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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. 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 smart to be careful and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just purchase one from a restaurant. 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. 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 from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting really goofy. August was not entertained and became very 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 discover and listen for himself what had startled Tonto. 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 stopping briefly . 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 however pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a male. Setting vulnerable upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. However barely. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any doctor. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he strove 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 also 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 had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once more grab 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. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to view as cousin Mark mounted 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 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 place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's type of guy if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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