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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps 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 understood his location relatively well, the location 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 leery and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled 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 couple of stray 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 the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially 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 condition change or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone 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 start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started flipping out. Rearing up some and acting very goofy. August was not amused and became extremely wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, 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 slinked 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. 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 really much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to carry and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once more 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 packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing needed 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 anus, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to view as cousin Mark installed 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 after that 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of male if he weren't so callous. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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