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There was the realization that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that returning 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 however do with it, perhaps locate some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his location fairly well, the location 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 wary and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. 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 entire. When the first snows started 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 turning on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially 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 modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week went by, he contravened 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 understood that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going nuts. Raising up some and acting extremely silly. August was not amused and ended up being very wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things 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 find 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 lethal, vicious, and fatal. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked 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.

August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the guy had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once again 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 stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young kid's anus, 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 place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly till he could 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 sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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