Beach Daddies: A Sweet and Dirty Texas Love Novella

by Shanna Handel

  He was playing with me.

  My eyes widened in fake horror. “Sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean to.”

  He grabbed the waist of my shorts, pulling me into him. Unbuttoning and unzipping them, he pulled them down over my ass, dropping them to the floor. I stood before him in my matching white bra and panty set. My skin positively glowing after my morning tanning session on the beach.

  Was there anything sexier than a beach vacation? Only one thing—having your daddy spank you on said beach vacation.

  His hands circled my waist. “Naughty, naughty. I think you need your bottom spanked for not listening to Daddy.”

  “But I did,” I protested with a pout. “I wore the tankini, and had sunscreen covering every inch of my body like you said.”

  His fingers trailed down to my bottom. I gasped as he grabbed the flesh of my ass hard in his hands. His fingertips dug into the crack of my ass, the tip of his index finger putting pressure on my bottom hole.

  I groaned as he whispered in my ear, “Bad girl. Such a bad, bad girl. Whatever should I do with such a bad girl?”

  “Take her out for ice cream?” I murmured, standing on my tiptoes, bra covered breasts pressed against his chest.

  His hands spanked my bottom gently. Little slap, slap, slaps, that made my skin tingle—and my hips wiggle. “Good girls get ice cream. Bad girls go over Daddy’s knees for spanks.” A thrill ran through me, goosebumps rising on my arms and legs.

  Wes sat down on the bed, tugging me gently over his lap. His hand slapped at my bottom lightly. The little light spanks continued, making my pussy wet and my hips gyrate. My mind went to the conversation I’d had on the beach with Jessica.

  My hips froze. This was age play? Right? I had no idea when or why categorizing it was so important to me, but it was. And here I was—a grown woman laying over her husband’s lap being spanked, and for what? Tanning my stomach? This was not domestic discipline that was truly threaded through our marriage and way of life. Punishment for the four D’s—dangerous, disrespectful, dishonest, hell, I couldn’t remember the fourth one, my head was so cloudy and my pussy was so throbby.

  This spanking was definitely something other than domestic discipline—a lighter form of age play—it was play that made me melt and our sex life hotter.

  I had to have the conversation that had been coursing through my mind ever since I had discovered age-play on the internet, months ago. At first, it had been an innocent curiosity—just a little perusing on a few sites, me wondering how those types of relationships worked. But lately, the curiosity had become a nagging pulse in my mind. A question that had to be asked.

  I pushed myself up from Wes’ lap. I was not one to hop up during a sexy spanking. Usually by now I’d be grinding my hips into him, begging for him to touch my pussy.

  “You okay?” he asked in surprise.

  “Something… has been on my mind,” I managed to stammer out.

  “All right. What is it?” he wrapped his arms around me as I sat next to him. Having on nothing but my underwear and my husband fully dressed beside me, safe with his big arms wrapped around me—made me relax. “You know you can talk to me about anything, sweetheart.”

  Nerves filled my tummy. But I had to know. “I know I can, Wes. It’s just that this is kind of an awkward conversation. I just—I’ve been wondering… are we like, age players?” I asked.

  Wes stroked my hair softly. “I don’t know what that means. Can you tell me a little more about it?”

  I snuggled further into his shoulder. “It’s like when a husband is the daddy and the wife is a little girl.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I guess we are then because I am certainly your daddy and you are my sweet girl.” He kissed my forehead. “But I have a feeling you are talking about something more than we have?”

  “Yes, kind of. I think some relationships… sometimes it’s a bit more than that.”

  His fingertip pressed under my chin, turning my gaze up to face him. His eyes were full of love and understanding… and worry. “Carrie, you are safe with me. I know I married a unique woman, with unique needs. And I love you just the way you are. I’m certainly not the world’s most ‘normal’ husband.”

  I chuckled. “We surely aren’t the poster couple for, ‘normal’.”

  He studied my face. “Tell me what you want.”

  What did I want? I’d been trying to figure it out myself. “I love the way you take care of me and spoil me and dote on me. I just want to spend some time, I don’t know—taking it to the next level I guess.”

  His brow furrowed as he thought over my words. “You just want to take a break from reality for a bit? Let Daddy really take care of you?”

  I snuggled back into his shoulder, his arm tightened around me. I whispered, “Yes.”

  “What if we experiment with a little ‘light age play’? I’ll do what I normally do, be the bossy Daddy I already am, but just maybe turn it up a notch for you?” he asked.

  “That sounds just right.” My heart swelled in my chest. Could I have ever found a more perfect man for me? I was beyond blessed. Not only could I share my heart with this man, but he accepted me for exactly who I was.

  “Well, why don’t we get out of here for a bit? Go get that ice cream you wanted,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “Okay,” I said, not sure what he had in mind.

  He kissed my forehead. I stood up to get my shorts and tank top from the ground. Nervous tingles pricked at me—what was going to happen?

  As I pulled the tank top down over my head, Wes walked over to the closet. Pulling a pink t-shirt off the rack, he took it off the hanger. “Let Daddy get your shirt on for you.”

  He wanted me to wear pink. Cute! “Oh, let me just take off this shirt that I’m wearing, Daddy.” I tugged at the tank.

  “Carrie, that’s not an appropriate shirt for my little girl. That’s your undershirt. Keep it on so you don’t get a chill,” he said.

  A little thrill ran through me. It was starting. Nervous butterflies took flight in my stomach as I waited for him.

  “K.” I put my arms up in the air, letting Wes pull the pink tee down over my undershirt. Yummy.

  Wes opened the drawer of my dresser, pulling out a pink, knee length A-line skirt. “Here we go.” He held it out for me to step into.

  Pink on pink? What would people think? I mentally winced at my rhyme, putting my hands on my daddy’s big shoulders and stepped into the skirt. When the outfit was complete, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked—sweet. Youthful and innocent but not an out-and-out age player. But, would people see my all pink outfit and… somehow know? Would they point their finger at me and yell, “Freak! Sexual deviant! Right there! The one in all pink! I heard her call her husband daddy. Sicko. Lock her up!”

  Then Wes came up behind me, pressing his chest into my back and wrapping his arms around me. I relaxed. “Just a Daddy and his little girl,” he said to our reflection, kissing me on top of my curls.

  Who cared what people thought? I loved my marriage—and so did my husband. I was the luckiest girl in the world.

  He released me and took my hand. “Ready for ice cream?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I said shyly.

  He sent Jessica and Ray a quick text to say we were going out for a bit. We went down the stairs. At the car, he opened the back door of the car for me.

  I raised a brow to him. “Umm...”

  “What’s the problem, sweetie?” he asked.

  “Why are you opening the back door?”

  He spoke with a patient, daddy tone. “Young lady. We’ve been over this before. Little girls ride in the back seat. It’s not safe for them to ride up front with Daddy. Do you want to go get ice cream?”

  Oh…. ooh!

  I played along. “But, Daddy, I like to be up front with you.”

  “Sit in the backseat like a good little girl and I take you for ice cream. Act naughty and it’s upstair
s for a nap—on your tummy,” he said patiently. I slid into the backseat. “Good girl.” He leaned over me and grabbed my seatbelt, crossing it over my chest and clicking it into place. He kissed my head.

  Then he shut the door. Opening the driver’s door, he got into the BMW. Turning around he smiled at me. “Let’s go.”

  We made it over the sand, then hit the main road into town. It was funny riding in the back seat of the car. Was it too much? Nerves and excitement flip flopped in my tummy as I watched the beautiful houses go by. Wes asked me which ones my favorites were. I told him the pink ones, of course.

  “How about a little lunch first, before ice cream?” he asked.

  “Okay. Ooh, how about a cute place on the water. I could get a glass of wine—”

  Wes chuckled. “No way, little girl. Don’t even make inappropriate jokes like that. There won’t be any wine for my little girl. I think some orange juice—vitamin C.”

  I really needed to get into character if I was going to give this age play stuff a fair shot. Wine? That most certainly was not a part of age play.

  I was surprised to see Wes pull under the golden arches of McDonalds. He said, “I’ll go thru the drive thru and get you a happy meal—it even comes with a toy. Would you like that?”

  A happy meal seemed innocent enough. And if it was drive thru, no one would see a woman on the wrong side of twenty partaking in the child sized cardboard box lunch. “Okay, Daddy,” I said, shyly.

  “Would you like a burger, or nuggets?” he asked.

  “Um,” being a rancher’s wife meant you rarely ate beef anywhere but home, it just couldn’t compare. “Burgers are yucky—unless you make them. I’ll have the nuggets.”

  “Would you like dipping sauce? You have to be careful not to spill any on your pretty skirt, or the backseat of the car. It’s not our car, we are borrowing it,” he said.

  “I’ll be careful. Can I have barbeque sauce, please?” I asked.

  “Of course, sweetie,” he answered.

  He put in the order. When we pulled up to the second window, I pressed myself as far back into the seat as I could, grateful for the tinted windows. The worker didn’t notice me and I breathed a sigh of relief. Wes pulled onto the road, passing the fun red box and orange juice to me. “One happy meal, coming up.”

  Munching on my food, I chatted with my daddy. The toy was a little pocket mirror that had a My Little Pony on it. I would slip it into my purse when I got home.

  Next, we pulled up to the cutest, little, yellow and white ice cream shop. Wes parked the car a few spaces away from the other patrons on purpose I presumed—and came around to open my door. “What kind of ice cream are you going to get, sweetie?” he asked, offering me his hand.

  “Mmm, chocolate with sprinkles, I think,” I said, stepping out of the car.

  “Yummy. Just one scoop though. I don’t want you to get a tummy ache,” he said with a smile.

  “Okay, Daddy,” I said, quietly, my eyes darting around to the other patrons. So far, no one had noticed me.

  He held my hand and we walked over to the window to order.

  “We will have one children’s scoop of chocolate ice cream with extra rainbow sprinkles, and a vanilla milkshake,” he said to the worker.

  I almost died of embarrassment when Wes ordered the children’s scoop. My gaze flitted over the staff, waiting for them to eye me suspiciously—or call the cops. Instead, the bored teen punched at the keys on the cash register, saying, “You got it.”

  No one knew. And no one cared.

  Wes had picked an outfit that would make me feel young, but not stick out. He’d put me in the backseat but parked far enough away to not draw attention. And he’d ordered a kid scoop with extra sprinkles. Lots of women preferred a smaller portion.

  Damn—my husband was pretty good at this light age play stuff. Maybe I should try to relax and enjoy this.

  We sat on a bench. Wes had a pile of napkins on his lap. As I ate my ice cream, he would dab at the corners of my mouth with his napkin whenever I got some ice cream on my face. It was very sweet and made me feel cared for.

  When we were done eating, he asked me if I wanted to do a little shopping. “I’d love to buy my special girl a souvenir from our trip,” he said.

  “Yes, please,” I said, imagining a piece of jewelry or a dress from one of the stores.

  He took my hand, leading me down the sidewalk. “Now tell Daddy if you need to go potty.”

  I cut my eyes to his, wrinkling my nose.

  “Too far?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Too far,” I said.

  He chuckled again. But I did swing my hand a little bit as we walked.

  My eyes widened in surprise when he tugged me into Ted’s Toy Shop, instead of Beach Jewelers.

  “Oh, I thought I would get a bracelet or something.” My eyes gazed longingly at the display of jewelry in the windows.

  “You’re too little for that kind of jewelry. That’s for big girls,” he said.

  I was second guessing this whole ‘light age play’ thing as he tugged me past the gorgeous silver bracelets sparkling in the windows.

  We entered the toy store and he led me through to the back. There were racks and racks of stuffed animals.

  I hadn’t had someone buy me a stuffed animal in at least twenty years.

  They looked so sweet and soft. I wanted to touch them all. I reached out, picking up a stuffed black bear. “I didn’t know bears lived at the beach, Daddy.”

  “I saw a yellow road sign on the drive here with a picture of a black bear on it. It was a bear crossing sign—”

  “I know what a bear on a sign means—” I stopped as Wes eyed me. Putting the bear in the pile, I sighed. I think I’d had enough experimenting for one day. “Wes, I’m terrible at this age play stuff.”

  “Have you had fun so far, though?” he asked, concern filling his grey eyes.

  I thought about the warm fuzzy feeling I had gotten when he dressed me and put me in the back seat. I nodded.

  “Then, why don’t you let me buy you a stuffy. Let’s see. Which one is perfect for my little girl?” He went through the stuffed animals, picking and choosing until he found the cutest one.

  Despite myself, I squealed. It was a soft, little river otter. He had big brown eyes and whiskers. And he was literally the cutest thing. I squeezed him tight to my chest.

  “Not so bad, is it?” he asked with a wink.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered.

  But I rode in the front seat on the way home. In my white tank top and skirt, my pink shirt beside me and my river otter in my hands. Maybe our relationship couldn’t be boxed in or explained with a title. I might experiment more with age play in the future, but for now, we just were who we were, and I was fine with that.

  Carrie

  Totally exhausted from our day, the four of us opted for ordering pizza and watching old movies. Jessica—of course—voted for the scariest movie in the world. I was hoping for a romantic comedy. So, the guys picked, and we ended up watching City Slickers.

  The pizza delivery guy drove a Jeep with no top. He trooped up the three flights of stairs, knocking on the glass door of our balcony. Ray paid him and brought in two large pizzas. One supreme, ‘for the adults’, and a plain cheese, for me. The thought of sausage and peppers on my pizza made me queasy. I was a kid at heart.

  Halfway through the movie, stuffed of pizza, I must have fallen asleep on Wes’ shoulder. The next thing I knew, he had carried me to bed, tucking me in with a kiss on my forehead. I drifted off to sleep, as the sound of crashing waves came through the open window.

  The next morning, I woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. Ray was at it again.

  Yawning and stretching, I looked around the room for Wes. A moment later, he came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walked over to the bed and kissed my cheek. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  “Good morning,” I said, yawning again.

/>   “Did you sleep good? You were out like a light. I had to carry you to bed,” he said, tapping the end of my nose with his finger.

  “I can never make it through a whole movie. Especially not a Billy Crystal movie,” I complained.

  Chuckling, Wes sat beside me on the bed. He smelled of soap and aftershave, his damp waves of hair slicked back. Concern flashed in his grey eyes. “Carrie, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

  “Okay,” I said, sitting up. I suddenly felt nervous.

  “I want to give you what you need. If age play is something you want to try, I’m all for it. Although, I don’t know if I was doing it right.” His brow furrowed.

  “No, you were perfect, Wes. You’re a natural.” I put my hand on the warm, bare skin of his tanned shoulder. “I like us just how we are.”

  He gave me a smile. “I just love you, Carrie. I want you to be happy.”

  “I am. You are literally the best husband I could have asked for.” Ready to change the subject, I said, “Hey, don’t I still owe a couple hundred dollars?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.

  “I believe you do.” Wes stood up, ripping the towel from his body. “And I know just how you can pay me.”

  I laughed as he climbed on top of me, tickling me and kissing me.

  I loved being a daddy’s girl, but right now, I was ready for some straight-up, grown up, vacation morning sex. I had bills to pay.

  Jessica

  Damn these dreams. I woke up startled to find myself laying next to Ray in our vacation bed, and not laid out across his office desk.

  This time, my ‘daddy’, had caught me smoking in the bathroom. Dressed in pink, button down pajamas, he had dragged me by the elbow to his office. Bending me over his desk, he lectured me about the dangers of smoking, the importance of having good habits, and general, ‘no daughter of mine will be smoking’, comments. Then, he pulled down my pajama pants. That was when I woke up. I groaned, shaking the dream from my mind.