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Brothels Arminghall NR14

 

There was the awareness that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, perhaps find some of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location relatively 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 wise to be careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply buy 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 entire. 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 area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and became extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to calm 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 desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid off into the rough, lurking, 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 nothing to hear however bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a male. Putting down vulnerable upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no chance of reaching any physician. The boy's ass muscles flexed 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 fracture. Arlene then had to go back 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 teenagers did their best to bring and stall 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 trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed 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 perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to view 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 then made her suck on the barrel.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly up 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 against 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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