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There was the awareness that he might 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 carry on, 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 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 wise to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray livestock 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 restaurant. Fishing was much 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 condition turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially 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 condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
August was not entertained and became extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to find 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 deadly, vicious, and lethal. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, prowling, listening and pausing . 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the male had 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 precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to carry and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once more 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed 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 kid'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 ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly up until he could 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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