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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back 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' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, maybe locate a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot 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 a good idea to be hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering 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 whole, as well. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, 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 area he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another path 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.
August was not amused and became extremely wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and spot for himself what had startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and lethal. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked 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 lastly came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once again get a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool trousers 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 crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required 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 kid's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to view 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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