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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. However he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, possibly locate a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his location 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 careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was much 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. When the very first snows began to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater 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 potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability 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 identify and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing 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.
There was nothing to hear but pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Laying down vulnerable upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed 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 gun deeper into the young kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to view 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 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 ordeal was incredible. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so ruthless. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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