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There was the realization that he could have just 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, 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, perhaps find some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood 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 a good idea to be careful and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws 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 livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just order 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 entire. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but he desired 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 approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the futile 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 supposedly 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 understood that he had a concussion.

August was not amused and ended up being very wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and detect for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, listening and stopping briefly . 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 but pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a man. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. However hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once more grab 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. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing needed stating, 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 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 needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. 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, just 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then merely 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 boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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