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There was the realization that he might have simply as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry 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 happen. He was still mystified regarding 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 grandmother when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess 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 wise to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just buy 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. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively 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, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not amused and became really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He desired 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, stopping briefly 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 however bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a man. Putting down vulnerable upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. But barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed 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 rapidly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to once again 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed 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 continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun 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 had to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly till he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls versus Arlene's ass made the only sound. 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 cum loaded asshole, Dakota then merely 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 kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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