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Ivory , 31 y
Ximena , 21 y
Morgan , 23 y
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Brothels Aintree L10

 

There was the realization that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. However he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, perhaps 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 regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe find a few of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location fairly 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 careful and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws wandered 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 identified that in the future he would just buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, also. When the very first snows began 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 sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting very wacky. August was not entertained and ended up being extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man 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 medical professional. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to carry and stall on-- requiring Dakota to again grab 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. 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 gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, 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 place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 disgusting job 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 pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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