We ate ice cream, watched TV and went to bed. But the agony of seeing her like that, and the pain of knowing there were yet another long line of guys who I’d have to wait for, was too much.I jerked my cock with more force. Angry. Sad. Jealous. I wanted to cum, and I wanted it to feel good, but I wanted it to hurt. I wanted it to be intense.“Are you OK?” she said.“Shit,” I muttered, sort of turning. Her hand was on my back. “Sorry. Uh, dream.”“Don’t be silly. I know what you were doing.”“What? Huh. No. Uh. Nah.”“You’ve been doing it for a week or two. I know. Most nights I just watch. I didn’t want to bother you. I just laid here and pretended to be asleep. I am sorry. I figured it was my fault … putting you in this position. Lying here. I am not a little girl. I know how guys are. I know it has to be hard, um, I mean, you know difficult.”I was embarrassed but turned on. How did she see me? Some horny teenager or a man. I rolled over, on my back, unable to look at her. I stared up at. “I always compared myself to the other models and thought I was only average. But other people—not models—acted differently around me. I never trusted what anyone said. Jack was the only person who had cared for me because I was me and not because my body was perfect. Even after we divorced. So I got a reputation. I snubbed everyone in racquetball and became the Ice Queen.” Her left hand casually stroked her breast, pushing the robe away so we could see her tight hard nipple as she pinched it lightly. I could feel Melody’s breath catch. She so loves to play with Lissa’s nipples.“Then Tony came into the club and we played racquetball. He was a nice guy and we played well. And he never once made a pass. You were never rude, darling. You may have even paid me a compliment or two. But I never felt that you wanted anything from me except good competition on the court. I started to relax around you. Mmm. Maybe once or twice, while I was sitting in the hot-tub after our game, I let myself.
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