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There was the realization that he might have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps 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 wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He knew 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 smart to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent 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 identified that in the future he would just 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, but he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. 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 became really wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and spot for himself what had scared Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked 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 but pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a man. Setting prone upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. Hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance 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 as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, 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 finest to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to once 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Nothing required stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young kid's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. 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 place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly till 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 task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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