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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. However 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 returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps find some of his old relatives, 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 location 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 a good idea to be wary and careful and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just 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 buy one from a restaurant. 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 greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. 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 versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.
August was not entertained and became very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, pausing and listening . 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 guy. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and bring 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 trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required 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 boy'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 position himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly 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 fought back to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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