“I don’t want to see you in a thong, Carrie. And I sure as hell don’t want my husband to see your cute little ass in a thong either. I think I’m on team Wes with this one. Tankinis are perfect for you,” I said.
“I have the strictest husband daddy, don’t I?” She sniffed.
“Yes. And we are all grateful for it. Someone has got to keep your crazy self in line, girlfriend. Besides, you love it,” I laughed.
Carrie gave me a wink and a smile. “You know I do.”
“You crack me up, Carrie.” Closing my eyes, I absorbed the warmth of the sun. Was there anything more relaxing than lying on the beach? The sound of the waves crashing was lulling me to sleep.
I was just about to be out cold when Carrie said, “Have you and Ray ever done age play?”
My eyes popped wide open. Her question had fully woken me up. I rolled over towards her. Leaning up on my elbow, I studied her face. Her brow was furrowed as if she was deep in thought. I held back a giggle. “What do you mean? Like dressing up and stuff?”
“Maybe,” she said with a shrug.
“No… not age play. I mean he does spank me. Does that count? Most wives certainly aren’t spanked by their husbands, or call their husbands, Daddy.”
“I know. I just mean, like have you ever… tried anything more than that?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. We have tried a lot of other stuff though. A lot. I mean, like everything under—”
“I get the picture, Jess,” Carrie laughed, cutting me off.
“Do you want to try age play with Wes?” I asked.
The pretty pink blush arrived at her cheeks. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it might be fun to let all the cares go, you know? Be a kid again. Just let Wes be fully in charge of me for a day.”
I waved my hand in front of her face, saying, “Earth to Carrie—he already is. Wes is the strictest daddy and husband around. And he does everything for you already. He practically cuts up your meat for you at dinner.” I gestured at her suit, “And insists you cover up that skin. I mean, it’s a cute bathing suit but it’s… well... super young and modest.”
Her brow furrowed. “So, does that mean I’m already in an age play relationship?”
I lay back down. I thought over her question. Carrie was so young at heart—and downright mischievous and bratty at times—she kind of was like a little girl. Maybe her marriage was a bit like an age play relationship. I answered her as best I could with, “I honestly don’t know, Carrie. But the more important question is does defining it matter to you?”
Crinkling her nose, she said, “Maybe.”
“I don’t think there’s any ‘playing’, in your relationship, right now. It seems more like—I don’t know—just how the two of you are wired. He’s your daddy and you’re his spoiled—and sometimes rotten—little girl,” I said, rolling my eyes and laughing. It was a very accurate description of my best friend.
She laughed back. “I guess you’re right.” Her brown eyes gazed over the ocean. “I just want something more… but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Carrie was suddenly quiet. Carrie is never quiet. This age play stuff must have been on her mind for some time. Wanting to be a good friend, I tried to rack my brain for anything I had read or knew about the lifestyle. “Let’s start with the basics. Do you want to like color and watch Disney movies? Wear a princess dress?”
“I don’t think so.” She gave another shrug. Then turned to me with a naughty glint in her eyes. “Maybe I just want to get spanked more.”
I laughed. “Don’t you get it enough? You are the single most spanked wife I know.”
“Oh, because you know soooo many spanked wives?” she asked.
“I know at least four. And of those four, you are most definitely the most frequently spanked, so I rest my case. I seriously could not take it if Ray was as bossy as Wes is,” I said.
“I know, I know.” She lay back down on her towel, raising and folding the material of her tankini top up so the skin on her torso was exposed to the sun. “I like it that way though.”
“So, what do you want?” I lay beside her, on my back, adjusting my new glossy black wood framed sunglasses. They were polarized, looked amazing against my light hair, and cost four hundred dollars. Don’t tell Ray.
She fingered a curl of her hair. “I feel like I’m having a tough time articulating what it is I want, exactly. I think the goal would be to just let go completely. Let him have total control.”
This did not sound appealing to me. I enjoyed having my daddy, and although he wore the pants in the family, we all knew who was really in charge. None other than the queen of the house. Yes, I got overwhelmed sometimes and Ray helped me get back into the right headspace. And yes, he called me silly pet names, and I called him Daddy. But age play—that crossed some line with me, the thought of it kind of skeeved me out to be honest. But I wanted to be a supportive friend. I glanced over at Carrie. She seemed to be lost in thought, again.
I took her moment of silence as a cue to end the conversation. I closed my eyes. The sound of the crashing waves combined with the warm sand beneath me and the sun warming my skin—had me falling asleep—I couldn’t stay awake much longer. “Well, you think it over while I take this little nap and when I wake up we’ll chat.”
“Mmm hmm,” Carrie answered, absently.
Under the warm rays of the sun, I fell asleep.
I blame Carrie for the dream I had during that nap on the beach.
It was as if I was watching myself in a movie. I was dressed in a red plaid skirt, white button-down shirt, my hair in two braids. I looked like a Catholic school girl.
And I was standing before a very angry, Daddy Ray.
Ray was sitting on our leather couch back at home. Wearing a button-down work shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he looked striking, and a bit intimidating. I nervously tugged at the hem of my very short skirt, butterflies suddenly filling my stomach. What was I doing here, and why was I dressed like this?
“Young lady, you have some explaining to do.” When Ray spoke, his tone was even more Daddy Dom than usual. I must be in serious trouble. I stood before him, hands behind my back, a shiver running through me. His brow furrowed, his arms crossed as he continued. “Why did I just get a call from the principal at your school? Cheating on a test? Unacceptable. No daughter of mine will get away with that. You are going to be punished, severely.”
“But Daddy!”
“No buts. I’ve already told your principal that you are going to be getting a very sound spanking, and that you will be apologizing to your teacher with a sore bottom, tomorrow.” With his index finger, he pointed to his lap. “Over my lap, now, young lady.”
“Daddy, you can’t spank me, I’m too old,” I whined, my hands clutching behind me, protecting my bottom in the short, pleated skirt.
“You’re never too old for a good old-fashioned spanking,” he said.
Isn’t that the truth.
“Nooooo!” I wailed.
“Get over my lap right now, or I’ll take you to the principal’s office and spank you there, in front of him. Then, let him spank you too.”
I quickly sashayed over to him, kneeling on the carpet beside him and bending over his knees.
He said, “I’m going to spank you until your bottom is as red as that skirt. Then I’m going to send you to your room. You’re grounded for eternity. And if I’m still mad tonight, I’m going to spank you again.” His hands went to my skirt.
“No, don’t—you’ll see my panties!” I cried as he pushed my hands out of the way.
The skirt flipped up, exposing full cut white briefs. “Please don’t spank me. I’ll never cheat again!” I cried.
“As long as you live under this roof, I’ll be spanking your bottom when you break my rules,” he said.
I moaned in humiliation as my daddy spanked my bottom over those white panties. All the while, lecturing me on the importance of honesty.
I woke
with a start, water being splashed on my back.
Flipping over, I found Carrie standing over me, an empty water bottle in her hand. The little devil was laughing hysterically. “You should have seen the look on your face! Oh my God—priceless.” When she recovered from her fit of laughter, she began to pack up her things, placing her towel and sunscreen into her bright pink beach bag. “I’m going in. I wanted to wake you up to tell you. I kept saying your name, but you just moaned. That’s why I had to throw the water on you. You must have been down deep in slumber land. That look on your face—hysterical!” She walked up the stairs to the boardwalk, laughing all the way.
I lay back down on my wet towel, dying of embarrassment, squirming in my now wet bathing suit top—and bottoms.
What the heck had that dream been all about? It had left me with a throbbing pussy and wracked with emotions. Guilt and pleasure, and confusion. The dream seemed to be the true meaning of a guilty pleasure.
And it had been pleasurable. The melting in my core and slickness in my bathing suit bottoms were proof of that.
But also... a little weird. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the dream.
Over the dunes, the man in my fantasy appeared in real life. Ray walked over to me, wearing only swim trunks, a cooler slung over his huge shoulder. Were the muscles in his chest even more defined than usual? Damn—he wasn’t kidding when he said he was working out double time in anticipation of the trip.
He sat down, placing the cooler he had carried, beside himself. “Hey, beautiful.” He gave me a gentle kiss. Pulling back, his eyes hungrily took in my body in the red bikini. “Even sexier than I imagined.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. I sat up, stretching after my nap. Not one to blush often, I felt a little flush on my cheeks as our eyes met—the memory of the dream still fresh in my mind.
He unzipped the cooler, pulling out a five-dollar bill. “I brought you something.”
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“Him.” I looked to where Ray was pointing. Rolling down the sandy beach was a cart. A colorful umbrella was sticking out over top of it, the words, Italian Ice, were written on the side of the cart in matching colors. A college aged kid who was more tanned than a person should be was pushing it towards us. “Go buy us two. I want to watch you walk across the beach in that bikini,” Ray said.
I hopped up, brushing sand from my bottom. Ray let out a low whistle as I did. I looked over my shoulder, blowing him a kiss. Sashaying my way across the sand, I tried to give him a little show, moving my hips slowly, side to side. When I got to the cart, I ordered two bright red cherry ices. The same color as the skirt in my dream—and the color my daddy had promised to turn my cheating ass. I gulped, thanking the man for the ices and made my way back through the sand to Ray.
Sitting beside Ray, I handed one of the ices to him. Reaching into the cooler, he pulled out two airplane sized bottles of chilled, Grey Goose Vodka. He twisted off a cap from the little bottle, pouring the ice-cold vodka over my treat. Then he did the same to his. Lifting his cup up, he tapped the rim of mine. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” I said. I took a scoop, the freezing sweet delicious concoction melting on my tongue. “Why haven’t we done this before? It’s delicious!”
Ray shrugged. “We always had the kids with us on the beach. I’m having a great time, but I miss them.”
“Me too,” I said taking another bite.
“Think they are having fun?” Ray asked.
“I know they are. Mama sent ten pictures just this morning and they are all smiles,” I said. Mama had done an excellent job of including us parents in the Disney adventure. Wes had bought her a brand-new iPhone before the trip. Mama had set up a group thread with all our numbers on it and sent us daily updates and photos.
“I’m glad they are having a good time. It’s nice, though, isn’t it?” Ray asked absently, watching the ocean and eating his ice.
“What?” I asked.
“Being together. Without the kids. For enough time to really relax and enjoy one another.” He looked at me with a wink. “And enjoy watching you in that suit instead of watching you lifeguarding three kids in a one piece.”
“It is, nice. I miss the kids too, but I really needed this break. I don’t think I realized how much that last school year took out of me. I may have overcommitted,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Doesn’t matter now,” Ray said with a smile. “All that matters is the sun and the waves.”
We watched the ocean, eating our ices.
“I don’t even remember what to do at the beach to be honest,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
“I mean it’s been so long since I’ve been at a beach without kids—probably since spring break in high school. Then I was just getting drunk and picking up guys.” Ray gave me a change the subject look that made me laugh—he hated talking about my wild days. “On our family vacations, usually I’m chasing down people to reapply their sunscreen, or building sand castles, or having a panic attack trying to lifeguard while they swim. I mean—what do people do on the beach before they have kids?”
Ray put his cup down. “Want me to show you?”
I eyed him nervously. Luckily, I had set my cup down too, because in one wicked motion that man had me up off the sand and flung over his shoulder, jogging us straight towards the water. “Ray! Put me down!” I screamed, beating his back with my fists.
He ran into the surf, the water splashing up onto us. He flipped me down off his shoulder, placing me in the water. My feet hit the sandy bottom, the waves crashing at my knees. He gave me a devilish grin. “Let me tell you what adults do at the beach. They drink fancy drinks. And lay out. And… go swimming—without having a heart attack. That’s what people do at the beach without kids.”
I laughed as he grabbed my hand, leading me deeper into the ocean. The water was chilly as it hit my waist. The big crest of a wave formed before us and holding hands we jumped high, up, up, up with the wave. Muscle memory returned, and the next wave was too big to jump. Putting my hands together and stretching my arms out, I dove straight through the wave. The water rushed against my body as I sailed through the ocean. Emerging from the water I brushed my wet hair back away from my face. I had forgotten how much fun swimming could be.
Ray and I rode waves, dove through waves, jumped waves. We swam as far as we could against the tide, fighting the water with every stroke of our arms. When our legs ached, and our arms felt like jelly, we tumbled back to the shore, laughing as we went. A couple walked by us, the woman smiled and said, “Honeymooners?”
Ray nodded. “Yes, we sure are. And I think I’d like to kiss my bride.” Then he grabbed me around my waist and kissed me like he had when we were pronounced man and wife on the makeshift altar in the barn on the ranch.
Later in the room, our bodies lax, our naked glowing skin found one another. Melting as his mouth explored mine, my mind went to my daddy spanking my panty covered bottom. With Ray’s massive chest hovered over me, his cock sliding in and out of my clenching pussy, I couldn’t get the dream out of my mind. I came with a shudder, harboring my little secret. I would never tell Ray about that dream.
It would remain my secret, guilty pleasure.
Chapter 3
Carrie
I was changing out of my bathing suit, thinking about my age play conversation with Jessica. What did I want? I knew I wasn’t really into sparkles and unicorns—though—I did have a hot-pink unicorn make-up bag. And I wore my hair in braids. And I loved frilly little skirts. And white panties. Or yellow cotton briefs with little pink flowers on them.
When I was a teacher, my pencil sharpener was a pink cat that was winking and licking its lips. All my office supplies were pink, or sparkly, or covered in pink sparkles. I preferred plain food to fancy, ‘grown-up’ food. I hated scary movies. I never wanted to drive—I always loved Wes to drive me around. And anytime he took me in to town to run errands, I made him buy
me a strawberry milkshake.
I was nosy, loud, and mischievous. I loved to pull pranks, be spanked, and curl up in my husband’s lap.
And I absolutely adored when Wes called me, little girl.
And I loved calling him Daddy.
I still remember the first time he spanked me, instinctively knowing I craved the type of special care he could give me.
Did I want more? I couldn’t decide. I pulled on a pair of denim cut offs. I chose a white tank top—hoping it would show off my new tan. I was so lost in thought, I jumped when I heard a voice behind me.
“Don’t you look sexy.” Wes stood in the doorway, one arm leaning on the doorframe, his eyes on my chest.
“Oh my, you startled me,” I giggled.
“I saw you jump about a foot in the air. What was on your mind that had you so lost?” he asked, walking towards me.
“Erm…” I felt my cheeks burn as I pulled on my strappy gold sandals. They would have looked perfect with the gold bikini. Boo to Jessica for thinking I couldn’t pull off a Carrie Fisher. “I was just thinking,” I answered.
Reaching me, he placed his hands on my shoulders. “I could tell.” I stopped what I was doing, my eyes closing and my head lolling back as he kissed a line down my bare shoulder. He murmured, “I like this tan. And no burns?”
“Nope.” I breathed as his fingertips trailed over my stomach. “Jessica and I covered one another with sunscreen.”
“Good girls. Let me get a closer look at this.” His hands went to the hem of my tank top, pulling it up and over my head.
I stood before him in my white bra and cutoffs. Pretty cute look for me if I do say so myself. His eyes went to my torso.
His fingertips trailed over my belly, making me shiver with delight. “Carrie, why is your tummy so tan? Weren’t you wearing a tankini like I told you?”
“Yes, but I pulled it up so I could get some sun on my stomach and back. I’ve made it very clear—I’m not going home without a tan.”
Shivers ran through me as his fingertip traced the cup of my bra, my nipples peaking beneath the fabric. He murmured, “Naughty girl. Daddy didn’t give you permission to show your tummy.” Butterflies took flight in my stomach, my toes curling in my stomach, my pussy clenching.
Beach Daddies: A Sweet and Dirty Texas Love Novella Page 5
