Starved for Touch - Sex Stories

Starved for Touch

... regularly, and that's when you're saying goodbye to all of us at the end of your sermons. You take our hands then." She finally lifted her head and searched my face, again waiting for me to speak.

"I see," I said, rather lamely. I honestly didn't know how to respond, as I wasn't entirely clear about what Anna was asking. "Well, if you want to be touched more, why don't you try hugging your parents before you go to bed each night? I'm sure they'd appreciate that."

"Oh, no," Anna said. "They're not huggers, and I don't want to make them uncomfortable." I felt a rush of tenderness toward her then. I knew that by living at home while attending college, Anna remained quite sheltered. She was sweet-natured but quiet, and I guessed she didn't make friends easily. I noticed her fair skin had grown flushed since we'd begun talking; this couldn't have been an easy topic for her to bring up with me. "I was wondering..." she started, then shook her head.

"It's okay," I said gently. "What were you wondering?"

She took a deep breath and tried again. "I was wondering if you ever feel that way. Touched starved, I mean."

I understood then why she wanted to talk to me specifically about this. The realization made me close my eyes for a brief moment. Though my wife, Caroline, had died in a car accident a little over a year ago, my grief was still raw. At times like these, it stole the air from my lungs, and I had to remind myself to keep breathing; keep going. I glanced at the ...

... framed photo on my desk. It was of me and Caroline on our wedding day fifteen years ago, when we were both twenty-five. How young and happy, how madly in love, we'd looked then. My dark blond hair was now rapidly graying, and my face bore new lines. Peering at myself in the mirror each morning, I thought my hazel eyes looked dull. While I'd learned to pretend I was okay, managing a smile whenever one was required, I knew a part of me had withered to dust on the day I lost Caroline. My faith had gotten me through the worst of my anguish, but I was no longer the same man I'd once been. I never would be again.

Anna, as perceptive as she was, noticed my pained expression. "I'm so sorry, Reverend!" The words tumbled from her lips in a rush. "I should never have said that. Please forgive me."

"It's alright, Anna. Really." She looked stricken, as if she'd just committed a grave sin. I found I wanted to reassure her. "I miss Caroline very much. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could hold her in my arms again. So, I understand how you feel."

Anna's gaze softened, and I had to look away before she saw the tears in my eyes. We were both silent as I struggled to compose myself. "I should go," she said quietly, then rose from the chair. "Thank you so much for talking to me today. I'm really sorry I bothered you."

"Anna, wait." She stopped and looked at me expectantly. I knew even then that I was venturing into dangerous territory. Anna was a parishioner, after all, and she ...