This went on for 45 minutes, full speed penetration and her grunting like it was the most intense orgasm ever. I was really impressed by hearing Lynn ...nd Mr. Mystery Man fucking like bunnies for almost an hour. What happened next was amazing. After I started getting hard for the second time that evening (I had sprayed a creamy load of hot man-juice on the hotel’s beautiful emerald carpet) Lynn’s mystery man apparently changed position and starting fucking her so hard that she starting moaning. And I knew she had gone out tonight with her girlfriends to a local bar in Detroit near 8 mile. Since we lived apart, I in DC and she in the Michigan burbs, I knew she got lonelyespecially on the weekends. Those used to be our timesshooting pool, throwing darts, dancing till they threw us out and then off to the car and to whatever dark corner, alleyway, or parking lot we could find to strip off our clothes and grind. My wife, or should I say, my ex-wife, was like that. She liked to. In the same goddamned courthouse where the plaintiffs' lawyer walked up to the second floor and filed the fucking suit in the first place. That was the first time.And speaking of time, it was time I started paying attention again. Not that I was ignoring the direct examination of one of the plaintiffs' experts. I have a kind of autopilot that lets me listen to what's going on, sort of like background music, when the odds are nothing important is going to happen, while thinking of something else. He was actually ashamed to ask. From what he heard at church he thought maybe it was because he was being dirty and sinful. He was embarrassed because Debby had to clean the bathroom. She would notice the wetness and he would be caught, maybe. It didn’t really hurt to have his cock hard. It felt good, really. But that seemed bad. He had heard from the pastor at church that getting hard was nasty. If you liked it then it was even worse. A sin. Something you hid because it wasn't nice. It was.