I should have seen it coming. I knew Nancy's bipolar sexual obsessions were getting out of hand. Still, I rationalized that eventually she'd stop. Or at least slow down. That maybe she'd begin to see the craziness of her sexual appetite. Become normal, like most of my friends' wives. But no. The truth is, I don't know if the beautiful Nancy ever met a man she wouldn't fuck.

I was a fool, of course. Allowing and sometimes even encouraging her outrageous sexual merry-go-round... lining up cocks for her to fuck in that sweet pussy of hers. I should have seen that it would end up destroying not just her, but me as well. The truth was, I loved her. So much that I not only allowed her to fuck other men, but ended up helping her. Not realizing that her whoredom wasn't just a one-off fling, but a kind of permanent gratification.

It took something major to convince me Nancy had gone too far off the deep end. And that something turned out to be Darius Jenkins... possibly the most outrageous pimp between Chicago and LA.

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But let me go back to the beginning. Nancy and I got married four years ago. A big wedding with all the trimmings. In a church with over 300 guests. We'd been dating for only three months when I asked her to marry me. She said, "Yes," and that was that. We'd been fucking since our first date, and Nancy was by far the hottest lay I'd ever had. Man, could she fuck. Couldn't get enough of my cock. Fucked like a rabbit... no, like a den of rabbits. Hot beyond hot.

Her cheating in our marriage started immediately. I had a choice: I could drop her like a dirty hanky, or simply support her. But I loved her too much to drop her. I mean, I was way over my head. We were both lawyers at competing firms in town. Before I even had time to figure it out, Nancy was fucking a partner at my firm, whom she first met at our wedding. She at least didn't try to hide it. She called it "sport fucking" and didn't hesitate to tell me about it once I became suspicious.

"He's just some guy, Bob, not like you. Not competition. You're the best. He means nothing to me," she said, kissing my cheek on our drive home one afternoon. "Ok, so I like to fuck . But I'm smart enough to know what's important, and you're the most important thing in my life. Now let's get home so I can put that cock of yours where it belongs." She took my hand, put it under her skirt, and squeezed it between her legs.

"But, Nancy," I objected half-heartedly, "word might get around. And why am I not enough for you? I thought we were really compatible sexually. We certainly fuck all the time."

"We are, Bob," she laughed. "I just have this thing about guys. Intercourse is like a handshake. Just a social courtesy. And besides, I just enjoy fucking. Maybe it would help if you watched me getting fucked... remove any mystery. Think about it. Maybe if you see that it's just a physical thing, you won't worry."

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So I had to make a decision, and it was an easy one. I loved her. I was mesmerized by her sexuality. Little by little I grew into the role of a full-time cuckold. Pretty soon I was watching her fuck. Watching as she sucked big cocks and small, and let them cum in her mouth and pussy with thick white geysers--rope after rope of hot, sticky cum. It didn't take long before it went from her fucking one man to several men. How did I let it go that far? You ask. Well, it happened so fast. One week she was fucking a partner at my firm; the next week it was four guys we met at dinner in a downtown high-end restaurant. Her sexuality had a life of its own. Anywhere, anytime, anyone.

For example, we were out at dinner one night when she asked the waiter for extra napkins to soak up the cum draining from her bare pussy onto the chair. Another time, I was performing cunnilingus on her and discovered her cunt was filled with god knows whose cum? How much had I swallowed of other men's sperm? And, finally, one Sunday afternoon I found a pair of her freshly cum-soaked panties on the passenger seat of our Mercedes, then another pair on the floor as I drove into the garage.

And there were other signs. She started shaving her pussy after we'd been married just a few weeks. Stopped wearing panties after a couple of months because they got in the way and I kept finding them. And while she did have 34AB tits, she threw out all of her bras one morning, arguing that they really weren't necessary for her small tits. Her skirts got shorter, her tops skimpier. She bought garter belts and began wearing thigh-high stockings whenever we went out; then started wearing them to work. Many nights, I could tell by the condition of her stockings that she'd been fucked during the day. And the thing is, she never even denied it. Describing the different cocks she was fucking as if they each had a life of their own.

We'd be at home relaxing in front of the TV, for example, and she'd tell me about this lawyer whose cock was three inches, laughing at the fact that he could barely penetrate her. Then, in the next sentence, describe a nine-inch cock that had bottomed out in her cervix, making her cum a half dozen times in a raging twenty-minute fuck in which it slid from her cunt to her asshole nonstop over and over.

I thought after a while that this would be our life, she would fuck herself silly into old age, and I would simply tag along as her hapless, admiring cuckold. But that was before she met Darius.

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Darius Jenkins was the kind of black man who white men fear. A towering, muscled pimp, dark black, who wore hand-tailored suits, two-thousand dollar alligator shoes and drove a Bentley.. Eventually, much to my everlasting chagrin, I found out he had a cock the size of a normal man's forearm. He carried an ankle-holstered Beretta and a bejeweled switchblade. Rumors were that he had killed several men over the years, but had outsmarted the cops at every turn. And he had five junior "Darius-type" pimps running a stable of whores numbering over thirty--all of them white.

Darius would probably never have met Nancy except for his arrest. The big SOB found out about a John who beat one of his girls within an inch of her life. Darius, relaxing in his usual crib, got word. It happened to a girl he liked, and he flew into a rage. Next thing, the guy who turned out to be a lower court judge was found in the river, cut from stem to stern. Word on the street was that Darius did it. The cops brought him in, went after him like a pack of wild dogs, but could prove nothing, which pissed them off even more.

Long story short, Darius needed a criminal attorney. Nancy's firm got called. Two partners and Nancy showed up at the jail. One look and Darius wanted Nancy to represent him. He had an eye for talent, and in addition to being world-class beautiful, Nancy was smart as hell. She got Darius out on the street in twelve hours flat. Pissed off the cops to no end, but she did it all perfectly legally. No witnesses, no evidence, nada...Darius got released in record time as Nancy threatened the city with racial profiling and a big, fat lawsuit.

To celebrate, Darius brought the three lawyers back to his lavish crib, proceeded to drink the two senior partners senseless with a little help from heroin, and ended up alone with Nancy. Then it took about ten minutes to get Nancy in bed, where Darius pulled out his gargantuan cock and very literally fucked Nancy's brains out--fucked her like she'd never been fucked before, despite all her experience. A cock that literally swept her off her feet. Penetrated her so widely and deeply that you could hear her scream for half a mile. And right there, right then, Nancy fell for Darius head over heels. No man, she quickly decided, would ever fuck her again but the well-endowed Darius.

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It had finally happened. Nancy met a cock she couldn't resist, with a vicious, killer black man attached. She didn't waste any time telling me we were over, which she also did with half a dozen other guys around town. Within a week she had moved in with Darius. I was crushed, of course. I went from nearly becoming a partner at my firm to dropping out three weeks after she broke up with me. I moved upstate and eventually took a job as a lowly county public defender, 200 miles away from the luxury condo that I'd shared with Nancy. Traded the Mercedes for a Camry, moved into a squalid one-bedroom apartment, and wept myself to sleep at night.

I haven't been back to the city for going on three years now. But word still gets around. Nancy made partner at her firm. She and Darius moved into the top two floors of a luxury condo. So far, Darius remains free, but there are three separate task forces working full time to jail his black ass. But I wouldn't bet on it. Every night I envision Nancy with her legs spread wide, taking Darius' gigantic cock into that sweet pussy that I once supposedly owned--but never really did.