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Brothels Beaulieu SO42

 

There was the realization that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps locate some of his old relatives, find his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively well, the location 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 wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just order 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 sparse, the weather turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto started flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not amused and ended up being extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He desired no part of either one of 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.

There was absolutely nothing to hear but bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Laying down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any physician. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed to return to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to again 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. Nothing needed 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring 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 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 cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed 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 fireplace and the slapping balls against 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the revolting job of licking Arlene's orgasm 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 kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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