My Father's Women

Friday's the day I get off early from the office. I kicked off my pumps as I walked in the door and headed straight for the freezer, intending to pull out some chicken to defrost for dinner later. I may live rent-free with my father, but I'm not one of those adult-escent slobs who refuses to do any chores. After getting the bird in the fridge, I indulged myself in a glass of wine (so what if it was only three o'clock? Work was over for the week!) and headed for the place we keep the stereo. Halfway to the living room, though, I almost dropped the half-full glass on the carpet.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in our house?" I sputtered.

The statuesque blonde, who looked to be in her forties or well-preserved fifties, turned around to give me the same once-over I was giving her. Or more accurately, she pirouetted on her four-inch candy-pink designer heels. Oh hell, why don't I tell it like it was? They weren't candy-pink, they were cunt-pink and shiny, like they'd just been licked by the most passionate cunning linguist who ever lived. The stranger's long and shapely legs seemed to go on forever between the stilettos and her sky-high miniskirt, and were covered by a glossy pair of nude pantyhose that showed off every dangerous curve.

"I'm going to call the police in about two seconds if I don't get a good explanation of what you're doing here," I said threateningly. "And I mean real good, right now."

"Please don't do that," she said.

It was the voice that gave it away, that broke the spell the woman seemingly had cast on me. I looked higher than those long legs for the first time. Oh dear God. I blinked several times, but the illusion simply wouldn't go away. I could see that the hair had to be a wig, and the elaborately casual blouse, which must have cost a large fortune (no small fortune could have bought it) had to have a padded bra underneath. Why? Because the face concealed behind the clothing and expensive (and tastefully applied) makeup was that of my own father.

I was reduced to sputtering again. "Sweet Jesus. I don't believe it."

"I forgot that it was your day to get off early." My father blushed rather attractively under his foundation layer. "I'm sorry, Julie. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Umm, I'm not embarrassed. More like ... stunned. Dad, are you gay?"

Well, there it was, the question.

"No, I'm not," he replied. "I just like wearing sensuous clothing, soft and silky stuff that feels good against my skin. And in this society that means women's clothing. And if I'm wearing this --" he waved his hand up and down his whole body "-- everything else follows."

"Oh. I see, Daddy. Well, I am. At least I think I am. Gay, I mean. Although I'm not really sure." It was apparently a day for revelations. I kicked one bare heel against my opposing ankle, showing a touch of bashfulness at discussing such a subject with my own father. "I've only been with one man, the one who took my virginity. But he wasn't much of a lover, and, well, I think a woman would be much better for me. Sexually."

My gaze dropped back to the hem of that remarkably short skirt. A distinct bulge had appeared in it, spoiling the smooth lines of the fabric. Could my own father really be that huge? I found myself reaching out to squeeze that bulge, and I enjoyed the soft, sensuous purring sound my daddy made as I rubbed his stiff one through the material.

"Well, I'm a woman," he said. "And I have a dick, too."

I smiled invitingly. "I think a woman with a dick might just be perfect for me."

He smiled too. "Good. Why don't you slip your hand beneath my skirt, then?"

I giggled and did just that. It was easy to get my fingers past his pantyhose, especially as his dick was now standing straight up out of them. I squeezed him hard, savoring the warmth and resilience of his apparently still-growing hard-on. What a fuck-machine he had! I couldn't believe that Mom had ever left him, though maybe she was just more interested in being a high-powered executive, or couldn't tolerate the idea of a husband whose clothes sense was way better than hers.

"Let's go to my room," I said in a breathless voice. He followed me in silence. When we got there, I added, "Don't take off your clothes. I don't want you as my father, I want you as a woman, a woman with a dick."

He nodded his understanding. I doubt he had had any intention of stripping off what took him so much work to assemble, anyhow. I surprised myself with how aroused I was. Was it being with a "chick with a dick", or because it was my father, or both? I had just spent most of the day at an office filled with young men and women with much hotter bodies than my middle-aged father's, but I certainly hadn't had any panty-soaking moments like this one.

Anyway, I was already taking off my own clothes, and in a few moments I was standing in front of him in my under-it-all pantyhose and matching beige silk bra. I look rather fetching in my underthings, if I do say so, and my father's fashion (and passion) sense obviously agreed. His dick jerked beneath his skirt, and a spreading stain suddenly appeared on the fabric. "Damn, Julie, you're hot," he muttered in an admiring tone.

I was hot in more ways than one. We sat together on my old-fashioned four-poster bed and fondled each other for a while, his fingers gently pinching my throbbing nipples, and mine exploring the partly trapped erection he was sporting, if anything bigger than before. He allowed me to push the skirt up to his waist, and the sight of his cock encased in glossy nylon had my mouth absolutely filled with warm juices, to say nothing of my pussy. He was as hard as he could get, and dripping with enough gravy to grease a fireman's pole, which indeed his cock was very much like -- thick and long and hard.

Suddenly I leaned back and delivered a roundhouse slap right across his made-up face. While his ears were ringing, I pulled out the restraints from under the mattress and efficiently bound him spread-eagled to my bed. By the time my daddy recovered enough to start to struggle, it did him no good at all.

"I've got you now," I crowed, my voice full of triumph. "Surely you didn't really believe that bullshit about only fucking one man? I've captured dozens of cross-dressed dicks just like yours, and I've fucked every one of them in bondage, just like you."

He was shocked by my sudden change in personality, but I could tell he was intrigued by it, too. Nothing turns a man on more than a dominant woman who knows what she wants and how to get it, and takes no crap from her man in bed. My sweet shy girly persona had vanished in favor of my true sexual self, the demanding young bitch goddess.

I pulled my father's pantyhose down to mid-thigh and gave him a quick deep-throating, just so I could enjoy the taste of dick that had sweated in tight nylons. As usually happens, the nylons had rubbed all his pre-come into his dick, giving it a sweet-salty-sour taste that reverberates on my tongue as I slurp it up. His wig and false breasts bounced as I gave him what for. But before he could even begin to think about coming, I was off his dick and sitting on his face, my panties halfway across the room.

"Do a good job, Daddy," I snarled as my cunt came down over his mouth. "Slick me up good if you don't want a burn on your dick when I use it to give myself a big, big come."

My daddy did his best, which was really very good indeed despite his shocked condition. He got his drool all over my crack, even in the difficult female-superior position, as his lips and tongue danced me to a very nice small orgasm. As quickly as I could manage, I was off him again and then back on him down below, slamming my cunt lips over his cockhead before sitting down hard. I squatted on my heels and fucked my father with a stroke that made the mattress springs cry out with every bounce.

"You think -- you're such a woman," I panted. "But I've got your dick -- out of your pantyhose -- and I'm using it -- the way it was meant -- to be uuuuused!" I ran out of breath completely as I ascended to my plateau and then toppled off it into a full-body, clit and cunt orgasm.

Dad was still hard when I was through, so I kept right on going. "I'm going to fuck the stuffing out of you," I said to my father. "When I'm done, you'll admit -- that even though you like to dress up -- you are still a real man." That did it for him, and my father howled and blew his guts out into my clenching cunt with the energy of a man half his age, screaming to high heaven. Just the sound and feeling of it had me coming again as well.

These days my daddy dresses like a woman most of the time except at work, and I think of him as the most beautiful older woman in America. He has many, many womanly outfits, from professional suits to evening wear to hot negligees, and I love to help him choose new clothes. He confessed to me that he used to just dress up and then jerk off to tranny porn on the Internet, but now he has his dirty daughter at home to help him out.

When I see his big cock visible under the lines of his clothes, for example, I'm down on the carpet at once to help him with the situation. I deep-throat him, taking him deeper and deeper with all my skills until we are both whimpering. He always tries to hold back, but I insist with my considerable talent and charms, and soon enough he's painting my esophagus with a thick wad of tasty semen.

At these moments I always enjoy the contrast between the masculine smell of his come and the faint aroma of strategically applied French perfume that always lingers around my daddy's package. I wouldn't want him to know it, especially as I am still his bondage mistress, but I really do worship my daddy and his hard dick during these impromptu blow jobs.

My daddy also owns quite a few wigs now, and I enjoy the experience of being with several different women in one evening as he switches off wigs and personalities. It's not that my father has multiple personality disorder or anything, he's just a very good actress. Stephanie, for example, is the name of the original blonde submissive with the fuck-me shoes that I bound and fucked that memorable Friday afternoon.

Ursula, though, is completely different. She's a butch lesbian with short black hair that loves to eat my pussy. She lifts me with my daddy's powerful arms onto the bed and lets my arms and legs sprawl apart, and then kneels right down where it counts. There are no words to describe my daddy's practiced mouth, which has a level of skill developed only after years and decades of systematic rug-munching -- not that I have a rug: Daddy and I enjoy shaving each other's legs and pubic areas nightly in the bath.

I'm here to tell you there is nothing the least bit paternal in the way Ursula chews gently on my inner lips and flicks her wicked tongue-tip in and out of my oozing snatch before giving my clit the five or six orgasms it so desperately needs. Daddy's balls may get a little blue on Ursula days, but he makes up for it later when he dresses in his French maid's uniform and I get so hot for him that soon I'm initiating a French-speaking young girl to the joys of sex by going down on the world's largest fully functional clit.

Lisa is something else again. Lisa is a defiant little ginger-haired bitch with tiny firm titties whose secret desire is to be fucked in the ass by a black man with a ten-inch dick -- me, of course: well, at least the dick is black, even if it does come from a toy catalogue and isn't exactly natural. Lisa doesn't care, and I sure don't either. When Lisa has covered the bed with my daddy's juices (prostate stimulation really does it all), I hump my cunt against her face until every trace of her so-called 18-hour lipstick is completely gone. Somehow I always come too quickly with her, the way she rubs her nose against my clit and all while she tongues my slit and fingers my asshole, but my daddy knows to keep those multiple orgasms coming in.

But in the end, Daddy is a man, and sometimes I want him to fuck me as a man, missionary position, bare naked, no makeup or personalities. (I'm not even going to tell you about the Saturday we spent re-enacting my senior prom, with me playing Tommy, my sweet but gawky date with the even sweeter cock, and him playing a 18-year-old Julie, still virginal and a little frightened, but determined to become a woman that night.) The first time we had straight sex, he was oddly reluctant, and muttered something about "incest", as if he hadn't already had me ten ways from Tuesday. I just laughed.

"A woman can't be my father, so how can it be incest to get fucked by my lesbian lover?" When he heard that, my daddy jumped my bones and fucked me till I couldn't see straight, filling my cunt with all his cream and sending me in and out of multiple orgasms till I couldn't breathe right. His dick, along with his fingers, lips, tongue, acting talent, and even his asshole, take me to places that no other man or woman knows anything about. Between all the women and his wonderful masculine self, he is unquestionably the best damn fucking lover in the whole entire universe.