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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had actually 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 occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, possibly find some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively 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 wise to be wary and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped 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 better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested solely on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps 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 had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, 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.
Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not amused and ended up being really careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. 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, 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 bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Laying down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore 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 in fact alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. 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 too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their best to carry and stall on-- requiring 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him well. 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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