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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly 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 deal but do with it, possibly locate some of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively 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 a good idea to be careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was totally 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 against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto began flipping out. Raising up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and ended up being very careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. 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 extremely much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and bring on-- requiring Dakota to once again 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he held 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and non-stop till he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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