So, I try; I try to touch her, but when I touch her, she tells me she’s too sensitive. When I touch her, she says, it’s very tender, I don’t think I can come. When I touch her, she twists out of my reach and covers her hands with oil and runs them over my chest, works her way down my stomach, over my hips, down the insides of my thighs. Her hands circle closer and closer until I’m hard again. By the time she leaves wet tracks along the trail of hair starting at my navel, I have forgotten I want to touch her.