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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to carry 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, perhaps find a few of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandmother 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 geography of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be cautious and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a few roaming cattle 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 dining establishment. Fishing was much 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 sporadic, 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 assumed would be one of 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 authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after 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 actually come to call Tonto began flipping out. Raising up some and acting very wacky. August was not amused and ended up being really careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and lethal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, lurking, 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. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a guy. Setting vulnerable upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But hardly. He had actually 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 boy's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to again 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. 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 gun deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to watch 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 then 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was incredible. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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