9 - Housing Swap
MFM / Hotwife / Voyeurism / Cuckold Cleanup
“Don’t hold your breath, honey.” I watched my wife fervently staring at the television, waiting for the hosts on her new favorite show to fork over the news. “If you don’t win, it’s not the end of the world.”
“Don’t curse me,” she said, her brown eyes wide and unblinking. “We’ll win if you don’t rub off all your bad luck onto me.”
My bad luck?” I asked incredulously. “I think you have the wrong person. You better start looking in a mirror!”
Hannah rolled her eyes but didn’t look away from the TV.
The two show hosts were talking in front of someone’s double-wide trailer.
Soon, I knew that thing was going to get yanked out of there and replaced with some new and expensive model home, something that looked like it should never be touched, let alone lived in.
It was Hannah’s newest obsession, and she was convinced that we were going to be Swap that House’snext subjects.
But there was no way that was going to happen.
Hannah had to be the most optimistic woman on Earth, if not the most unlucky.
She was the type of person who would break her ankle on her way to cash in a lottery ticket that had won her a hundred bucks.
Luck had never been on her side, but that didn’t stop her from trying to win the universe, anyway.
I couldn’t say that I blamed her; we’d watched a few of our friends and neighbors strike it rich quick with lotto tickets and win vacations online, but it never seemed to happen to us.
I figured it just wasn’t in the cards for us.
Hannah, though, never gave up.
She ran a brush through her jet-black hair, untangling each knot she found.
She still didn’t turn toward me, but I didn’t expect her to, not when the two hottest men on television were speaking.
Even I had to admit that they were gorgeous, as far as men go.
I wouldn’t classify myself as anything other than straight, but something about those two made me feel a sort of twinge inside my chest that I didn’t want to look too closely at.
Whatever homoerotic thoughts sprung to my mind weren’t my fault; those guys were made up to look sexier than the average human.
The strangely familiar sensation between my legs had nothing to do with their chiseled jaws, broad shoulders, and addicting smiles.
Still, I looked away from the screen all the same. There was no sense dwelling on it.
Even so, I couldn’t help but listen whenever they spoke.
I perked up at the sound of the theme song playing cheerfully through the speakers. They were just about to announce the next winner.
“This is it,” Hannah said. “We’re really going to win it this time!” She sounded both strained and earnest. I knew without having to look that she was wearing that same hopeful expression that she always does right before she gets shot out of the sky.
I sighed. I couldn’t care less about not winning, but Hannah couldn’t stand it.
I told her over and over again that this was just the way of things for the average person.
This was just how things would always be.
We might get lucky every now and again, but there was no way we were the kinds of people who did things like win an episode on a reality TV show.
“All right, Tom,” the blond show host crooned, “you ready to announce Swap that House’s next lucky winner?”
“As ever, Brandon.” The darker-skinned man, Tom, grinned at the camera with a flash of straight, white teeth. “Let’s see who we have on the roster, shall we?”
Brandon reached out to take an index card handed to him from somewhere off camera, his blue eyes scanning whatever was written there. He glanced back up and smiled winningly.
“Let’s see what we have here,” he said. “Looks like our winners next week are Hannah and Jonathan Davidson! Congratulations, you two, wherever you may be.”
I froze. Did they just say our names?
“That’s us!” Hannah shrieked, tossing the brush aside. “That’s us, that’s us! Oh my God, Jonathan! We’re gonna win a new house!”
“D-do we even need a new house?” I asked, my voice as tiny as a mouse’s. “I-I mean …”
“We do now!” she cried. “Look at our kitchen. Linoleum, Jonathan! We’re going to get tile! And this carpet … Oh my gosh, I won’t ever have to worry about that stain again! This is the best thing we could have possibly won!”
I had to admit that the idea was a little exciting.
The houses at the end of these episodes were stunning, jaw-dropping even.
And we were about to get it all for free.
Some of the end results were so futuristic that they looked like they could have come straight out of a time machine, and some were so fancy that I could imagine them as the Queen of England’s summer home.
Whatever we got would be a reflection of us as a couple, I supposed, but I couldn’t for the life of me, fathom what it might look like.
Hannah’s imagination was going off the rails, though. While she bounced around the house from room to room, I turned back toward the television, turning up the volume.
“Hannah and Jonathan Davidson, wherever you are, we’ll be seeing you soon,” Brandon said. “Congratulations and good luck to our next contestants.”
A laundry detergent commercial replaced the two good-looking men. I blinked, still unable to believe what had just happened.
“This is incredible,” Hannah said. She already had her phone in her hands, undoubtedly calling her mother. “The best thing that’s ever happened to us. Can you imagine how much money we’ll save on utilities now?”
In my opinion, Hannah was much more excited about finally winning something than she was over the house, but that didn’t matter to me.
This probably would be good for us. And she was right; an upgrade on our home wouldn’t hurt.
There were many things that I’d complained about in regards to our house over the years.
The walls still needed painting. Our fridge buzzed loudly in the night.
Maybe this was just what we needed. Maybe the universe had just been waiting to gift us with this all along.
“We won, Mom!” Hannah screamed into the phone. “They picked Jon and me! And I … Oh, wait, what’s this? They just emailed me, too! Oh my God, this is really, really real!”
And so it went all night. I couldn’t help but feel a rushing exhilaration the more I listened to Hannah gush about the house.
Even so, my thoughts still settled on the show’s two male hosts.
I couldn’t get them out of my mind. I went to bed that night, happy but confused, and told myself that I would feel better when I woke up the following day.
***
It turned out that I didn’t feel better at all.
My eyes opened to the sound of our bedroom television flickering to life. The first thing I heard was the sound of two male voices slinking through my brain. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and yawned heavily.
“The channel is already playing a rerun,” Hannah said at my side.
She had the covers pulled all the way up to her chest, but her ample breasts spilled over the blanket’s fraying hem, anyway.
“I just had to see it again. I responded to the email, and the next one they sent back said that Tom and Brandon should be calling sometime today! They’re apparently only a few states away. ”
“You’re not gonna go track them down, are you?” I was only halfway joking.
She slapped my arm playfully. “Of course not. I have to wait on that phone call, don’t I?”
“I guess so.”
When the episode got to the part where our names were announced, I felt Hannah tense up beside me. She gripped my leg hard, her nails sinking in through the blanket.
“Hannah and Jonathan Davidson,” Brandon said in his smooth, low tone.
Something awoken inside of me, a sensation that was usually only reserved for my wife, but somehow more primal. I couldn’t place why, but both Tom and Brandon made my cock swell with desire, twitching beneath the heavy blanket and my pajamas.
I stared at their bright smiles and sly, grinning eyes. They were both so different in physicality. Tom was pale, blond-haired and blue-eyed, while Brandon had sandy skin, curly, cropped black hair, and dark brown eyes.
I saw their faces when I closed my eyes, still grinning away. My ravenous member roared for attention, but I ignored it, keeping my face totally neutral. There was no way I would ever tell Hannah about this, not when she was so clearly enamored with the show hosts herself.
I could tell by the way she looked at them, and the way she held her phone in a tight death grip, waiting on their call. I wondered if it would be the hosts themselves on the phone or some bored representative.
A frown twisted my lips. Probably the latter. There was no way that these big name actor types got paid enough to give us a call on the phone, even if they were the faces of the show. They probably wouldn’t even be there for much of the new construction, anyway. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
Why did I have my hopes up, anyway?
I couldn’t put my finger on the answer, though I had a strange, sneaking suspicion that there were untapped desires inside of me, a Pandora’s box of lustful bliss that I’d never had the opportunity to experience. My mouth watered at the thought of seeing those two men in my and my wife’s own home.
In our own bedroom.
Hannah bolted out of bed when her cell phone began to buzz on the charger. In a flurry of pajamas and bed hair, she was off in a flash. In her eagerness, she didn’t even realize that she’d yanked the cord from the wall.
“Hello?” I heard her say from the hallway. “Yes, yes, this is Hannah Davidson. Oh my God, I know! I can barely believe it still. Yes, we’re both so excited!”
I cringed at her words. She couldn’t know how excited I actually was. Between my legs, my pulse thrummed and rushed.
“Thank you, thank you. Yes. Oh my God! Today? Are you serious? No! Oh no, that’s not a problem at all! I’m just so excited!”