I never considered myself a touchy person, in terms of touchy-feely-ness. But there are some touches that I remember, years later, so vividly that it makes me shudder a bit from how real and beautiful it was.
The feel of someone's hands on your shoulders as they gaze intensely into your eyes, deeply, perhaps for the first time, as you look up at them. The caress of someone stroking your skin, remembering how soft and pretty it's always been, as trees rustle on the breeze blowing in. The wonderfully uncomfortable sensation of resting your head on someone's shoulder and having a hand play in your hair, absently, while focusing on something else. Having your hand, squeezed, in a gesture of "I'm here and I like this." A leg tangled up with yours as you drift off to sleep.
Quality, not quantity.