Long, delicate fingers. Loving fingers. I was limp when she put her head down on my stomach and began fingering me with both hands. I grew and grew as she touched me now here, now there, now everywhere. Nimble, analytical fingers. From the head to the balls, along the tender shaft. But her fingers danced mostly around the head, and especially around the spot where the folds of foreskin come together under the head, just below the eye. Fingering me everywhere, she experimented for a long while, without a pause, looking for spots that induce the greatest jolts, the sharpest spasms, the quickest tremors. After much experimentation, I became swollen, engorged. I drew her on top of me. I spread her legs. When I entered her, she winced. Those tender fingers dug into my shoulders. This morning, she was sore.