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Julie , 33 y
Harlow , 24 y
Melody , 26 y
Kate , 26 y
Sienna , 22 y
Kara , 23 y
Vivienne , 27 y
Journee , 25 y
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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. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He knew his location relatively 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 a good idea to be wary and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just purchase 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. 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 brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul 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.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began freaking out. Raising up some and acting really silly. August was not entertained and ended up being really cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or a minimum of identify them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, 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.

August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually 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 exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to bring and stall 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. 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. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so ruthless. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely 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 pressed 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 tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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