Lucky

Emily had observed her stepmother Kelly closely. Look pretty, look pleasing, be pleasing. There wasn't a need to be brainy. There wasn't a need to earn lots of money. Just find the right guy that could take care of her.

Morty, her husband, had money. He wasn't particularly handsome. He'd had LASIK done to get past the Coke bottle glasses. And his ginger Afro from his college days had mercifully yielded to a more normal haircut, although he was balding. And he had a huge pinkish cock that Emily made sure to suck every morning and ride at least twice a week.

She counted herself lucky. She just didn't need any competition. She didn't expect it -- after all, she was surprised herself that the gawky, nerdy Morty was blessed with a white mamba in his pants. Surely no one else would discover that.