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There was the awareness that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe 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 regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps find some of his old loved ones, find 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 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 hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just order one from a restaurant. 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. When the very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching 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 perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to concur-- he was getting no place quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not entertained and became really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to identify and listen 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 wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked 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.
There was nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a guy. Putting down prone 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 presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. However barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited 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 needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once again grab 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 said. Absolutely nothing needed saying, 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. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to enjoy as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 after that 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 cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so ruthless. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting task of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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