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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, possibly locate some of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew 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 smart to be hesitant and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just 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. 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 potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus 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 pertained to call Tonto began flipping out. Raising up some and acting extremely silly. August was not entertained and became extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability 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 find and listen for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He wanted 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, 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.
There was nothing to hear however pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a guy. Setting susceptible upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any medical professional. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had to return 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 exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to bring and stall 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed stating, 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 nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to see as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 after that made her suck on the barrel.
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 ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop 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 against Arlene's ass made the only sound. 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 job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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