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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything exercised after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, 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 occur. He understood 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 wary and cautious 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 couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply purchase one from a restaurant. 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, too. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto started flipping out. Raising up some and acting really wacky. August was not entertained and became extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to identify and listen for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and fatal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid 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.
August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any physician. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to enjoy 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was incredible. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until 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 versus 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 fought back to the revolting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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