I was just eighteen and still in high school the first time I fully kissed my father, though that act had been an obsession of mine ever since I hit puberty and realized how gorgeous he was. Really, he was so incredibly handsome!
I had been secretly dressing in my mother's and sister's clothes for years and had gotten pretty good at it, so privately pining away the days until I had those precious hours alone to glamorize myself into the girl I so longed to be. With two older sisters, I had learned a lot and had it down pat. I knew where everything was and knew how to get things just right. But really, it was so incredible that I hadn't been caught as my glamorous, teen self, as I did it so often and took such liberties with all my mother's and sister's things... their clothes, makeup, lingerie, everything! To this day, I don't know if it was luck, smarts, or just that being the youngest in the family that I was able to get away with it all. Seemed I just faded into the background with no one really paying all that much attention to anything I was doing. But with all of my mother's and sister's things at my fingertips, with the feel of their hosiery and dresses against my skin, I felt myself becoming more and more feminine with every glorious opportunity I could steal. Having long blonde hair, a slight build, and only 5' 6" high didn't hurt either.
Then one fateful Saturday when I was all along for what I had thought hours of private time, the unimaginable happened. My father came home unexpectedly just after I had finished dressing as feminine as I had ever been, wearing breast forms I had gotten underneath my mother's lace bra, pantyhose, and this wonderful flower dress of hers, with my makeup and hair nearly perfect. It was insane, really. Just after I had put on a final coat of my mother's coral-red lipstick and was admiring myself in her vanity mirror, I heard the front door open, then shut.
Trapped in my parent's room, adorning myself in my mother's vanity mirror, there was nowhere to run. I completely froze. As I saw my father walk into the room, my heart stopped.
There, with my father looking at me in all my hoped for femininity, all I could say was, "Daddy, I'm sorry."
I hadn't a clue how he'd react. Seemed I was expecting to be scolded, or rebuffed in some way. But all he did was take my hand and lead me out to our living room and sat down next to me on our sofa.
"Honey," he said tenderly, "If this is who you feel yourself to be, there is no shame in that, no shame at all." And then looking me straight into my eyes he added, "My god, you are simply beautiful."
All I could do was start to cry. I felt so lost. But then my father took me in his arms and hugged me as I trembled. I couldn't believe how safe and at ease I was in his arms. The whole thing was like a dream.
Wiping my tears, we locked eyes and the unimaginable happened. Like some love scene from a movie, our lips drew closer and before I knew what was happening, my father kissed me. My body quivered, but my desire fell to his as that one kiss became another, then another.
