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There was the awareness that he might 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 getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal however do with it, maybe locate some of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! 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 smart to be careful and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, however 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 modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting no place 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 beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto began going crazy. Raising up some and acting extremely silly. August was not entertained and became really cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of find them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to identify and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Setting susceptible upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had to return to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, 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 finest to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to 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 crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely 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 rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to watch 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 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 experience was amazing. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so ruthless. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a 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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