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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe find some of his old relatives, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively well, the location of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was a good idea to be careful and leery and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just order one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not entertained and ended up being extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items 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 alarmed Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, listening and pausing . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.

August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a man. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once more get a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool pants were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's sort of man if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly up until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the revolting task of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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