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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He knew his geography 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 cautious and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent 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 figured out that in the future he would just purchase one from a dining establishment. 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 entire. When the very first snows started 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 sporadic, the weather condition switching on him the greater he went, but 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 potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence 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, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto began going crazy. Raising up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not amused and ended up being very wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability 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 find and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He wanted 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the male had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, 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 had to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was incredible. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of male. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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