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There was the awareness that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe 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 take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly find some of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively well, the geography 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 wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply 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 order 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 wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and ended up being extremely 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 relax the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He desired 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 nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a male. Laying down 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 actually 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 actually alive. However barely. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and also licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once again 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 crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed 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 kid's anus, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to enjoy as cousin Mark mounted 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 then made her suck on the barrel.

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 ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly up until he might 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 horrible job of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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