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There was the awareness that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, maybe find some of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew 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 wise to be cautious and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few 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 dining establishment. 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning 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 possibly Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting no place quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not entertained and became extremely wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to spot 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 fatal, vicious, and lethal. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, 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 nothing to hear but pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a male. Laying down susceptible upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already 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 really alive. But 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 other way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed 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 precisely 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 crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required saying, 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 anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to enjoy as cousin Mark installed Arlene and entered her. STANDING 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 needed to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, only 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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