Conceiving The Perfect Revenge

Marcie's kicking around an empty house when her brother-in-law Bill shows up at the door with a casserole. She lets him in, smirking a little when she sees what he's carrying. He tells her he's worried—word around the religious block is she can't get knocked up. Marcie's jaw drops. That's bullshit. Her husband Rich has a low count, not her. Turns out Rich has been flipping the script and calling her the defective one. She stands there fuming. Then a dirty smile cuts across her face. If Bill's supposed to be the fertile one in the family, maybe he should put it to use. She steps close, starts touching him, tells him she wants him to fuck a baby into her. Bill freezes, then gets hard anyway. She laughs, low and mean, explaining how this screws Rich twice: he's stuck raising a kid that isn't his, and if he snitches, everyone finds out he's been lying about his own limp dick. Two birds. One dirty, perfect revenge.