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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps locate a few of his old loved ones, 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 geography 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 cautious and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just buy one from a dining establishment. 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 sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, 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 understood that he had a concussion.

August was not entertained and became very cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. 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, 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 lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the male had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed 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 anus, 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so ruthless. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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