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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He understood his geography fairly well, the location 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 hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was 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 sporadic, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that apparently 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.
August was not amused and ended up being really careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and detect for himself what had scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and lethal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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 absolutely nothing to hear however pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a man. Setting prone 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 a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove 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 also 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 had 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 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. Nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him well. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop till he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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