The invitation was sincere, with a handwritten note added. My former high school girlfriend, Kira, was asking me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. We had a complicated history: I took her to senior prom, and I was completely infatuated with her. She was the cutest girl in our class and the only person from high school who knew about my interest in cross-dressing. With her blonde hair, blue eyes, and swimmer’s build, she seemed nearly perfect. We were very close, and when we left for different colleges, we promised to stay in touch.

Eight years later, she was getting married the week before Christmas. We had kept in touch, and during freshman-year winter break, she eagerly joined me for a night out. I asked her to meet me at one of Boston’s alternative bars, and when she arrived, I had to introduce myself. She didn’t recognize me and was amazed by how convincingly feminine I looked. Thankfully, she was delighted when I introduced myself as Cari.

That first night together at Jacques was wonderful. As Kira and Cari, we were simply two girlfriends enjoying a night out. We quickly drew attention: two young blonde women in stylish mini dresses and high heels never had to buy a drink. Kira enjoyed herself as much as I did. Later, two kind older men invited us for late-night Chinese food in Chinatown, where they treated us like queens.

On the way home, Kira said I seemed popular with the men, especially Jack. She asked whether I was attracted to him, but I honestly told her no—he was just a friend who looked out for me, which was why we had held hands on the street. When she wondered how I kept other men from bothering me, I said I simply told them no. Kira seemed skeptical and suggested I might be naïve, but I assured her I had no interest in their attention.

During the next winter break, Kira and I met again on a Friday night for what had become our annual Boston tradition. This time, I shyly reintroduced her to Jack—now as my boyfriend. Kira’s instincts had been right, even though I had confidently denied them before. I appreciated that she resisted saying, “I told you so.”

Later, I told Kira privately that two months after our outing the previous year, Jack kissed me while we were dancing. I admitted how surprised I was by how magical it felt, and how his later kiss that night moved me enough to want more. I also told her I had agreed to go on a date with him and soon began to understand much more about myself when I was Cari.

We had another wonderful night and once again drew plenty of attention. People called us the prettiest women in the bar. As before, we ended the evening with food in Chinatown, this time with Kira escorted by a younger, handsome man. We agreed to go out again the next night. Kira loved Jacques’s wild, alternative energy, and I told her I had a small surprise for her that I had been considering.

In high school, I had secretly “borrowed” Kira’s beautiful red lace prom dress. When I arrived in it that Saturday night, she recognized it immediately. “Oh my God,” she said. “You look better in it than I did!” Kira was a wonderful friend. I doubted that was true, but she always knew how to make someone feel good. Alex, the man she had met the previous night, joined us, and our generous boyfriends treated us to drinks all evening. We left a little early, each heading home separately with our dates.

The Build Up

I was thrilled to receive Kira’s invitation, but doubts quickly set in. I knew she was sincere, yet I worried about embarrassing myself by looking out of place at her wedding. Our phone conversation eased my concerns. She told me I was the most convincing crossdresser she had ever seen and assured me I could simply be Cari, her special friend. By the end of the call, she had persuaded me to attend a bridesmaid fitting.

I went all out preparing. I shaved every inch of my body until it was silky smooth, added generous extensions to my longish blonde hair for extra flair, and had my makeup and nails done professionally, courtesy of my friend Roger. I had special-ordered new high heels to fit my wide feet, and dark hosiery made my legs look more feminine. I wished Roger could come for support, but I knew I had to do this on my own—and for Kira.

I arrived as Cari in a tasteful black dress and heels. Kira’s two other bridesmaids, college friends of hers, were eager to meet me. Thankfully, they were supportive and said they were surprised by how feminine I looked. After several glasses of wine, I felt much more at ease. I was measured for a custom dress made for me and the others, in an elegant royal-purple burgundy metallic fabric. My twenty-seven-inch waist was so trim that the dress had to be taken in. I loved it, and so did Kira’s friends. Her fiancé worked in finance and came from a wealthy family, so they were covering everything.

I was still nervous and unsure about going through with it, but everyone—including Kira’s mother—was kind and supportive. When they asked if I had a date, I said yes, knowing I could rely on my trusted friend Roger to accompany me. Roger and I shared an unusually close, deeply compatible bond.

As the wedding approached, we met again once the gowns were finished. Mine fit perfectly, though one of Kira’s friends needed another adjustment. We posed for photos together, and Kira’s mother said we were three of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Moments like that reminded me why I liked Kira so much. The photo accompanying my story was taken by Kira and shows me standing, appropriately enough, in the ladies’ room.

Two weeks later, I was an emotional wreck at the rehearsal. I had never appeared publicly as Cari in front of so many ordinary people. I practiced walking down the aisle with one of the groom’s friends, who apparently did not know my secret. Roger’s support kept me steady; he was as gracious and reassuring as anyone could be. Even so, I still wasn’t sure I could truly be a bridesmaid.

Afterward, everyone gathered at the bar for drinks. Roger did most of the talking so I wouldn’t have to fake a higher voice, often speaking for me because he knew me so well. He introduced himself as my fiancé and claimed he had given me the diamond ring on my left hand. I smiled at the half-truth, enjoying his confidence and flattery. Thanks to Roger, the night went well, and my fears began to fade.

The Wedding

Outside the church, we lined up for the procession. Soon I was standing arm in arm with a handsome young man, unsure whether he knew I was not a girl. My nerves tightened as I prepared to walk before two hundred wedding guests and stand as a witness to Kira’s marriage. I moved carefully in my new four-inch heels and elegant dress, trying to smile and stay focused.

I took my place beside the other two bridesmaids and drew a deep breath before the ceremony began. Facing a church full of guests, I was still nervous, but Kira’s entrance on her father’s arm was breathtaking. She looked beautiful, and I wondered again how someone so stunning had once been my special friend and high school love. I had always felt she was far out of my league. When her handsome husband-to-be spoke his vows, his words moved me to tears, and Kira was crying too.

The Ceremony’s Close
Kira’s vows were just as moving and graceful as her entrance. Her confidence and beauty filled the church, and I felt deeply happy for her. She had found true love with someone who seemed to appreciate her fully.


Roger’s Reassurance
As the ceremony ended, I struggled to steady myself for the escorted walk back down the aisle. Fortunately, Roger was waiting nearby. “You did it, my sweet,” he whispered. I smiled and hugged him, grateful for how safe and happy he always made me feel.

There were still group photos and other formalities to get through. Kira’s new husband and his family had spared no expense; everything was organized, polished, and professional. The usher who had walked me down the aisle suddenly became quite friendly. He was sweet and seemed interested, so I gently demurred and mentioned my “boyfriend.” I appeared in several photos, smiling through my nerves each time. At five feet five and wearing a size-four dress, I fit right in. For the seating chart and photos, Kira used the last name I chose for myself as a girl. She had thought of every detail.

Soon I had to be introduced as a member of the wedding party at the formal reception. My nerves surged again, but I stayed focused and reminded myself that a confident smile would help me seem more at ease. I managed the walk to the table without stumbling in my high heels. When Kira entered with her new husband, her graceful beauty once again lit up the hall.

The formal introductions, toasts, and first dances all went smoothly. When the meal began, I finally joined Roger at the table Kira’s mother had arranged for us. Away from the spotlight and beside my favorite person, I relaxed at last, thrilled to have passed a test I once could never have imagined. Roger kept me dancing, drinking and laughing late into the night.


A Celebration of Love

Roger and I were both impressed by the wedding’s beauty and charm. Ever refined and elegant, Roger had spared no expense: the five-star hotel hosting the reception was also where he had arranged for us to spend the night. As we said our goodbyes, Kira leaned close and whispered, “This time, I told you so. I knew you could do it. My dad thinks you’re very pretty, and I didn’t dare tell him!” We giggled together, delighted. Soon afterward, Kira and her husband slipped away to their honeymoon suite.

Roger took my hand, and we walked to the elevators to our room. The moment we got into the elevator to our room, I exploded in joy. I hugged him, thrilled. Realizing that I could be a girl in public was a highlight that was so personally flattering that I was beyond words. I was all over Roger like a crazy slut!

Kissing him with passion and schoolgirl enthusiasm, Roger responded to my cravings. He was amused because my being the aggressor was not a part of our clearly scripted relationship. “Easy girl!” he said, laughing. “We’ll be in the room soon.” He spoke. In getting to know Roger over the past three years, I was always amazed at his patience and control. Our relationship was special. Roger is a very Dominant man who I very unexpectedly fell in love with. Roger is not just my boyfriend. Roger is my Daddy!

I have realized that I am very submissive in nature as Cari. Daddy has taken my natural submissiveness to a level that exposes my heart, mind and soul. He has developed my willingness as a pleaser and as a giver. I have been well instructed by him. Even in my somewhat inebriated state, I realize how badly I feel the need to please him. In the room, I make it clear that I have come to my senses by my immediate action. I fall dutifully to my knees. Properly and modestly, I look downward. Everything is up to Daddy now. Daddy looks down at me. He is smiling and pleased.

“You may stand, beautiful one. Let us enjoy your accomplishment. You were so pretty at the wedding, and I am so proud of you. Let’s celebrate our love like your friend Kira is most likely doing now!” Daddy says. Daddy has a surprise for me. It’s a boxed present. I thank him with sincerity, smiling, flattered and excited. Daddy buys me presents often when I am a good gurl. These days that seems the norm.

 It’s been a long time since I have not explicitly followed his directions. I don’t ever want to be a bad gurl for him. It is not the fear of the cane, but a genuine need to please him and be loved by him. Daddy knows this. These days he is very pleased with his submissive gurl.

I smile, kiss and thank Daddy. I am always excited about my special gifts. They signal Daddy’s love but also his expectations of me. I love the clarity of knowing explicitly what he wants and desires. My gift is stunning. Inside the box is a beautiful, sheer, silky, white lace, short, baby doll nightgown. The string lace panties will be worn only while I model it for him!

I strip down for him, laying my beautiful dress across a chair. Daddy disrobes and hangs his suit and shirt. I am nude and then slide on the soft, delicately erotic, love outfit. The panties surely won’t hide my raging seven-inch erection, so I must tuck it awkwardly between my legs for the full girly effect for him. Soon, I smile and prance, displaying my teensy sheer outfit for him like an excited little gurl.

Daddy is now naked and appreciatively smiling at me. He is already fully erect, and I swoon. I know exactly what my next actions are to be. Roger is a very gifted man. His huge-headed, thick, eight-plus-inch cock is a gurl’s gift from God!

I go down on my knees and place both hands dutifully behind my back. I look up at him, smiling. I am breathless as Daddy’s huge, dripping erection is but inches from my face. I must show patience, and fortunately I am soon indulged. I open my mouth wide. I take inch after inch of him in the manner he loves and enjoys most. With both of his hands guiding my head, in moments, his entire huge cock is enveloped by my needy mouth and throat.

There is so much emotion and pleasure in this act for me. My lust is in a frenzy as it has been two weeks since Daddy and I’ve last been together. In my haste, I forgot to remove my ineffective little worthless panties, but I am completely focused now. As I take him, I find the struggle to breathe difficult at first. Soon we fall into a rhythm. As my mouth and throat are being used for his pleasure, I realize how much I too enjoy this act. My panties cannot contain my raging erection.

I work hard to suck and take all of him. I am competent as I totally envelop his eight-plus inches. My enthusiasm is clear. I am his pleasure gurl. I am always prepared for his release as well. It is always a skillful task to swallow his love fluids with his huge cock so deep in my throat. As I was secretly hoping, Daddy is saving his genetic fluids for a more intimate coupling! He relents and lifts me like a little girl. He gently places me on my back atop the bed.

With no hesitation, Daddy literally tears the useless panties from me. He lifts and spreads my legs back as I hold my ankles for him. My body is completely shaven, perfumed delicately and prepared perfectly for him. Now I have made his access to me completely available. It’s what my Daddy wants. Daddy goes to my widely spread bottom and teases my anus with gentle licks and kisses. I moan in cross-eyed delight. As his licking becomes greedier, his tongue is soon fucking my insides. I am stimulated beyond belief! Daddy is also wired to please!

My shrieks become shrill. This stimulus always excites me to levels of madness. It is so personal, so intimate and so delightfully inspirational. For a submissive, however, this is dangerous because I am near orgasm, yet I cannot orgasm. I must not. My Daddy’s pleasure comes first. It is my duty to ask him for help to prevent my premature orgasm. I must ask him for a chastity device if I feel weak. I am getting so frenzied that I begin to whine. Daddy’s enthusiastic oral assault is becoming too stimulating and frenetic. I am panicked.

“I need Chastity, Daddy!” I blurt out in a shriek.

My Daddy slows, then stops. “I didn’t bring any of your chastity devices, Babygirl. This is your night,” Daddy says kindly. He is already above me and forcing his huge, hard, delicious cock into my soaking wet bottom. I quiver in anticipation. Nothing on the face of the earth could be more welcome.

His entry is mind-blowing and hurtful for but a moment. I cried out first in hurt and shock, but almost immediately I began to feel joy. Then as Daddy begins pumping himself deeper inside me, I am aghast. I am always stunned by his size. I am moved tremendously by the incredulous feeling of being so filled. My powerful, masculine man is making me crazy. His manhood inside me is so welcome. I’m already beside myself in lust, happiness and bliss.

When Daddy’s thrusts deepen and become more powerful, I begin to wail and screech in elation and ecstasy. My shrieks and impassioned moans fill the hotel room. Daddy is truly competent, brilliant and purposeful. I’ve never been loved with such skillfulness by anyone. As Daddy so often does to me, I am frazzled, overwhelmed and shaking uncontrollably in the lustful enjoyment of it all.

Daddy and I have been together for three years. The reasons are clear to me! I am so fortunate to be his submissive gurl. I am thrilled and blessed to be the recipient of such proficient, meaningful lovemaking!

Daddy is fucking me more furiously now. I open my eyes to see my bright red painted toenails pointed towards the ceiling above my lover’s back. Each of his potent thrusts makes my toes curl involuntarily.  The sounds of his balls and pelvis spanking my bottom fill the room in concert with my high-pitched, joyous wailing. I hope the hotel walls are soundproofed.

I am in heaven on earth. Nothing could be more profound, erotic and delightful to me.

“Oh yes, Daddy,” I cry out repeatedly. I’m completely frazzled in pleasure and want.

“Please fill me.” I wail!  I am begging him for the obvious. “Breed me!” I shriek in desperate, distressed and frantic wail as I cannot and will not orgasm before my Daddy!

Suddenly Daddy pauses. He’s smiling broadly. He knows that he has taken me to my limit. He gently meets my mouth with his lips. He kisses me deeply while searching my mouth with his tongue. This is my physical and emotional summit. I’m mad with passion. I’m crazed with lust and ache for his swimmers. There is such joy in my helplessness.

Now Daddy begins to drill my insides frenetically. His rapid, powerful thrusts are finding places so deep inside me that I’m going mad, even crazy. “You’re the best Daddy!” I squeal in madness. Daddy is now grunting, and I’m thrilled to heaven. I know he is preparing to fill his gurl with his genetic fluids. I allow myself to finally relax. I gasp as his deep groans signal the beginning of his mighty orgasm.

As I feel Daddy’s heat exploding inside me, I am crying. My inner joy is beyond belief. I live for moments like this.  I am all over the moon. My insides begin to explode in great bearings of pleasure. My maleness is uncontrollably releasing its cum between us. I am in complete stun and overload mode. Wave after wave of pleasure contorts my body. I spasm and quake all over. Tears are running down my face. I almost pass out from the stimulation, eroticism and emotion of our coupling.

Daddy and I kiss again deeply as he collapses atop me. I could not be in any better place. I am so happy. I am so moved and satiated. I’ve been bred as capably as any woman has ever experienced. I tell him I love him, and he sincerely says it back. I whisper into Daddy’s ear that I am a very, very lucky girl! We laugh out loud together.

My thoughts go to the evening and Kira’s Wedding.

“If Kira is half as lucky as I am tonight, Daddy, I’ll be very happy for her!”

Again, we laugh, hug and kiss.

“We both were probably trying to make babies tonight!” Daddy quips.

I state the obvious. “At least we don’t have to worry, Daddy!” I add with a wry smile!

We literally melt into each other for several minutes. We are one. Daddy remains hard inside me. We soon look at each other with devilish grins. He turns onto his back with his gurl still impaled by him. I find myself now straddling him and atop him. I’m his cowgirl now!

I will proudly and capably ride my Stallion into the night. Daddy’s kind promise was true. It’s my night and I will bring my Daddy every pleasure that I can imagine. Feeling Daddy’s huge, thick member inside me is such inspiration. My night as a bridesmaid was an enormous success! Evidently, Kira knew long before I did - that I was the kind of gurl who was meant to please!