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Kalani , 45y
Alaia , 43 y
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Brothels Barton-le-Street YO17

 

There was the realization that he might have simply 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, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back 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 however do with it, possibly locate some of his old family members, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and score 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 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 spent a week simply meandering around, finding a couple of stray cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply purchase one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially 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 condition change or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely 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 versus 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 come to call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting very wacky. August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and discover for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and lethal. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had 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 precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. 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 weapon deeper into the young boy'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 place his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly up until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace 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 revolting job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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