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There was the realization that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal but do with it, perhaps find some of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly well, the geography of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was wise to be wary and leery and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just purchase one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition switching on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another path that supposedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
August was not amused and became really wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, pausing and listening . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.
There was nothing to hear but bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a male. Laying down prone upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Carefully August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. However hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any physician. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once more grab a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to watch as cousin Mark installed Arlene and entered her. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene. He squeezed her nipples, nipped and bit them, creamed deeply into her pussy and jammed the barrel of the revolver up into her well deflowered fucked cunny, worked it around a bit and after that made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against Arlene's ass made the only sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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