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There was the realization that he might have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, maybe find some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! 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 wise to be careful and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined 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 the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, as well. When the very first snows began to fall his ideas rested entirely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of 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 condition change or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was totally 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 against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
August was not entertained and ended up being extremely careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to identify and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, 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.
There was absolutely nothing to hear however pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Setting prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. But barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles bent as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing required saying, 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 kid's rectum, 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 place his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of man if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop until he could go no more. There was 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 sound. 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 disgusting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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