The woman said to the serpent, 'We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, 'You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.'"
Genesis 3:3

So, where were we?

Oh yeah, I was wondering how many golf dorks had sex with me while I was in a tequila-induced coma.

As David showered, I debated whether to confront him about last night, or let him bring it up on his own terms. I opted to play the role of the dirty (yet obliging) little slut-wife who had allowed her perverse (and according to some, hetero-impaired) husband to act out his not so selfish fantasies involving his best friend and me. I went upstairs, got undressed, and waited for David to finish his shower. I knew I had some serious sinning to shower away if I was gonna walk into church with my grandmother in an hour, and I did not wanna add getting fucked by husband in the bathtub to the list.

When David exited the bathroom, I was lying on the bed with my legs spread and bent at the knee. I had my eyes closed, as I thought about the previous evening, and the day ahead of me.

“That looks familiar” David remarked, as he dried his hair with a towel.

I stared at him, as he stood naked before me, still wet and glistening from his shower. His penis was flaccid, his testicles were shriveled, his penis hung down lower than they did, and bounced against them as he walked across the room. I imagined Nick’s penis moving towards me to take his turn penetrating me. I wondered if David had fucked me first or if he had been a true friend and allowed Nick to take the first shot, as if he was trying out a new golf club or bowling ball.

Damn, I wish I could remember anything about last night.

I got out of bed and started towards the bathroom. David was bent over getting a pair of underwear out of the drawer, and I smacked him on the butt as I walked by. I giggled as he chased after me, scooping me up and carrying me back to the bed when he caught me. He fucked me as if I was someone he did not care about…telling me the entire time, intimate details (facts?) about Nick and him fucking me the night before. I closed my eyes, bit my lip, wrapped my legs tightly around him and ground my clit hard against him as he fucked me and told me what a slut I was.

I came twice before he finally came inside me.

And then he went to play golf with Nick.

I quickly showered and hurried to pick up granny for church. My grandmother is a special woman. I have not written about her previously, and I would not imagine she will make many appearances in future columns either. She is eighty-two years old, and (thankfully) does not drive anymore. Apparently, this lack of motor vehicle mobility is not due to the lack of knowledge of the discipline, or the confidence in those who chauffeur her wherever she needs to go every fucking week. We have attended the same church for almost five years now, and yet every time I drive her to church, she tells me every turn to make along the way, and then where I should park once we get there. These usually verbal (but sometimes visual by pointing or grunting) instructions are intertwined with the latest gossip about her friends, and changes in her health. This day she also found the time to inform me that my jeans were not suitable for church, and that since I was getting older, I should consider wearing more makeup. She also told me I smelled funny; I am thinking that was just the product I put in my hair because I did not feel like doing anything with it.

My head began to throb, and I swear my left arm went numb for a minute. Does anyone know what a stroke feels like?

And you guys wonder why I have self-esteem issues.

Yeah, my grandmother is an incredible support team for me.

So, let’s recap…so far, I have awakened with absolutely no memory of what I did last night. I have been told by my husband that I had sex with both him and his best friend. I got monkey-fucked again this morning as my husband told me what a slut I am. In addition, I am heading into the judgmental and hypocritical environment that is the Catholic Church…dig me, bitches.

Genesis 3...yeah, what are the odds that the priest would bring this message to the mass of minions this morning?

I listened to a few minutes of his message and then my mind flipped back to the events from the night before. What if David was paying me back for the little trick I played on him with Nick and the lesbians? What if I had done nothing last night, other than hurl in an upscale night club, and embarrass us all in front of a bunch of Daytona Beach douche bags, and a gutter slut with fake tits?

Yeah…that’s the ticket. David was trying to get me back…that’s all. He would not let Nick fuck me while I was incoherent. I am not even sure he would allow it in an ideal situation. He would surely chicken out and let his morals and good judgment veto his perverted fantasies…right?

Besides, he knows I find Nick attractive, and he certainly would want me to benefit from such an indiscretion. Even a golf dork would be smart enough to figure this out.

I needed to talk to Nick…alone. He was putty in my hands, but he was playing golf with David.

Should I take this to the next level? Should I wait naked at home and explain that I feel cheated because I was so drunk, and insist that we do it all again? What about the consequences of this plan? What if I was correct in my doubts of credibility regarding David’s account of my sexual interaction, and my proposed suggestion resulted in fruition? Then it looks like I forced it to happen.

I needed plausible deniability on my side.

When mass was over, I walked behind granny as we headed towards the exit. Granny made a left at the confession booth, and I headed outside to smoke. If I am gonna spill the sordid details of my sex life with a probable pedophile, I am gonna have my facts straight first. Granny decided to go to lunch with a friend, and I got in my car to go home.

When David got home, he was alone. I was sitting on the couch watching that show with the little people…dude, I love that show. David positioned himself next to me on the couch, and accepted when I offered to get him a beer. When I returned I handed him his beer, removed my top, and straddled him on the couch. I began to kiss him and rub my breasts against his unshaven face.

“Let’s do it again, call Nick,” I suggested, as I continued my disingenuous efforts to arouse him. I explained that I was too drunk and could not remember anything and that I felt cheated. I bit his ear as he suckled my left nipple…”You and Nick got yours, I wanna get mine” I went on.

“Maggie, do you really think I would let something like that happen to you while you were drunk?” David asked…he was serious now. He swore this on his favorite putter, so I am confident he was telling the truth. David was laughing now, and gloating that he had got me back for some of my games. I played along…

I played along because I know how to be married. I know which battles I need to win, and which battles are irrelevant. I applauded him for being so clever and so patient in his revenge. I thanked him for taking care of me when I needed it, and I apologized for my behavior. I blew him while he finished his beer, and Amy Roloff complained about her brand of coffee being on a shelf where she could not reach it. David came in my mouth just as our doorbell rang.

David, Nick and I watched The Bank Job on DVD. We joked about the trick they played on me, and I insisted that I had known all along, and was merely stroking their male egos.

The movie sucked and I spent a lot time wondering what it would be like to fuck David and Nick at the same time. I wanted to go upstairs and masturbate, but I did not…I smiled a lot though.

Okay, so I wanna say a few things about all the reader input I got from last week’s column. I am amazed that people are so intrigued by this Nick thing. The subject is very polarizing amongst my male readers. Their giant brains were split three different ways regarding the issue, and my presumed role in the issue. A portion of the males (who commented or responded) saw fit to categorize me as a dirty slut whose marriage was doomed by this behavior. A portion of the males totally identified with David’s fantasy involving his wife and another guy. And, a portion of the males were simply supportive and understanding of the fantasy aspect of the Nick thing, indicating approval that David and I had found something theoretically innocent to provide a spark in an institution which can be easily influenced (and often destroyed) by superficial temptations. I think the latter group of males has the ideal perspective on the thing.

In diametrical contrast, the vocal female readers are 100% in favor of me fucking Nick, and cannot wait to read about it.

God, I love this job.