Chapter 9

On weekends I like to sleep in because I work all week. Tracy is the work hard/play hard type and I used to be able to keep up with her energy but lately I take things at my own leisurely pace. I am the breadwinner after all.

I could smell bacon and eggs downstairs. I put on my robe and cinched it nice and tight. I would shave later. I wanted to get downstairs before the kids ate all the bacon.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a relative return to normality when I went into the kitchen (as normal as things CAN be with Tracy).”Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest was playing on the Alexa. That’s one of my wife’s favorite songs if the kids hadn’t started monopolizing the Alexa, then perhaps there was still hope that my two daughters hadn’t fully subsumed their mother’s parental authority.

Even when my wife does wear clothing it isn’t much, but as usual she was naked except for her high heels.

She hadn’t put on make-up, but she was still stunning like she was. I wasn’t ever shocked to see her that way in the morning. She was cooking while stopping every now and then to delight the kids by taking silly dares. Tracy performed cartwheels or doing a handstand with her legs up over her head.

I used to think that might be too much around my kids. Nudity by itself isn’t sexual, but one can hardly look at Tracy’s shapely body and not think of anything other than sex. She is almost like a living Barbie Doll!

When Tracy stands on her head, she spreads her leg wide in the shape of a V and you can see everything – spread asshole, clit, pee-hole, and deep inside her vagina. Her obscene circus tricks seemed quite tame by comparison to what happened last night.

I had high hopes that we were past what had happened now. It was possibly everyone had forgotten the tense night last night. It seemed more likely one of the kids had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and gotten angry at their sibling over some trivial matter and begun arguing. If the dare was over and Tracy’s grand experiment in engineering domestic tranquility was over then there would be no point in mentioning it.

She enjoyed spoiling the kids, and just doing what they dared her wasn’t the extent of it. There was no limit to her generosity when it came to gifts, clothes, and computers for the kids. I had to have fiber optic cable installed just to keep up with the bandwidth needed for all of my children’s electronic devices! They had tablets, phones, computers, consoles, and of course we had Alexa in every room.

The kids seemed to be pleasantly amused and talking amongst themselves. I kissed my wife on the cheek. “Hello darling,” I said.

“Good morning, David!” my wife turned her head at the last moment so that our lips touched when I moved to kiss her cheek. She enjoyed surprising me like that. I didn’t mind it. She did that once a few years ago, and her lover had recently left. I tasted his semen still wet on Tracy’s lips. Ever since then, I’ve been a little reluctant to kiss her on the lips when I first see her in the morning.

“The kids and I were wondering if you were interested in the family dare, we told you about last night. We’ve all agreed that you would agree to the same dare that everyone has. You don’t call me Mom anyway, but you can talk to me like the kids do.” She wrapped her loving arms around and fell forward towards me. Tracy pressed her boobs against my chest and kissed me passionately – forcing her tongue into my mouth. “I won’t argue, be defensive, talk-back and you can shush me. I am still your wife and I have an equal say in the marriage. You can talk down to me, call me any name, and generally openly ridicule me. I think you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I thought you were done with that when I didn’t see the kids placing you in a pillory in the public square and pelting you with tomatoes this morning,” I pulled away from my wife.

“You can’t start talking down to me until you agree to the dare,’ my wife smiled sweetly with a twinkle in her eye. She assumed I had already begun whatever naughty game she was playing.

“I wasn’t talking down to you,” I said. I changed the song on the Alexa to news. I was tired of listening to Dancing in the Moonlight.

“I told you he wasn’t going to go for it, your dumb twat,” Lilith smiled. Megan giggled along with her. It was as if they were intentionally acting like suddenly the were in total solidarity just to add insult to injury. I knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them said something the other didn’t like and then Tracy would have to forfeit her dare.

“Thank you for correcting me, Lilith, you were right, and I was wrong, but that’s your father’s choice. I hope you will consider giving him a second chance tonight when we talk about the dare...” my wife was drowned out by the sound of her kids squawking like birds to shut her up.

“She smiled. I know, I am sorry! I prattle on and on! Thank you!” my wife’s face beamed with gratitude. That wasn’t unusual for Tracy, but not when the person talking to her was being THAT rude. My wife served up food to everyone at the table before making her own plate.

“I dare you to let me fart on your eggs, Tracy,” Allan said flippantly. He was not kidding at all! The only person that was shocked was me. Everyone else quietly chuckled but not Tracy. Tracy remained passive and unflinching.

My wife passed him the plate without hesitation. Allan had farted in his mother’s face yesterday, but he kept his pants on. Today he stood up, pulled his pants down, and exposed his semi-erect penis to the rest of the family. He squatted right above the eggs, pulled his butt cheeks apart, and blasted a fart all over it. He smiled with satisfaction and handed it back to his mother.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Oh god, it smells of sulfur and death,” my wife said as she leaned over the food to take a bite. She normally stands at our table because she moves about during dinner. That was one of my dares from long ago. I didn’t want her ruining our expensive dining chairs by dripping cum and butt sweat on them. Tracy is energetic, and she’s always up doing dares or filling our drinks anyway - like a whirlwind of positive energy.

“Then why do you accept these unconscionable disgusting dares and subject the rest of us to the smell as well?” I asked. I pinched my nose. It was a futile gesture in that it didn’t do any good at preventing the smell of my son’s flatulence from reaching my olfactory nerves, but it did illustrate my point.

“It’s funny and it amuses Allan. Does it really bother you that much, David?” My wife asked as she dug into the eggs and chewed. She seemed slightly annoyed with my general lack of desire to encourage the kids in whatever new dare game they were playing.

I didn’t dignify her question with a response. Obviously, it bothered me, but she was going to do it anyway.

“Tell the truth, Fart-Lips! You love to eat fart-blasted eggs, because they have vitamin F, and you know what that is?” Allan asked his mother.

“Uh, Vitamin fart?” she chuckled.

“Good one,” Paul and Megan snickered at their brother’s joke. Even Lilith seemed amused. I presumed this act of sibling harmony was just a charade to dupe their mother into allowing them to get away with saying or doing whatever they liked. It was only a matter of time before she’d realize that I was right, but could I stand waiting for the kids to make it obvious enough for even a fool like Tracy to see this for what it truly was?

“Mom?” Paul asked. I wondered if there was already a chink in the solidarity in the kid’s ranks. I was hopeful that at least Paul had arrived at his senses, and he wasn’t going to continue to tease his mother.

“Yes Paul?” my wife answered as she chewed politely.

“You are a Dumb Bimbo, basically a Dimbo. You know that right?” Paul asked with a straight face dashing my hopes for a quick resolution to whatever dynamic was changing in the house.

“I know, Paul, thank you,” she continued chewing as if that had not been inappropriate.

“You know what else?” Paul seemed intent on repeating another insult.

“What, Paul?” my wife patiently asked.

“I love you!” Paul beamed pridefully. Oh great, their new gas lighting tactic was to insult my wife and then butter her up. What could they possibly gain from sending such a mixed message? You don’t tease someone if you love them!

There was a friendly and warm round of “I Love You” said around the table. I said mine as well. I didn’t want anyone to think that I didn’t love them. I didn’t love what was happening though.

“Dimbo, I like it,” Lilith agreed. “Sort of like Dumbo, except instead of an elephant with big ears, you are a cow with big tits and a huge ass!” everyone including my wife laughed.

“Hey Dimbo,” Paul seemed intent in continuing to use the cruel nickname he came up with for his mother. “I dare you to bend over the table right in front of me, pull your ass cheeks apart, and wink your butt hole and your cunt hole while you eat,” he said.

Usually, when my son asked his mother to “wink her butthole and pussy” he meant that my wife should flex the muscles in her anus and vaginal wall to cause them to spasm.

Years ago, she was performing a dare for him, and she winked her pussy once to indicate she completed whatever simple dare it was she was doing at the time. It was basically a Kegel exercise, and that impressed and shocked Paul. He immediately asked if she could do it with her butt hole. Ordinarily, it would not be a surprise that he dared her to do that at all.

Dares and language had managed to progress and evolve in the last two years faster than they had in the past two years. He had never called my wife’s pussy a “cunt hole” before. He had only ever dared her to do it three times in a row (each hole). He had also never dared her to bend over in FRONT of him at the table. She usually bent over at his side and leaned on the corner of the table so that he could eat his food.

“How will I eat if I am holding my ass cheeks?” she giggled.

“Face munch, obviously,” Paul said. Face munch is the term my family came up for my wife pushing her head down in her food and taking a big bite. It’s usually a one-time thing in her mashed potatoes and then she’ll continue to eat the rest of her meal with silverware while salted mashed potatoes drip down off her pretty face and onto her tits. It’s quite messy and thankfully not something the kids ask for at every meal.

“How do you want me then?” my wife pushed her food dish over to just in front of Paul’s plate. Then he guided her to straddle him across the chair, lifted her body up, so that she was presenting her ass in his face. Her tummy was covering his food but not touching it.

“Are you going to be able to eat with me like this?” My wife’s only concern was whether or not Paul could eat. It wasn’t that her exposed pussy and asshole was spread only a few inches from his chest. She had to rest so that her tits were flat on the table as supports. She wrapped her heels in the wooden frame of the chair to give her some support. Then she began winking her sphincter and vaginal muscles with just the power of her own internal muscles.

The kids gathered around Paul to watch the spectacle of his mother’s humiliation and laughed at her. That wasn’t unusual. “Good job, Dimbo! You are really popping that pussy!” Megan snickered.

“Thank you, Megan! I am trying! It’s hard to do constantly!” my wife was puckering and unpuckering.

“I like that; I was going to say it looks like you are blowing me a kiss with your fudge factory! I have another dare for you, Dimbo!”

“Can I complete this one first, Paul?”

“You can listen and decide, Cuntling!” Paul reminded her that she could always say no in a sarcastic mocking voice that suggested he was imitating her catchphrase.

“Thank you!” my wife was enthusiastic. She was trying to face munch (more like face plant) by leaning forward and gobbling up a bit of egg, or bacon, but it proved to be incredibly difficult to concentrate on eating in that awkwardly vulnerable position and try to coordinate alternating between quivering her pussy, and then pushing her asshole open like a fish expelling an air bubble underwater.

“I dare you whenever I say Pop Your Pussy, no back talk, no lectures, stop what you are doing, shut up, and get in this position. If you have food bring it and eat it just like that. You don’t even have to say you accept the dare.”

“Do I get to ask how long you want me to do this for, Paul?” My son Allan had created another dare called “Pull your Booby” that required his mom to shut up and only ask one question, which was how long she had to do it for.

“No, simpleton! You do it until you clean your plate, and I finish mine! It’s for the duration of the meal. Don’t worry, I won’t monopolize you and do a repeat dare. Anyone else is free to dare you the same way too.”