Last Sunday, you and your wife cooked steaks on the grill and invited a few of the neighborhood married couples to join you. The guests arrived and everyone was having a few cocktails as you prepared the steaks and your wife got the potato salad and baked beans ready for the table. Just as the steaks hit the grill, Jerry comes over with his fourth beer in his hands.
“Hey Mike. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure Jerry, what’s up?”
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on Samantha’s ankle. Are you guys into that … you know, her fucking black guys and stuff?”
You immediately feel dizzy. The temporary tattoo was left over from Friday night when you and your wife drove into the city and went to a local club. Your wife danced with an endless stream of black guys trying to pick her up while ignoring your existence. Finally, she introduced you to Tavon and the three of you went to a local hotel. As you sat in the car, Tavon spent three hours fucking your wife. You begged Sam to cover up the temporary tattoo or try harder to wash it off, but she told you that nobody would know what it meant and she felt slutty wearing it at the party.
Whether it was the look on your face or the delay in your response, Jerry knew the truth. “Holy shit, Samantha does fuck black guys,” he said a little too loudly.
You look around to see if anyone else heard Jerry’s spastic comment, and are relieved to see everyone still talking in small groups. “Um …look … let me explain … “
“Don’t worry Mike. Your secret is safe with me. But I was wondering if maybe Samantha could talk to Cindy. You know …tell Cindy how good it feels.”
As you realize that Jerry is asking for Sam to convince his wife to fuck black guys, you wonder if Jerry understands that Sam is likely to also tell Cindy to lock up Jerry’s pathetic little white penis in a cage. “Sure, Jerry. Keep this under wraps and I will ask Sam to talk to Cindy for you.”