Brian Levine no longer considered himself to be an average American husband. Sure, he had the prerequisite wife, good job, home in the suburbs, two cars and a television for every room. But how many husbands let their wives meet with a black man to fuck every two weeks? Despite what the slutwife porn sites would have you believe, Brian guessed that the figure was incredibly low.

Just three months ago he'd returned home early one day to find his wife Debbi spreading her legs for a huge black man. She admitted later that she had always loved long, thick cocks, and that Brian's just didn't hold the same appeal. She'd selected a black man simply to add an exotic element to her adventure. Rather than have a conniption fit, or destroy their marriage, Brian had devised a very unusual deal. She could feed her addiction twice a month. In exchange, Brian could enjoy any sexual proclivity he wanted, with her or without her. So far, he'd stayed true to her, including her in his experiments with bondage, domination, exhibitionism and more. Debbi had been an apt and enthusiastic student, and their sex life had greatly improved. It had all seemed like a good idea at the time. But now Brian was having his doubts. Because it looked like Debbi was cheating on the deal.

At the center of his suspicions stood the flyer guys. While crafting their deal, Brian had wondered how such a raw, ferocious-looking black man could walk into his lily-white neighborhood, and then his home, without drawing the neighbor's interest. According to Debbi's explanation, he posed as a flyer guy, one of the down-and-out men who delivered advertising flyers throughout the subdivision. He'd deliver his route, slip inside the unlocked front door, give Debbi what she wanted, and then finish his route. Sometimes she'd tip him, but never pay him outright. Her body was his reward.

It sounded plausible enough. Then one day Brian had returned from work early to find that several flyer guys were working the neighborhood. And by following each trail of flyers to the end, he noticed many stopped in the middle of the block. Obviously there were other wives receiving flyer guy service! A knot growing in his stomach, he'd slowly wheeled into his driveway, knowing that Debbi had gotten "serviced" the week before. It was too early for the next visit! Fortunately, he saw flyers on both neighbors' porches. But did that mean the flyer guy had already been there and gone? He'd stomped inside, prepared to make a scene, only to discover that Debbi wasn't even home. Though she'd dodged a bullet on that one, his suspicions remained.

Which explained why Brian now sat slouched in his car, surreptitiously watching the sub's only entrance for the arrival of the flyer guys. His instincts had sounded a warning that morning. Debbi had rushed him out of the house faster than usual. She'd laid out a much sexier outfit than usual. And her explanation that she'd be attending a card party at the Winslow's that day rang a little hollow. Who would go to a card party dressed like that? She'd be a laughingstock. So he'd called in sick, taken up a post at the sub entrance, and hunkered down for a long stakeout.

The flyer guy vans were easy to spot: blue, battered and barely running. It made sense. Two nice vehicles filled with tough-looking black guys would draw more attention in his neighborhood than these vans would. It was what you would expect to see. Given the athletic build of the man he'd caught Debbi with, Brian had wondered if the man was a professional male prostitute. But prostitutes fucked for money. So he guessed that they were all just a bunch of black guys who liked putting it to white women.

He followed the vans into the sub at a discreet distance. But to his surprise, they didn't stop at any of the usual corners. Instead, they continued straight to the back of the sub, pulling into the driveway of a home he knew fairly well. It belonged to Kate and Paul Winslow, two of the first residents in the sub. Actually, Paul was one of the first residents. Kate was his new trophy wife, a raven-haired beauty with big breasts and the kind of eyes that could eat you alive. They owned the biggest home in the sub, a long Colonial set far back from the street and surrounded by woods on three sides. Even the front had a full complement of trees, revealing just enough of the house to set off the jealousy meters in the neighbors.

Brian silently counted as the men, laughing and smiling, left the vans and trooped into the house. Eight blacks and three whites. Eleven in all. Brian doubted that Kate could handle all eleven by herself, even given her youth and rumored sexual stamina. That left a couple of obvious, but bizarre, conclusions. But he didn't want to follow that train of thought just yet.