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There was the realization that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly find a few of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! 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 cautious and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a couple of roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just order one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested entirely on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather switching on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased 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.
August was not amused and became extremely wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He wanted 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, prowling, stopping briefly and listening . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.
There was absolutely nothing to hear however insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a male. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no chance of reaching any doctor. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to carry and stall on-- forcing 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to see 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 place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly 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 disgusting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply 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 boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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