Sometimes I may write a scene in which the main character's eyes are blindfolded, which means they must discover the world around them through their other senses... Or they may be surrounded by pitch blackness, as Mary Neely was in Songbirds are Free, when she attempted to escape the Shawnee warriors who had captured her.
In such circumstances, the sense of touch can round out a scene, making the reader feel as if they are there, discovering their surroundings just as the main character does.
What they touch can be as varied as the velvety soft skin of a woman's cheek... the hard muscles of a man's biceps... the silky fur of a collie or the coarse fur of a short-haired Jack Russell... the uneven, prickly paneling of a wall or the smooth texture of drywall... satiny smooth sheets or rough burlap... the cold, hard feel of handcuffs or the unyielding, abrasive rub of a rope around the wrists...
A touch can be tentative or abrupt... violent or loving... soothing or terrorizing...
Touch can evoke emotion. When using touch in a scene, it has to keep the action moving.