A few months ago, Martin would never have believed this was his life. His Elaine, usually content with their quiet, predictable routine, suddenly a storm of insatiable hunger, a "raging hormone" he couldn't tame. His own dependable body, a traitor, the little blue pills nothing but a bitter reminder of his failings. He couldn't even get her to feign interest, let alone experience the kind of earth-shattering pleasure she now so desperately craved.

So how did they get from those silent, resentful nights in their king-sized bed to this?

To the moment Elaine writhes on their living room couch, impaled by one dark, massive cock while another waits its turn, her screams of ecstasy—or is it agony?—a symphony conducted by her own insatiable desires, while Martin watches, hidden, his own hand a frantic blur on his aching erection? How did he get to the point where his wife commands him to service these men, to prepare them for her, to clean her afterwards, tasting their seed on her flesh?

How does a loving, if sexually frustrated, wife become a ravenous sexual predator, demanding satisfaction he can no longer give? And how does a good, kind husband become… a willing voyeur? An eager participant in his own humiliation? A cuckold discovering a terrifying new frontier of desire?

And now, as Martin cleans his wife, tasting the mingled seed of other men, as he prepares her for yet another brutal encounter he can only orchestrate and witness, he has to ask himself—was this just his wife's raging hormones? Or has his own desperation, his own hidden perversions, unleashed a tidal wave that will consume them both?