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There was the realization that he could have simply as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He knew his location 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 careful and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just purchase one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested entirely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted 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. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul 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 beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting really silly. August was not entertained and ended up being really careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and deadly. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the guy had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once more get 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him well. 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 insert his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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