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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. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He understood his geography fairly well, the geography of 2000, the location of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering a few roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out 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 out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after 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 of Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and ended up being really careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and lethal. He wanted no part of either among 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.
August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the guy had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to again get 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 boy's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to watch as cousin Mark mounted 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 then made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so callous. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 revolting task of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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