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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps 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 take place. He understood his geography relatively well, the geography of 2000, the geography 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 mighty unsettled and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply order 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 whole. When the very first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. 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, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that supposedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, 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 became extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to identify and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid 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 few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man 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 doctor. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once more get 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Nothing required saying, 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 nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to view as cousin Mark installed 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 had to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. Dakota was August's type of man if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden 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 young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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