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There was the realization that he might 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 getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. 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 a good idea to be cautious and leery and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few roaming cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified 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. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed 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 condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, 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 became very careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and spot for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and deadly. 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, stopping briefly 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 man. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the guy had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring on-- forcing 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 stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to watch as cousin Mark installed 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 place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls against 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 fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- 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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