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There was the awareness that he might have simply 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, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, 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 geography fairly well, the location 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 careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a couple of roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply buy 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 sparse, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of 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 experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not amused and became extremely wary. 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 find and listen for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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.
There was absolutely nothing to hear but bugs buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a male. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. But barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and also licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to return to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest to bring and stall 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing needed 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 boy's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to watch as cousin Mark installed Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 had to come and position 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 guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was more 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, 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 revolting job of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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