“I'm sorry, David,” I said, as I got up from off the floor, “I can explain.” Shoot! Why in the world did I say that?“Well then, please do!�... He was really pissed at me, I could tell.“Well.” I couldn't look at him. “I just wanted. Yes, I really just wanted to. You know. Um.”Now I was the one that wanted to cry.It was now or never. So I sighed and said, “Well you know, I just wanted to see you jacking off again,” not looking at him but instead at the floor. “I'm sorry.”“What did you say?” He. “Oh, you’re married?” “Yeah.” I must have said it weird because he said, “Oh, you’re not happy?” “Well, Robbie, one day you’re going to get married and you’ll learn that every day isn’t going to be a happy one. But you took a vow before God and a whole lot of witnesses to stay together, so you do. Basically, the only way I can describe it is… marriage can be the shit or the shit.” “Oh. Well, does he take you out?” “Sometimes.” I looked at his curious face. “Why?” “Well, maybe I can take you out. She is not only the master of time, but of place, and I am transported from my solitary remembrances to a joinder of experience, with her, beside her and within her.I am with her. I know it. I can feel it. That is her hand upon my erect flesh, stroking me. It is not my hand. And that is my tongue now exploring her moist and hidden recesses, not her own hand or some object penetrating her. That is my mouth, those are my lips sucking her labia into my mouth, caressing them with my tongue. That is. He then explained the hurdles for such a marriage. According to the Act of 1753, a marriage was only legal if the banns of marriage had been read on three consecutive Sundays in the home parishes of bride and groom. Since this was an impossibility in the Colony where no regular parish existed, the Governor, representing the Crown, had the power to grant exemptions, much like the bishops of the Church of England at home. Mr. Abercrombie advised them therefore to petition General Campbell, the.