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There was the awareness that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually 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 occur. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly 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 careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a couple of roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just 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 whole. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-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 modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not entertained and became really cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid off into the rough, lurking, 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 pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a male. Putting down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Barely. He had 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 way of reaching any physician. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed 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 precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to carry 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed 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 boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to enjoy as cousin Mark installed 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 place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was amazing. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace 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 fought back to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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