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There was the realization that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually 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 occur. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, maybe find a few of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly 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 wise to be wary and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified 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 first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition switching on him the higher 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 possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going nuts. Rearing up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and ended up being very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and discover for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, 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 pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a male. Putting down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no other way of reaching any physician. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and too licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and bring 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, 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 had to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked 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 fireplace and the slapping 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 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 tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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