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There was the awareness that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, 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 regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe locate some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly 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 a good idea to be hesitant and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply order one from a restaurant. Fishing was 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 very first snows started to fall his thoughts rested entirely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather 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 perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not entertained and ended up being really careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, 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 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the male had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no method of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest 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 pants were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, 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 had to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type 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 non-stop until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 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 packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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