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There was the realization that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly 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 ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, maybe find some of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly well, the location of 2000, the location of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be leery and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply order one from a restaurant. 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 whole. When the very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested entirely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. 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 path that apparently led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week passed, he contravened 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 knew that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto began flipping out. Raising up some and acting extremely silly. August was not amused and ended up being very careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and detect for himself what had startled Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, 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 extremely much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed stating, 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. 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 dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and non-stop till he might go no more. There was 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 noise. 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 task 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 jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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