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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, possibly 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 occur. He understood his geography fairly well, the geography of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be wary and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just purchase one from a restaurant. 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 condition turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased 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.
August was not entertained and became very wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had actually 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 among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, lurking, listening and pausing . 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 male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to carry and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once more 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed 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 continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to watch as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. STANDING 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 then made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely 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 noise. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just 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 kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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