She read the book again when she was fifteen; read it carefully, more comprehending, now. Several times in the summer of her fifteenth year, she rode ...er bicycle over to Walden Pond, not to go swimming, though that was what she told her mother, but to walk where Thoreau had walked, sit where he sat, and try to feel what he must have felt, but the best she could manage was a sickness at thinking what Thoreau would have thought if he were to rouse from his grave of over a century. Old Henry. Since Trey was facing his feet, even though Robbie's thumbs were on her back, his hands were so big that the tips of his fingers were brushing back and forth across the very sensitive nipples of her newly forming breasts. Again, Trey didn't even really notice this was happening. All she knew was that she was having more and more pleasurable sensations all over.Her rubbing was getting faster. Her breaths were coming faster and harder. It was like she was in a totally different world. All of her. More

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