over to my place every two or three days for morning yoga, which helps me keep nice and trim and as long as we are reasonably careful I feel glad of their presence. I get to dress in a beautiful leotard and tights as we do our yoga class, and Max my next door neighbor’s young son watches us through his binoculars from his bedroom window.
“You know,” said Sebastian, “your body is the sum total of all that you put into it. It’s best to choose things that are wholesome.”
I briefly thought back, remembering a long and and enjoyable youth, and smiled.
“See,” cut in Sebastian, “the thought has brought a smile back to your face.”
“No, you misunderstand,” I replied. “I was just thinking about a little encounter I had last fall. Very wholesome.”
However, that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. We’re living in turbulent times. You don’t need me to remind you of that. I do however want to encourage you to do a couple of things this week.
The first is to stay focused on social distancing and wearing a mask in areas where there are groups of people. Just because there’s a lot of protests going on, the virus doesn’t just go away. Guard your health with common sense.
Second, as I often suggest to my members, let’s not rush to judge others this week. Asking oneself, “what would I be doing if that were my brother?” is a good first step to trying to understand some of the events unfolding. Those of us who explore the gender spectrum understand about being judged harshly. Let’s try not to make that mistake with others.
If you’ve not already done so, be sure to join my Patreon, I’d like to try and get up to 175 Patrons this month. It’s just $1 a month and you know you’re going to get a lot of joy from it.
Enjoy the beautiful song by Marvin Gaye. Be sure to let me know how you’re getting along.
When I started My Little Black Book four years ago I was surprised by how many of my members immediately joined the system. It’s a very simple method of connecting with other crossdressers and admirers, and to be honest it’s a pretty bare bones type of tool.
I help many people get in touch with their feminine side, and many of them want to reach out to others, both for support and friendship. I often hear that people struggle to connect with crossdressers, and that crossdressers struggle to meet admirers – both male and female. It seems to me this is a problem in search of a simple solution. So I built one.
I was a little concerned that the simplicity of the system would not appeal to people used to online dating apps that are pretty sophisticated. My intention was to keep costs minimal, but more importantly put the members in control. The idea was that people set up an email that they felt safely put all correspondence in one place, and then list themselves in My Little Black Book. Members could then use that email to reach out to others, and to have others connect with them.
Very soon it turned out that people loved the fact that it was so very simple, which has become the single most important part of the system. Now we have members from all over the world talking to each other, and enjoying correspondence from near and far. It’s proved a great success. People were even connecting and sharing group holidays.
Like everything else, we can address the question of masks with style, kindness and our own values.
While sitting in my garden, enjoying watching Ali bent over working on some of the flowerbeds, I was surprised to see Sylvester (my mechanic) arrive and use my rear entrance (phrasing) sitting astride his enormous chopper.
He’s spent much of his time polishing up his chopper recently, but then haven’t we all? This lockdown can be a little tedious, can’t it? Sylvester does enjoy riding his Harley and keeping it pristine.
Maintaining social distancing he joined me in the garden and we sat and talked. He looked quite agitated. It takes a lot to phase Sylvester. Naturally, in my role as both friend and counselor I felt I should help.
“It’s Amanda. What am
I supposed to do about her?”
“Euthanasia?” I asked helpfully, adjusting the way my sun dress hung from my shoulders.
“Please,” he insisted, “try to be helpful!”
“What seems to be the problem, Sylvester?” I asked.
“Well, I asked her if she’d like to come for a ride on my chopper,” continued Sylvester.
“But Sylvester, Amanda is with Marjory now,” I said.
“I know. But sometimes I like to take people on my bike. It’s
fun.”
“Well,” I said, “I suppose it’s fairly harmless. Even though
I understand you’ve ‘checked her fluids’ on more than one occasion.”
