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There was the realization that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, possibly find a few of his old family members, find his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew 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 wise to be wary and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few stray 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 restaurant. 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 desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually concerned call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not entertained and became really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or a minimum of identify 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 desired 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 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 pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a guy. Putting down vulnerable upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had 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 bring 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely 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 boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up firmly, forcing him to view 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 needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was incredible. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so callous. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls versus 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 fought back to the horrible job of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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