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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that returning 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 but deal with it, maybe find a few of his old family members, 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 knew his geography 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 a good idea to be hesitant and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply order one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. When the very first snows began to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting no place quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting very silly. August was not amused and ended up being extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of discover them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had actually scared 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 securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, lurking, listening and stopping briefly . 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 lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the guy had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once more 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 anus, sodomizing him nicely. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop till he could 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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