I wondered if there was something wrong with me, that maybe I should see a counselor or something. I dismissed that out of hand. Steve would certainly...be concerned, would want to know why I needed counseling.The next week was uneventful. There weren’t any snarky comments about Friday night, Jonathon was his normal friendly self, with no innuendos in his conversation.Our love life wasn’t any different than usual, though I think I might have appreciated it a little bit more than usual.Friday. We chatted, and she ran her hand up and down my thigh, teasing the head of my cock through my pants.I was enjoying this teasing, and bought her another drink. She suggested we move to a booth at the back of the bar, and I followed her there. Her tight ass moved nicely under her skirt as I followed her there. Once in the booth, she snuggled up against me, and started to caress my cock through my pants. I moved a hand further over her shoulder, and caressed her soft breasts.I was correct. It was. Breath and relax. It’ll be easier if I breath and relax. Her father soon go tired and started speeding up his thrusts. “Oh god, you feel so good. Better than your mother.” His balls slapped against her pussy.She was shocked by how turned on she was by the noise of the slaps. Each time they hit her pussy, it evoked a warm and welcome ache. Oh god, don’t let me cum. She reached back and covered her pussy. Her father’s balls instead hit her hand but now she was rubbing her clitoris. She felt shame. "She nodded and wiped away tears. I had seen her in it, a great car. At eighteen she was broke; she had gone from the status of a rich woman to a poor beggar in less than an hour. Her home, car, clothes and jewelry had been taken, her credit cards voided. She was a lovely young widow with nothing but her beauty. But that, of course, was worth a lot to the right people.She had married Michael Sanderson, only son of Jefferson Samuelson the now-disgraced entrepreneur, about a year ago when she was.