She leafed through the photo album, stopping every once in a while to look up at me, and finally she put the book down and said, "I guess you are my husband."

I smiled and thought, "Yes I am Greta, much to your detriment."

Greta married me the week after I graduated from college and the honeymoon wasn't even into its third day before she started fucking around on me. She didn't know that I knew and quite frankly I didn't care that she was doing it. Her first (at least the first I knew about) had been one of the bellboys at the hotel. While we were there she also managed to get the afternoon manager and at least two of the room service waiters. I'm sure that there were more, but again I really didn't care. Greta gave me all I wanted and as long as she didn't fall for some asshole or bring me some nasty disease I was content.

In my own weird way I loved Greta, but her value to me went beyond the beautiful face, the superb body and nymphomanical nature - it was also her money. More specifically it was the money she would get when her parents died. They had something in the neighborhood of sixty-five million dollars that would go to their only child when they departed this vale of tears to go on to the great beyond. I could put up with a hell of a lot of infidelity for a share of that. The key to the treasure chest was to not know, at least so far as anyone else knew, that my bride was a round-heeled tramp. I had to be able to go to court and prove that my wife was unfaithful when the time came. If her parents lived another twenty years and everyone knew that I had known about Greta's behavior all that time it would look to the judge like I condoned it and that just would not do.

Three years into our marriage Greta's mother passed away and I was truly sorry because I had really liked the old girl and I was pretty sure that she liked me. With her gone Greta's father, who had never cared for me, started putting pressure on Greta to dump me and find some one more suitable. He even went so far as to say he was going to change his will in such a way that if she was still married to me when he died she wouldn't get anything but a small allowance until she divorced me. Greta's mother had some money of her own and she had left Greta about four million so it looked like time to cut my loses and get out with less than I had hoped for - a lot less. And then the gods smiled on me and Greta was involved in an auto accident.

I got the call as I was having lunch with a client. I excused myself and rushed to the hospital. Greta had all ready been moved from the emergency room to intensive care by the time I got there and it was two hours later before the doctor came out and told me that Greta had suffered a head injury, was stable, but there was some concern.

"She is out of immediate danger, but we won't know much more until she wakes up and we can run some tests."

I sat next to her bed for the next nine hours and held her hand (okay, okay - I wanted her money, but I was still pretty fond of her) as we waited for her to recover. It was three in the morning when I felt her fingers squeeze my hand and I looked over to see her looking at me, "Who are you?"

The doctors said she had amnesia and that they had no way of knowing whether it was temporary or permanent. After three days I took her home to begin the chore of teaching her the things that she had forgotten and re-introducing her to the people she should know. We were driving up to the house when she pointed out the car window, "Who is that?"

I looked to where she was pointing and saw that it was Amos, the old black man that took care of the lawn and flower garden. The idea hit me like a ton of bricks. Greta's father was a racist asshole and he had passed on his dislike of the 'lower orders' to Greta. She wasn't near as bad as he was, but she was still bad enough. And she didn't remember it! A plan began to form in my mind.

It took a couple of weeks to set it up and during that time I worked with Greta to help her try to regain some of the knowledge that she had lost. I wasn't trying real hard to help her get her memory back because my plan needed her not to be aware of some things from her past. Finally everything was ready and I told Greta that we were going to have a Welcome Home Greta party for her.

"Who will be there?"

"Most of your friends from the swingers club?"

"What on earth is that?"

"Don't you remember last year when you said you were tired of having sex with only me and asked me to let you see other men?"

"No, I don't remember. Is that really something that I would do?"

"Three, sometimes four nights a week. I'm hoping that seeing some of your favorites will jog your memory. If we can just get you started remembering things maybe it will all come back to you."

"I don't know dear. Won't it be awkward with me not knowing who they are?"

"Maybe at first my sweet, but once you get started it won't matter one little bit."

I had the affair catered of course. There was cake, champagne and caviar and I made sure that Greta had a few glasses of the bubbly before the guest started arriving. I dressed her in a black, mid-thigh cocktail dress, high heels and a string of pearls and she looked good enough to fuck, but that of course was the whole idea.

The guests began to arrive and Greta whispered in my ear, "I don't recognize any of them."

Not really surprising of course since she had never seen any one of them before that night. I waited for her to comment on the fact that they were all black, but she never said a word. The men had all been hired from escort agencies, given a picture of Greta and told that she was a rich weirdo that liked to play sex games. Her current game was to pretend she had amnesia and that they were all former lovers who had been invited to the party to see if they couldn't help her get her memory back. She expected them to fuck her until she either regained her memory or passed out. Each had been paid a thousand dollars and promised another five hundred as long as all of them stayed in character. In addition I had hired two UCLA film students to record the affair. Once all the players were assembled I sat back and watched the show.

It started when one man walked up to her with a glass of champagne in his hand. She was sitting in a chair looking around the room and he said, "Hi babe, Chad tells me that you probably won't remember me, but maybe something that you and I liked to do when we were together will help jog your memory."

He took out his cock, stuck it in the champagne and then offered it to her mouth. Greta looked over at me and I smiled and nodded my head yes and she turned back to the young black, leaned forward and took him in her mouth. Within ten minutes the dress was gone leaving Greta in only her heels and pearls. Greta might have lost her memory, but her sexual desire was still intact and she went after that gaggle of black cocks like a shark in a feeding frenzy.

Cock after cock made its way into her in ones, two's and threes and Greta took charge and directed her supporting cast into some of the most exciting and erotic things I had ever seen and in some that I could never have imagined. Four seemed to be her favorite number and she spent a good deal of time with three cocks in her at once. The scene that will be burned into my memory forever was when she sat down on one cock taking it in her ass, leaned back so that her back was on the chest of the man who was in her while another man took her cunt. Once the two men had a rhythm going a third man moved in from the side and she sucked his cock.

Then they began to play games. On man bet her that she couldn't get two cocks in her mouth at once and Greta had laughed at him and then proved him wrong. Granted, they were not large cocks, and she could only get the cockheads by her lips, but technically she did do it. Then someone asked her if she could get two cocks in her pussy at once and she didn't even hesitate - a piece of cake. One rather confident black man bet her a thousand dollars that she couldn't get him off just using her feet. She kicked off her heels, made a 'come here' gesture and went to work. He worked for nothing that night, but some how I don't think he came out a loser on the deal.

I'd known from the beginning that Greta had cuckolded me, but outside of when she and I had sex I had never seen her in action. She was, in a word, magnificent! Her white body and swirling blond hair being tossed around in a sea of black was one of the most erotic things that I could imagine. I was going to miss her.

Inevitably the men began to run out of steam and one by one they dressed and left. Three of them (including the guy that got the foot job) gave me their cards and told me that if she wanted to play again they would be more than happy to come back at no charge. As the last man was preparing to go Greta was pulling at his sleeve, "Please, just one more time, please?"

He was game, but Greta just couldn't get him up again. I looked over at the caterers who were tearing down the buffet and I motioned the man in charge over, "The lady would like to show her appreciation to you and your crew."

He gave me a big smile and hurried over to his crew to give them the good news. I turned to my young film makers and said, "When they get through its your turn."

It was another two hours before Greta and I were alone. She was lying on the floor, sweat soaked and cum covered and I thought, strangely, that she had never looked more beautiful or desirable.

"Well my love, do you remember anything?"

"The only thing I remember is that the only cock I haven't enjoyed yet tonight is my husbands."

I had gotten sloppy seconds from Greta before, but never anything approaching this extent, but I was supposed to be the loving husband so I bravely undressed, "As you wish my love, as you wish."