Chapter 1

It was a pleasant spring Saturday morning when Chloe was watering plants in her backyard. She saw her new neighbor on her porch and waved. The pretty brunette came over. “Hi, I’m Marcy,” she announced.

Chloe introduced herself as well, “I’m Chloe. My husband and I saw the moving trucks, and we’ve been wondering about our new neighbors.” She listened as Marcy explained that she and her husband had been college sweathearts who got married after they graduated and had bought their first starter house. Other than Chloe having been married three years now to Marcy’s less than one, their situations were similar. They didn’t want to keep renting, and this neighborhood of older, starter houses seemed like a perfect way to become a homeowner. Chloe wondered if Marcy had noticed that her husband was black yet. That would have been one possible explanation for her next question.

“Can I ask you something about married life?” Marcy began. When Chloe nodded, she went on, “How often does your husband want to have sex? Mine expects it every night before bed. Is that usual?”

Chloe replied, “Hell, if Pervis and I don’t get it on three times a day, he’d think I’d cut him off.”

“Three times a day!?” Marcy exclaimed in disbelief.

“That’s a bare minimum,” Chloe replied. “I’d say we average at least five. It’s sometimes only four during the week, but we catch up on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Five times a day? How can you stand it?” Marcy wondered.

Chloe guessed her new neighbor hadn’t caught sight of her husband yet, so she decided to start dropping some rather obvious clues, “Well, it’s easy when you marry a guy packing a BBC.”

“Like those weird sitcoms from England?” Marcy wondered.

“No, silly, a big black cock!”

Marcy gasped, “You married a black man?”

“Yep, the best decision of my life,” Chloe said proudly. “I take it your husband is white like you. You should be glad he wants to have sex with you once a day; he might not suffer from WWMD.”

“Weapons of mass destruction?”

Chloe was starting to wonder about her new neighbor. She didn’t seem to be very smart. She tried not to make her answer too snarky, “No, that doesn’t even have the right number of letters in it. Whimpy white man disorder. Most women I know who married a white man tell me they’re lucky if they get it three or four times a week. I’m telling you, you’re lucky if a white man can have sex once a day. Now a black man, they have nearly limitless sexual stamina. On our honeymoon, my Pervis could barely take his cock out of my kitty. I swear, I’m not exaggerating; I bet we had sex twenty-five times in ten hours. Then we woke up and had sex half a dozen more times before we decided we were hungry enough for breakfast. And oh man, if we want to get any sightseeing done on vacation, we have to book a stay at least two, and probably three to be safe, times longer than the guide books recommend.” Marcy was listening to Chloe slackjawed. Chloe decided her new neighbor’s pretty face would look even better with Pervis’ nearly foot-long cock inside it. She felt her own pussy lube up at the prospect of corrupting this naive, probably not too smart, young housewife.

“What’s your husband doing today?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, he’s off golfing. He’ll probably want to have sex when he gets back home and be a little bit tipsy. Does Pervis play golf?”