He wasn't supposed to want her. Everything about her screamed trouble. Coincidentally, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. His friends would say that this is why he was so attracted to her, constantly visualizing her lips wrapped around his shaft, imagining the heat from her love sliding along his length.
That wasn't it, though. He'd had her once before, and he wanted her again. It hurt him to know that he pushed her away, her disgust ensuring that he would never again see those eyes rolling up into the back of her head as his penis slid deeper and further into her maddeningly wet pussy. His heart ached at the thought of the pain he caused her and his dick ached at the restraint his pants offered, his member so hard and desiring of her tightness.
He absently wondered if any of the dozens of people around them noticed him staring at her. He wondered if she noticed. He wondered if she knew she could still get him hard just by throwing the most casual of looks in his direction; those large, innocent eyes sending his soul crashing to it's knees. He was putty in her hands, ready to be molded, just like her ass used to be every time he squeezed it during their lovemaking.
Ah, her ass! So soft and supple and yet so tight. He remembered the nights of passion when her moans would fill the room as his tongue would glide over her love box and winking asshole and then back again.
This was too much to handle. The lust and love he felt for her coupled with the hurt and anger she felt for him. He walked away, his hands shoved into his pockets, away from her and the crowd as he looked for a quiet place to masturbate. Perhaps beside her car...