It’s only a moment’s reprieve when she gropes around for me. I don’t know why it takes so long, actually. I’m right here, all she has to do is sit her lazy ass up and she’d find me right between her legs. She should be able to reach me anyway, but she just keeps fumbling around and groping. It’s nightmarish, watching those huge, long fingers swipe through the air, looking for me. They’re relentless: there’s just a flash of her palm before the tips come clawing. The webbing between each digit stretches for a second before the tendons curl and her nails flash just a foot or two above me. Sloppy grabs, desperate grabs, fumbling around her crotch looking for me with impatience. I think she’d really hurt me if she caught me now, so I lay flat and spread myself out, as much as I can. A simple fold in the sheets is enough to push me up and prevent me from lying perfectly flat, but it’s not enough to put me in her reach. Her hand swats and swipes, and far off in the distance I hear her panting, frustrated, maybe little whimpers mixed up with it. Like I said, I don’t know why she doesn’t just sit up and grab me, if she needs to finish herself off, whatever she needs to do.
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