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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, 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 regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do however deal with it, possibly find a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his location relatively 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 mighty uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just 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 just buy 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 sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased 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 from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually concerned call Tonto started flipping out. Raising up some and acting very wacky. August was not entertained and became very cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, 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 but pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Setting vulnerable upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. However barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. The young boy's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed to return 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young kid's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to enjoy 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 after that made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's sort of man if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop up until 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 resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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