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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe 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 take place. He knew his location fairly 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 wise to be leery and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray cattle 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 much 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. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of 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 futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting no place fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going nuts. Raising up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not entertained and ended up being extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or a minimum of identify them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, 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.
August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the guy had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and bring 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 pants 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. 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 weapon deeper into the young kid's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to watch as cousin Mark installed 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. Dakota was August's type of man if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop 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 sound. 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 revolting 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 clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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