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There was the realization that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. 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 occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, perhaps locate a few of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively well, the location of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was wise to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a couple of roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing 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 ideas 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 switching on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or perhaps 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 change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that allegedly 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 knew that he had a concussion.
August was not entertained and ended up being extremely cautious. He wanted 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 relax 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 slipped off into the rough, lurking, 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 finally came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the guy had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest to carry and stall on-- requiring 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed stating, 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. 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 place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however 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 resisted to the revolting job 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 shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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