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Book 1 of The Hotwife Dare Bucket Challenge
By Thomas Roberts
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright Thomas Roberts 2017
This book is intented for ADULTS ONLY and all characters at over 18 years of age.
This is an erotic work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is accidental and damned amazing.
There is sex, lots of it. There is wife cheating and all kinds of goings-on. If that offends you, please don’t read this book. But if you’re looking for a fun, dirty read, this is it.
We invented “The Dare Bucket” because our lives had become stale. I had no idea it would turn into the Hotwife Dare Bucket.
There was just no other way to describe the rut we’d fallen into over the last few years. When we were first married we’d tried to have children, and after seeing multiple doctors and spending a lot of money, we were told that Lexi couldn’t become pregnant.
My wife fell into a deep depression after we were given the news. I’d often find her crying as she struggled to accept the fact that her lifelong dream of being a mother was over.
We’d gone through all the options and finally decided that we’d just be that couple who didn’t have kids. We didn’t realize the impact that would have on our lives. All our friends were wrapped up in the lives of their children and we found that we just no longer belonged. We probably could have rebuilt our social lives, but we just didn’t seem to have the energy anymore. As a result, we’d simply run out of new things to do. Each day we dragged ourselves out of bed, got dressed, went to our jobs, returned home, watched television and fell into bed.
On Sunday we’d make love. We were usually good for about 30 minutes, doing the same things we’d done the previous Sunday–some oral sex followed by the missionary position. I’m not sure if Lexi even reached orgasm, it seemed like she had but I never knew for sure.
In other words, we were showing all the signs of a couple married for years; a mildly depressed couple who had become so used to each other that their lives had fallen into a familiar, comfortable routine. Now we’d reached the dreaded seventh year when the ‘itch’ was rumored to begin; it was possible that one of us would fall into an affair just for the excitement of it, for the opportunity to feel something, and that would be ‘it’ for our marriage.
We had once had something special and I didn’t want it to become a childless ‘starter marriage.’ I meant it when I vowed to take Lexi as my wife until the day I died, but I feared if we didn’t do something soon to liven up our lives we might run out of time.
Lexi didn’t seem as concerned as I was, but I probably didn’t seem concerned to her either. We were just drifting, and like a boat we’d probably continue drifting until we ran into something. I was afraid that Lexi would run into someone else.
Just the thought of Lexi in bed with another man scared the crap out of me. This mental image would cause my skin to get hot and my stomach to feel slightly sick. It also would cause my cock to thicken, which confused me. What if I lost her? Yes, but what if I didn’t, what if I got to watch?
Oh God, I was a sick, sick man. I was married to the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, and I was turned on by the thought of watching her in bed with someone else. But then, I’d never actually seen Lexi make love with anyone. She’d always been with me. It would be like watching a live sex show starring the most gorgeous woman in the world–my wife. This is the point where I admit that this strange, sick fascination influenced the Dare Bucket.
I read articles and searched the internet for ideas of things we could do to relight the spark. Lexi was open to almost anything when it came to sex, as was I, we just didn’t have ideas except getting my wife in bed with another man while I watched. When we did think of an idea it was easy to put it off until a different time, a time when we weren’t so busy or tired. It was almost by accident that I stumbled onto a plan that might work.
“I have an idea,” I told Lexi.
“An idea for what?”
“To put more fun in our lives,” I answered.
Lexi just looked at me. She was wearing sloppy old sweatpants and a sweatshirt several sizes too large for her. Despite her lack of makeup and her questionable choice in clothing, Lexi was strikingly beautiful. With long shiny dark hair and an olive complexion, she looked like Emily whats-her-name. Her body and face even resembled the semi-famous model, except her breasts seemed slightly larger. That body was currently completely hidden inside sloppy sweat clothing, yet she was still striking.
Lexi had the type of breasts pornographers lust after, like the model’s, full, with just enough sage to testify to their size and weight. Her areolas were the same color as her lips, a dark vermilion. Both her breasts and her lips looked too large for her petite body. How had this spectacular woman fallen for me? More importantly, how had we managed to grow bored together?
“I have a question first,” she said.
“What was your mother thinking when she named you?” Lexi had asked me this question before. “Robin Banks? No wonder you go by your middle name, you’d never be able to cash a check,” she laughed. My wife always found this hilarious.
“That’s why I go by my middle name: Hunter. Are you ready for my idea?”
“Yep, give it to me Mr. R. H. Banks,” her sense of humor was still intact.
I let her settle down for a minute, “Here’s my idea, but you have to promise you won’t laugh,” I said.
Lexi was already laughing, “Robin Banks!”
“So much for that. Okay, it’s simple really, we have to do something to liven up our lives. We’re in a rut, we’re boring,” I said.
“I’m not boring,” Lexi stated with some emphasis, but even then, her heart wasn’t in it. “Oh crap, I am boring. I even sound bored when I say I’m not boring. Let’s just watch TV; we can talk about your idea this weekend.”
I switched off the television, a potentially dangerous move on my part, but I immediately had her attention. “What the fuck, Hunter?” she said.
“We listen to my idea first then we watch, deal?”
“I’m going to pee.”
“But … deal?” I shouted after her.
I had already collected everything we’d need, including a one-page explanation of the idea. When Lexi came back I handed her a copy and said, “This isn’t necessarily final, but I think it’s a good start.”
Lexi looked at the paper, absentmindedly scratching her left breast as I began explaining my idea. It was hard to concentrate as I tore my eyes away from her hand.
“I call it the ‘Dare Bucket,’ each of us puts an idea of a thing we can do together on these index cards. One idea per card,” I began. “The cards are folded twice, stapled, and put into this bucket,” I said holding up our ice bucket.
“Each week we pull one card at random on Friday, and we do whatever it says before Monday. We fill out twelve cards each, but here’s the catch, six of the cards must involve sex. They can’t all be ‘go antiquing,’” I said.
“Oh, ‘go antiquing’” Lexi said as she wrote on an index card, folded it twice, stapling it and dropping it in the bucket.
She smiled at me, “Anything else they can’t all say?”
“That’s the last example,” I said. “Remember, half must be about sex.”
Lexi wasn’t done with me, “Like what, I need a little help getting the idea.”
“All we do is have sex for half an hour once a week. There has to be something you’d like to do,” I said.
“Watch TV,” Lexi wasn’t going down without a fight. I think she used the television to distract herself, like an electronic Prozac.
“Watch a dirty movie on TV?” I offered.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Lexi was busy writing on a new index card. “Can’t we do this on the computer?”
“We can, but this is more intimate. We’ll have to think about what we may like to do and handwrite it. We can’t just copy a list from the internet,” I said. “Also,” pulling Lexi’s last card out of the bucket, “Just watching a dirty movie isn’t enough, there has to be action.”
“Action? Like what?” she asked.
“We watch a dirty movie while you sit on my lap and fuck me, or we watch until I make you come. Something besides sitting around watching television,” I answered.
“Until you make me come,” Lexi was busy writing again. She grinned at me as she dropped the revised note into the bucket. “I should have made that ‘twice.’”
“How long do we have to fill out the cards?” she asked.
“We’ll pull the first one next Friday and do whatever it says on Saturday to get us started. How does that sound?” I answered. “But, please refer to the ‘rules’ section, if you want to suggest any changes, now is the time.”
Lexi was studying her sheet once again, “Once a card is picked, that exact activity must be carried out that evening or by Sunday night if it can’t be done the night the card is drawn. There can be no ‘do-overs’ or substitutions.”