Chilanga Sprinkles

She is brought back from near slumber by the sound of his chest hair crackling softly under the light pressure of his fingers gliding through it. She struggles with this sound, with this action. It elicits jealously. She is unsure if it comes from not being the object of his touch or if it comes from her inability to touch any part of herself so lovingly. She is aware of the unfairness in her jealousy. She tries to lightly tickle her own arm, her own chest, the valley between her breasts, every time unable to replicate the sensuality of his touch.