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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 had his fill and it was time to carry on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He understood his geography relatively 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 a good idea to be careful and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply order one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. 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 new area he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting no place fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and became extremely careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting 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 nothing to hear but pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Putting down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. However barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any doctor. The young boy's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed to go back 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 carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to see as cousin Mark installed 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 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 unbelievable. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was more 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, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls against Arlene's ass made the only sound. 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 horrible task of licking Arlene's cum loaded 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 dick!

 

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