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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps locate some of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young 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 hesitant and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a couple of stray cattle he helped 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 entire. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe 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 insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he contravened 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 amused 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 calm the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. He desired 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.
There was absolutely nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Putting down vulnerable upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no chance of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and bring on-- requiring Dakota to once again 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing needed 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to watch as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 after that 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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