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With everything packaged, I tidied camp and even buried the remains of the fire under some rocks.Instead of continuing on our old course I changed and took advantage of all the rock I could find. Corinne was pushed hard too but didn't complain much. The course was changed again after we backtracked. This was done two more times before we were too exhausted to continue.I was less nervous now and told the story of Pocahontas as seen from a storywriter's point of view. The truth was not as glamorous but it was exciting.We picked and ate more blueberries. Some of the slopes, with a good crop, had to be avoided because we would be too exposed. Mosquitos were feasting on us but I resisted applying more repellent. In an hour we were in a small lake and having our bath. Bar soap had been scrounged but I was careful that it didn't get lost when it sank.We had old and new red marks from feeding the bugs. Pocahontas looked beautiful and I wondered again if I was turning into a pervert or just a. God, how she wished she was her mother! At the same time, these were suppressed feelings, something Bridgette was afraid to bring to the surface. Sure, incest was legal, but she couldn't bear the thought of failure. Moreover, she didn't want to be a threat to her own mother...The night was warm, and a gentle breeze wafted into the room. Bridgette stretched, and felt the thin cloth of her nightgown press against her breasts. They had been stitched keeping in mind her mother's figure, which was not so rich were the breasts were concerned. Hers were bigger than her mother's, while her curves were not as full. The nightgown therefore gave the impression of an hourglass frame, which served only to attract every eligible suitor in town."Oh," Bridgette murmured, as another current of air kissed the exposed top part of her breasts. Silently, she stood near the window, and unbuttoned the top of her gown. The strap around her waist held it from falling around her satiny skin, but it slid off.
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