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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything exercised after all. 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 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' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, maybe locate a few of his old relatives, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location relatively 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 leery and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a couple of stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started going nuts. Raising up some and acting very goofy. August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability 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 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 lethal, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either among 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to bring 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. Absolutely nothing was said. 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 weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring 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 then 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 dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 horrible task of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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