Gary slouched low in the driver’s seat of his Tesla, eyes trained on Mister X’s jacked-up GMC pickup parked in Gary’s driveway, a block away. He felt like a private eye on a stakeout. He really needed a fancy camera with a long zoom lens. Instead, he had an Android phone. Just not the same vibe at all. Gotta have the gear to play the part.

His mind starting to wander, Gary almost missed Mister X when he came out the front door and hoisted himself into the truck.

“The fucker looks satisfied,” Gary said out loud. Tall. Over six feet, definitely. Gary had the phone camera zoomed out as far as it would go, but the resulting pictures were still blurry. Gray hair? Maybe. Mustache? Yes. No. Hard to tell at this distance. The guy was strong and confident, for sure. But he could be anybody.

Gary did have a detailed description of certain parts of Mister X’s body, courtesy of Gary’s wife, Momo. “Symmetrical balls. Exactly matched in size and shape. A perfectly smooth scrotum, never any stubble. I’m not sure how he does it. Velvety; but very, very manly. It is truly a pleasure to draw each ball between my lips before I suck his cock. Up close, he smells faintly like bourbon. You really should consider upgrading from your Walgreens body wash.

“And yes, that cock. It is a joy to watch the whole process when he gets an erection. I would pay money to watch it, over and over. I like to weigh it in my hands. So obscenely heavy! He is circumcised. The tip is sensitive, of course, but he is always in control. In command.

“He has powerful, taut muscles in his butt. I felt them while I was kneeling in front of him. Then I wanted to see those muscles, so I asked him to turn around and I licked his asshole.

“I don’t know how he fits in my throat. It shouldn’t be possible. But he does. The best was when I was face up, my head tilted back, hanging over the edge of the couch. He skull-fucks superbly. I wonder if you could take him, that way.

“He wanted to eat me. I suspect he would have done a competent job, and intend to find out. But I was ready for the main event. More than ready. He bottomed out in me. My face gets all scrunched up when a man does that. You have probably never seen it because you can’t quite get to the same spot.

“I made it very clear that I wanted him to come inside. If he messed up my face, I might not have time to clean up before you got home.

“And Gary. You will not believe it. The man is a cum factory.”

Momo had told Gary all this just after her first fuck with Mister X, three weeks earlier. Gary had just gotten home, rumpled and fatigued after a frustrating day at the office, wanting dinner and a stiff drink. All that vanished from his mind as Momo spoke, sitting at the dining room table, vaping, in a thin robe that kept shifting to show her nipples. Gary had lifted her onto the table, torn open the robe, and taken her.

Although he could not verify any of the impressive anatomical details about Mister X, he could vouch for the cum factory part. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Momo had been passed around by the starting lineup of the forty-niners. Glistening milky cum was running down her legs and pooling under her ass cheeks. And there was still plenty and to spare inside. Curious, as he fucked Momo’s supremely sopping pussy, he snagged a finger full of Mister X’s cum and tasted it. Damn, if he didn’t taste better than other guys, too. Slightly sweet. You could bottle this stuff and make a mint of money.

Momo and Gary had played the sloppy-seconds game before. Five men in total, including Mister X. Not that Gary was keeping track. Momo always initiated things, and she never revealed her plan to Gary ahead of time. Sometimes, she told him who the man was after the first fuck. And sometimes, as with Mister X, she kept the identity a secret for weeks.

“The unknown makes it hotter,” she liked to say.

Momo’s exotic body made it relatively easy to get the men. The result of a fortuitous one-night stand between a sea captain from Equatorial Guinea and the cutest librarian in Kyoto, her striking features, dark complexion, silky black hair, and beautiful speaking and singing voice made her stand out in any setting. Momo could have strolled through the Miss Hawaiian Tropic pageant in street clothes with no makeup, and every eye would have followed her. Even rednecks who liked vanilla bimbos with big boobs were attracted to Momo, in spite of themselves. Gary knew this because he had been one of them.

Gary remembered her first victim. He had been the pastor at their church. After a long campaign of subtle touches and innuendo, she had sealed the seduction from the choir loft one Sunday morning, hitting all the right notes with her clear alto. A note exchanged hands as Momo and Gary left church that day. And the poor man showed up on time at their house Monday afternoon. As Momo told it later, he took the Lord’s name in vain several times before she bundled him out.

That afternoon, after the pastor’s visit, Momo had called Gary as he drove home from work.

“Come straight to the bedroom when you get home,” she said and hung up.

He found her naked on the bed, and she spread her legs wide for him.

“I’m full of nice, thick minister cum. All for you. But it’s starting to ooze out. Could you pack it back in, please?” Gary could, and he did.

Momo never tried to juggle two sperm donors at once. “Too much trouble,” she told Gary. “The logistics would take the fun out of it.”

She was adept at breaking things off with disappointed men. Gary often wondered how she did that, without them coming back to stalk her. Maybe she told them Gary was in the Mafia and would have them kneecapped if they came back.

Gary had always been content to let Momo run the show. But Mister X was different. In a class of his own. Momo was holding on to him longer than usual. Maybe he was real competition. Gary had an itch to see the man’s face. The previous Friday, he had cleverly concealed a webcam on a plant shelf in the bedroom. But, of course, Momo had spotted it immediately. The only footage he got was of her giving him the finger.

“No cheating!” she told him that night; which Gary thought was a little ironic, given the situation.

And now, despite his feeble attempt to get photos of Mister X, Gary was resigned to the fact that he would not discover the man’s identity until his wife was good and ready. She was always one step ahead of him. Maybe she would plan a big reveal party and invite all their friends. That would be interesting.

As Gary’s Tesla rolled silently into the garage, a call came through from Momo. “I’m in bed. Facedown. This time, he left gallons of sweet cream in and on my cute butt. All for you, babe. Hurry in, while I am still gaping.”

And he did.