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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly 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' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, perhaps locate a few of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood 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 wary and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined 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 out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. 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 sporadic, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone 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 concerned call Tonto started flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not amused and ended up being really cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and spot for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid 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 lastly came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no method of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. 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 position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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