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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. 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 getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, maybe find some of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his location 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 smart to be cautious and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just order one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, also. When the very 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 sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after 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 ended up being extremely wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had startled 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young kid's anus, sodomizing him well. 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 position himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and non-stop until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls versus 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the revolting task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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