When he hovered at my right side, it seemed as though he waspressing his lump into my arm, but he kept his eyes glued to my head. As hestepped back to...assess his progress, I brushed his limp with my fingertips,making sure to keep my touch light enough that it wouldn't arouse hissuspicion and would seem, if anything, like an accident. But I left my handin place on the armrest, open and with the palm turned upwardon the armrest.As he continued to snip away, he pressed his lump into my open palm. Like when you’ve been around someone for too long. Their existence pisses you off how they eat, sleep or breathe disgust you… We have sporadic arguments about tooth paste and nonsense. He came home. “I want to come home to a food on the table,” he bitched I laughed. He bitched some more… it quickly escalated into a heated argument in which dishes were broke and yelling and screaming were inevitable. Our anger was fueled my sexual frustration and the petty things we were bitching about. As. More

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