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There was the realization that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe 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 deal but do with it, possibly find a few of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively 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 hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray livestock 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 dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, as well. When the very first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not amused and became really careful. He wanted 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 relax the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. 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, 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.
There was absolutely nothing to hear but bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a guy. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no other way of reaching any doctor. The young boy's ass muscles flexed as he strove 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 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 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 bring and stall on-- forcing 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required saying, 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 perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to see 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 then made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's type of man if he weren't so ruthless. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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